The metal door zips open, revealing our classroom. A dozen Idols are already inside, with more filing in behind me. Tama darts ahead while I linger at the doorway, taking in the sight.

  The room is tiered, six rows of desks rising higher the farther back they go. Each row is a single curved surface shaped like rippling water, its flowing design giving the classroom an almost liquid sense of motion. Two stairways flank the room, running from the entrance at the top down to the lowest row near the front.

  A massive screen covers most of the front wall, with a small desk tucked into one corner. Across from it, a side door leads to a staff corridor—probably a shortcut through the building.

  “Bunny-Chan, over here!” Tama calls, waving from the middle rows. “I saved you a seat!”

  I roll my eyes with a smile and slip in beside her as the rest of the desks quickly fill.

  “You didn’t save me a seat—we came in together,” I tease.

  “Whatever~!” Tama shoots back, giving my shoulder a playful shove.

  We’re still laughing when the side door hisses open. Sharp metallic clacks echo across the floor, steady and deliberate.

  “Hope you like the seats you picked,” says a commanding voice that rings through the room, “because they’re now assigned to you.”

  My gaze snaps up. A young blonde woman stands at the front, yellow highlights glowing faintly through her hair.

  She looks… young. Almost too young to be a teacher—like she’s barely an adult. Then there’s the fact she’s wearing a student uniform—our uniform—which immediately catches my attention.

  A cropped cream-colored military jacket with short bell sleeves, cinched at the waist by a thin black belt. Beneath it, a black bodysuit clings to her body, reinforced seams tracing the lines of her frame. Obsidian side panels shimmer softly before cutting high at the hips, leaving her legs bare. From her waist flares a short translucent skirt, molded to mimic soft pleats. Clipped to her collar is a bright yellow tie—the same design as our pink ones.

  “…If you don’t like your seat,” she continues, her tone sharp and confident, “you’d better find someone willing to trade, because I don’t have the patience to deal with it myself.”

  Only then do I notice her augments—sleek silver limbs with elegant curves, unmistakably SylphTech Aeronautics craftsmanship. A panel slides open along her forearm, and a thin metallic rod ejects from within. She catches it effortlessly, flicks her wrist, and points the wand at the screen.

  The display buzzes to life, revealing her name and details.

  “My name is Yoko Hisame, and I’ll be your professor for the next three years here at Arcadia Idol Institute,” she announces, her voice ringing through the room. “Any questions?”

  A hand shoots up immediately. “Um, yeah—why are you wearing a student uniform?”

  “And what’s up with those augments? I’ve never seen a teacher use ones like those!” another girl blurts.

  The professor smirks, one hand resting on her hip. “Because, in case you haven’t already guessed, I was once an Idol—just like all of you.”

  Then it clicks. That’s why her name sounds so familiar. Yoko Hisame—the Silver Dandelion.

  She looks older now, more refined, but I remember her from years ago. She was never one of the top Idols, but she had a reputation for her brutal efficiency—finishing missions fast, clean, and often leaving her squad to mop up what remained. Controversial, sure, but unforgettable. I think I still have one of her posters back home.

  I raise my hand and she gestures toward me. “Um—you’re the Silver Dandelion, right? Why are you here as our teacher? Shouldn’t you be retired?”

  A ripple of murmurs spreads across the room as Hisame folds her arms, eyes locking on me.

  “This is my retirement,” she says flatly. “As a former Idol, I get to choose whatever career path I wish to go on. I choose to teach.”

  That throws me off. If I remember correctly, she used to hate her instructors. Why would she ever want to become one?

  Before I can ask, she turns back toward the screen and flicks her wand. The display shifts again, new words appearing in bold white letters: Veteran Idol Shadow Program.

  “Alright, if there aren’t any more questions,” she says, “it’s about time we go over the agenda for this class. As some of you know, the VIS Program assigns every class a Fourth-Year Idol—also known as a Veteran Idol—who will act as my teaching aide for the year.”

  That’s right. Idols usually only get a four-year career once they’re accepted into AII. In their final year, the most skilled Veterans are paired with first-years, mentoring them in everything from missions to combat drills. Sometimes, the Idol you’re assigned can shape the entire path of your career.

  And if I want to become the Idol I dream of being—to shine like Reina—then I’ll need the perfect mentor to help me get there.

  “Um, excuse me!” a girl calls, her hand snapping up. “Has our Idol already been selected for us?”

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  She’s sitting in the front row beside a girl with icy white hair. The one who spoke has bright pink hair that fades to lavender at the tips. I can’t see her face clearly from here, but I get a good look at the arm she’s raised—segmented pink plates in Idol Corps style, trimmed with prismatic crystals that catch the light like jewelry.

  “Yes,” Hisame answers, flat.

  “A shame…” the pink-haired girl sighs, resting her chin on her palm. “Would’ve been nice if we got to pick.”

  “So then, who did we get?” Tama asks, sprawling back in her chair with her legs kicked up on the desk.

  Hisame flicks her wand once. The screen blinks, and there she is—an older girl with pale skin, dark silver hair, and those unmistakable pale blue eyes. Everything else fades away until all that’s left is her face and the name glowing above it—Reina Narumi.

  “AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

  The scream rips out of me before I can stop it. Everyone turns. I leap to my feet, palms flat against the desk.

  “REINA?!” I squeal, breathless, my heart pounding so hard it hurts. “Reina—the most amazing, perfect Idol is going to be our teacher aide? The first first-year to hit eighty-eight percent Sync Rate is going to be personally overseeing our training? It’s—it's—”

  “Ridiculous!”

  The single word cuts through my euphoria like a blade.

  The pink-haired girl is on her feet now, glaring straight at Hisame. “We’re getting assigned that fraud?!” she snaps. “Why couldn’t we get a real Idol, like Clara?”

  The world tunnels in on that word. I can barely hear anything else.

  “What did you just call Reina?” I ask, my voice trembling.

  She spins toward me, multicolored highlights flaring beneath her hair.

  “A fraud,” she spits, voice sharp enough to cut.

  “The only fraud is that faker Clara!” I fire back before I even think.

  She growls, leaning forward. “You did not just call the Queen of Perfection a faker!”

  “Perfection? Yeah right! Her highest Sync Rate was only ninety-eight percent!”

  “The highest any Idol’s gotten in history!”

  “Yeah—and one she got by cheating! I’ve never seen a more obvious industry plant!”

  I’m already halfway over my desk, ready to lunge, when Hisame’s hands clap sharply through the air. The two of us slump back down as every eye turns to the professor.

  “That’s enough!” Hisame barks, her voice cutting through the noise. “Kanna Koleida, Rika Kisuragi—seems like the two of you have plenty of enthusiasm.”

  A sly smirk tugs at her lips. “Maybe we can redirect that energy to something more productive.”

  She flicks her wand, and the screen shifts again—this time showing an aerial shot of a ruined city encased in massive, reinforced walls, a faint electric dome humming above it.

  “Today’s orientation day,” she explains, her tone crisp, “which means you’ll all be going on a special training mission. Inside these walls are wild Eidolons we’ve captured and contained within the ruins of this old city. You’ll be split into pairs and assigned a mission you must complete by the end of the day.”

  “Wait—we get to fight real Eidolons?!” Tama shouts, practically bouncing in her seat.

  “That’s correct,” Hisame replies, expression turning firm. “But don’t let that excite you too much. Fighting Eidolons in the real world is very different from the simulations they put you through in boot camp. No matter how real those might feel, there’s no reset button if you get seriously injured.”

  She’s right. Fighting Eidolons isn’t just cameras and spectacle—they’re monsters, and every fight with them is a gamble with your life. Some Idols make it look effortless, like Reina… and, admittedly, like Clara. But this is my first mission where the danger’s real. My first chance to prove I belong here.

  I take a deep breath, but my nerves won’t stay quiet. My leg starts bouncing until—Tst, Spung!

  My spring joint kicks out under the desk, hard enough to make it rattle.

  “Tch—ah!” I yelp, cringing as a few heads turn toward me. Heat floods my face and I duck down, covering it with both hands.

  Tama leans closer, resting a hand on my shoulder. “You okay, Bunny-Chan? You might wanna get those legs tuned before we head out.”

  I shake my head fast. “No—I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I already have.”

  Thinking back, that argument with Kanna already made me stand out more than I ever wanted.

  “Ugh…” I groan, burying my face deeper in my hands as my cheeks burn hotter. “I’ve already made a fool of myself on the first day.”

  When I finally peek up, my eyes drift toward the front row—Kanna’s still sitting there, perfectly composed. But beside her, the white-haired girl glances my way. Her eyes meet mine, cold and unblinking.

  For a second, my breath catches.

  Is she… mad at me?

  ?

  A few hours later, we’re marching through the campus’s narrow roads toward the shuttle bay. The space hums with activity—rows of airships docked across the boarding deck, engines whining as other groups of students climb aboard.

  Everyone who isn’t already suited up—basically everyone except me—has switched into their combat augments, showing off gleaming custom gear that looks straight out of a broadcast.

  Kanna’s setup looks similar to her usual augments, but sharper—covered in crystalline ornaments and fitted with a compact Sync Amplifier pack on her back. Her augments have to be custom, I’ve never seen anything like them before. Even her weapon looks like a work of art—a long wand with jeweled rings spiraling around its ornate handle.

  I sigh, glancing down at my own gear My SB Spring Legs are great for speed, sure, but they’re the only good pair I own. My arms are basic strength enhancers, and my radar set was the cheapest my family could afford. All I had was just the bare minimum.

  I rub at the base of my antennae and glance around for Tama—but before I can spot her, something heavy slams down on my back.

  “How’s it going, Bunny-Chan~!” Tama’s voice rings right beside my ear.

  My knees buckle under the weight. “T-Tama… you’re… too heavy!” I gasp, struggling to push her off.

  She just laughs and hops down, her boots hitting the deck with a metallic thud. “Well, yeah! These babies better be heavy!”

  I groan, catching my breath before looking up—and stop cold. Tama stands tall, that familiar shark-tooth grin flashing as she strikes a pose. Her augments are stunning—black with gold trim, legs narrow at the top but flaring into a solid, powerful base. Her arms end in a pair of massive mechanical fists, vents along the sides hissing with steam.

  “Whoa,” I breathe, eyes wide. “Your augments look incredible!”

  “Heh, Like the fists?” she says with a playful smirk. Steam bursts from the joints as the gauntlets drop to the floor with a loud clank. “I can take them off whenever I want.”

  She crouches next to one, pointing at the thruster ports along its side. “See these jets? I can launch them at Eidolons for ranged attacks…”

  I kneel beside her, listening as she gushes about specs or whatever—but honestly, I’m more focused on her. The confidence in her stance, the sparkle in her eyes, the way she moves like she already belongs on camera. Everything about her screams Idol.

  We stand and rejoin the others, giggling as I hold onto the thumb of one of her giant hands.

  “Alright, everyone!” Hisame calls out, clapping her hands to grab our attention. “It’s time to choose your partners for this mission. Choose wisely—you never know what kind of enemies you’ll face out there.”

  Tama and I exchange a look and nod in unison.

  “You ready for this?” I ask, heart fluttering with excitement.

  “You bet!” she grins, pumping her other fist into the air. “With the two of us, there’s nothing we can’t stand up against!”

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