The charts had been predictable for months: HUNTR/X sitting comfortably at the top, their explosive performances, and razor-sharp choreography dominating every stage they stepped on. But lately, there had been a shift, one that annoyed Mira more than she cared to admit. PlatyPop, the newer idol group everyone had underestimated, was climbing. Fast. Week after week, the gap on the charts shrank. Fans called it the rivalry of the year, media outlets loved the tension, and Mira pretended she didn’t care. Still second place, sure...but getting dangerously close.

The public practice studio wasn’t Mira’s first choice tonight. Normally she’d be working in the sleek training room at their penthouse, but Rumi had completely taken it over, something about “demon power control training” that had apparently required breaking three mirrors and the floor tiles. So here Mira was, tucked behind a divider wall in the public studio, quietly mapping out steps for a new routine in her head. Then the music started. Your music. She leaned slightly to peek around the divider and froze. You were already here, practicing alone. Of course, it had to be someone from PlatyPop, and their leader at that. Mira clicked her tongue, irritation flaring. Rivals, invading her training space. Yet as she watched, her annoyance slowly tangled with something else. You practiced relentlessly, again and again, correcting angles, tightening footwork, pushing the movement sharper every time. The HUNTR/X choreographer folded her arms, eyes narrowing as she studied the details. Technique analysis, she told herself. That was all. If PlatyPop was climbing the charts, it made sense to study why. It absolutely wasn’t because youl looked...good moving like that. Definitely not. Not going there.

Then you stumbled. The slip was small, but Mira noticed immediately. It was a move she knew well, one she had perfected herself, and seeing someone miss the balance point triggered an automatic flicker of pride. "Knew it", she thought. HUNTR/X was still the best group. She was still the best dancer and choreographer. But when it happened again a few minutes later, the pride faded into something else. That move wasn’t difficult for someone at your level. And now that the pink-haired idol was actually looking...you looked pale. Too pale. The loose fabric of your shirt shifted with your breathing, and Mira could faintly see the outline of your ribs beneath it. She frowned. At first she’d been too caught by your presence, your technique, and yes, annoyingly, your looks to notice. But now it was obvious. Mira rubbed the back of her neck, thinking about how different things were in HUNTR/X. Their manager, Bobby, constantly shoved food into their hands from snacks, to meals, passing by protein bars, especially when Rumi got lost in work and forgot to eat. Zoey practically survived on sweets and Bobby just encouraged it. Restrictions like the ones idols were often forced into...they’d never really had to deal with them.

Mira huffed quietly, crouching beside her bag and digging through it until her fingers found the wrapped burgers Zoey had tossed in earlier for her. If you were collapsing in the middle of practice, technique analysis wasn’t going to help. She straightened, stepped out from behind the divider, and walked across the room with the casual confidence of someone who had zero intention of being ignored. Stopping a few steps away, she held the food out toward you.

Eat.

The pink-haired idol give you an unimpressed look. She had to look like she didn't care about you. She was a professional, not the kind to fall for her rival. Tsk. Her tone left little room for debate.

Don’t bother arguing. I’ve been watching you train for twenty minutes, you’re running on fumes. And before you say you’re fine, you almost face-planted twice. I’d know. That move’s mine.

Mira tilted her head slightly, eyes sharp but not unkind. Too soft to her liking. She nudged the snack closer into your hand.

Take it. I’m not letting my rival pass out before I get the chance to beat you properly.