The taxi pulled off to the side of the road and came to a halt. Harumi peered through the glass at the nondescript house that she called home for almost a year. The two-story building was dark and barely visible through the rain that rained down on the taxi roof and splattered on the ground.
“That will be 11,403 yen.”
She cringed at the price but Satomi had left without leaving her a ride. She dug into her costume's pocket and pulled out two bills, a brown and purple one. Trembling, she handed it over without pulling her eyes away from the house. She tried not to think that she just handed over half of her remaining money for a single taxi ride.
When Harumi was coming home, it was usually with Satomi. In the few times that Harumi was allowed out with a bodyguard, the light over the front door was always on. Now, it was dark but Satomi's car was parked in the driveway.
“Here you go,” said the taxi driver.
Harumi toyed with the handle, a feeling of dread rising inside her.
“Excuse me,” said the driver.
She jumped. “Oh, sorry.” She took the change and pushed open the door. Rain poured down on her face. She stepped out quickly and shut the door. Almost instantly, the sheeting water soaked her custom and plastered it against her body. The brilliant yellow ruffles crumpled from the weight and she felt the icy rain rolling down her bare shins and soaking through her beautiful, but unpractical, shoes.
Crying out, she ran across the sidewalk and up to the front door. She ran the doorbell and pranced on her feet, trying to keep the water from pooling around her toes.
No one answered.
She whimpered and ran the bell again, this time tapping it frantically. She knew it was rude but she was wet and cold and desperate.
When Satomi still didn't answer, Harumi knocked on the door. “Please? Please answer, sensei!”
The door cracked open. A chain stopped it and Satomi peered out. “Go away. You aren't welcome here! Didn't you figure that out? You ruined everything.”
From the gap, Harumi could see that Satomi had made herself dinner. There was only one bowl of soup steaming on the table.
Harumi clutched herself and whimpered. “Please, I didn't mean to.”
Satomi clutched the door. “What did you think would happen?”
“I wasn't thinking—”
“No, you aren't! And now you ruined it all.” She slammed the door.
Desperate, Harumi jammed her foot in the door. It crunched against the side of her heel and she whimpered at the sharp pain that shot up her leg.
Satomi glared down at it. When she looked up, there was fury in her eyes. “It's over, Harumi. You ended it.”
Harumi sniffed. She was crying, not that she could feel it past the rain streaming down her face. “Please, just let me get my things. I promise—”
“No.” Satomi kicked Harumi's feet out of the door and slammed it shut.
For a long moment, Harumi stood in front of the door and stared at it. She silently wished that Satomi would open it and forgive her, but nothing happened except the rain kept pouring down.
A rumble of thunder rolled across the streets and the rain intensified.
Her career as an idol was over, leaving her only fifteen thousand yen and a yellow costume clinging to her body. She had no skills beyond her face and voice, no skills or training. She had nothing.
The hot tears finally overwhelmed the rain pouring down he face. She could feel it burning her eyes.
With one desperate attempt, she knocked twice on the door.
There was nothing.
Devastated, Harumi backed away from the door and turned away. She didn't know where she was going to go, but she knew it was going to be a long walk.