Ever since the first time I saw her on TV… by the time I turned twelve, I started saying it seriously:
I want to be like her.
Her elegance.
The way she carried herself.
The impact her voice left behind.
Sometimes I'd whisper it to myself, almost like a secret—until I started to truly believe it:
"What if I can sing like that too…?"
Four years had passed since that afternoon.
Time went by in a blink.
Without realizing it, my life began to revolve around music.
I learned on my own, however I could, with Miss Shirayuri as my example. I replayed her songs until they stuck in my head like they were part of my breathing.
My room wasn't the same anymore.
Posters and Diva merch were everywhere, like she lived with me.
And somehow… she did.
During that time, I changed.
I felt brighter, and I tried to imitate that beautiful calm she had… like, if I could do that, I might resemble her just a little.
I grew my hair long and took care of it, just so it would look pretty.
Like hers.
Sometimes I practiced in front of the mirror, holding a hairbrush like it was a microphone.
And I'd laugh when my face got way too serious.
At school I was still kind of reserved, but one day I found out—
"You listen to her too?" a classmate asked, pointing at my notebook covered in doodles.
The Diva wasn't just my thing.
Other girls listened to her too.
Girls who, over time, would become my best friends: Mei Kobayashi, Saki Tachibana, and Rika Mizuno.
We shared the same obsession, and it made me happy.
We talked about which songs we thought were her best…
and her best outfits too, like we were judging the dresses of a real queen.
Suddenly, it wasn't "my weird thing" anymore.
It was our thing.
With Mei, it was easy to talk about the Diva, because she got excited about everything.
"Look at that dress! It's gorgeous!" she'd say, glued to the screen like it was some kind of magic show.
Sometimes she'd squeeze my hands from pure excitement, like we were actually there in the front row.
Saki was different.
Sometimes she'd stop me dead when I sang anything—right when I thought I was being brave.
"That's not how it goes… it goes like this," she'd say, correcting the lyrics with a serious face, like the Diva could hear us.
And the worst part was, she was almost always right.
And Rika…
Rika barely spoke.
She just listened.
But then, out of nowhere, she'd hum the exact part of a song I didn't even remember.
And I'd think:
Yes—yes, she gets it!
That made me feel less alone.
One day I showed them my secret place—the place where I liked to sing by myself:
an old shed.
At first it scared them.
"It's dark…" Mei murmured, clinging to my arm.
"It's fine," I lied a little, because it freaked me out too.
But after that, sometimes we still went.
We'd hype each other up, trying to imitate our favorite singer's voice.
The shed smelled like old wood and dust.
Light slipped through a crack in the roof and drew a golden line across the floor, like someone had painted it there with a ruler.
The first time I sang, it was so quiet you could barely hear me…
but they clapped anyway—dramatic, exaggerated—like I was standing on a real stage.
I got embarrassed.
…then I laughed.
After that we took turns: one of us would be "the Diva," another tried harmonies, and the third waved her hands like she held a real microphone.
We didn't sound perfect.
But we had so much fun it didn't even matter.
At home, I was still diligent: I did my homework…
even though sometimes I got distracted with my phone.
And I helped at the inn, though not as much as before.
Still, the place never went completely silent:
footsteps in the hallway,
a sliding door,
the murmur of guests speaking softly…
and, every now and then, my grandparents' voices calling for me.
When they needed me, I tried not to be absent.
But now, a big part of my free time was spent listening to music and scrolling through forums that collected interviews and iconic moments from my idol's career.
That night, I settled into bed with my phone practically pressed to my face, brightness turned all the way down.
I pulled the blanket up to my nose, like that would help no one catch me awake.
In one of those threads, I found an interview that—according to the comments—contained huge news that couldn't be ignored.
But something was strange:
people said it was a video that had been "erased from the public eye."
I didn't want to believe my favorite singer had some dark secret, but…
I was curious.
Very curious.
So I didn't hesitate to press play.
The moment it started, I went still.
It looked like archived footage, like part of a special broadcast.
I recognized her outfit—the same one from that concert they replayed so many times—though as far as I remembered, that day there was never a moment where reporters got to speak to her face-to-face.
Even so, the first question began.
"Miss Diva, what do you think about your growing fame these days?" the reporter asked.
All I could do was admire her in silence.
I didn't want to miss a single word.
I watched her blink slowly, giving the reporter her gentle attention with a calm that pulled me in.
"Well… I'm mainly very grateful for the support of the people who accept my music and value it," she answered.
Hearing her speaking voice made me tremble with excitement.
It was different from when she sang—closer, softer, like she was speaking quietly just for you.
In the video, the crowd murmured, and then a storm of voices rose at once.
"She's adorable!" "You can tell she's so humble!" "Miss Diva, please…!"
Then the host took control again.
"Miss Diva… we'd like to know what inspires you to be the woman you are today."
The Diva took a second.
The question sounded… rehearsed.
And the reporter's eyes looked sharp, like he was digging for something.
"I have to say the people who were around me when I was nobody… and the ones who listened even when I doubted myself," she replied. "They taught me that a voice isn't only talent. It's honesty, too."
Thinking about her past made me sigh.
I couldn't imagine her ever doubting.
"Was there ever a moment you thought about giving up?" another reporter asked, trying to speak faster than the others.
My chest tightened.
Don't say yes…
The Diva smiled delicately, covering her mouth a little.
"Yes. Many times," she admitted. "But there was always something… a small reason to keep going."
I almost forgot to breathe.
"And can we know what it was…?"
"Of course… music," she answered simply. "Music is where emotions find a voice when words aren't enough."
I felt my cheeks warm.
I love her… even answering like that, she's beautiful.
Then the sharp-eyed reporter returned, wearing the same expression.
"Then tell us… what can you say about your beginnings? People say… you had a tragic past, and that in your youth you even postponed your career…"
His question sounded too gloomy.
Like he wanted to smear something beautiful.
Still, I leaned closer to the screen.
I wanted to know.
I really did.
The Diva blinked slowly.
For a moment she looked up, as if searching the air for a memory…
and then she looked back at the interviewer.
"All beginnings are difficult," she said calmly. "But when you walk your own path and hold tight to what you love, effort is rewarded… and it becomes part of you."
I squeezed my phone.
Take that. Maybe you'll stop asking questions like that.
But the reporter wasn't satisfied.
"Sure, sure… but the talent you show in your concerts is… incredible," he pushed. "Where does it come from? What's the 'secret'? There has to be some context, right?"
The discomfort came through the screen.
The audience murmured.
And the reporter looked like he was weaving a strategy to drag out what he really wanted…
The Diva, on the other hand, stayed calm.
Kind eyes.
An almost angelic expression.
She sighed once—slowly—before answering.
"When I was younger, singing wasn't the first thing on my mind," she explained. "But I was fortunate that my voice was noticed. I can't deny I stumbled a lot to reach where I am… and there was a time when I had the most doubts."
She paused briefly.
"But many people supported me, and I couldn't let that go to waste. My dreams came true…"
Another pause.
And then she said it.
"That's how I made it to Stellar Academy… the place that shaped my talent."
"Academy…?"
That single word lit something inside me.
A singing academy?
A place like that really existed?
The idea hit me like an enormous dream—impossible to ignore.
The sharp-eyed reporter smiled instantly, like his prey had finally fallen into the trap, and he fired one last question:
"And were you able to meet that academy's demands even during your year-long absence? What can you tell us about that?"
The Diva parted her lips.
"Ah… about that…"
A small crackle hit the audio, like the video glitched.
"I had the gracious opportunity to be blessed by two ch—"
Huh?! Wait—wait! What is happening?!
I tapped "reload" once, twice.
The screen froze.
A second later, a message appeared:
"This content is not available."
I stayed still, heart pounding hard.
"No way…" I whispered.
In my head, only one thing bounced around:
Stellar Academy.
A place where you shape your talent…
And why had I never heard of it?
Was that the information they were protecting?
"Agh… I have more questions than answers," I muttered under my breath, "but one thing is for sure: I'm going to find a way to get to that place… no matter what."
What I didn't know back then was that this would be my first clue toward fulfilling my dream…
and also the biggest obstacle—the one that would make me stumble.