The Disconsolate Maiden

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"Why didn't you tell me?" Naomi's words continued to drift through Homura's mind as she walked down the walkway to her small home, sighing as the orange, setting sun hit her directly in the face.

Reaching into her school bag, Homura felt around for her set of keys. All she could feel were the few acorns Jyushimatsu had given to her at lunch. Somehow, this made her happy. Of course, she eventually found her keys in a totally different pocket, but all she could think of were the acorns.

Pushing the key into the hole, Homura unlocked the door, pushing it open.

She was greeted by darkness, all the lights off in the house, just as she had left it that morning. They were just simple signs that Homura really was all alone now.

Dropping her bag onto the floor, Homura bowed her head and softly clapped her hands together.

"I'm home, Mother," Homura called softly, standing up straight again as she picked up her bag.

Turning on every main light in the house, Homura went to her room and shut the door behind her, just as she always did.

Pulling out her phone, Homura immediately began to search for idol companies that were still accepting high school girls.

To her luck, as Homura browsed through the Internet, her phone's bright screen illuminating her face, she stumbled across a site that was exactly what she was looking for.

Commonly, an idol manager would track down a random girl in the city if she was pretty or seemed to have some sort of skill. Then, the manager would kindly ask her if she would like to be an idol, and so on.

Sadly, times had changed quite a bit, and very few girls were willing to be idols at several companies because of the bad rumors that had been going around about them. Such as the companies "sending off" their girls to other places, which would earn "more" money for the girl as well as bring her "more" pleasure.

Though, Homura was well aware of this, she was getting so desperate for happiness, or anything that would keep her mind off of the negative. Being an idol had always been her dream- a dream her sister had encouraged, even though Homura and Yuka were young at the time.

"They have immediate phone interviews?" Homura mumbled in surprise, as she continued to study the idol site she was on. She knew several sites were definitely scams, but this one appeared to be genuine. "I guess I should call..."

Homura quickly punched in the phone number on her home phone, checking on her own phone to make sure she hadn't gotten the number wrong. The phone rang, and rang, and rang, and rang. Nobody picked up.

Unwilling to give up, Homura tried five more times before she lost a little bit of faith in her dreams.

Nobody was answering the phone. A good idol company always had someone available during business hours to answer their phone.

Sliding down on the floor next to the chest with her family's home phone on it, Homura leaned her head on the stiff wood of the chest. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine herself being an idol. But it seemed impossible.

Every time she saw a tiny flashing light from a stage in her mind, thoughts of Yuka would push away her pleasure. Not that Yuka was a nuisance. Yuka was a nearly decade old memory, and that was all.

"I give up," Homura sighed, staring blankly at her illuminated phone screen. "It's not like I'd be accepted anyways..."

At that moment, the phone above rang.

Lurching to her feet, Homura clumsily ran into the chest as her hands trembled, reaching for the black phone.

She inhaled deeply as she wrapped her hands around the device, not even looking at the caller id to see who it was.

"H-Hello!" Homura squeaked nervously, regret hitting her as she prayed it wouldn't be her father. "T-This is the Kanojo residence!"

"Kanojo?" a lady at the other of the line said seriously. "That means nothing to me at the moment. Anyways, my name is Rijyu, and I work for 455 Idol. If you're calling, I suppose you'd like to join. If so, please come by our building tomorrow. What would be a good time for you?"

The lady was literally giving Homura no time to talk.

"A-Ah well I have school, but since I'm not in any clubs..." Homura stammered nervously, her palms growing sweaty. "I could stop by as soon as I get off from s-school at 4:30!"

"Very well. I'll make sure the head manager is available. In the meantime, tell me, child, what is your name?" the lady asked, her voice growing more and more frightening by the minute.

"I-I'm H-H-Homura! Homura Kanojo!" Homura squeaked, now holding the phone with both hands since she was shaking so much.

"Kanojo...Homura..." the lady said quietly. The sound of a pen scribbling could be heard over the phone. After a satisfying 'click', the woman began to speak again. "Now tell me, Miss Homura, how old are you?"

"I-I'm s-sixteen now..." Homura spoke nervously, fearing her age would have a huge impact on how she was treated.

"Ah, so young.." the lady muttered before speaking up again. "Now, do you have any sort of...talents? Any instruments? Voice?"

"I've played the piano since I was very young," Homura said, growing more calm the more she spoke. "And I have been told, I can sing just a little. Though, I really enjoy playing piano the most."

"Hair color?" the lady asked, acting as if she hadn't heard the girl. "Eye color?"

"Brown, and brown," Homura replied, exhaling.

"Boring..." the lady muttered, but loud enough for Homura to hear. "I'll let you go now. It seems I have enough information. I'll see you tomorrow. Also, our location is near the main hospital, and everyone knows where that is."

Then, the woman hung up.

"I did it..." Homura sighed. "I finally called someone..."