Uzuki_Usagi

Uzuki had always wanted to become an idol — and if ever someone had been born for a job it was her. When she was a baby, her parents would often exclaim that their little girl seemed to be carrying a tune while she cried; as soon as she could walk, she was dancing. Ever-supportive, her parents dutifully signed her up for a battery of dance, music, and drama, and for much of their daughter’s early life it seemed the investment would pay dividends: she began to pick up momentum, winning school competitions and even appearing on a few local television programs.

Were there an author penning her path, Uzuki would certainly have made it big. But somehow, inexplicably, her momentum began to slow. The girl was no less talented than before, but the world was changing: as if overnight, idols became passé, replaced by a new generation of entertainment decidedly uninterested in her skillset. The competition crowds grew smaller, and the TV crews stopped coming. By the time she entered high school, the girl who in middle school had been a local darling destined for the national stage was virtually unknown even among her peers. Even her long-supportive parents began to gently nudge her towards marriage — a death blow to any idol’s career — implying clearly that they saw her ship as having sailed.

But dreams are hard to kill, and if her ship had sailed, Uzuki was going to swim. Maru’s, she thought, was her last best chance: the girls there could become surprisingly popular (assuming they survived); she would attract as much attention as possible, rebuild her fanbase, even hand out tickets while earning money to pay her way to national competitions. Sure enough, come orientation, she picked out the most attention-drawing outfit available — ignoring the warnings of the more veteran maids — and set out to make a name for herself.

Let’s see how that works out for her.