Hello, apparently I’m alive xD Been working on this for a while, but I couldn’t get it satisfactorily right till now. Enjoy how YuuNaa of this story came to be – unfortunately Mogion still isn’t cooperating with me, so their part will have to wait.

Serious

There’s no one insane enough to deny that Okada Nana is a professional.

Whether it be seniors, or juniors, or contemporaries, or staff – everyone would point to Nana as being one of the most (if not the most) professional person in the room. It’s a well-known, universally accepted fact. Perhaps her so-called ‘seriousness’ has a lot to do with that.

 “You’re serious.”

It’s barely an exaggeration to say that Nana has heard that phrase about a million times in her life. 

In her early years it’s said with tones of surprise and mirthful laughs. The latter from her amused mother and father, and the former from uncles and aunts and family friends who coo over her supposed precociousness. In her teen years it’s tinged with pride from both her teachers and parents alike, relieved and proud that their young girl is more focused on her schoolwork than on boys or clothes, or one of the other many frivolities that distracted girls of her age.

At the time most people wrote it off simply as her being mature for her age and having a focused attitude and personality. Nana herself falls into this way of thinking and tells herself that one day – probably far from now – she will fall for some guy, have those fluttering gut feelings and gush over her supposed future boyfriend like everyone around her seems to do. One day. Later. She’s just too busy now.

Passing the auditions for the biggest girl group in Japan is probably fates way of saying ‘ha!’ to naïve early-teen Nana’s thinking.

“Hi! Name’s Kojima Mako! Nice to meet you!”

“Uchiyama Natsuki, pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

“Hello, I’m Maeda Mitsuki, how are you?”

“Nishino Miki! What’s your name?”

Nana is more than a little nervous, her heart won’t stop pounding in her chest, there’s an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, and is so ridiculously dry it feels like she’s about to croak rather than talk. She chalks it up to how pretty the girls look – she’s practically ugly in comparison – and how inept she is at talking to most people. Talking to the staff and the seniors is easy, talking to her peers or her juniors on the other hand, Nana is hopeless.

They think she’s scary, and she simply has no idea what to talk about with them. So it comes to no one’s surprise that Nana ends up close with a senpai. Even if it’s one her own age. Though she might be a little sheepish to admit that the first time she saw Yuiri at the practice hall, she stumbles over the flat wooden floorboard panelling and has to make up an excuse to Mitsuki and Nakki about being too tired to function.

She sees a pretty girl enter the hall and nearly falls over – a little embarrassing sure, but teenage hormones, it can be excused. Then said pretty girl starts dancing and Nana nearly dances into a mirror – that one’s more difficult to brush off. Luckily her previous behaviour just makes her friends think she’s really tired that day. Overall though, Nana is a professional. So she puts all of that out of her mind and focuses on learning the choreography. Then she actually talks to the pretty girl. It’s somehow simultaneously the best and worst decision of her life.

“Naa-chan come on. It’s nearly midnight. Let’s go home,” Mako looks to be on the verge of passing out right then and there, and it’s the only reason why Nana agrees to stop.

She still doesn’t think they have a good grasp on the choreography yet. So she watches as the rest of the group trudges out, and stays behind to run through it all a few more times, even if it’s by herself.

“Your arm needs to be at a higher angle. It makes the transition to the next step easier.”

Nana nearly gives herself whiplash spinning around to see who had spoken. It’s the baby-faced (and distractingly pretty) girl from earlier, Yu-something her brain unhelpfully supplies. The senior is watching from the corner of the practice room, by the stereo, a hand under her chin, as if studying something that she can’t quite make sense of.

“Sorry, I thought I was alone,” Nana doesn’t know why she feels the need to apologise, she just does.

“I can’t leave unless I get it right,” Yu-something shrugs and Nana can definitely relate to that. It makes her feel even guiltier for forgetting her name. It’s definitely Yu-something. Yurina? Yumirin? Yurie?

“The others think I’m a bit weird for wanting it to be perfect,” Nana says like she’s sharing a scandalous secret and a flutter of delight sparks a smile on her face when the other girl laughs. She has a disarmingly dulcet voice, Nana notes, complemented by the soft dimples that surface when she smiles.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do your best.”

And somehow, strangely enough, in a group that is built upon improving oneself and working hard, this senior (Yui? Yuiko?) is actually the first person to tell her that. The first one to actually seem to believe it, and Nana finds herself intrigued (and really wishing she could remember her name). 

“Can you help me with this?”

Sometimes Nana speaks without consulting her brain, and then in the zero point something seconds after the words leave , her brain goes ‘what!?’. It’s like that now. Because the dance for Temodemo no Namida is definitely one that Nana has down almost perfectly, so why the hell did she just ask for help?

“Sure, the trick at this part is to place your hands like so.”

Ah, this is why, Nana’s brain supplies while her heart makes a valiant attempt at jumping out of her chest. This one generally leads to touching when trying to teach someone else because it’s not easy to demonstrate the placement of the hands without it. Huh.

A lesser known, but perhaps even more accepted fact, is that there’s a dent in Nana’s otherwise perfect professionalism, in the form of one red-faced girl named Murayama Yuiri. When it comes to her, professional Okada Nana turns into a hormonal teenager Naa-chan. That’s been happening since day one.

That could’ve been all it amounted to, just two girls with a passion for perfection, one with a crush, and one too oblivious for her own good.  A regular routine of late nights staying behind to practice their choreography, and maybe a bit of small talk about superficial things like favourite artists, or the popular café down the street, and that would be that.

Nana changes it without ever even realising what she’s doing.

It starts unlike most romance stories. No exciting bang, or mysterious unfolding of events, nor a whisper of anything out of place – it’s merely a dreary rainy day for the average kenkyuusei when Nana decides she really wants to eat something sweet.

“Hey Yuu-chan, want to get Kakigori with me after practice?” Nana blurts out before she can think about it too hard and spiral into an endless circle of self-doubt.

 Yuiri blinks and stares pointedly out the window, “It’s raining.”

“And? The best time for ice cold desserts is in the rain,” Nana says with a cheeky grin, and it’s clearly infectious because Yuiri joins her. If Nana turns a little red when the smile accentuates Yuiri’s dimples, then well, no one notices. 

 “You’re too serious!”

In her mid-teens, not long after joining the biggest girl group in Japan, there’s a ‘too’ that gets tacked onto the often heard phrase. Strange how just one word can change the entire meaning. Suddenly being serious isn’t a positive trait anymore, not something to be proud of. Still, she doesn’t change her behaviour and embraces the labels the television writers and fans bestow upon her. If being the ‘serious idol’ is what it takes to stand out amongst the crowd of hundreds, then she’ll take it. Bonus in that it’s not exactly a made up character, and just her own (if slightly exaggerated) personality trait.

It’s this image of the serious, perfect, idol that prompts Nana into making sure that Yuiri is heard amongst her peers. Yuiri has a few issues communicating – most of it comes down to her brain probably being wired differently to your average teen, because she comes up with explanations that make sense to no one else – no else but Nana that is. It’s that sense of professionalism, that seriousness which makes Nana feel responsible enough to want to help explain Yuiri’s point of view to the others.

As well as not-so-small-now crush.

That too.

Maybe mostly that.

It’s innocuous enough that no one comments about it, or even notices really.

Except Yuiri herself.

For someone who’s had difficulty getting her point across her entire life, having someone not only understand but be willing to ‘translate’ her jumbled thoughts as they were, is touching to say the least. It draws Yuiri’s attention to Nana, makes her care enough to watch her junior a little bit more than the normal ‘I’m comparing myself to you to see if I’m keeping up’ that everyone else is doing.

And so in watching Nana (somewhat discreetly), she’s the only one who notices when something is wrong. Everyone else sees the semi façade of professionalism and stoicism and thinks nothing of it when Nana excuses herself to go to the bathroom and comes back with eyes rimmed a bit more red than usual. It’s not easy trying to make a name for yourself in a group as large as theirs, and sometimes it takes a toll on the psyche. It’s only because she’s watching, that Yuiri notices that the bags under Nana’s eyes are darker than normal. That her face looks a little more gaunt, and the smiles don’t quite reach her eyes.

Yuiri doesn’t know what to do – she’s not exactly much of a talker, she can’t comfort people like Ayana, she can’t distract people from their problems like Saki, she can’t make people feel at ease around her like Ryoka, she’s not even the reassuring silent pillar of support like Mogi. The only thing she can really do is shut up and listen – that’s kind of her only talent. Maybe that would be enough? Surely Nana would have closer friends (better friends) to talk to? Of course she would, she’s Okada Nana, she has more worthwhile things to do than humour her nosy senpai.

Even when it’s obvious that everyone around Nana is absolutely oblivious, Yuiri hesitates. It’s not her place, they’re not that close, it’s not her business.

“I really rely on Yuiri-san so much.” Nana’s relieved voice echoes in her ears as she recalls the first time her kouhai tells her that, in a backstage dressing room corner before a theatre show. Yuiri still can’t understand why, she didn’t do anything all that helpful to deserve such high praise. Nana was probably just being nice.

So Yuiri shuts up and keeps it to herself. But the bags under Nana’s eyes get darker, and her cheekbones grow more prominent, and her smile recedes into a brittle caricature of what it once was, and no one else seems to have noticed. Why haven’t they noticed? It’s glaringly obvious to Yuiri that something is very much wrong, and not in the usual ‘stressed out idol’ way. There’s something lurking in Nana’s already intensely scrutinizing gazes, something darker.

It doesn’t occur to Yuiri that she notices because she’s the only one looking hard enough.

 “Hey Naa-chan,” Yuiri starts a conversation with Nana with the intention of asking another superfluous question about her weekend.

“Yes Yuu-chan?” Nana, as usual, is nothing but polite.

But somewhere between calling Nana and getting her attention, Yuiri changes her mind.

“I really rely on Yuiri-san so much.”

 She hands a scrap of paper to the younger girl, who looks at her questioning, “That’s my number. Call me when you’re ready, we’ll talk about it.”

Nana pauses and looks at Yuiri with a genuinely baffled expression, “Talk about what?”

Yuiri is halfway to the door when she turns back to answer Nana’s question, “Whatever’s bothering you,” and she leaves before the automatic protests or denials can slip out of Nana’s mouth.

Yuiri doesn’t know it at the time, but she probably saved Nana’s life.

Nana knows that she’s doomed.

Somewhere in the last few months her little crush becomes not so little, and then it’s no longer a crush. She finds herself watching Yuiri a lot more, gauging her reactions, and doing things just to see that dimpled smile. Her eyes linger longer than they should, she finds any excuse to hold her hand, even a touch on the shoulder. Little generic platitudes like good morning greetings, hand waves and half-smiles reflexively make her lips curl upwards, lightens her mood and brightens her day. Even small talk sounds like amazingly sage advice coming from her senior – and suddenly Nana stutters to the the unsettling realisation that she’s seriously gone ahead and fallen in love.

Shi—crap.  

Then she might’ve panicked a little and did the overly cliché thing of trying to avoid the subject of her affection.

Trying being the key word here. Yuiri has other ideas. She’s never been one for following social etiquette, and promptly corners Nana in the dressing room before she could make her escape.

“You can’t be seriously ignoring me again. What’s going on Naa-chan?” her senpai has always preferred to cut straight to the point without indulging in any courtesies. It’s usually endearing, but this time it’s kind of giving her a heart attack.

The way Yuiri looks at her, concern shining through her eyes – like she’s actually seeing Nana and not through her, like she’s looking at Okada Nana, the hopeless socially awkward weirdo from Kanagawa, and not Okada Nana the scarily super serious idol from AKB48 – it creates an insane urge to tell her the truth. The ‘I like you’ is on the tip of her tongue, when Nana’s brain snaps out of its lovesick daze and regains control of her body, slamming that train of thought to a screeching halt.

“Nothing, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nana denies, and busies herself with the script in her hands, heart thudding all the while. What the hell had she been thinking? There’s an entire ten thousand page document for why that would’ve been a horrifyingly bad idea. “Akbingo just keeps getting weirder and weirder you know…” she ignores the way her stomach drops with guilt when Yuiri’s eyebrows knit together in a frown, she shoves the part of her that chimes in with an unhelpful observation that Yuiri’s dimples are just as cute when she’s frowning as when she’s smiling.

Yuiri’s eyes on her are heavy, like she’s staring through to her soul, peeling past the (admittedly rather weak) layer of bravado, and Nana feels a shiver run through her, and she forces her eyes to stay glued to the script.

She is so doomed.

“Naa-chan, we talked about this,” Yuiri says patiently, and she’s always so understanding, so kind – it’s really no wonder that Nana falls for her –, “You don’t have to tell me anything, but please don’t lie to me.”

If it’s anyone else, Nana would’ve plastered on one of her eye-crinkling smiles and reassured the other person that she was fine, really, just a little tired perhaps, they know how practice and scheduling goes. But it’s Yuiri, and Nana just could barely stand to lie to her the first time, a second time in the same day is unlikely.

That still doesn’t mean she has to tell the truth. She’s not stupidly in love. Not yet anyway.

Nana is careful with her wording when she finally looks up (making sure to avoid looking anywhere near Yuiri’s face), “Nothing is wrong. Not the way you think. I’m not in a dark mood, I promise.”

Yuiri is so expressive when the cameras are off (and sometimes even when they’re on), and Nana can almost see the moment when the elder girl decides to believe her, “But something is not…not normal, isn’t it?”

Nana hates that her heart leaps at the way Yuiri sees straight through her. Not many do, and in AKB no one else does. They buy the strict and serious no nonsense persona, they take everything she says at face value, and why wouldn’t they? She’s been a master at hiding her real face for a very long time now. But Yuiri doesn’t fall for it, perhaps she never did.

“I…” Nana sighs and puts the script away, forgoing all pretence of reading it. Her palms are sweaty, and she’s terrified that she might actually do the insane thing and confess if Yuiri keeps looking at her like that, “I don’t want to see the way you look at me change.”

Apparently it is possible for Yuiri’s expression to soften, and Nana is very pointedly looking at the floor.  

“There is nothing you can say that will make me think any less of you.”

A wry grin spreads across Nana’s face, and she inclines her head in a way that could be construed as a challenge, “Are you sure about that?” self-loathing dripping from her words.

Yuiri fixes a flat unamused pseudo glare at her, “Naa-chan. I’m not going to hate you, no matter what’s going on with you,” and there’s a slight undertone of offence in her words, as if Nana could possibly think Yuiri would do such a thing, and Nana feels the irrational urge to lash out, to prove her wrong.

“What if I tell you that I’m in love?”

It’s out before Nana could stop it, and she doesn’t have a chance to regret it because she’s too busy watching her senpai’s reaction. The brash not-question actually gives Yuiri a stumped pause, her eyes widening in surprise, and a spiteful triumph surges through Nana. The euphoric feeling of being right, even when it’s to her own detriment.

The lack of reply is deafening.

There’s naught but the sound of Nana’s own shallow breaths in her ears, and she can feel the weight sink down over her head. The hollow victory is gone, and all that’s left is the heavy curl of disgust in her gut, entirely aimed at herself. Good job Okada, her brain supplies sarcastically, you’ve gone and alienated the only person who likes you in this joint.

“You’re Okada Nana, I trust you know how to be discreet,” when Yuiri finally speaks, her voice isn’t laced with anger or revulsion, but something akin to sadness, “I’ve told you before, you can always talk to me about anything. I hope you never feel like you have to hide from me.”

And that irrational desire to prove the other girl wrong rises with a vengeance. People were always telling her that – but they’ve all got their codes, and their rules, and their judgements. No one can tolerate everything, that’s just how humans are. Everyone has a limit, a point where they can no longer stand something, an ideal, a point of view, a course of action. Yuiri is too nice, too understanding, too kind, and Nana hates not knowing what her limits are.

“What if I told you, the person I am in love with…is…” Nana pauses, her heart caught in , roaring over the sound of the (small and almost insignificant) portion of her brain that’s yelling at her to ‘shut the hell up!’, “…you.”

Nana expects the stunned silence. She expects the literal freezing up, deer-in-the-headlights look Yuiri is sporting. She expects a sneer of distaste, a physical step back, or even a hostile advance on her person – she doesn’t get those.

Instead, when Yuiri finally snaps out of the shocked daze that Nana’s confession puts her in, she wordlessly pulls her kouhai into a hug, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, the other around her shoulders, and all Nana can feel is warm, safe, wanted, and belatedly, she realises that Yuiri is murmuring, “I don’t hate you, I don’t hate you, I don’t hate you,” over and over again into her, and why are her cheeks wet?

Nothing changes after that.

They still talk during practice and theatre sessions, they hang out after work and have dinners, and lunches, and casual outings, and they stay up all night chatting on the phone.

Nana calls her kind, Yuiri just thinks she’s being a decent person, that’s kind of a low bar to set for such high praise. She doesn’t treat Nana any differently than normal, because nothing’s changed, Nana is still Nana. She’s still the same energetic, passionate girl who puts her all into everything she does, and Yuiri still admires her for it.

It’s only when other people bring it up, that Yuiri starts to feel that something has changed.

“When did you and Naa-chan get so close?” her fellow thirteenth genmate Ayana asks her after Yuiri turns her down on account of having made plans with Nana earlier.

Yuiri shrugs, and tries to think back to when she and her junior started talking properly, “Since the Te wo Tsunaginara stage?”

Ayana smiles and a wipes away at an imaginary tear, “Look at you, all grown up. You’re making friends without me.”

That earns her a smack in the arm from Yuiri.

“Mah, don’t be so touchy. I’m just saying, there’s something…different about you and her. And it’s definitely recent,” Ayana says, rubbing at her arm.

Yuiri’s heart nearly leaps out of at that, she schools her expression into one of mild annoyance, instead of mild panic attack and puts on her best act in years, “What? You’ve been reading too many shoujo ai mangas Ayanan.”

It’s not until after the Showroom Live with another one of her genmates, Okada Ayaka and Nana that Yuiri realises Ayana is right and things might have actually changed.

“That’s the last time I’m ever third wheeling with you two again,” Ayaka declares when Nana leaves.

Yuiri blinks, and has to wait a few moments for that statement to register in her brain, “What?” is her only intelligent response.

“Have you seen the way you two look at each other? It’s like you’re in your own little world, it feels so awkward having to sit in between you two,” Ayaka explains while packing her jacket into her bag, and Yuiri is still too busy doing a factory reset on her brain to respond.

“Think I’ll leave it to Ayana to be a masochist, I’m not suffering through that again. If we’re doing another Showroom, there’s gotta be more people, or no Naa-chan,” Ayaka continues, oblivious to Yuiri’s little crisis.

“I’m sorry…” Yuiri shakes her head, “but what are you talking about?”

“Come on Yuiri-chan, surely you’ve seen the way she looks at you?” Ayaka asks skeptically, “Or maybe if you really haven’t noticed, just look in the mirror, your eyes light up when you see her.”

Ayaka continues to describe the way the pair of them apparently look to everyone else, while Yuiri splutters out more denials.

“Alright, you lot are taking that stupid Akbingo episode way too seriously.”

Nana says that she’s kind, but really, she’s just blind.

Somewhere along the track, between meeting Nana, talking to her, really talking to her, and hearing her confess – Yuiri starts to fall too. Or perhaps, the correct term would be to say that she realises that she’s falling too, maybe always has been, from the start. Because now that she’s actually thinking about it, she is the one who started flirting with Nana in the beginning.

Yuiri is the one who originally initiated the flirting on stage, the one who says things to make her kouhai blush, the one who calls Nana cute and shamelessly kisses her hand just because it happened to be in front of her face.

She starts it, and somehow Nana finds a way to blame herself for falling for Yuiri.

It’s a little funny the way Yuiri starts to realise it right when Nana decides to start talking about how falling in love is important for conveying emotions in performances – even unreciprocated love.

“Naa-chan, we need to talk,” Yuiri hates the way those cliché words roll off her tongue.

Nana is by her side and attentive in seconds, “What’s wrong Yuu-chan?”

“You’re going to have to stop talking about unreciprocated love.”

Nana winces, and is immediately apologetic, “Sorry, I didn’t realise it was making you uncomfortable. I’ll stop if that’s what you want.”

 “No, no. I mean…That’s not what I meant,” Guilt floods through Yuiri, and she feels like a moron, because of course that’s how Nana would interpret that. Why can’t she ever say what she means?

A quizzical expression flits through Nana’s guarded face, “Ok…what’s going on Yuu-chan?”

Is it a little cruel of her to somehow want Nana to just read her mind? Yes, she supposes, it really is. Yuiri fidgets a little before deciding to just rip off the Band-Aid in one clean move instead of dragging it out agonisingly slow.

“I mean you have to stop talking about it because it’s not exactly unreciprocated anymore. Or maybe not ever, you know I’m useless about this stuff. I’ll stop rambling now, long story short, I love you too.”

Nana is just staring at her, mouth slightly agape in surprise, and Yuiri kind of feels bad for just springing it on her. Nana is usually a difficult person to read, Yuiri has an easier time than most, but this time, she thinks that anyone can see the thoughts flitting through Nana’s head.

The first is surprise of course, then speculation of where this sudden reveal came from, re-evaluation of past interactions given new information, and then the dawning realisation of what it means.

What it means to be in love. What it means in this group. What it means for their careers.

As usual, Nana is more articulate than Yuiri, and aptly sums it up in one word:

“.”

The YuunaaMogion youtube channel gave me life, and probably made this happen. But it also tore a crater-sized hole through my story. *Grumbles in delusional disgruntled fanfic writer* Of course it’s YuuNaa who say nothing to each other, while Mogion are chattering all the while. Of course…

Anyway, since I felt the need to publish this story, there’s been a rather nice influx of YuuNaa fics over on AO3, I do suggest checking some of them out. There’s also a Hogwarts AU that I just saw, but haven’t read yet, will be doing that soon, and it’s likely to going to spark a Hogwarts AU for me, because well, if you know me, you know I’m a hoe for Hogwarts AU. SlytherinXHufflepuff YuuNaa here I come :D