Street Dance Battle 2. ~♪
It was noon, and the bell signaling lunchtime echoed through the halls. The school corridors buzzed with students heading out to eat. I pushed through the crowd and made my way to a quieter spot. My destination was the door leading to the rooftop—a peaceful place rarely visited by students, perfect for when I wanted some alone time.
Leaning against the firmly shut rooftop door, I smoothed out my uniform skirt and plugged my earphones into my ears. Then I pulled up a VerTube video on my phone: the 72nd Street Dance Battle. I watched last year's competition footage one clip at a time, paying close attention.
The judging criteria included move accuracy, sync with the music, teamwork, and more. The key was to impress the judges with your style and performance in the limited time. There were three participation formats: solo, couple, and group. My top priority was solo, since I could enter that alone. No partner for couples, and the group event was already locked in with the other members' choreography—no room for me there.
"Guess that means I have to win something in solo."
It wouldn't be easy. I'd underestimated it a bit since it was a youth competition, but after watching the videos, my thinking shifted.
"High schoolers these days are insanely good..."
Even just the finals footage was hard to believe came from high schoolers. They held up against pro dancers without missing a beat. They must have prepared for months. Meanwhile, I had barely two weeks left. I hadn't even picked a song, let alone choreographed anything. Time was tight, and the competition level exceeded expectations. Placing would be tougher than I'd thought.
"Well, my handicap should even the odds a bit."
A current idol hiding her identity to compete in a youth event? It felt a little unfair, conscience-wise. But yeah, I needed that handicap.
"Alright. Let's do this!"
I clenched my fist, psyching myself up. My competitive fire was roaring for the first time in a while. But that fire didn't last long.
Grrrrrowl.
Weight management meant skipping lunch again today. I'd heard it was galbi tang soup. With a pang of regret, I smacked my lips and pulled something edible from my pocket: a low-calorie energy bar. I'd overindulged on greasy food during break, so diet control was necessary for a bit. I shoved the fist-sized bar into my mouth. Sugar-free and bland, and so small it barely touched the hunger.
"Hmmm."
As I poked at my stomach with a dissatisfied frown, someone popped out from beside the railing.
"Eek!"
I nearly dropped my phone in shock. The earphones had blocked out all footsteps. And the intruder? None other than Ga-young.
"Is that your lunch?"
She pointed at the energy bar wrapper in my hand. I'd gotten nagged before for skipping meals, so I quickly stuffed the empty wrapper into my pocket.
"N-no, I didn't skip."
"That's not why I'm here. And you don't have to lie. I'm skipping too."
She showed me the lunchbox in her hand. She never skipped before, which was odd, but one look at the contents explained it: a chicken breast salad. Classic low-cal diet food. Some girls were embarrassed about dieting, so they sought out secluded spots like this.
"Dig in."
Ga-young sat naturally beside me and started on her salad—veggies, chicken breast, and dressing all mixed together. It looked pretty appetizing, and I swallowed involuntarily. She noticed and, using her own fork, picked up a piece of chicken breast and held it out to me.
"W-want a bite?"
"You sure?"
One piece of chicken breast should be fine. I chomped down on what she offered and swallowed it in one go. Mm, not bad.
"What's that video?"
Ga-young, who'd been staring at my face, shifted her gaze to my phone. The competition footage was still playing.
"It's Street Dance Battle, footage from last year."
"You join the dance club and jump straight into a competition?"
"I need the performance points fast."
"Hmm, I see..."
Ga-young pondered for a long moment, then spoke up as if summoning courage.
"Can I come watch that competition too?"
"Huh?"
I tilted my head, and she fanned her face embarrassedly.
"I-I'm a little interested in dance too. Seeing a classmate compete makes me wanna check it out in person."
"Sure, come watch."
It wasn't like I needed permission anyway. It wasn't my private venue.
"Guess I'll head out."
"Already?"
"Gotta hit the club room."
"...Okay."
Leaving Ga-young (who seemed a bit disappointed?), I headed to the club room on the fourth floor. I had a few things to do today: greet the advisor and submit my competition entry form.
"Excuse me... Uh...?"
I opened the door without thinking and froze at the sight. Just yesterday, the dance club room had been full of energy, but today the members were all in a collective funk. The vibe was like a funeral home.
·····What happened?
D-13 until the Street Dance Competition.
With the event so close, disaster struck: one student slated for the group event had to drop out due to an ankle injury. An unexpected vacancy—and from the lead dancer (the one guiding the choreography), no less. Finding a replacement wouldn't be easy.
· · · This is a headache.
Dance club advisor Shin Yu-rim sighed deeply, pinching her brow. Losing a main member meant dismantling and rebuilding months of choreography from scratch. In just 13 days. The thought alone made her head throb. In this hopeless situation, sighs kept escaping her.
One girl hung her head like a criminal. The injured student who had to withdraw.
"...I'm sorry, Teacher."
"It's not your fault."
She couldn't bring herself to get angry. The root cause was her own doing anyway.
Perpetual runner-up. That's what Haneul Arts High School's dance club was known as—second place every year in group events. Shin Yu-rim hated it. In her third year as advisor, she'd vowed to claim the national championship this time. She'd upped the training intensity just a bit from last year. She never dreamed it would lead to injuries.
It's all my fault...
She had no face to show anyone—not the injured girl, nor the other members. As she wallowed in self-blame, an unfamiliar voice came from beside her.
"...Um."
Turning, she saw a bespectacled girl looking at her awkwardly. Must be the new recruit from yesterday. She'd heard the basics from homeroom teacher Lee Ye-rin (of class 1-7).
Trainee background, right...? But she looks so ordinary.
It threw her off a bit.
"...Uh."
The girl glanced around the room uncomfortably before asking cautiously,
"Did something happen?"
"Well, it's like this..."
Shin Yu-rim explained the situation in a soft voice. Knowing wouldn't change anything for a newbie.
"Then... um."
The girl, having heard it all, spoke with surprising confidence.
"Can I take that spot?"
"W-what kind of nonsense is that...?"
It was absurd. This wasn't about dancing skill. Group events hinged on teamwork with the members—and that didn't form overnight. Especially not for the lead dancer role, which anchored the team. A newbie who'd never synced with them couldn't handle it.
But the girl didn't back down.
"Do you have rehearsal footage recorded?"
"We do. Why?"
"Can I see it once?"
"...Sure."
Yu-rim showed her the rehearsal video saved on her phone. The choreography was high-level: hundreds of run-throughs evident in every sync, every movement path meticulously planned.
She'll give up once she sees this.
No way to master it in two weeks. That's what Yu-rim thought.
But the girl's response was totally unexpected.
"Looks like I can do it. Mind if I try?"
She said it so casually, without a hint of hesitation.