#just got brainworms about the time shenanigans in i7 and what it would all mean for the *process*

[squidpro-quo]

High School Trio

A/N: This drabble is a spiritual sequel to this one. General idea is apotheosis and the time loop that the hs trio are caught in

By the time Iori noticed, it was too late. He could blame it on the exhilarating rise of Idolish7, pushed to ever more dizzying heights under his watchful eye and hand, or maybe he’d blame the industry, for keeping secrets that the public never picked up on, the kind of secrets that he’d never thought possible while minding the counter at his parents’ bakery. Or maybe it had been too late for a while now, he could barely remember starting high school anymore. All he knew was this final year, stretching on and on with graduation never coming close enough to actually touch. His brother had gotten to graduate, Nikaido-san, Sougo-san, even Nanase-san. All reaching an achievement, one that should’ve been easy for him, and yet he would forever be denied. 

Would Yotsuba-san realize? Should he say anything? Or was it better to remain oblivious to the never-ending cycle of assignments and board duty?

They’d had classmates move on, leaving for greater pursuits and a life beyond the school gates. If they stopped going to school, would that disrupt some part of their trajectory, the ritual that Idolish7 had stepped into on their path to becoming legends? Was it a price Iori would’ve paid if he’d known from the beginning? 

He could feel it every time the cherry blossoms bloomed, the track of their lives skips, loops back like a favorite song repeating in the ears of their fans. He’d done the same history test so many times, he’d lost count but could repeat the answers in his sleep. 

Should he warn Isumi-san, was there still a chance for him? Did he want to? It didn’t matter, he doubted it would be taken with any goodwill. The process had already started for Zool, though he couldn’t guess yet what exact form it would take, he could feel the presence he shared a classroom with even now. What must it be like to share a class with all three of them, the suffocating claustrophobia he felt from even one other pantheon must be unbearable to their classmates. Or was it intoxicating? The school was for performers and the entertainment industries youth, perhaps they’d already gotten used to it, couldn’t have survived without it, like an extremophile taken from its harsh homeland. 

Watching the petals float by outside, Iori pulled on the uniform again and accepted the bento from Mitsuki—that part at least he was glad stayed the same. Power radiated through the cloth, feeding him something other than food, and Iori knew that it wasn’t a question of when it started, but of what they had already become.

Part 3