“Sorry about yesterday,” Mr. Matsuda said in his usual high-pitched tone. He was driving us around for work. “Oh, no,” I replied. “I’m sure you must’ve been busy. It’s okay.” “How was the dinner I paid for?” “Scrumptious.” “Good to hear.” He wasn’t being sarcastic; he looked honestly happy to hear I liked the place. I usually worked at the office as a liaison between him and representatives from other companies, but this time, he was taking me somewhere else. “So where are we going?” “A recording studio. Remember SakuMome announced a new song at yesterday’s concert? They’re shooting the music video. I figured you’d be interested.” He was right. I was curious to see what a professional shoot looked like. “Who did you like best out of the four, Ry?” When I thought about how Himeji had once been part of the group, I couldn’t help but feel she had the biggest presence of them all. “They were all cute and amazing, so I couldn’t really say.” “Wow, such a nice guy answer.” He giggled. We arrived at the studio about thirty minutes later. They gave us staff passes, which we hung around our necks. “Um, what should I be doing?” I asked. “Just watch and learn,” said Mr. Matsuda. We showed the guards our passes, and they let us through the small entrance. Then we went in a door marked STUDIO 3. There in the darkness, a few adults were adjusting the lights, checking the crane camera’s motions, and doing various other odd jobs. The props were already in place. “I’ll go say hi to some people. Feel free to take a look around.” Without waiting for me to answer, Mr. Matsuda left to talk to a middle-aged man in a suit, who was observing the preparations. From what little I could make out, it sounded like he was from the record label. Mr. Matsuda had said that Sakurairo Moment was a minor idol group. Apparently, what separated major and minor artists was the record label they belonged to. I remembered him grumbling about how major groups had their own struggles. So Himeji used to go to shoots just like this. Perhaps bathing in the spotlight in front of cameras and at concerts would give anyone confidence. “The girls are coming!” someone exclaimed, and everyone clapped. The four of them, all in costume, entered from a far door. They were the same girls I’d seen yesterday. Mr. Matsuda said a few words to them. I mentally compared him with Mr. Wakatsuki, whom I’d met by chance the day before. Mr. Matsuda was only interested in men, so he had no reason to propose sleazy conditions to the girls trying to get into his agency. That comforted me. As for Mr. Wakatsuki, I didn’t regret punching him. In fact, I wished I could’ve hit him a few more times. I’d probably never meet him again, though. After the girls went through one final hair, makeup, and costume check, the song began to play, and the four of them started dancing. At some point, the song paused, and they checked the footage before picking up where they’d left off. The cycle repeated for thirty minutes until they took a break. Sakurairo Moment might be a minor group, but there were over twenty people on staff for the filming. And they all had jobs to do. Wow, so this is what a pro studio is like. That was my only thought. I felt like an elementary schooler. I heard a few people coming and going and turned around to look at the door. That was when I saw Mr. Wakatsuki. Ugh. Wh-what the heck is he doing here? Shoot. He saw me. “Ahh! You’re the guy from yesterday!” And he recognized me, too. He was wearing a different luxury suit and some gaudy rings. …He’s got a Band-Aid on his face. Had it hurt that much? He stomped over to me. “Who the hell are you?! Apologize now! Where do you get off punching me out of nowhere! That’s assault!” The fact that Fushimi had held even a fleeting hope of working with this lowlife filled me with sadness and frustration. I couldn’t forgive him. “…You should be the one apologizing,” I said. My heart was racing, and my vision seemed to go red; was blood rushing to my head? “What?! Who are you? Who do you work for?” He shoved me, but I stood firm, refusing to retreat. I tried my best to stay calm, but in the end, I just couldn’t take it. “I heard what you were saying. About how you asked her to sell her body to get into show business! You took advantage of your position and treated her like crap!” “What’s that got to do with you?!” He grabbed me by the collar, but I grabbed him back, pulling at the base of his loose necktie. “You made my childhood friend cry! It’s got a lot to do with me!” At that point, I realized a commotion was starting around us. “My, my, what happened, Ry?” Mr. Matsuda said without the slightest tension in his voice. By then, some of the nearby adults had already separated me and Mr. Wakatsuki. “Mr. Matsuda,” I said, “this piece of shit asked Fushimi to sell her body to get into his agency.” I was also furious at him for only pretending to care about her acting and trying to use her to get to her mother. “So this kid is with you, huh?” he said, looking at Mr. Matsuda. “He punched me in the face yesterday. How’re you gonna make up for it?!” “He did?” Mr. Matsuda said, sounding amused. “Well, that’s your fault, isn’t it? Saying such things to a girl just working hard to achieve her dreams. Don’t you think?” he asked no one in particular. “Everyone does stuff like that!” “I don’t.” “That’s because you’re, y’know…!” So everyone knows about Mr. Matsuda. “I had an awful premonition about this the moment you brought up his name, Ry.” He sighed. “I’d heard about this piece of garbage before.” Piece of garbage… “I’d heard he was coming to observe, but I didn’t expect things to turn out quite like this.” Mr. Matsuda giggled as though it had nothing to do with him. “But, Ry, violence is no good. Bad boy.” That was the extent of his admonishment, though. He didn’t fire me or ask me to take responsibility. “Let me punch that kid,” Mr. Wakatsuki demanded. “My, what a barbarian. I think not.” “Then he should grovel! Either you or the kid should rub your head against the floor. Then I’ll forgive you.” As he continued to yell, Mr. Matsuda narrowed his eyes. “I kept quiet, simply warning the girls that they should be careful of sleazy adults, but…” He glanced at one of the idols. All eyes gathered on a girl with long hair as she spoke in a soft voice. “I auditioned for Top Agency back in my first year of middle school…and was told they would let me join if I sold my body.” “You don’t remember, do you?” said Mr. Matsuda. “Since you tell that to everyone.” “…” Mr. Wakatsuki kept quiet for a long time, before at last he said, “I—I have no idea what you’re talking about!” “You’re the refuse of society… Go die in a hole, pedophile.” “That’s slander!” “Didn’t you just say everyone does stuff like that?” I cut in. “Everyone heard you.” He opened his mouth before shutting it again without saying anything. “I mean, if you want,” said Mr. Matsuda, “I could call up a magazine and spill everything right now. It’s a lot more than just ten or twenty girls, isn’t it?” “…!” Mr. Matsuda pointed at the floor. “But if you grovel and apologize, I might forgive you.” “Ughhh… Y-y-y…!” He wanted to say you but couldn’t even get it out. He bared his teeth and glared daggers at Mr. Matsuda. Shoving away the guy who was still holding him back, he took a step forward before bending his knee. “Please forgive me.” “That’s not low enough.” Mr. Matsuda’s lips curved in a malicious grin. Who’s the bad guy here again? “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I’ve got more pressing matters to attend to.” “Ugh…” Finally, Mr. Wakatsuki bent down until his head brushed against the floor. “I… I apologize.” Considering all the girls he’d hurt, this hardly seemed like enough, but I felt my anger subsiding. I looked at Mr. Matsuda and nodded. He understood what I meant and clapped. “All right, break over. Let’s pick back up.” The tension in the studio subsided, and everyone returned to their stations. Before I noticed, Mr. Wakatsuki was gone. Apparently, he no longer had the guts to stay and observe. Filming ended about two hours after that. Mr. Matsuda said he wanted to hear more about what had happened, and so we headed to a café after the shoot. “Oh, so he was at that restaurant? I’m sure he’ll run away the next time he sees my face.” He cackled. “But, Ry, I had no idea you were capable of something like that.” “I’m not, normally. It was the first time I ever punched someone…” “I guess that shows how much you care for Fushimi.” Oh… Yeah. I’d been confused about why I’d done it, but it made sense now. Just like how I had special feelings for Torigoe, I had similarly special feelings for Fushimi, too… “Well…she’s my childhood friend, and I know how she feels and how hard she’s worked… Uh, what’s with that look on your face?” As I raised my gaze from the coffee cup in my hands, Mr. Matsuda covered his mouth, like he’d been caught. “N-nothing, it’s nothing.” He forced a laugh. The topic moved to my short film, and I showed him the finished video on my phone. He gave the phone back to me once it was over. “What did you think?” I asked. “Amateurish. Painful.” “Aw…” He was merciless. “That’s praise. It really took me back to high school and all the pent-up emotions I had inside me. I meant that it leaves an impression.” “That’s partly thanks to Fushimi’s skill, isn’t it?” I shot him a furtive glance, and he smiled. “I can tell what you want me to say, so I won’t say it.” Meanie… It’s like he could read my mind. It was strange; it made him more and less approachable at the same time. Some time after that, I was working, and Mr. Matsuda was reading a magazine—something he rarely did. “Anything interesting?” I asked. He giggled crassly. “Look at this.” He walked up to my desk and showed me what he was reading. The magazine was open to an article titled “The Secret Interviews of a Certain Modeling Agency President.” Hmm? That sounds familiar. I looked up at Mr. Matsuda, and he just wouldn’t stop smirking. “Is it him?” I asked. “I wonder! Maybe someone somewhere said something.” Clearly, it was you. “Didn’t you say you’d forgive him if he groveled?” I asked, confident I was right. “What do you mean? I did forgive him.” He confessed easily. It seemed he had no intention of trying to hide it. “But you told the magazine.” “My feelings on the matter and the fact of his crimes are entirely separate.” He looked at me like I was crazy for even asking. I mean, not to defend him, but should you really be tricking people like that…? “It’s his fault for having skeletons in his closet.” …Mr. Matsuda was not setting a good example as an adult. Better make sure not to get on his bad side, ever. Mr. Matsuda didn’t seem to like Mr. Wakatsuki much from the beginning, and he had something of a tough, stubborn streak; I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out he was just waiting for the chance to destroy the guy. “He could’ve simply denied it and said the girl misunderstood, but then he all but admitted it, and in front of sooo many witnesses.” He headed back to his seat, merrily humming SakuMome’s new song. “Ry! This calls for a celebration! Bring the champagne!” “We’re still on the clock.” “Gosh, you’re so serious!” He slapped the desk. I ended up keeping the magazine. It seemed he’d intended to give it to me in the first place. “By the way,” I said, “Himeji told me she had a kiss scene in her stage play.” “Oh, that? She’s not gonna kiss anyone onstage. They’ll just pretend.” I thought back to the feeling of her lips on mine. The look of her flushed face, and her bashful words. You said you needed to practice… After work, I dropped by Fushimi’s house to show her the magazine. “Turned out he did that all the time in secret.” “Oh… Wow.” Once she finished reading, Fushimi closed the magazine with a clap. “Ever since then, I’ve been thinking about things.” “Yeah?” “Acting practice is fun, and I can do that without an agency. There’s no need to rush things. I’ll still make the effort to join one eventually,” she said, smiling. She seemed reinvigorated. She’d looked up the histories of all the actresses she saw on TV. Some started out as models, some doing stage plays, and a fair share only debuted in their midtwenties. Knowing that eased her anxiety and made her feel less like she had to race to join an agency and make her debut. “Ai said that nobodies have better luck linking up with other nobodies.” “She doesn’t mince her words, does she?” Fushimi’s tone was light, however. It seemed she hadn’t taken it to heart. “She’s ruthless, but that’s her way of cheering me up, I think.” “Maybe.” It was possible she was just trying to put the other girl in her place, but as Fushimi said, they could also be taken as words of encouragement. If she wanted to encourage, though, she should’ve been more straightforward about it. “If that’s the conclusion you’ve come to, then great. You don’t need to compare yourself to Himeji.” “Yeah. Sorry for all the trouble I caused.” I shook my head. I never thought I would punch a stranger like that. It was all because of how much I cared about Fushimi… “…” “Ryou?” “Oh, it’s nothing…” For a second, I heard a voice in the back of my mind. As I tried to move forward and get a grip on my feelings, something grabbed my foot and pulled me back. What if it was only me who cared about her like that? What if Fushimi didn’t consider me special? My train of thought had gotten derailed. …Why do I think like this?
Chapter 141
13 min read