“I’d like you to spread my works farther than I can spread my wings, chirp! The battle stuff, the war stuff, the romantic comedies—all of it!”
One room of my apartment had been converted into a studio. The soundproofing and acoustics were perfect, as was the top-of-the-line equipment, and it was all offset by a ton of deliberately disorganized posters of cute anime girls. In front of the PC monitor was another girl, this one supremely angelic, striking a pose.
That’s right! It was everyone’s favorite seventeen-year-old, Kiraboshi Kanaria, in the middle of a super popular stream!
“I’ll catch you all on the flappity-flap! Bye-bye!”
Actually, I wasn’t so much in the middle of the stream as right at the end. After saying an adorable goodbye to the viewers, I clicked the button to end the stream.
It was time to switch off for a bit. But first, I needed to make sure the stream had ended properly, using both my PC and various phones. That would prevent any bloopers from being sent out, and it was the professional thing for an idol to do, chirp! Sometimes I pretended I forgot to switch off the screen, but those times were completely calculated!
“Whew, that’s another stream over without any hiccups. Now I’ve got that meeting to get to, chirp.” I kept up my persona even when talking to myself. I was in a first-rate job where even a single slipup could cost me everything. Every utterance had to be carefully considered when you were an idol.
I stood up from my chair and left my special studio. It should be obvious, but the PC I use for streaming and the PC I use for work meetings are not one and the same. Even meetings for some of the bigger projects, where a leak could be devastating, were done at home nowadays. It was all due to the rise in remote meetings.
As both a first-rate idol and a first-rate working woman, I therefore needed to do everything I could to reduce risks. Thank God my fancy tower apartment had so many rooms.
And so, I entered the room I set up for my editing work and started up the laptop before accessing the URL for the meeting. I was right on time too.
“Why, hello there. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“Hello, Tsukinomori-san. I only just got here myself.”
On the screen was a man in the prime of his life with a fine air about him and a face I’d seen several times in recent months. On that face was a mustache that reminded me of nobility. This was Tsukinomori Makoto, CEO of Honeyplace Works, a huge entertainment company that worked in publishing, games, anime, and almost any other media form you could think of.
“Oh, yeah, you were streaming just now, right? As Canary? Chirp chirp.”
“Awww, no! Quit making a fowl of me, chirp! These talons have many talents, you know! Like disemboweling!”
“That’s a real cute act, but I can tell from your eyes you’re serious...which is kinda a shame. Still, I have to admire you for daring to hold a meeting like this immediately after a stream. What if you made a boo-boo and accidentally streamed this very secret meeting to the entire world?”
“That’s never gonna happen, chirp! I split up the PCs and the rooms I use for work and streaming. Plus, even if something did happen and I got my tail feathers sued, I can fork out a couple billion yen no problem.”
“Damn rich kid... It makes you annoying, y’know?”
“Says the guy who probably has more money than me, chirp!”
“I can’t deny it. Ah...” Tsukinomori-san paused and twiddled his mustache. The creases on his age-worn face deepened as his mouth stretched into a grin. “Even through the monitor, you look as gorgeous as ever.”
Those words made me decide to secretly switch modes. A certain level of small talk was important, but too much risked things getting too casual, which could have a negative influence on the work itself.
I was no longer the idol Canary-chan now, but Hoshino Kana.
“It’s an honor to receive such praise. I’d like to move on to the topic of Snow White’s Revenge Classroom now, if that’s okay.”
“Hrmph. Yes, let’s get down to business.”
Tsukinomori-san looked slightly taken aback for a moment, probably because I deflected his compliment. He was your typical member of the previous generation. There were plenty of things to be admired about them, but the way he spoke to women could feel somewhat backwards at times.
I felt it best practice as his business partner to respond with a firm, silent rejection to such remarks, or even give him a light scolding if the situation called for it.
“We’re looking at making both a game and an anime for the series, neither of which have gotten off the ground so far because the author stubbornly refused to give approval. But now that Mashiro’s on board, we should be able to make a lot of progress in a short amount of time. Things are pretty chaotic around here right now.”
“Our company’s the same. The editing department—well, me, I guess—is all hands on deck. I’m now in need of personnel who can support my work, and our sales plan needs to be rejigged... There’s all sorts going on. I’m not complaining, though; it’s all for a very exciting reason.”
Tsukinomori-san laughed. “They’re working you hard, I see. We’ve been prepared for this though, and have the right staff and studios for the job ready to go.”
“That we aren’t similarly ready is a failing on our part.” The smile I threw him was less than genuine, because frankly I was peed off at his humble bragging. But as a shining star of society, I had to remain polite!
In reality, I’d been requesting extra staff for the eventual expansion of Snow White for ages—only for the straitlaced big shots at the top to tell me it would probably end up a waste, because there was no guarantee the author would ever agree to an adaptation. It was with a heavy heart that I had given in.
I could still remember how I mentally berated them. Didn’t they know that gathering resources for an eventual disaster after it happened was totally useless? Or were they just a bunch of idiots sitting up on their high managerial horses? Hmph!
It had taken a lot to convince the higher-ups to let me have an idol persona alongside editing, and my constant results proved it to be the right choice, regardless of “precedent.”
I guess persuading them to hire more people was on a whole other level of difficulty. I could see why. They didn’t mind me doing what I wanted by myself, but the moment it cost them money, it was out. Remember that thing I said about disemboweling, chirp?
So you can imagine why it ruffled my feathers to hear the CEO of Honeyplace Works boasting like that when he was the one holding the company’s purse strings. It wasn’t like I was about to sit around being a lazy goose either, though.
“I’m in the process of privatizing my idol business. Once that’s all gone through legally, I’m going to be hiring some assistants myself. Luckily, I’ve already been poaching people the second they’ve shown promise.”
“I should have known you’d be all set.”
“More or less. What is it you wanted to talk to me about today, by the way? Something about a project you wanted to set up at the same time as the Snow White anime?”
“Oh yeah, about that. You know it takes years for an anime to move from the planning stage to the broadcasting stage, yes?”
“Of course I know that, yes.”
“Well, around the time Snow White would be due to broadcast, Honeyplace would likely be publishing their—the 05th Floor Alliance’s—game too.”
“You mean Koyagi?!”
“Yeah. Strangely apt, don’t you think? Makigai Namako works on the scenario for both. I’m thinking we can put them out at the same time.”
“I see. They do have a similar style that would make them compatible.”