by R. P. Mor
Chapter VII – Baptism of Light
Due to the reintroduction of the audition and the possible subsequent show her schedule for the day got a mess. Naoko would have a dancing class until ten a.m. and the photographic modeling work after it. Then they’d have until three p.m. to lunch and rest. By four thirty the audition would be over and she’d have a singing class from five till seven. By eight she’d be presenting herself on that restaurant, provided she had ranked among the top five in the audition.
The dancing class was mostly focused on rehearsing the same fours songs she was already tired of training, and introduced only a few new tricks for her to use: one recovery act and one stepping. A recovery was a move to use if she fumbled something. In this case, her instructor taught her the most basic way to cutely come back from a fall, if it happened – since that was the biggest threat for Naoko, since she’d be on platforms and probably nervous during the presentation. If she noticed she’s about to fall, instead of trying to prevent it she’s to make it as cartoonish and unrealistic as possible, meaning she’d be turning a mistake into something that, while distracting, would at least be amusing. Then she was merely to look surprised to the sides while still singing, jump back up, shake off the dust, smile and keep going as if nothing had ever happened. It’d still detract points from her, but at least not as much as if she fell, felt sorry for herself and got ashamed. There were other, more complex and effective recovery techniques that actually transformed a fall or other mistakes in a pose or a false choreographic movement, but for starts that was good enough.
The stepping was another important aspect. Steppings allowed idols to make their way around stages without walking in a boring, average way and losing points and crowd appeal while doing so. Being treated as an idle, only a moving one (even though a “moving idle position” made no sense and, hence, was named “stepping”), it was easier than recoveries most of the time. The one Naoko learned, one of the most basic of all, was called the No-Frills Cute Catwalk Stepping. It was little more than an exaggerated walk, and resembled someone trying to walk on a rope. Each foot was to be put in the same alignment as the previous one and the knees were supposed to fold as little as possible. The steps were to be large and confident, though not overly so. The legs movement was a standard of all Catwalk Steppings. What put the No-Frills Cute Catwalk one apart from the others was the way the free hand or hands were supposed to look. Resting casually on the sides of the body with arms slightly flailing like any regular walk, the hand or hands were to be folded upwards in a way that their palms faced down and stood parallel to the floor with the fingers close to each other but not touching one another. It gave the walk a girly feel. There were other Steppings made to evoke different feels, but for starts it’d suffice. In any case Naoko already had her songs to practice and could not afford to lose time on new moves.
After the tiring lesson, it was a lucky thing that the ad she’d be producing was for an isotonic drink to recover her energy, or so she thought. The product was already on the market but three new flavors were going to be introduced: raspberry, blueberry and grapefruit. Each drink was given an according color: pinkish-red, blackish-blue and orange, and the ads for each flavor were going to feature a different girl. Naoko was chosen to star the blueberry one, while a red-haired girl and a blond one were selected for the others.
“Associating those drinks colors to hair colors was kind of creative!” Naoko joyfully gave her opinion, “How does a blueberry taste, though?”
“Admen are incredibly creative people,” Aratani sarcastically commented, “Unfortunately they almost invariably prefer not to use their creativity and instead fall back on the old and proven selling strategy of giving a feminine face to their products. At least you’ll get to prove and know how blueberry tastes! This way I don’t need to come up with taste descriptions.”
There were two problems, though. First, Naoko wasn’t really supposed to drink anything, but to pose as if she was happily about to drink it. She tried a few times to smile and turn the open bottle just before its content escaped, but the photos looked strange, like she was smelling the content rather than proving the juice. Though she was instructed to do the same as the other two models had done before her and appear just to sip it, sipping didn’t cut either. Though the photographer looked happy enough with it, Naoko did not. She couldn’t smile too well while trying to do it. Her agency was being paid seven hundred thousand Yen just for starters and a small weekly fee for internet ads according to number of accesses, so it’s best to look good.
Asking the production team to try another time turning the bottle all the way, she did one more take. One of the many photos per second the cameras took finally looked amazing enough to satisfy the girl, and certainly the admen. In that picture, a frozen fraction of a second, Naoko looked stunning, with slightly closed, yearning eyes like that of a person who had really made exercises and craved for an isotonic drink. Her smiling lips slightly opened so that the refreshing juice that gushed out vividly from the bottle a few centimeters away could get inside. Her lustrous hair moved around through the movement of her head. It’s a drink for sportspeople! It had to look vibrant, lively and refreshing! And more than any other girl she nailed it, surprising everyone at the studio with her idea and its fantastic results. So thought-provoking, so full of movement and desire, so much better than just sipping it!
Though that was just a photo. After that split-second the blueberry drink that spilled from the bottle gushed over her entire face, invaded her nostrils and washed away her eyeliners before entering on her eyes. A second after looking so gorgeous, Naoko was coughing, with reddened eyes, trying desperately to breath and just being miserable. Ten minutes later she could still smell the blueberry juice drops inside her nose. When the photographer yelled to everyone it was perfect, all the girl wanted was to chop his neck off.
Second problem was that it didn’t taste like blueberry at all. She was given quite a few bottles to hopefully be seen in public drinking it and promote the brand even more, but as Aratani proved it while he drove back to his office and stopped at a traffic light all he could say was “it’s passable, but has nothing to do with blueberry. It’s just like many supposedly strawberry-flavored red things produced from industrial chemicals and sugar. Most taste good but bear little resemblance to the actual fruit. Well, guess Naoko-Chan is not going to know the taste of blueberry today! Who would’ve thought it!” One hand chop from the frustrated girl later and her producer went back on his word, driving around looking for a yogurt shop just so Naoko could choose its toppings with a few of the small indigo fruits and taste it.
It’s good, sweet and acid. The citric flavor was the part that was almost completely absent from the isotonic drink, and its sweetness was watered-down due to probably being cloying in big doses. Still not bad, just not the same taste as the real fruit, like her producer previously told her.
After lunching Naoko was taken back to her dorm to rest a little before being driven to the I.S.S.G.’s headquarters. There were numerous elevators there, a few leading only to the first floor Hall of Fame, others to the hotel and restaurant area at the top floors while yet others taking people to the offices and to six auditoriums used for both auditions and shows. To know how to move around that tall and bulky building required some practice.
Right at the reception desk a tiny girl with braces who spoke sentences Naoko barely understood asked two identical girls and their old producer right in front of her on the line a few things. They all answered it as if they could completely understand the questions and acted in accordance when required to do something Naoko couldn’t even fathom what.
“I’m shhvorry to insfjform you thaxmhrt thebxlyre’s no suchbgdg thinhbgg as a doublbvdtjke idwlvzxol presentxvbpqrtation,” the secretary said.
“What?” a very old-looking producer, with flimsy gray hair and a pair of brown, square-framed glasses that made his eyes look enormous in comparison to his short height looked compl
etely clueless. At first Naoko thought the old geezer didn’t understand the garbage that girl asked, but the man reluctantly insisted with a feeble voice, “But that’s… very unfortunate! I… I’ve made a registration, you see.”
“Sincybgxlye youbhx madghbje onlyxch one registrxchjghation,” the attendant told him with her incomprehensible speech problems, though only for Naoko as the others acted like she spoke as any average person, “I’m shchxzkjorry to ashjxk you tjuhgdhis, but you’ll havcthgfe to chxjhgtoose only one gjylchirl to partchxicipatxcwje on the auditxqtktion.”
Both twins, maybe around fifteen years old, turned frustrated faces to the helpless old man while he looked inside his century-old looking brown leather suitcase. Taking lots of papers out from it, he painstakingly began reading them, so close to his glasses that he almost looked like he was kissing it.
“I can’t see any rule against duos here in the event description,” he pointed it out.
“Itxzcvh’s in the agjxwhency’s subsckckckription and idhhyol’s regjxhtchistration’s contrhkbtracts,” the attendant explained, and the old man took another eternity juggling papers, dropping them on the ground and asking the frustrated twins to grab them while he looked around his dusty suitcase for the correct form. When he found it, he read it for another half century or so before saying, “I can’t find anything like this here, missy!”
“Firshzxt paragjbvcwqraph,” the secretary calmly mentioned, and the old gaffer returned to the first line. After staring at it for another decade, he asked while handing it to one of the girls, “Sakura-San, please read the first paragraph to me.”
The beautiful twins exchanged annoyed looks. They were both the same height, around one meter and fifty six, brown eyes and had shining caramel hair, though one sported it in a long ponytail and the other in odango, a double bun of hair tied on the sides of her head from where pigtails emerged from. The one the man referred to as Sakura wore odangos, though it’s the ponytail one who, irritated, took the papers from his shaky hands and told him while reading it, “I’m Sakura! Man, you’re so clueless!... Hey! It’s written right in the first paragraph as the lady said! Only individual presentations unless specifically mentioned otherwise! Why didn’t you told that sooner to us, are you stupid or what?!”
“Please respect me, little lady!” her producer politely asked.
“Who’re you calling “little”? Me and Harumi are both taller than your dehydrated, shrunk body!” Sakura furiously replied, to which her producer retorted talking to himself, “Women these days! Back in my days they actually knew how to respect the elderly!”
“Back in your days women painted their teeth black to look beautiful!” Sakura raged, using as example a millennia-old old tradition that died out by the first two decades of the twentieth Century called ohaguro, in which it was considered elegant to die the teeth black to set women and sometimes men apart, generally if they were from aristocracies, on ceremonies or when women got married.
Aratani and Naoko exchanged discreet looks while the old producer and Sakura discussed, and the other idol remained silent. Eventually the man decided he’d not let Sakura participate in the audition and instead gave the place to her sister Harumi. The quiet girl had an acid expression when she ironically thanked him.
“Thanks a lot, that’s exactly what I signed for. Because I had absolutely not told you explicitly before that I’d be mortified to present myself alone when I questioned you if I’d have to! And you said I’d never have to! Because I clearly didn’t want to feel confident and be with Sakura!”
“Good! That’s what I like to hear!” the old man replied. Harumi, not descending into anger like Sakura but becoming razor sharp, contended him, “Someone doesn’t really understand the meaning of “irony” here. What about our choreography?! It’s made for two!”
“I have faith you’ll do just fine, Haruko-San!” her producer tried to cheer her up, to which the girl, sighing, corrected him, “It’s Harumi.”
As the two were about to leave and glanced back to Naoko, the girl and her producer stood sober and sad in respect for the twins. Sakura, still irritated, asked what they were looking for, but Harumi quickly asked the two for forgiveness. Naoko decided not to pick a fight and was merely sincere:
“No, I’m the one to be sorry here. Sorry for your circumstances. My condolences to you both. I feel your pain. Really do. I can’t even begin to comprehend your daily sufferings…”
Nodding, Harumi and Sakura thanked her for the kind words. The odango-haired one introduced themselves:
“I’m Mizushima Harumi and this one’s my twin sister Sakura. Pleased to meet you!”
“I’m Yano Naoko. Call me Naoko,” she did the same, “And this is my producer, Aratani Kouta. The pleasure’s mine!”
The girl with the ponytail, Sakura, quickly requested her while presenting excited eyes:
“Hey, Naoko-San? Don’t you want two girls on your team? Isn’t your agency looking for hardworking twins?! We can dance, sing, make coffee, anything! I know where you can find a duo if your producer wants!”
Abashed, Aratani explained while looking the old man getting away:
“Ha-ha, I’m thankful for the offer, though currently our agency is quite small and can’t really afford to produce more idols, though I’m sure there’re plenty of other agencies dying for a cute and talented duo.”
“Thank you, but if we can’t present ourselves on stage at the same time, what’s the point in having twins on the cast?” Harumi asked, to which Aratani hurriedly clarified with an increasingly concerned expression as he saw Sakura and Harumi’s producer walk away, “Though almost all competitions are made around individual presentations, there’s still lots of value for fans to cheer for twins. Also, single presentations are only an issue on ranked shows. Non-ranked ones are free of constricting rules, meaning both Mizushima-San can present themselves. You both can make an awesome career centered on non-ranked shows and only dwell in ranked ones for class promotions.”
“What’s a ranked show?” Harumi asked to Sakura, who retorted, “What’s a class?”
Not only Aratani, but Naoko as well got baffled. The twins had absolutely no idea about anything! Seeing their almost blind old producer stopping near a window of the thirtieth floor and knocking on it like a door, Naoko’s producer nervously instructed:
“Why don’t you girls have a look at the official Idol Star System Generation website? There’s a Frequently-Asked Questions section there and a phone number dedicated only to agencies and idols to ask questions! I hope you girls find what you’re loo… No, wait!”
Cutting the conversation short, Aratani desperately ran to grab the humpback old producer that forced his way through the glass while complaining that door was jammed before he unwarily threw himself out of the window. The twins looked helplessly in Naoko’s direction. Sakura urgently begged, “Please save us, Naoko-San!”
Harumi got directed by the gibberish-speaking secretary somewhere, and after that her was Naoko’s turn. According to Aratani, who apparently understood everything that secretary asked, she was questioned if she wanted to register a nickname to be used on stages. After thinking for a while, Naoko declined it and was sent to the same place Harumi was a few minutes before. It’s just a small place with a fitting room, a computer and a green background surrounded by reflectors and lightings. A photographer asked Naoko to get changed and then come back to take a photo for her Credited Intro. It was that image that announced the idol by showing here name, the symbol of her agency and her face over psychedelic backgrounds. She simply had to look to both directions while smiling and she was good to go.
In her black and red dress Naoko and her producer walked to a large double door. Before entering her producer handed her a thin, black tiara, to which the girl asked:
“What’s this for? My hair’s already black, no one will see this tiara if I wear it!”
“That’s the point,” Aratani stated while handing her a pair of black and re
d ribbons, “While your attire is top-notch, I felt something was missing, so I brought you this. Strap this on the tiara and you’ll have laces on your head without needing to wrap a tuft of hair and messing your haircut. Also, before we get in, I just want to tell you one thing.”
Getting the frilled tiara on her head, the girl listened closely.
“I already told you that you don’t have any pressure to win this, but I haven’t yet mentioned this: Naoko-Chan is capable of winning it. I haven’t even told you about the Devotion or the Memorability scores yet, but you don’t need to know those right now. Just do your very best and I’ll be proud no matter what the results are, okay? If you need me, I’ll be right by your side, just call me.”
The girl felt warmth envelop her as her producer coolly told her that and opened the auditorium doors immediately after. A catchy song, though sang in a nervous voice, reached their ears just as they entered a huge place with overlapping balconies, easily fit for seven hundred spectators or so. At the time, though, there were only about sixty people there. Roughly half of them were girls in colorful outfits and the other half, people in suits. With only one exception, all producers were men. Even though most suits were black and the others gray or brown, a few producers also stood out in the crowd. One wore a white suit and a big hat. Another was an absurdly muscular and tall man with a butch out hair precisely cut with one quarter of an inch around the entire circumference of her head full of pulsating veins. His big moustache and eyebrows made him quite the character. He barely fitted in the seat and surely attracted more attention than his diminutive idol.
The atmosphere in the auditorium was tense. Idols performed to three judges, two women and a man. They sat right in front of the big stage, bigger than Naoko’s school one. Even then, there were markings describing a four meters long by two in depth rectangle in its center, and idols were supposed to stay between those lines. According to Aratani, it’s because the restaurant in which they’re going to perform only had a tiny stage on it.
No one dared to speak there, It’s immersed in such a tense atmosphere, where each pair of idol and producer sat separated from the others, that Naoko began to feel butterflies on her stomach. The thought of having to perform to such a hostile audience gave her shivers. Aratani, noticing it, found them seats at the farthest corner of the auditorium and whispered her:
“I told you the auditions were the worst part. Naoko-Chan is getting nervous, right? Don’t be. Focus on any other thing.”
“What can I focus on?” she asked, to which her producer suggested, “I don’t know. Think about one of your stupid games, perhaps?”
“They’re not stupid!” Naoko insisted, “And I can’t! I feel like I’d lose my concentration! Like if I’m not here and now I’ll forget my dance steps or something!”
“You’ll only forget it if you get nervous,” Aratani argued, “But okay, let’s find something here and now to concentrate. Hm…” After some thought, he smiled, “Hey, can you see those two girls around here somewhere? They were before us on the line, but still aren’t here?”
Smiling too, Naoko drolly opined:
“I think Harumi-San and Sakura-San might be getting led astray somewhere. Poor girls.” Laughing, Naoko whispered back, “I thought only the idols were going to stand out here, but quite a few producers are just as showy! Look at that juggernaut over there!”
“Where? Oh. Wow!” Aratani immediately noticed the bulky behemoth, “And his idol’s so small! He’s the real show there! I wonder if her idol’s not afraid of him.”
“I’d be for sure!” Naoko agreed in whispers, “Seems the kind of guy who arrives at his office and says to his idol…” she whispered in the lowest pitch she was able to, “Good morning! Let’s get to your schedule for today… but before that, I’LL HOLD YOU BY YOUR WRISTS AND ANKLES AND USE YOU AS WEIGHT TO DO FIFTY BENCH PRESSES! Wrrruaaahhhh!”
Naoko impersonated a frowning man lifting weight. The two broke in laughter and had somehow to keep it low. Aratani got dragged into the joke in a voice as low as possible:
“Can you imagine how was their first day together? ‘So this is an idol agency and we’ll get you into classes so you train all the important things you’ll need to become a successful idol. Things like arm wrestling! Weight lifting! Calisthenics! And my special secrets to get a pair of treasures like these two bad boys here!” Aratani made a ridiculous impression of a person kissing his own bulged biceps, getting Naoko almost to laugh too loudly. Covering her mouth she controlled herself and mocked:
“While every girl practices by dancing and singing, his idol is obligated to accompany him on a forced forty kilometer march and meditate under a waterfall!”
“And while you have body language classes, she has body building ones!” Aratani added insult to injury, and Naoko made it even worse, “And while I’m sleeping at 4 a.m. his poor idol is drinking four raw eggs and being put to do pushups and punch sandbags while he screams on her ears “That’s how I like it! Punch it harder! Like a cruel angel, girl! Become a legend!”
The two laughed together for almost half an hour while idols presented themselves, most of them nervously so. At some point the twins arrived at the auditorium with their clueless, senile producer and Naoko waived to call them. Harumi wasn’t even wearing a special outfit, but just the same plain clothes she used when she was on the line. The two joined them and while the old man slept snoring in his seat, Harumi, Sakura, Naoko and Aratani continued to make fun of that behemoth of a man and other strange producers and idols around. Aratani was skeptical to let the twins know they were making jokes of other people, but Naoko open-heartedly invited them to notice a few of the most bizarre characters in that place and in less than a minute the sisters were also contributing to the mockery. Sparing no one, not even the judges, the four laughed for almost another thirty minutes until it was Harumi’s turn.
Her choreography was clearly intended for a paired dance, and the girl got so terrified that she ultimately did poorly. It scared Naoko a bit, but she had so much fun on the last hour that when she was called to the stage she still couldn’t stop grinning as she passed by lots of people they had secretly joked about. The uneasy expressions of the audience in general only made it funnier, and she couldn’t even take the judges seriously. It was a saving grace just like when her imagination started tossing skirt-clad turtles on top of her future dancing instructor during her tests. At that time Naoko didn’t know that woman was such a nice person, all she could see was her serious face, and the fun she made of her helped the girl to chill.
Contrary to what she was expecting, her audition was very uneventful and only stayed on her mind because it’s her first time presenting herself in front of judges. The only song she was expected to sing was cheerful like all the other three and her mind was at peace, having a blast, and that was all that mattered. When she finally understood she was really being evaluated and her anxiety began to well-up, the song was over, her simple choreography done impeccably and her voice only slightly off due to so much laughter. She wasn’t nowhere near the most technical idol there, but her scores were high nevertheless.
When the audition was over the judges presented everyone their averaged final scores on a big screen. Naoko got eighty six points on Singing, getting her tied on the second position, and seventy seven on Dancing, securing her an also incredible second place. Her Aesthetics got her fourth place, and while Devotion was not really good, only eleventh position, the girl ranked third in Memorability. Overall, she managed to narrowly nab the fifth place between thirty one idols. Though Naoko was unimpressed, her producer was exhilarated.
“Produ-San, why are you so happy? I mean, I am too! But I ranked fifth, not first.” she pointed out, “To be content is one thing, but you look like about to have a heart attack.”
“Naoko-Chan! That was amazing!” he evaluated, “Can’t you see? Second in Singing, third in Memorability even though I hadn’t explained you this category yet and second in Dancin
g! Second! And you only had two weeks to train! Second, see?! That’s the part you got the most trouble in your tests at the beginning! I was so unsure at the time I gave you a clear sixty by then, meaning if your instructor had given you even a point less you’d be out! But I see she was right in having faith in your talents, for she gave you four points more than I did.”
“What?!” Naoko replied, baffled, “I thought she’s way stricter than you! You dirty…”
“Back to the subject!” Aratani insisted ardently, “Your fourth place in Aesthetics can be corrected with the use of more accessories and a choice of attire that’s more in line with your happy personality and song. I told you: one of its subcategories is Composition, where they evaluate if your clothes match with your acting, lyric and so on. And you’re wearing a black and red dress and miniskirt, black gloves and gothic-like platform boots, but you’re so radiant and your song and dance, cheery. It probably hurt your Composition score. Even so you got fourth in the most disputed category! As for Devotion, I should’ve told you sooner what it means. You made no poses, no appeals, didn’t look too much to the judges and so on, meaning you kind of forgot your audience. It’s the reason why you got eleventh place in it! If I had only foreseen this and was a little bit more careful with your outfit, Naoko-Chan could’ve easily nailed second or third place with just two weeks of practice! That’s insane! Most girls here got months of training! Sure, most don’t have the renowned instructors you do either, but still! What’s not to be happy about fifth place under all these circumstances?! Naoko-Chan was awesome there!”
Naoko felt a surge of happiness. Blushing, the girl humbly said:
“That was only because Produ-San helped me stay calm and have fun, while other girls looked so afraid on the stage they were unable to show what they’re truly capable of, I suppose. Thank you for helping me, Produ-San!”
“All I did was making sure Naoko-Chan would be herself on the stage, Naoko-Chan did the rest,” he coolly insisted with a smile, “It’s your merit, diamond girl, no need to be modest about it.”
So happy she suddenly became, Naoko took a few seconds to notice Sakura wasn’t by her side anymore. She sat a few seats away, hugging her desolated sister Harumi, who’d finished in the twenty-third position. Meanwhile their senile producer continued to snore. Glancing back to Aratani, Naoko inquired him with her eyes while asking:
“Produ-San? Do you think we can do something for them?”
The man, sighing, stood up. Keeping his cool, he signaled Naoko to follow him and walked in the direction of the two. As his tall figure overshadowed them, the twins snapped out from their sobbing talks, looking surprised.
“Sorry to barge in, but I need to ask you girls a question: what exactly you both were taught about the idol business? Do you girls know what subcategories compose the Aesthetics score? Or do you even have a stage outfit to wear on auditions and gigs to begin with?”
Seeing the two looked helplessly lost, Aratani said while taking a business card from his pocket:
“I imagined as much. Here, take this. Ask your producer to call me. If he refuses, call me yourselves. I can’t currently produce other idols and I wouldn’t “steal” girls away from other agencies even if I could, but I can help you girls understand the whole business and give you directions. The Idol Star System and how it works, the classes, the categories, how can you both amass fans and get on non-ranked shows, what’s a non-ranked show to begin with, these kinds of things. If you girls were chosen in a test following I.S.S.G.’s parameters, I believe you have potential. Don’t feel bad for your results, Mizushima-San. Once you and your sister understand how things work and prepare accordingly, I’m sure you two will be very successful. Drop me a line if you girls need any help… or, more likely, if your producer needs any help, and I’ll see what I can do, okay?”
Sweeping away her tears, Harumi took Aratani’s black card with the diamond symbol of the agency on it with both hands and, after looking at it along with her sister as if trying to memorize all its information, she questioned with a trembling voice:
“D-do Aratani-San r-really mean it? That he thinks… w-we can be successful? Even after seeing m-me… perform so horribly?”
Trading looks with Naoko, Aratani declared:
“Definitely. For a girl who basically has no knowledge on what composes the scores or how anything works here, who has no stage outfit, whose choreography was made for two and who apparently told her producer beforehand she was afraid to ever performing without being accompanied by her sister, to still rank above seven other girls who probably trained and were aware of the rules, had stage outfits and weren’t kicked in shock into a stage is really something. And to be fair, twins are really appreciated by fans, with the right promotions and correct management I can see you two having a nice career. Really. Only thing is that your producer will need help. To not even know the I.S.S.G. is made with individual presentations in sight is… worrying, since all producers are required to attend to a preparatory course and get evaluated in a test before being awarded the title by the corporation.”
“Is it true?!” Sakura asked, “Harumi, how do you think Ikeda-San got through the test if he’s even unable to read? Do you think he cheated?”
“Or maybe he did it when he was young, nine hundred years back!” Harumi guessed.
“Or maybe it was Hamasaki-San!” Sakura assumed. Turning to Aratani and Naoko, she explained, “Ikeda Hiro is the owner of the agency since it started operating about a month ago, but he had a young producer with him, Hamasaki-San. He was the one who evaluated us and such! But Hamasaki-San left only three weeks after getting employed. Right, Harumi?”
“I think Ikeda-San said something about Hamasaki-San being unable to keep working anymore,” Harumi said, “Something about antidepressants overdose.”
“Oh, yeah, right!” Sakura recalled, “The coma thing! Hey, remember that time Hamasaki-San started screaming after talking to Ikeda-San, drank lots of his pills along with rice wine and threatened to burn the office down?! That was the coolest day ever! I miss Hamasaki-San…”
Harumi got up and bowed deeply to the shocked duo that silently overheard the twins.
“Thank you very much, Aratani-San! Naoko-San!” Harumi said, and Sakura, bowing too, added, “Thanks a ton! So we can really call you guys for help, right?!”
“Ah… yes,” Aratani, taken aback, confirmed, “Though the more I hear about it, the more I ask myself if I’d be able to help you girls on the situation you’re both in. But yes, call me and I’ll, uh… see what I can do for you two.”
Leaving the twins, Naoko was happy for ranking among the top five and happier that her producer was such a cool and nice guy to offer to help the poor girls. By the door they met a slender producer in a white suit uselessly demanding his ten thousand Yen entry fee back since his idol had lost. Naoko didn’t even have time to mention the apparently expensive entry fee when they saw a new batch of idols and producers coming, one of which wore a zebra-patterned suit and another sported a flamboyant, huge black hat and shades indoors. Each auditorium had about eight auditions per day, Aratani explained, and then a show, so the foot traffic was intense there. Naoko’s problem wasn’t with the amount of people coming and going, but rather the characters she saw there. It’s more of a circus than a company! Not that she complained, though. It’s far livelier this way than it’d be if there were just a bunch of boring people in plain suits.
Aratani left Naoko on her singing class and left to his office, only coming back to take her to the restaurant. At that time her producer wore a different suit, still black but decorated with red and orange details on its left arm and shoulder resembling a stylized fiery decal. His shirt was not white anymore, but a wine red and his tie was a lustrous black. Wearing reapplied cologne, a silver watch and a pair of tiny, stud-like diamond earrings affixed by pressure, the tall young man looked mesmeric. As soon as Naoko saw him, she joked:
“What are you doing, stealing
the attention like that?! I need no competition here! Go back and only return when I’m the prettiest one around!”
Grinning, her producer coolly reassured her in the same vein:
“For a girl as direct as you, Naoko-Chan sure goes to great lengths to tell a roundabout compliment. Though you’ve nothing to fear, not even New Year’s fireworks would take away the eyes of others from a lady like you.”
He stared deeply into her eyes without faltering and Naoko sustained it for as long as she could with a serious face. Blushing heavily and ultimately being the one to deviate the sight first, the girl burst in laughs and queried while hiding her cheeks with her hands:
“Damn you, Produ-San! How can you say such things without even batting an eye?!”
“Because I know I don’t need to, generally after I say things like that you bat my eyes for me,” he mocked, “See? Naoko-Chan can learn with me how to take compliments without uppercutting someone to Mars.”
“Or I can uppercut you to Mars until you learn not to make me blush with your cool-cool boy replies!” the girl reacted, to which the man snapped, “Suit yourself. Just take care not to hit my suit, will you? Fine fabric and all. It’s hard to find a laundry with people that know how to clean it.”
“Aaaand yet another cool reply. Thank you for choosing Naoko’s space line, I’ll book your flight for when you’re not wearing your fine fabric suit,” Naoko responded sarcastically, “No, seriously, what’s with the fancy outfit? Got jealous of that guy wearing a zebra-pattern suit, Produ-San?”
Laughing, Aratani conducted Naoko to his car while saying:
“Nah, mine’s better. Truthfully, though, many producers have special attires for presenting themselves in press conferences or while their idols are performing. We’re on a show business and we’re all part of the show. A few go beyond what’s reasonable, as if they really tried to shine brighter than their own idols. Vanity runs rampant in this line of work. But humbleness is no excuse, either. Most producers back in the audition weren’t wearing anything too fancy simply because they weren’t going to be mingling with fans, but rest assured quite a bit of them have alternate costumes. When trying to create an otherworldly experience to fans and causing the suspension of belief, one of the most important elements in the idol industry, every detail counts.” Opening the door to Naoko and going around to get inside, he added:
“Not to mention I was craving for an opportunity to wear it. Thought it’d take longer, so I was reticent at investing on it right from the moment I started the agency. Thankfully I listened to the wise words of a professor I had at university. Criminal Code chair, pretty boring stuff despite the fact that many people enjoyed the subject. The best thing he taught me was that a good suit is the single most important investment a good lawyer makes. Second one is a solid education. I think he was wrong, though.” After a brief pause to concentrate on a traffic intense cross, the man resumed, “A good suit is the single most important investment any person makes.”
“Meaning we pay lawyers first and foremost to look good, and only then to help us with our problems? Great.” Naoko sarcastically countered. Aratani disagreed in a drolly way:
“Nope. People choose them based on the confidence they transmit and expect them to solve their problems. A good suit just means you give a better impression and will have clients. After that, it’s up to you to live up to the expectations. It’s like this everywhere, really: try to get on stage wearing baggy pants, straw hat, socks and a horrible sweater and look what happens even if your singing and dancing skills were the best in the universe.”
“I get it makes a difference for idols, and a few other professions,” Naoko granted, “Yet having a solid education still seems more important for a lawyer, in my opinion.”
“As long as you have clients, yes, but you won’t get any without looking reliable no matter how good you really are. And since you need clients to survive, it’s kind of mandatory to look sharp, unfortunately. Or not, depending on how you look at it. I, for one, don’t complain to wear a good suit. It’s better than a sweater and straw hat.” Changing the subject, Aratani told her:
“Naoko-Chan, I just remembered: while I was preparing the fan club web page for the photos and maybe videos I’ll be uploading, I noticed something very strange: your fan counter went up by another one hundred or so and is still increasing. Mostly decent-looking people in suits. They’re salarymen and office ladies, I presume. I’m curious: were you involved in any other absurd argument, this time with a salaryman or something, that I need to know?”
Confused, Naoko denied it, and the two lost about twenty minutes debating from where those fans could have come from. Maybe from one of the companies they worked for, though it’s impossible to tell. Getting nowhere, Aratani simply dropped the subject:
“Alright, Naoko-Chan, as long as there is nothing bad going on, it’s fine, I suppose. Also, we’ve more pressing matters to talk about. Here are a few points about your presentation.”
With small and well-trimmed bushes decorating its frontage covered in wood-pattern paint and large windows, the restaurant was impressive. Its internal décor, full of black light luminaires, mirrors and abstract paintings, was as fancy as its menu. It presented a half-circular stage with two meters in radius and, near the kitchen, a communal dressing room with two smaller fitting rooms.
The big problem Naoko assumed she’d have were the four other girls there, who spoke to no one. The small room was silent as a tomb. When she greeted the others as she arrived, almost in time for the show due to her Singing classes, the other four pretended not to hear her, immediately infuriating Naoko. The girl greeted even louder, almost shouting on the ear of one of the four, and only then they unwillingly answered, in disdainful tones. They really acted like snobs. Probably because of petty rivalries and because Naoko was ranked the lowest in the audition. She began to wonder if it’d be any different if she was the first.
The reason why it wasn’t the biggest problem was that Naoko had only ten minutes to change and was off to the show. Being ranked fifth place, she was the first one to present herself, so she had barely no time to feel the horrible atmosphere. On the other hand, since the room was close to the kitchen Naoko was tortured by delicious smells that made her stomach growl.
As she was called by her producer, Naoko left the dressing room and took a deep breath. She couldn’t quite tell if her tummy hurt because of anxiousness or hunger, but it wasn’t pleasant so the girl recalled all she had learned so far: relaxation techniques, body postures to inspire courage, a focus on her desire to feel the positive vibes of the audience and a few of the jokes they had made during the audition to help her chill. As she stepped on the stage, all lights were turned to her, making it hard to see the crowd, but even so there were innumerous silhouettes she could more or less recognize. So many people sitting by their tables but not a single talk. The only sounds were that of a few western-style cutlery against the tableware. Despite being relatively calm, anxiousness started to boil inside her.
Not waiting around for it to worsen, Naoko quickly took a hold of the microphone and stood in the center of the stage, while a soundtrack began to play. Behind her she could feel the reddish light of a screen turn up, and she took a quick glance out of curiosity, only to find her name, her eyes and the diamond-shaped symbol of her agency, The Paragon Idol, presented on a red horizontal strip over a black and pink background. Like Aratani told her to do, Naoko immediately put a large smile and, trying to feel joy even though her fears partially prevented it, she introduced herself as vibrantly as she could:
“Good night everyone! I’m Yano Naoko! I’m so happy to be here tonight with you all! Please support me and enjoy the show!”
Those lines felt incredibly fake to her coming from loud speakers all around, though hopefully no one would’ve noticed. It was so strange to hear her voice getting thrown back at her! Her mind began to sabotage her asking why was nobody replying to her greeting, and the girl had to
answer herself that people were eating and listening to a show, it’d be doubly rude for them to break the silence. With her eyes still trying to get used to the spotlights, Naoko began singing, though for a horrible second she forgot the first movement. After she recalled it, though, the dance flowed with ease.
Taking care not to fall from the small stage and performing her dance accordingly, the first few minutes were tense, though merely singing gradually soothed her mind. When the second song began playing Naoko’s eyes were habituated enough to the dazzling lights that bathed her that she started to make out the physiognomies of the spectators. Since she just looked in their general direction but not really to them, they still looked like faceless masses, but since a few heads were slightly swaying to and fro as if enjoying the beat and the singing, she began to feel at ease. By the end of the second song she also found Aratani walking around the corners while snapping photos and capturing videos, giving her some security to know he was there.
When the third song started Naoko finally noticed she was still alive. No knives were thrown at her. No tomatoes or boos. It could’ve been an idiotic discovery, but made all the difference. From that point on Naoko relaxed and started to enjoy her presentation. When she moved due to her choreography, each spotlight created a luminous phantom line on her eyes that scrambled her senses. Her voice outside of her was almost surreal. It’s like an out of the body experience. For a moment she felt herself dancing automatically, as if her arms and legs moved independently of her will. Her voice vibrated on her throat and sent tingling sensations down, while the volume and weight of her attire as she moved sent mixed signals up.
When the third song was over the silence of a few moments until the final, upbeat melody began playing annoyed her. She jumped at the task of singing the last song of the show already feeling a little sad it had to end so soon. Three minutes passed like three seconds as the vague image of everyone silently watching her made her thrilled like few times in her life. The song was over and was followed by a round of applauses was one she wanted to last forever. She only regretted not being able to enjoy the show sooner.
“Thank you! Thanks, everybody!” Naoko concluded it while bowing. Standing up and amply waving her free hand, she added “I’m Yano Naoko, please look up for me. Bye-bye!”
Handing the mic to the next girl with the same disdain she was received in the dressing room, without so much as looking to her face, Naoko left exultantly. As she returned to the fitting room to change her clothes back the place was still as silent as a graveyard. Only this time, Naoko was so radiant it felt different somehow. Instead of feeling scorn from the others, all she could feel was anxiety in the air. They were greenhorns like her, too, after all. Nevertheless they acted like aloof snobs.
While she changed back something occurred to her as she faintly listened to the song of the girl who sang only passably at that moment: even though she’d been ranked fifth in the overall results, Naoko was chosen the second best dancer and songstress! Also her third place in Memorability and fourth in Aesthetics despite the costume incongruences with her songs and personality were nothing to be ashamed of, either. She’s in fact one of the best among the five, and with only two weeks of training! Of course, the other girls appeared to have no control over their anxieties and performed worse than they probably could, but still. Self-confidence was part of the show, too. Those girls were very attractive and appeared talented, but somehow Naoko managed to be among the best! That actually surprised her more than it probably would’ve surprised any other person who watched her perform.
Only then fully comprehending what Aratani told her in his overjoyed moment after the audition, Naoko felt beaming brighter than any light. Changing and going away, she wished the three tense idols in the dressing room good luck, not caring in the slightest if they’d respond or not, and left smiling. Discreetly getting away with her producer, Naoko waited until she was in the car to let loose a stream of highly excited gabble, hard to understand due to how fast the girl spoke. Her frenetic talk was mixed with ample and rapid gesticulations, pointing to her own nose and hiding her cheeks and crossing the index fingers to create an “X” like symbol and punching the air and making a “V” with the index and the middle fingers and so on. Aratani merely stood listening and driving in silence while the cheery and agitated girl bombarded him with her impressions and thoughts, and about how happy she was.
The thrill of presenting herself was addicting. So much Naoko didn’t even remember to ask how much they’ve received from that gig, but nevertheless questioned if they were going to register on a new event the next weekend, to which her producer agreed, though saying:
“If you’re feeling so confident and liked it so much, sure, we can do it, though let me just remind you that my rush to land us a contract this week actually got us already a few next one, and some others are still in the horizon. And since right now most shows are small, it’s not only a risk but also one that pays somewhat less than our contracts. Sure, it gets you some stage visibility, helps me feed your fan page and, most of all, gets you show points, which I’ll explain later but are required for class promotions, and experience on the real deal, so I’m more than willing to let you shine in exhibitions. However, if the schedule for your classes, modeling activities and shows get too tight, I might be required to ask Naoko-Chan for a chunk of her Saturday, a thing I’m currently trying to avoid. Is this acceptable?”
The girl paused. Her Saturdays with Rin were among the highlights of her week, and as such she explained it to Aratani.
“But if there’s no other way, maybe I can explain it to Rin-Chan. I’m sure she’ll understand.” Naoko hesitantly presented a counterpoint to her own argument, though her producer opted to suggest as an alternative, “What if instead you invite your friend to watch your show? We can arrange one with an audition on Saturday, and then you two go meet and have fun. If you’re selected for the gig, I pick you and your friend at your place later and drive you two to the show. We can more than afford one hundred tickets with the amount we’re paid, buying one for her is no problem. And if you do not qualify, you get to stay at home being consoled! Sounds like a plan?”
“Except for the part of me not qualifying, it does!” Naoko confidently replied, still pumped by the exhibition’s adrenaline and getting excited about the idea of taking Rin to a show.
“Okay, it’s settled, then.” Aratani agreed, “Just take a hint and keep your invitation to your friend as low-profile as possible. You don’t want other girls you know to get jealous about it, and they will if the discover. Trust me. Either this or we’ll have to take a whole battalion every time, and while we are paid a decent amount per show, currently it’s best not to have to treat too many people to it. Meanwhile I’ll find you a gig for Saturday next time.”
Nodding about the invitation secrecy, Naoko enquired:
“Is Produ-San positive we can find a show on Saturdays?”
“Not only we can, but it’s also easier to find it. Though Fridays nights and Saturdays are prime time for high class idol shows, there are quite a few for the lower classes too. Many clubs, restaurants, parties and such make use of Saturdays to request gigs. I avoid it whenever possible so you can do your homework and dedicate yourself to school activities, but it’s the best day of the week for shows. Sunday comes in second, Friday in third. Monday’s the worst day of the week for shows if you’re wondering. Then again, Monday is the worst day of the week, period.”
While he drove, her producer let Naoko see the photos and watch the videos of her presentation that Aratani would be uploading to the fan club website once he got back to the office. The girl, taking his cellphone to see it, asked in surprise:
“Produ-San is going back to the agency again? It’s already almost nine p.m.! Don’t you sleep or anything? Why don’t you upload it tomorrow, or from your home?”
Looking lost for a moment, the man evaded the question:
“It won’t take more than a few minut
es. And it’s on my way home, I can say that. Don’t worry about it.” Glancing to the bothered girl, he insisted, “I said no worries. I won’t work myself to death, so stop looking at me like this and turn your puppy eyes to the cellphone already. It was a solid presentation, especially the last two songs. Too bad the image quality is only average at best. I’ll buy a professional camera first thing tomorrow.”
Though a little bit concerned for her producer for a while, eventually Naoko was sucked back to the enthralling experience of her first show. It was strange to see it from another perspective, but it looked surprisingly better than she thought it would. Being a rookie, she imagined her inexperience would’ve been more obvious, but no, she was dumbfounded to discover she actually looked idol-ish. Nowhere near as good as Umeko, granted, but not as shabby as her imagination made her to be. It didn’t look like she was nervous on her first song, maybe just not as pumped as she got on the second half of her twelve minute performance. In fact, what detracted the most from the experience was not her fault: the photos and especially the videos her producer made had a somewhat amateurish feel to the framing, with small unintended shaking effects and such, but it’s not a big deal either.
“The image quality is not as big of an issue as the poor cameraman suffering from Parkinson’s disease!” Naoko commented in a tongue-in-cheek way. Her vexed producer faced her for a moment, but was unable to maintain the serious mien and laughed it out.
“Now that you mentioned it, I might also have to invest in a medical check-up and some photography classes for myself. Either this or find a Parkinson’s disease-free freelancer.”
Despite her witty remark, Naoko was amazed by what she and her producer were able to achieve. After the adrenaline rush receded the girl was left physically and mentally exhausted, but as content as she knew to be possible. Thanking him a lot for the day when she was left by her dorm, Naoko wobblingly made her way to the elevator, noticing only one person in the courtyard: the janitor, appreciating the hazy moonlight among his beloved plants.
There were many messages for her like usual, but while most were not worth the effort to answer, a few got enough of Naoko’s attention to warrant an answer. Her childhood friend Masahiro had been texting her every night since the previous week, and while it’s never about interesting or important things, it’s nice that he wished her a good morning and a good evening every day. Naoko wasn’t always in the mood to respond, but usually she did so. That time, though, she felt the urge to tell him about her first show.
So tired she was, Naoko didn’t detail it as much as she would otherwise, or if she hadn’t already discharged all she had to say on her producer, but it was enough to make a small conversation. Or rather, a monologue, since Masahiro was the listener type. Still gloomy, but interested in hearing her, he promised to look for the videos and photos on her fan club page. Even more, he told her he’d subscribe there to help however he could.
When her friend Rin subscribed Naoko felt a little off, though at the time she couldn’t quite tell why. When Masahiro told her that, though, it got clear to Naoko something was amiss and the reason for it: he was the first friend she had in her life. The guy who was always by her side in her hometown, and a rare person she knew she could blindly trust. For such a longtime friend to become merely a fan made Naoko feel empty. Of course, he wouldn’t really be a fan, he’s only going to subscribe on her fan club to help her get a bigger number of people there. Still, it bugged her to the point where she asked him not to. Not out of humbleness, but really meaning it. Masahiro knew her too well to understand she wasn’t just being polite, but he did so anyway.
The girl felt a small void inside her for the next twenty minutes and kept texting him without even knowing why. Maybe just to make sure he hadn’t changed. Eventually, though, it got clear he’s still the same guy she always knew: quiet, respectful, a little fun at times, a little gloomy at others, but always there for her. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
Only then relaxing, she bid him good night and went prepare her lunchbox and all she needed for the next morning. Though she hadn’t said anything to Aratani while he playfully bashed Mondays, it’s one of her favorite days of the week. It’s just so full of new opportunities!
