The Showbiz Kagemusha
Kira Kousuke was the quintessential idol. He possessed the trifecta of cheerful character, a warm speaking voice, and sharp looks. He was popular with everyone from teen girls to 40-something housewives. This all meant he was never lacking for work—but indeed, that was exactly his problem.
For instance, one day’s schedule would have his manager waking him up before five o’clock in the morning, at which time he’d travel from his home in Aoyama to Okutama in order to shoot on location for a drama. When that shoot was over, he’d return to the city for a live radio program. This was inevitably followed up by a magazine interview, then a variety show taping, and finally a live event that would take him into the evening.
Even when attending sponsored parties at the Akasaka Hotel, Kousuke was so busy greeting others that he never had a chance to eat himself. He ate all his meals on the go, in the car, memorizing his lines for the next job while rushing through his boxed lunch.
He had no free time for himself, of course. When he saw a rumor in a magazine speculating that he was having an affair with a certain female station announcer, he’d been halfway between laughing and crying. We just bumped into each other in front of a studio near Kojimachi, he thought incredulously, and they deduced we were having an affair from that interaction?! I wish I had time to conduct an affair! Indeed, the aloof and famous announcer had invited him to dinner, but after he’d turned her down three times, she’d stopped calling him entirely. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her. He really did have work to do. But of course, she wasn’t going to believe that.
Kousuke hadn’t been able to go to his middle school class reunion, either. He’d had to turn down multiple invitations from old school friends over and over again. On the surface, they all expressed understanding about his strenuous work schedule, but during their phone conversations he sensed that they thought he’d become a stuck-up star.
But even outside of his social life, Kousuke had a feeling that his packed schedule was negatively affecting his performances. He felt himself spacing out while filming, and he’d been complaining to his make-up artists about it more and more lately. He found himself sighing a lot when he was on his own, and he wasn’t sleeping well at night.
That’s more or less how every day went for Kira Kousuke. And at last, one night...
“I’ve had enough!” he shouted, laying into his manager at the agency, from where they were shooting on location at an abandoned factory outside of Tokyo between effects scenes for an action movie. “I’m completely exhausted. I know it’s better than having no work at all, but at this rate, I’m gonna go crazy, and soon! It’s just a matter of if my brain or body gives up first. How do you expect me to live this way?! I want to go back to my normal life. I only need one day, just... just let me take some time off!”
His manager, Imura Kotomi, dithered a bit as she responded, “W-We can’t do that. We have your entire schedule booked for a whole year in advance...” Kotomi was a plain woman, dressed in a gray suit and black-rimmed glasses. She was short, had a childlike face, and looked like a high-schooler at first glance.
“Imura-san... You know what I live like every day, don’t you?” he pleaded.
“Of course I do,” she told him. “But this is an important time for you, Kira-san...”
“It always is! Every time I complain, you bring out that ‘important time’ nonsense. ‘Let’s hang in there a bit longer,’ or, ‘Just ride out this last bit.’ How long is this ‘important time’ going to last?” he demanded. “What year, month, day, hour, minute will it end?! You need to tell me! Isn’t scheduling your job?!”
“P-Please don’t be cruel. The agency really needs you right now. We’ve been in administrative trouble lately, and Lightning Troupe, our rival agency, is on the verge of elbowing us out of the market. We all just have to work together to get you out there, okay? Okay?” begged Kotomi, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes. This was her go-to move—she knew he was too nice to say no.
Realizing it was pointless to fight back anymore, Kousuke stood up. “I get it. Fine.”
“Wh-Where are you going? The shoot isn’t finished yet.”
“I’m getting some fresh air,” he said. “I’ll be back soon. Leave me alone.”
“Don’t go too far, all right?”
“For heaven’s sake, I won’t!” he burst out, leaving the greenroom and passing through the crew members rushing here and there. It was hot in there from the bright location lighting.
After leaving the factory, he walked through the dark and empty surrounding area. Coming up to a place where a few rusted cars had been abandoned, he muttered, “Maybe I’ll run away.”
In truth, Kousuke was sick of this demanding life. In his third year of middle school, he’d been chosen from an audition of three thousand and had given up on high school in order to focus on his work. Some in his life had been against the decision, and there had even been schools he might have attended while acting...
Yet his resolve—his desperate determination, one might say—hadn’t wavered. That was how seriously Kousuke had taken his work all this time. But lately, he’d begun to miss his old life, chatting with friends during break periods in school. Even for just one day, he wanted to enjoy life as a normal high school student.
Just one day, he thought. That’s all I need. If I could return for a little while to a world where no one treats me as special... He was sitting down on the hood of a nearby abandoned car, staring up at the sky with that faint wish in his heart, when...
“Who are all these people? I thought this factory was abandoned,” a sudden voice asked from out of the darkness.
Kousuke held an arm up defensively and squinted into the shadows, whereupon a man silently revealed himself from behind the dead trees.
The speaker turned out to be a young man in a high-collared school uniform. He had disheveled black hair, a sullen expression, and wore a tight frown. There was a cloth case slung over one of his shoulders, possibly for a guitar or some other instrument, and his right hand was hidden behind his back.
“Eh?” Kousuke said with a start when he saw him. It wasn’t the sight of some random teenager infiltrating a closed shooting location that shocked him, but rather his appearance—he had the exact same build and face as Kousuke himself.
The fine lines of the jaw, the tightly-drawn expression... If not for the slight harshness in his gaze and the muscular body, which suggested the practice of some martial art, they could be twins. Or at least, it was a close enough resemblance that he wouldn’t mind the comparison...
Actually... He reconsidered, calmly. They did look very similar—enough so that, at first, he really had thought he’d hallucinated himself coming out of the darkness—but this was clearly a different person. It was just that attractive men and women naturally tended to have certain things in common. He’d seen a documentary once proving that if you took facial portraits of a few hundred random people and created a computer-generated composite of all of them, the result would be an extremely attractive person. In that sense, the resemblance shouldn’t have been that big a deal, but...
But even with that in mind, he looks really similar to me!
As Kousuke stared as if he’d seen a ghost, his ‘doppelganger’ narrowed his eyes and inspected him carefully. “Should I call an ambulance?” the man asked.
“Eh?”
“You’re bleeding from the shoulders and head.”
“Oh... th-this is makeup.” Kousuke had been filming a shootout scene, so he currently looked pretty bad. His shirt was covered in soot, and there were bloody patches all over his body.
“Makeup? Curious makeup indeed... It surely can’t be for social purposes,” the stranger commented.
“The point is, I’m fine.”
“I see. Has there been an explosion or a murder there?” the man asked, looking toward the factory.
“Eh?”
“All the people coming and going.”
“No... we’re actually shooting a movie,” Kousuke explained.
“Ah. And you’re some kind of gofer?”
“No, I’m the lead actor.”
The man didn’t seem familiar with Kousuke at all, nor did he show any interest in the fact that their faces were nearly identical. He mostly seemed concerned about Kousuke, perhaps viewing him as a poor man in a daze from the shock of his injuries. “How long will you and your group remain here?” he asked.
“What? I dunno... I heard we’ll be shooting here every night for a few days, though...” Kousuke responded without confidence.
The man scowled and let out a sigh. “I see. It will have to wait a while, then.”
“Um, what were you planning on doing here?”
“I came to test fire my new silencer. That old factory is perfect for indoor shooting, and I’ve been using it frequently for a while. I’ve just acquired a new Heckler & Koch, and I was hoping to test it immediately...” As he spoke, the man pointed back at the “guitar case” hanging off his shoulder.
Naturally, Kousuke had no idea that it was actually a rifle case, or that it contained a submachine gun designed for special forces.
“It appears I have no other choice, though,” the stranger lamented. “I’ll come back another day.” Having wrapped up the discussion entirely on his own, the man turned around and moved to disappear into the dark of night.
Kousuke found himself calling after him. “W-Wait!”
“What?” The man stopped and turned back to face him.
“I know this is a strange thing to say, but...”
“Hmm?”
An idea had formed inside of Kousuke’s ragged and overworked mind. The more he looked at the teenager, the more he felt sure that their faces looked alike. Yes, the shape of the other man’s eyebrows, the faint lines around his eyes, and the musculature from his neck to his jawline were different. It was also true that his hair was disheveled and seemingly untended. His skin was tanner as well, and he was perhaps a bit broader in the shoulders. Their most distinct difference was a look of total focus in his eyes. But... wasn’t there a possibility they could work it out? Yes, Kousuke decided. With the help of that former Hollywood makeup artist I met on a job, we might just be able to fool even my most die-hard fans.
“I have a favor to ask you!” Kousuke cried. He had no idea who this double of his was, but he didn’t seem like a bad person. If he asked him for help in good faith, and perhaps offered him compensation... Yes, of course it would work!
Sousuke looked at him questioningly.
“I’ll compensate you however I can. I promise I’ll make it worth your while! Please!” Kousuke placed his hands on the ground, prostrating himself in front of the other man, who looked at him dubiously.
●
It was morning, in the classroom at the very start of the day. Chidori Kaname had come to school with time to spare, for once, and sat looking at the weekly magazines which had come out that day with Tokiwa Kyoko and her other class friends before class started.
“Oh, c’mon! There’s no way it’s true!”
“I wouldn’t know. But it does seem like something’s going on, right?”
“No way! I don’t believe it!”
Kyoko and the others were offering their uneducated opinions about an article concerning a recently popular idol—Kira Kousuke—and his supposed affair with a TV announcer.
“It does seem like they’re going out, though...” Kaname whispered. She didn’t really follow entertainment news beyond American soul singers, but even she recognized the name of this new talent who’d just had his big break.
“Speaking of which. I’ve been thinking for a while... doesn’t Kira look a lot like Sagara-kun?” Kyoko mused, gazing at Kira Kousuke’s picture.
“Sousuke?” scoffed Kaname. “Hah, no way.”
“Right? Kira-kun has way softer looks.”
“Yeah! Totally different vibes!”
Kyoko alone tilted her head and hummed to herself speculatively... But just then, Sagara Sousuke himself entered the classroom. “Oh, it’s Sagara-kun. Morning!” Kyoko waved to him.
Sousuke didn’t respond, but looked nervously around the classroom, checking the sign for class 2-4 multiple times. He seemed strangely nervous about something.
“What’s with him?”
“No idea. Probably checking for enemy traps or something,” Kaname muttered indifferently.
“Sagara-kun? Hey!” said Kyoko, calling to him one more time.
This time, Sousuke noticed that he was being addressed, and peered closely at Kyoko’s face. Then he replied, without much confidence, “H-Hey.” He raised his hand to her with a gentle smile.
The Sousuke they knew... had just said...“H-Hey.” For a second the entire class froze up, stiffening like people who’d just sighted some kind of indescribable otherworldly cryptid.
“What’s wrong, guys?” he added casually, a wan smile on his face.
●
They were on the set of a lifestyle information program aimed at housewives, where the host was currently smiling as she spoke to the studio camera. “All right, we’re back,” she announced confidently. “Today’s guest is the rising star showing up in all the dramas and photo books lately, Kira Kousuke!”
There was a round of vigorous applause, and cheerful BGM began to play as Kira Kousuke, the red-hot male idol in question, entered the venue. He looked around him, eyes peeled, with a hand behind his back.
“Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to come see us,” the host said.
Kira Kousuke said nothing, but nodded in response.
“Come on over here!” the host said, politely indicating the guest sofa beside her.
The famous star glared hard at the sofa for a moment. Then he knelt down in front of it, removed the cushions, carefully put his ear to it, then grabbed the backrest and shook it back and forth a few times.
Unsure of how to react to her guest’s strange reaction, the host simply sat there and watched uncertainly alongside the audience. Then she said, “Excuse me?”
“This seat is unacceptable,” Kira Kousuke announced with a short shake of his head.
“What?”
“There don’t appear to be any traps or explosives mounted within the seat, but it’s in too conspicuous a location. I’m a sitting duck for an enemy sniper.” He looked up at the control room that looked down the studio, and spoke to the show’s producer on the other side of the window. “Shut off the lights. Make it darker.”
“But then the cameras couldn’t—”
“Then use night vision scopes,” said Kira Kousuke. “If that is unacceptable, we can go with audio only.”
The staff behind the camera were in a panic, while Kousuke’s manager paced back and forth in a corner of the studio.
The host managed to regain her composure and let out a forced laugh. “Ah, is this method acting, I guess? We haven’t gotten into this segment yet, but I hear you’re taking on your first action role.”
“If you mean tactical action,” he replied, “that’s a constant for me.”
“Ah-hah... Well, anyway, could you tell us a bit about your daily life?”
“I will tell you what I can,” Kira Kousuke said, eventually choosing to sit at the extreme corner of the long couch, a position from which he could use the host as a shield from the camera’s point of view if need be.
“I hear you’ve been into jogging recently,” she said next. “And that you’re intending to participate in the next Honolulu Marathon.”
The viewers in the studio, mainly housewives, whispered in amazement and began to clap on the assistant director’s cue.
“Jogging?” Kousuke asked.
“Yes.”
“I don’t entirely follow your meaning, but I do run regularly,” he admitted. “Running through the mountains with forty kilograms of equipment on your back is excellent exercise.”
“Wow! You do cross-country as a hobby as well?”
“It’s not a hobby; it’s part of my work. Anyone who wants to survive in this business must be prepared to do at least that much,” Kousuke told her seriously.
“Wow,” said the host. “So the secret to succeeding in show business is to run around the mountains with forty kilograms of equipment on your back?”
“No, you need far more than that.” He slowly shook his head. “Firearms, explosives, communication equipment—you must learn to use all of them comfortably, and then regularly hone your skills. A professional that can anticipate various threats and deal with them appropriately—”
“—is a true entertainer?”
“Affirmative. If you aren’t prepared to do that much, you should quit the business immediately.”
●
Back in English class, Kagurazaka Eri was speaking from the lectern. “Okay!” she said. “Example C on the next page, please. Can anyone translate it? Sagara-kun?”
When Eri called on him, Sousuke panicked openly. “M-Me?”
“Please.”
“I... I don’t know.”
Eri, angry about this answer, scolded him. “Are you making fun of me, Sagara-kun? You’re always speaking fluent English over the phone with your suspicious foreign friends!”
“But... I just... I can’t—”
“What? Is this some new form of rebellion? It’s unsettling, so please stop!”
“No. I just... I just...”
“Oh, forget it,” she said irritably. “Stand in the back of the class.”
“No!” Sousuke protested. “I’m not some elementary school student from back in the day—”
“Don’t talk back to me! Go stand in that usual ‘at rest posture’ of yours!”
Sousuke decided to stop arguing and grudgingly stood up from his seat. Timidly, he took his place at the back of the class.
The students promptly began whispering to each other.
“Did you hear how timid he sounded?”
“Does he have food poisoning or something?”
“He’s definitely acting strange today...”
Needless to say, the “Sousuke” who everyone thought was acting so strangely was actually Kira Kousuke, who had achieved a flawless transformation into the other man thanks to a former Hollywood makeup artist acquaintance of his. After begging the reluctant Sousuke and offering him a certain form of compensation, they had agreed to swap lives for a day.
To enjoy a carefree high school life, even for just one day...! That had been Kousuke’s wish, but it didn’t seem like it would work out that way. During their lunch break, Kousuke attempted to make cheerful conversation with the classmates of whom Sousuke had shown him pictures of in advance, but every single one of them responded to him as if he were some kind of unsettling creature.
For instance...
“Hey, Kazama-kun. What’s up?” Kousuke said to the young man in glasses, Kazama Shinji.
Shinji, in response, shrank down and gave him a stiff smile. “J-Just fine. Um... Sagara-kun?”
“What is it?”
“Did you take some weird medicine this morning?”
“What are you talking about? I’m as healthy as ever, man.”
But this seemed to make Shinji even more flustered. “I... I see. By the way, where’s the Ingram silencer you said I could borrow before?”
“I... Ingram what?”
“Ingram silencer,” Shinji repeated. “The used one. The Tokarev, too.”
Naturally, Kousuke had no idea that these were the names of firearms parts. He just assumed they were the names of bands he’d never heard of, perhaps from the indies circuit. “Oh, no, I forgot. Sorry.”
“I see...”
Seeing the look of disappointment on Shinji’s face, Kousuke quickly tried to make up for it. “I-I’m really sorry,” he said. “I have other Ingrams, though. I’ll lend one to you next time. And... the Tokarev? I love the Tokarev. I just wasn’t thinking...” Kousuke went silent as he noticed the strange look on Shinji’s face.
“You love... the Tokarev?” Shinji ventured cautiously. A Tokarev was a kind of old Soviet handgun, primarily known for how cheap it was to make, its inaccuracy, and its prolific use by Japanese lowlifes. It wasn’t an excellent gun by any stretch of the imagination—there was no way a professional like Sousuke would say he loved that particular brand.
But this was another thing Kousuke had no way of knowing. Feeling the sweat rise on his forehead, he had no choice but to nod with a vague smile on his face. “Y-Yeah. I never told you?”
“I mean... the Tokarev?” Shinji repeated. “Seriously?”
“What’s wrong with the Tokarev? They could get their big break soon,” Kousuke protested.
Shinji then examined his face very carefully and said, with tremendous seriousness, “Sagara-kun, I really think you should go to the hospital.”
●
Around that same time, Sousuke was eating a fruit-flavored CalorieMate inside the car on the go. He didn’t touch the packed lunch the young person from the studio had offered him, but just pulled the CalorieMate out of his bag and ate it instead.
“Kira-san, what’s wrong with you?!” Kotomi, his manager, asked from the driver’s seat.
“What do you mean?”
“The way you’re approaching your work today! It’s just one issue after another,” she scolded. “Think of the rumors people will start spreading!”
“Don’t worry about rumors,” he replied.
“I can tell you’ve been in a bad mood since this morning, but you need to stop dragging it into your work!”
“I’m not in a bad mood. I’m acting normally.” This was true—he was certainly keeping up his guard while in unfamiliar environments, but that didn’t mean his mood was poor. As always, Sousuke was acting in a clear-headed manner.
“Hmph. I-If you insist, I’ll have to inform the director and ask for instructions.”
“I don’t entirely understand,” he said, “but perhaps you should.”
Kotomi was shocked to hear this. Everybody knew that Kira Kousuke was intimidated by the agency director. “You’re sure about that? Really?”
“Reporting to headquarters when you’re uncertain of what to do is standard behavior,” Sousuke reasoned. “I don’t want to work with anyone who falls into the class which von Seeckt labeled, ‘industrious and stupid.’”
“I don’t quite understand, but... f-fine, I will tell him. Is that understood?!” Kotomi pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and spoke to their agency’s director for a while. Then she hung up and said, “He’s very angry.”
“Irrelevant,” Sousuke announced shortly. “Now, please give me the briefing for the next job.”
Kotomi fumed silently, but did so anyway. “It’s a photo shoot. Please promise to treat Shinomiya-sensei well, won’t you?”
“Who is ‘Shinomiya’?”
“A major photographer! It will be a huge blow to both you and the agency if you mess this one up! You have to greet him politely!”
“A photographer? I’ve known photographers. Don’t worry,” Sousuke said confidently.
About thirty minutes later, they got out of the car and entered the studio.
Shinomiya-sensei, the photographer in question, stood before them. “Ah, so you’re Kira-kun,” he said enthusiastically. “You have a great look!” Then the photographer, an oily man in his 50s, clapped him on the shoulder while reaching out for a handshake. It was a fairly common gesture in the entertainment world, and Shinomiya was a major artist—the natural response would have been to put a professional smile on his face and return the gesture.
But the sight of an unfamiliar man—one who was shouting at him while rapidly approaching, and holding out both hands to reach for his shoulder—sparked Sousuke’s mercenary instincts, honed by his time in war-torn regions. He ducked out of the way with a grunt.
The photographer stumbled, then caught himself and looked back at Sousuke, half in surprise and half in outrage. “Wh-What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Force of habit,” Sousuke said stoically.
It was the worst possible first impression. Both the assistant and the magazine editor turned pale. Kousuke’s manager, Kotomi, also began pacing around in the studio in panic.
“Wh-What do you think you’re—” the flustered photographer started.
But Sousuke interrupted the impending tirade with a blunt question of his own. “Where have you taken pictures in the past?”
“What?”
“I met several of you in Afghanistan and Cambodia,” he continued. “I even saw some die from stray bullets.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You are a photographer, aren’t you?”
“Y-Yes, but...”
“The best place to get pictures right now is the Baliq Republic,” said Sousuke. “Their Civil War has been in a lull for a long time, but starting around next month, the government army will begin a wide-scale resistance.”
“What are you talking about?” asked the photographer.
“You don’t know about the Baliq Republic?”
“No!”
Sousuke looked genuinely taken aback. “What kind of battle photographer are you?”
“B-Boudoir photographer?!” Shinomiya shouted, misunderstanding him. “What makes you think you can talk to me that way?!”
“Well, I certainly seem to know more about the subject than you.”
“How dare you! How would a young man like you know anything? I’ve shot hundreds of stars!”
“So what? I’ve seen hundreds of bodies,” said Sousuke, who genuinely seemed to think he was bragging.
As the entire venue watched, frozen, Sousuke’s unproductive argument with the photographer continued on and on.
●
Kousuke, meanwhile, was in fourth period gym class doing the 1,500-meter run.
Despite what he told the world, Kira Kousuke was very bad at long-distance running. The notion that jogging was his hobby had been completely fabricated by his agency. Which meant that after about a thousand meters, Kousuke, third from the end, was reduced to walking—bowlegged, heaving for breath, and dragging his feet.
The students, who still thought he was Sousuke, couldn’t help but find it bizarre.
“What’s with him?”
“Look! He’s exhausted!”
“Maybe he’s really sick or something?”
When it came to long-distance running, Sousuke was unbeatable. In short sprints up to one hundred meters, there were runners who were faster than him, but runs of four hundred meters or more were Sousuke’s time to shine. Had he joined the track and field club or participated in city tournaments, he would easily have won them. Experienced soldiers tended to excel in endurance more so than in instantaneous power. The body of a sprinter couldn’t handle running dozens of miles through thick jungle, carrying dozens of kilograms of equipment, while under pursuit and trading fire with merciless enemies.
But this version of Sousuke...
“Huff... wheeze...” After finally reaching the finish line with a time of seven minutes and thirty-two seconds, he simply collapsed.
One of the boys in the class, Onodera Kotaro, hauled him to the edge of the track as he coughed and groaned. “Hey, Sagara. Are you okay, man?”
“Hrk... hnn...” Wiping the copious sweat off his brow, he picked himself up unsteadily. He noticed a water fountain located on the edge of the athletic field, and began stumbling towards it. “Water...” he gasped, “water...” There was a flower bed between him and it, which he cut straight through, so thirsty that he trampled on the plants rather than detouring around them.
Kotaro panicked. “H-Hey! Wait, Sagara, that’s—”
Blam! Suddenly, the flower bed exploded. There was a roar and shock wave as flame burst from the ground. Kousuke, trailing smoke, flew meters up into the air, then landed hard on his back.
“Sagara?!”
“Hrgh... nnkh...” Terrified and confused, Kousuke spat and choked violently as soil and sand came sprinkling down around him.
“There he goes again. What did he blow up that time?”
“Looks like he stepped on his own mine.”
“Sagara’s definitely acting weird today...”
The observing students in their athletic outfits came to surround him, nevertheless keeping their distance.
“Wh-What in the world was that?!” Kousuke cried torturously, sitting up from where he’d been lying flat on the ground.
“What do you think? A landmine,” said one member of the audience—Chidori Kaname, also in her gym clothes. It looked like the girls, who had been in handball class, had also heard the commotion and come to see what was going on.
“A l-landmine?” he stuttered. “What is something so dangerous doing at a school?! Who put it there?!”
“You did, of course!” Kaname strode right up to him and laid him out flat, without showing an ounce of concern or care.
“Geh...”
“You buried them all around the flower bed, talking about crime prevention or something! And after I told you time and again to get rid of them, you still left some behind?! Give me a break already!”
“But I seriously didn’t—”
“And the fact that you triggered your own landmine is proof that you’ve completely forgotten about it,” she continued. “Are you trying to turn our school into rural Cambodia or something?!”
“I d-don’t know! I’m—”
“Oh, shut up!” Kaname hit him while he was already down, then pointed at a distant flower bed. “If you look closely, you can see small cylinders that look like landmines buried here and there like bulbs! Get rid of them right now!”
“Y-You have to be kidding me!” Kousuke spluttered. “Why should I—”
“You buried them, didn’t you?! Take a little bit of personal responsibility! You stupid little...” she growled, continuing to kick him.
“It hurts! It hurts!” Kousuke wailed as he rolled around under the force of her assault.
It was the established punishment for students of Jindai High School. The other students merely watched from afar, saying, “Here we go again.”
●
Meanwhile, Sousuke was still in the studio.
The various people on site had done their best to soothe the enraged photographer, but the job simply couldn’t go on. Shinomiya-sensei had eventually stormed out, claiming he would never work with their agency again, which caused an awkward air to hang over the venue.
“I told you to be polite with him!” his manager, Kotomi, told Sousuke in the greenroom while fuming. “We poured a ton of effort and money into securing that photographer! In addition to costs, rights, and the contract, we must have spent at least twenty-five million! Twenty-five million! You hear me?!”
“That’s the cost of one Hellfire Missile,” Sousuke informed her.
“Stop saying so many strange things! Honestly...”
At that moment, a man just shy of fifty years old entered the greenroom, dressed in an expensive suit. “Is Kousuke here?!” he demanded.
“Yes...” Kotomi trailed off and froze up at the sight of the man, whose face was twisted in rage, bright red and fuming.
The moment he saw Sousuke, he strode right up to him. “I heard everything, Kousuke! Do you have some kind of problem?! Have you forgotten everything I did to bring you this far?! Why in the world would you possibly— Wagh!”
Sousuke had grabbed the man’s arm, thrown him hard onto the floor, and thrust his pistol into his face. “You chose the wrong man to attack,” he told him coldly.
“Eek!”
“Tell me,” Sousuke demanded. “Who hired you?”
Before he could answer, Kotomi screamed, “Mr. Director!”
“Director?” Sousuke frowned. Staring in disbelief at his now pale-faced opponent, the director of the talent agency he worked for, he whispered, “You did seem awfully weak and craven for an assassin...”
“H-How dare you!” bellowed the director.
A panicking Kotomi tried to interpose herself between the furious director and Sousuke.
●
Meanwhile, Kousuke was still at Jindai High.
“I’ve... I’ve had enough...” Exhausted from the violence inflicted upon his person by both the antipersonnel mine and Kaname, he sat slumped in his classroom seat. It felt like the end of the day would never come, and he wanted to get as far away from this dangerous school as possible. If he stayed here much longer, he might not make it out alive.
Watching him from afar, the students of the class continued to whisper about him.
“It really is strange.”
“I’ve never seen him so exhausted before.”
“Were Kana-chan’s punishments that hard on him?”
Just then, the classroom door opened with a bang. “Sagara!”
“Eh?”
A short young man was standing in the door. He wore a short uniform jacket and a bandanna, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“Oh, Tsubaki-kun. Come for another death match?” Kyoko waved to him.
But the student in question—Tsubaki Issei—didn’t seem to notice any of the other students present as he swiftly strode up to Kousuke. “Trying to give me the slip again?! I know I gave you that letter of challenge!”
“What? Um—”
“No more fussing over the location! I’ll kill you right here and now!”
“Wait—”
Smash! Issei’s fist hit him cleanly. Kousuke went flying, carrying his desk and seat with him.
“Er... What?” Even Issei was surprised by how well his attack had gone, and stared back and forth between his fist and Kousuke. “What’s your game, Sagara?”
“Urk... I... guh...”
“Are you mocking me?” Issei demanded. “Are you saying my fist isn’t even worth dodging?!”
“Hrk... hrr...”
Issei grabbed Kousuke by the collar and squeezed mercilessly. “Fine! Then I’ll hit you until you take me seriously!”
“P-Please don’t—”
“Too late. Here I go!”
Crash, bam, pow! Tha-thump! A four-hit combo lashed out as Issei unleashed a flurry of punches against Kousuke, who’d slid down the wall to the floor. For the finishing blow, Issei hit him with his special technique, the Pampas-Growing Rock.
“Gwuh!” Blood sprayed from Kousuke’s mouth as his HP gauge hit zero in an instant. The sight of him slumping limply on the ground made Issei feel even more suspicious, but he wasn’t about to let up just over that. Instead, he interpreted it as more mockery, which caused his anger to only burn hotter. “Damn you,” he snarled. “You still don’t want to fight?!”
“No... please don’t... kill me...”
“Then lie there and die! I’ll give you the move I mastered just last week after pouring blood, sweat, and tears into my training! Haaaah! Daidomyaku Style ultimate technique! Piercing... Iron... Blow— Hey, cut it out! Let me go!” Issei had charged up his fighting spirit and was about to dish out another extremely dangerous move when Kaname and the others, unable to watch, pinioned him from behind and dragged him away.
Fluorescent lights on a white ceiling... Kousuke woke up in the nurse’s office.
“Looks like you’re finally awake.”
“Eh?”
Chidori Kaname was sitting in a folding chair next to his bed. It was the same girl who had beaten him up during gym class. But right now, there was none of that aura of violence about her. In fact, she looked worried about him. “I’ve been watching you all day... seriously, what’s going on?”
“What? Well...”
“I figured you were just tired from your real job, but if you’re seriously in trouble, you need to tell me.” She looked at him meekly. “You don’t like to make excuses, I know that. But... I feel kind of left out. You really don’t trust me enough to let me in on this?”
Kousuke had only just met her, yet he felt his heart skip a beat. Hey, now. She’s a nice girl after all. And now I get to be alone with her in the nurse’s office, with her doting on me... Is it possible she even has feelings for me? he wondered.
“That’s it! This is what I wanted!” he whispered to himself. These sweet moments after class—delicate, fleeting exchanges with the opposite sex. There were no scriptwriters or directors here. Just him and this girl, trading shy words and glances.
This is it! I’m finally writing this page of my youth! Kousuke sat up, his heart soaring. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you out.” This might be the girlfriend of the boy whose place I’m taking... but what do I care? I can’t let this chance slip by!
For the first time, Kousuke tried to earnestly remember how his double spoke, and replicate it. How did that boy—Sagara Sousuke—speak, again? How did he look at people? And did he speak so timidly? No, he spoke forcefully! It’s no wonder they were suspicious of me... I have to pull back the reins on my excitement and think before I speak. That’s right! I’m an actor, after all!
“It’s true... I have been acting strangely today. You’re correct,” he said slowly, lowering his voice.
“But then...”
“I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Kousuke stared straight at Kaname, projecting an expression of 120% seriousness. “I’ve never been able to tell you this, but... Kaname. I love you.”
“What?” asked Kaname, her face flushing red.
“I’ve loved you since the first moment I met you,” he went on. “You’re the only one for me. The only person who can heal my battered heart...”
“Hang on... this is all really sudden,” Kaname said, flustered.
Kousuke gently put his hands on her shoulders. “The timing doesn’t matter, does it?”
“B-But...”
He gently moved a hand to the back of her neck, and moved his lips toward hers. She trembled a little bit, but didn’t attempt to resist. “No...”
“No?” His lips drew closer to hers.
“We can’t...”
“We can.” Almost there...
Suddenly...
“I said no, dammit!” yelled Kaname, grabbing his ears and pulling on them as hard as she could.
“Eh?!” he exclaimed, followed by, “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!”
She followed up the ear pulling with a sharp jab to his face. With one hand pressed to his nose to staunch the bleeding, he tried to argue, “Wh-What are you doing, Kaname?”
“It’s ‘Chidori,’” Kaname told him. “That’s what he calls me. And that dumbass would never be this forward with me, either. For better or worse...”
“Uh... huh?”
“Time to confess,” she demanded. “Who are you, really? And just so you know, high school girls aren’t bound by the Geneva Accords.”
“Um, er... P-Please don’t...”
Kaname, the aura of violence around her again, began cracking her knuckles as she bore down on the frightened Kousuke.
●
At the location for the action movie inside the abandoned factory, with sunset light streaming in...
“I’ve had enough,” the director of the talent agency told Kotomi as he lit the cigarette in his mouth. “If he causes one more problem today, we can’t cover for him. I hate to say it, but Kousuke is finished.”
“Y-You can’t mean...
“He’s always been a little lacking,” the talent agency director pointed out. “He can’t properly delineate between work and off-time. Performers like that can’t ever be huge. I know from experience.”
Kotomi turned pale and looked at “Kousuke,” who was off in a corner of the set, having a futile argument with the movie’s director about the realism of the depiction of firearms.
“This bright muzzle flash is unacceptable,” he was saying. “It’s telling the enemy right where you are.”
“It’s telling the audience where you are!” the other man argued back. “It’s about screen presence! This is why I hate you gun nerds...”
“I’m not a nerd,” Sousuke objected, “I’m a specialist.”
“So?! I’m the director! Now go to the greenroom and finish getting made up!”
“Very well.”
“And if you put in another crap performance like that, I’ll pull every professional string I have to have you fired, got it?!” The director continued cursing at the popular idol as he returned to the greenroom. If things were this bad even during rehearsal...
The director breathed out a stream of smoke, and said, sadly, “Nothing else to be done, eh?”
“Ah... ahh...” Kotomi stood lamenting in a corner of the factory, but she had to agree. In one day—just one day—he’d shattered all of the trust he’d built up over the last two years. He was about to destroy his own career.
What’s happened to Kira Kousuke? she wondered. Even if he was lashing out about his busy schedule, this was over the line. If he kept fighting with the crew, then no matter how they tried to cover for him, it would soon all be over.
“Sorry for the wait.” After some time, Kousuke returned from the greenroom to shoot the scene. He was in his bloodied, beat-up appearance from yesterday.
The crew all glared at him. It seemed impossible to shoot the scene well under these conditions.
But he slid through the gaps between pieces of shooting equipment and gently said, “Um... I’m really sorry for all the trouble.” Then he bowed to the staff. “My mother has been in critical condition in the hospital all day, and I’ve been completely beside myself. I really am sorry. But don’t worry, she’s past the critical stage. I can focus now. I’m really sorry!”
The whole group stared at him slack-jawed for a few seconds. “I-Is that what it was?” one of them said eventually.
“Yes.”
“Your mother was sick?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
After staring for a moment, the director and the others let out a sigh. “Oh... I wish you’d just told us from the start. Don’t be such a stranger, Kira-kun.”
“I’m so very sorry,” he said again, “and I accept all fault in the matter. I’ll do my best from now on not to take things for granted. In other words...” Kousuke looked down and spoke, as if talking to himself, “I’ve been naive about how the world works. But I learned a lesson today, that there are far more harsh and terrifying worlds out there than I could have dreamed of. And I’ve learned—painfully—that there are people out there going through greater hardships than I could have imagined. I’m no longer enchanted by the idea of ordinary day-to-day life. This world is where I want to be! I can do what I like to do, express myself... and most importantly, I don’t have to be tortured to the verge of death!” Kousuke suddenly had tears in his eyes.
This sudden turn of events had everyone at the location feeling even more confused. They just stared at him silently.
Kira Kousuke wiped his eyes and returned to his usual shining expression. “The point is, I’ve had a change of heart. I’m going to devote myself to my work once again!” he proclaimed.
“K-Kira-san...” Though she didn’t know what was going on, his manager, Kotomi, felt tears filling her eyes as her spirits soared.
Meanwhile, in the brush just outside the factory shooting location...
“It looks like... he might just pull it off?” Kaname said to Sousuke as she watched the temperature of the location shoot cool down considerably.
Once Kaname had extracted the information from Kousuke in the nurse’s office, she’d immediately panicked. “You had Sousuke stand in for you?! That’s stupidly reckless! You’re gonna lose your job! Where is he now? Take me there, right now!”
Fortunately, they’d managed to swap Sousuke for Kousuke in the greenroom just in time.
“Regrettable. It would’ve been much more realistic had I been allowed to play the role,” Sousuke, who now had a large knot on his head, muttered unhappily. Kaname had hit him as hard as she could after climbing into the greenroom through the window with Kousuke.
“Don’t be stupid. You can’t be an entertainer,” Kaname muttered with a scowl.
“But I can,” he protested. “I didn’t make a single error all day.”
“R-Really? Even when you were on TV?”
“Of course. If I ever made my major debut, I could take down the entire entertainment industry in one day.”
“It’s pretty easy to imagine what your professional demeanor was like...” Kaname muttered listlessly, her eyes staring blankly into the darkness. “By the way, Kira-kun mentioned that you asked for some kind of compensation for doing the job?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did you ask for?”
“That’s a secret,” said Sousuke, radiating a curious aura of confidence as his eyes shone mysteriously.
●
The next day...
Kira Kousuke, guesting on a variety show that started at noon, felt a drop of sweat streak down his temple as he gave a strange promotion. “Yes! Um... the movie you introduced is also important, but... well, I made a promise to a friend, so... Yes, here it is: this picture. It looks like a cute mascot costume at a glance... but it’s actually merchandise being sold by Brilliant Safetech in Belgium. And, um...” Kousuke glanced down at the notepad in his hand, reading in monotone. “It’s high-spec enhanced armor that will change the face of modern combat. It’s guaranteed bulletproof up to 7.62mm rounds. It’s excellent for both national defense and low-stability war-torn regions...” He smiled genuinely beside the shocked host in sunglasses. “A-Anyway, anyone interested, please call the number on the screen!”
On a nationwide online livestream, Kira Kousuke put Sousuke’s (business) phone number up on the board.
[The End]
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