Idol Star System Generation: Season 1

By R. P. Mor

Fun-loving, upbeat and nonconventional sixteen-year-old Naoko can’t stand being criticized and limited by her overprotective and restrictive father anymore. Her desire to live by herself pays off while visiting an uncle in Tokyo, where she meets a tall, cool, funny and elegant man looking for a diamond in the rough – a girl to produce into an idol through his newly founded business. A friend of Naoko had fallen for a scam in the past involving a fake idol agency that almost destroyed her life, making that offer a little too risky to be trusted. Then again, that man’s small agency appeared to be associated with a trustworthy conglomerate that monopolized the idol industry. Not to mention it is Naoko’s only chance to live in a big city and be free.

Embark on a life-changing journey to the top of the music charts of the Idol Star System Generation, a megacorporation that promotes shows for talent agencies all across the country and auditions tens of thousands of girls for a spot on the limelight! Experience the hilarious ups and downs of a debuting star on the road to success and the engaging everyday life of a friendly, video game loving, easily excitable high-school girl who has no clue about idol-related stuff.

A compelling story about discoveries with a fresh and mesmerizing departure from the beaten path, full of fascinating and lovable people both under the spring sunlight and among the dazzling lights of the stages and streets of the never-sleeping capital. Seamlessly incorporating thought-provoking social, cultural, psychological and contemporary elements to a high-spirited narrative, R. P. Mor delivers an unpredictable, captivating, humorous and emotional tale of our times that is ultimately idiosyncratic, entertaining and oddly satisfying.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. P. Mor
• Release date: Jan 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9788591420414

R. P. Mor

Journalist and writer, studies psychology and only regrets not having stumbled upon it sooner. Entertainment industry enthusiast, enjoys narratives from many different media, from books and movies to games, manga, Role-Playing Games and so on.He finds it hard to write short texts and/or non-journalistic texts without witty remarks. Last time he tried to create a simple paragraph describing himself, he talked about riding a winged T-Rex. Luckily, after many tries, he managed to write something about himself that makes more sense. It's still vague, but that's on purpose.

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Idol Star System Generation: Season 1

R. P. Mor

Idol Star System Generation: Season 1

Copyright 2017 Rafael Peccioli Moreno

Published by Rafael Peccioli Moreno

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook is provided for free by the author and may not be sold or given away to other people. If you enjoyed this book and would like to share it with others, please encourage them to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. If you’re reading this book and did not downloaded it from an official retailer, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer to download your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Prologue – Breaking Free

Chapter I – Led by Mirages

Chapter II – Sinful Blossom Season

Chapter III – Into the Idol Star System Generation

Chapter IV – The Best and the Worst

Chapter V – Girls in the Shell

Chapter VI – In Pursuit of dreams

Chapter VII – Baptism of Light

Chapter VIII – The Eyes Have It

Chapter IX – Love for the Underdogs

Chapter X – Where Idols Fear to Tread

Chapter XI – Black and Golden

Chapter XII – Behind the Lenses

Chapter XIII – Of Goddesses, Angels and Mortals

Chapter XIV – Companionship

Chapter XV – Proof of Valor

Chapter XVI – Sacrifices

Season One Finale – Dawn of a New Day

A Word from the Author

***** Idol Star System Generation: Season One *****

Prologue – Breaking Free

The sound of thundering steps on the corridor finally silenced. It didn’t last long, though, as the door energetically broke wide open. The small room was a little less crumped than the first time she went there, or maybe it’s just that she started to get familiarized with the many shelves full of trash, unused furniture and a small thin TV piled up one over the other and cardboard boxes. A single fan and two bulbs of light decorated the unremarkable white ceiling. The only thing that saved the place from being a claustrophobic cavern was the existence of windows across two walls. If not for the fact there were so many stacked things that obscured the view, it’d be quite pleasant. The windowless walls, on the other hand, sported a couple of large, color-intense posters of supposedly famous girls over psychedelic backgrounds.

The Sunday morning sun soaked the ambient, shining through the glass and making it sparkle. It’s almost as if there’re spangles all over the windows. Unfortunately, it’s just the dust accumulated on the inside making the sunlight go wild, but it’s beautiful nonetheless. Of what could be seen of the outside, a large part was covered by a few multicolored signs and a big billboard made of little lamps and neon lights that emanated a retro feeling. Glimpses of the crowded street, tucked among three to five-story buildings, could be seen if someone really wanted to.

A well-groomed man in his mid-twenties was the sole living soul in that room, sitting behind the only desk there was and almost hidden behind his computer and the piles of paper. His suit was of ordinary quality at best when it came to its fabric, but fitted perfectly in his tall, somewhat slender body. His garment was of the same hue as his jet-black hair, slickly falling over his shoulders. As for the top of her boss’s hair, she still couldn’t quite say if it’s stylish or just messy. His dark brown eyes quickly glanced toward the figure that had just arrived.

Even though the whole place reeked of tobacco and dust, there’s something about it that she liked. It’s exciting, almost as if she’s walking into a yakuza crib instead of a plain, old commercial room. Her producer had the smelling perceptiveness of an oyster and was completely unable to tell that his recently rented office could potentially kill people with asthma.

I’m here!, an otherwise mesmerizing feminine voice, somewhat high-pitched and even more full of energy than it’s expected from an average teenager came from the door sounding a lot like a duck quacking. Mixing a slight greeting bow with a movement to gasp for air, the girl took a moment to catch her breath. Finally, she added on a somewhat mocking way, Still waiting for an elevator.

Smiling by the sight of the girl, the man stood up and calmly welcomed her:

Good morning, right? Come in. In a lower tone, he replied, Naoko-Chan came running upstairs, didn’t you?

Nope, she retorted, closing the door behind her, Not this time. Well… just a little. But your nest is still unnecessarily hard to reach. Seriously, you should consider stop being stingy and putting an elevator here.

Already accustomed with the uncommon bluntness of the girl, and not being particularly one for tempered words, the man sat at the edge of his desk with his lustrous black shoes still on the grayish-blue carpeted floor. Cool and light-heartedly, he retorted in the same half-joking way:

And you should consider stop being such a sedentary and start exercising. This way in a few years you’re going to dance for two minutes and then faint on the stage. Not to say if your health is already this deteriorated at such a young age, you’re in for a life with your best buddy, the oxygen cylinder, before you turn forty.

Ha ha, you’re such a comical guy, Produ-San, you, she responded, smiling genuinely albeit acting as if it wasn’t funny. It’s clear both of them had sharp tongues and didn’t mind a small contend of witty remarks. Slightly more serious, although not at all more formal as people were generally expected to act with their superiors, Naoko said I actually do exercise: I met Rin-Chan at the Athletics club, after all! Also I practice karate every Tuesday and Thursday after school! But be it there, on stage or wherever, I never have to climb walls like those stairs.

Surprised, the man, in a more serious tone, asked:

You’re kidding, right?

Immediately the girl crossed her arms and casually pointed, exaggerating on the details for the comical absurdity of it:

Your room is on the third floor of a building twelve, maybe fifteen meters deep and your stairs go up nonstop, not only once changing direction. It climbs about ten meters and is around those fifteen long. And I’m the one joking here? Imagine how funny it’ll be when you finally get someone to visit you and this person has cardiac problems.

No, no, I… the man started to explain himself. Thinking for a second, he briefly commented Yeah, now that you mention it, I think not everyone would be able to climb those stairs, although since I’m not the owner of the building, an elevator is out of question. Looking curious, he continued I’m just surprised you practice martial arts. You never told me.

It’s on the schedule, just look at my agenda, she mentioned. The man, with a negative gesture, declared, No, your schedule just mentions the hours you’re occupied, I didn’t bother to write what you do at what hour. I’m your producer, not your stalker.

Assuming a more sober attitude, the man directed her to his desk. Taking a small envelope from the middle of that mess, he handed it to the girl. Her jet black eyes sparkled with interest. Taken as if by surprise, she cautiously asked:

What’s this? Is it for me?

The young man, astonished, answered:

Wow, I never thought I’d see the day when Naoko-Chan would act in a proper way! It’s… kinda strange. And underwhelming. As much as I hate to admit, you’re better with your carefree and happy personality, I suppose.

With her eyes half open and a vexed countenance, she retorted:

Get lost. I’m not being polite, it’s just that I didn’t believe up until now that you’d pay me anything at all.

Her young boss, with a sour expression, told himself:

Ouch. Well, I asked for it, now, didn’t I?

You bet you did! the girl agreed. Bowing nevertheless, she grasped the package with both hands enveloped by her small, white gloves, feeling a rectangular volume weighting inside it. Rapidly glancing over to her producer to see if it’s alright to open it, she sat down and haphazardly broke the seal. A lump of dozens of bills waited inside, more than she would’ve guessed. Her witty, almost caustic attitude melted away as she stood momentarily looking the thick pile of cash. It’s nowhere near a fortune so far, but around six hundred thousand Yen was much more than enough to pay her rent and school, eat, invest and much more. It was an amazing sum. Her blank stare was partially covered by a curtain of slick and lustrous hair as black as the moonless night, giving her the impression the man couldn’t see her face. But as she came back to herself and found him quietly watching her with a somewhat heavy expression, she flushed.

Standing up again, still slightly shocked, she expressed her gratitude while bowing somewhat more than usual – even though the usual was little more than just a nod with the head, something quite disrespectful depending on the situations:

Thank you, Aratani-San. I… Noticing inside herself a wish to ask for forgiveness instead of thanking him, she stopped mid-sentence. When she stood straight again, her producer joked:

I’m so generous I even deducted that one hundred Yen just so Naoko-Chan doesn’t need to worry herself! I hope you learned never to bet against me ever again. Especially concerning expecting too much from Megumi-San. Though if you want to give me even more money, be my guest.

Naoko’s serious expression altered for a second while she acidly replied:

I hope Produ-San swallows this one hundred Yen coin and choke on it.

The man grinned, though for some reason Naoko turned back to looking abnormally serious. It slowly made her producer also adopt a cool but somewhat stern countenance. Aratani, with an unreadable expression, asked her slowly, in a way that was hard to tell if he was disappointed, sad, angry or just acting more severe than normal:

Since you do not bother pulling punches, I’ll also be blunt here, so please forgive if I’m rude. I need to know. Naoko-Chan, when we first met I measured correctly your cheerful personality, I think. In these couple of weeks we’ve been together you proved to be just the upbeat, happy-go-lucky and honest, sometimes borderline insulting, but kind-hearted girl I took you for the second I first laid my eyes on you. But also during the initial conversation you took a nosedive and became so defensive that I almost though I’d gauged you wrongly. If I remember correctly, it seemed as if you though I was joking, or maybe that I wasn’t capable of keeping my word. I need you to be as frank as you usually are. Tell me: did you really believe in me as a producer from the beginning? Do you believe me now?

Seeing her producer so serious made her heart skip a beat and her stomach hurt as if squeezed by ice claws. Instinctively she stepped back to open up space and turned partially sideways, in a way that the hair fringe that fell slight over the right side of her face could cover her evasive sight.

So that’s how other people feel when I’m direct with them?, she replied with a forced smile, only then noticing she was being evasive, a thing she always hated. Breathing deeply, she turned toward the waiting man, his expression unshaken, and paused for a moment.

Like you once told me, the man insisted, don’t mind sugarcoating your words, I’m not going to eat them. Just give me the truth, that’s all I want.

Hesitating for a moment, Naoko finally shook her head in understanding and responded:

Okay. The truth. Looking down to her feet, becoming more self-aware of her body position and of how the three inches of her white platforms made the floor seem more distant than she remembered, she continued, Actually… at first I didn’t… I didn’t believe too much. Raising her head gradually, noticing that even with the advantage of her boots, she was still a few inches lower than her producer, she confided, "But it wasn’t really because of you. Sure, when you first think of an idol agency, you generally imagine something a little more… glamorous than this. But it’s not that I didn’t believe in you. I just didn’t believe in agencies in general. Actually, I think I just accepted to do such a crazy thing as to move here because of you."

One of the first times we met you said that you’re craving to move away from your parents’ home, the man remembered. That it’s your main reason to try this new life. That you didn’t even think of trying to be an idol before, and that it’s just a way to get away from home.

Yes, to move to Tokyo, yes, she confirmed, but not to believe in a promise of fame and fortune. Sure, nobody knows me yet, but at least now I know you’re not a scam.

Thinking for a second, her producer murmured, tucking his hands in his pockets:

So you though I was a scam at the beginning, huh? I was under the impression you thought something like that.

Not because of you! Naoko insisted, drawing the attention of his eyes that were wavering down. Putting the envelope she was still holding inside a small, purple purse, she closed it, rested the object over the desk and, with her hands free, she began to talk using both her voice and body movements to emphasize her point. Maybe I never explained why I came here in first place, and why I accepted to believe in you. Do we have some time?

Looking at the clock over the door ticking eight and twelve, the man nodded, mentioning:

Our first appointment is only ten thirty. We’ve plenty of time.

Alright, she said, regaining part of her natural smile. Listen up.

When Hayato found his cousin Naoko at the airport, he didn’t know what to say. Last time he saw her, she was just a ten years-old urchin combing the narrow streets of their hometown, Shimabara, in search of adventure and trouble. Since his father moved to Tokyo, Hayato never again returned to Shimabara, nor to anywhere near the area around Nagasaki. Heck, he never again set foot in Kyushu, the southernmost of the four main islands of Japan, and his father only did it three times. His father lost contact almost completely with his own two siblings, including the father of Naoko, six years before. They’ve never had a rupture, but after Hayato’s father moved due to his work, they rarely spoke. Thus, when his older brother Yoshirou called desperately begging if they could let his daughter stay in their home for a few days, it’s strange to say the least.

Even though his physical constitution, strong, with a squared jaw and frowning eyebrows made he look bad, Hayato was in reality collected and tranquil. He was the polar opposite of his agitated and outgoing cousin Naoko. She always said there was just one thing to do in their hometown: to die of boredom. Unlike her, he actually liked Shimabara a lot. It’s a city of almost fifty thousand inhabitants with simple houses and surrounded by majestic nature. It was bathed by the blue waters of Ariake Bay and sat at the foot of the thousand and five hundred meters tall Mount Unzen, covered in lush green vegetation. Many onsen, scenic hot springs that attracted tourists and locals alike, dotted the region. It’s a paradise, despite what Naoko thought. Hayato had difficulties adapting to the bustling Tokyo, and even half a decade after moving the excessive amount of people still got on his nerves.

At the airport he almost didn’t recognize her. From the last time they met, she had grown into a spectacular sixteen year-old girl. Averaging one meter and seventy, maybe a little less, she sported a cascade of dark hair up to the middle of her back and long lashes that surrounded razor-sharp eyes, absorbing everything around her with curiosity and unbounded excitement. Her skin was fair, although not really ghost-pale, because even though she stayed a lot outside, she had the habit of applying sun filters regularly. She used light make-up, just the eyeliner being more prominent. It was simple, but showed she cared for her appearance, contrary to what her tomboyish fame suggested. Her mouth agape in a big smile revealing peal-white, perfectly aligned teeth, she was in eternal awe, as if walking on heaven. The girl did had a small, non-externally perceptible septum deviance that made breathing through her nose a hassle, but that’s kind of nice because it forced her to always keep her open mouth, seemingly smiling.

Her face was particularly gorgeous: it’d striking features, very proportional and lady-like. It’s simply beautiful. As for the rest, even in unremarkable clothes, just a sleeveless, unbranded white, purple and yellow t-shirt and pearl shorts, she was quite the head turner. She wore no accessories other than a good luck charm anklet made of white and black intertwined straw she’d received from a childhood friend, and beaten white sneakers. Maybe it’s good after all that she had a lot of running and climbing in her town, because her long and firm legs were real eye candies and her slim body was on the curvaceous side. Still room for improvement, but on the other hand she hadn’t fully matured yet. Not that he’d be checking on his cousin, of course. Hayato was too busy cursing his luck of having been born as her family member.

The first few days of spring break flew by. To be far away from home was a blessing by itself for Naoko, but to be away from her parents and also surrounded by lots of people, lights, movement and energy, was a dream.

She told her cousin the reason she made a trip there was because life in her house became unbearable. Even though the tension with her parents grew by each passing year since she was seven, things really started to go nonfunctional after Naoko turned twelve. It’s a reason why the girl stayed as late as possible in the streets, with her friends. The majority of them were boys a few years older than her. She got herself in every activity she could, mostly because she was easily excited for anything but also in order to stay away from her house. Since she was twelve every minute she spent with her family was a war of attrition. So much that her father simply gave in to a few things she asked, like to get enrolled in a karate dojo she somehow managed to get accepted in just to avoid unnecessary discussions. By the year she completed fifteen it’s rare to live a single day without any argument.

The first week in the apartment of her uncle’s house was amazing. Hayato was worried at first that the six years of isolation would have dulled their already tense relationship, but Naoko proved to be an amazing guest. She was always radiant and could sustain talks for long hours with anyone. Despite her unladylike reputation, she was surprisingly feminine except for her interests and her frank speeches. In fact, she was confusing, for as much as she loved to play videogames and practice karate, her nails were always polished and she carried an eyeliner brush, along with sun filters and a few other things, wherever she went. Even then, she wasn’t fond of over accessorizing and hated spoiled people, not really having any problems in going on adventures among trees, insects and mud, getting wet under rain or anything. The girl was also very independent, in that she could wash dishes, clean the place and take care of her clothes and belongings. She wasn’t such a good cook, but Naoko and her aunt, who basically lived to make dishes, could talk for an eternity about everything related to cuisine. And even though Naoko didn’t like baseball, sumo, pro wrestling and many other sports, her uncle always found himself entertained in conversations with her about trips, locations worth visiting, economy, politics and more. Even when she didn’t know anything about a topic her curiosity still made the conversation flow smoothly more often than not. As much as she’s an outstanding talker, she’s also an excellent listener, eager to discover new things.

Of course she had her fair share of flaws, too. Her loose tongue was the worst offender in Hayato’s opinion, but he also found her unstable temperament, prone to swings, to be vexing. At the same time she said what she thought of others, what didn’t concern other people was kept well under locks, turning her intriguing and sometimes mysterious, but also making her hard to reach and help, and frustrating to try to understand (but a couple of times she still acted as if others were supposed to comprehend her nonetheless). Her short fuse and her quickness to judge, condemn and punish made her an entire legal system in a single girl, which at first seemed amusing but rapidly proved to be a nuisance. She was extremely loyal to people important to her, but her means of showing it could be improved. Her sense of direction was abysmal and when she decided on something it’s as hard to refrain her as it is to prevent a volcano from erupting. It wouldn’t be a bad trait if she always got the right idea in her mind, but in spite of her good-willed nature, her stubbornness was a challenge to everyone when, out of poor judgment, she committed herself to a cause that was clearly not a good idea.

Also her adventurous spirit was nothing short of a liability, wreaking havoc at the least expected moment. And last but not least, until last time he saw her, Naoko’s good-willed personality could take a sharp and scary turn when she felt particularly unhappy, helpless and alone, turning into an insensible, borderline cruel one. It was a rare sight, thankfully – Hayato only had the bad luck of meeting her ice-cold alternate side twice in his life, and even Naoko refused to accept that on these exceptional occasions she acted that way. Overall, she was far from perfect, but was still a lively and intriguing company most of the time for sure.

Hayato was five years older than Naoko, even though his father was four years younger than hers. Still, she was used to talking to older men, and left nothing to be desired from any good conversation he’d have with his friends. It was odd because they grew apart, and as far as Hayato knew both sides couldn’t care less for the other, but out of respect they accepted to receive her, and maybe to repay the favor she showed her best side. She wanted to know about the college degree in chemistry her cousin was attending to and what he did to have fun in the big city. Since he had only a few friends, very few hobbies and seldom left home, it’s a nice change of pace to go explore the sprawling metropolis with her.

Even though her family let her stay with her uncle just because she was intolerable in the last few months, Naoko had a mission. She wanted to find a new high school to enroll and go live in the Greater Tokyo Area. Of course, the cost of living in the eastern capital was prohibitive for her family, so if she’s to stay there, she had to find a way to make ends meet. As a high school girl it’s obvious she’d need the financial support of her parents to foot at least part of her bills, but despite her father having said multiple times he wouldn’t pay for any extravagance, he knew her intentions for the trip and still helped her visit the metropolitan prefecture all the same.

Naoko and her cousin went sightseeing every day but even so the girl was barely able to see a few of the long list of places she wanted to see with her own eyes. One or two of them were downright rejected by Hayato, like the nightlife intense, luminous signs-riddled red-light district of Kabukichou, but the majority was simply cut due to time constraints. She watched the cherry blossoms, saw the staggering Tokyo Tower from a distance and much more, but it just felt rushed. Her nine days, starting the second to last Friday of March and going until the Saturday of the next week, counted down fairly quickly. Soon she realized she hadn’t visited any high school. Her sixth and seventh days were spent info hunting on institutions that were good, accessible and could help relocating her to dorms. Though those two days were unremarkable, she found three nice options.

The problem was, like always, the money. Even living in dorms would cost a lot, and the schools themselves were more than her family could afford. Thus she began searching for any place which would accept an unskilled and inexperienced student for a well-paid arubaito – a part-time job. At first the colossal amount of commercial establishments in the metropolis gave her the false sensation that it’d be easy to find work despite what her cousin and her uncle told her. She visited shopping malls, galleries, convenience stores, outlets, restaurants, a hairdressing salon, a movie theater, three maid cafes and a few electronic stores, all by herself. By the end of the eighth day her feet were hurting and all she managed to get were many evasive answers that meant the same thing: no. To complicate matters, she spent almost all the cash she had left commuting.

To be fair, the only owner of a maid café she was able to talk to actually got an interest in her. She was unearthly attractive and sociable, after all. His attention was especially increased after he asked her to sing anything she wanted, and he seemed genuine enough when he said there were currently no open positions, but that he’d contact her if there’re any vacancies.

Anyway, she though, her father was so close-minded and antiquated that he’d probably abandon her for good if she told him she’d work as a maid. In practice those places were just coffee shops with waitresses dressed as maids, with a few quirks like the possibility to order thematic dishes or ask for a girl to sing for everyone. Each place had their own twists, but as a rule of thumb things were pretty tongue-in-cheek and light. Even so, her father would probably still have that feudal line of thoughts that maid cafes would be modern equivalents of brothels or whatever. He’s that narrow-sighted. Even if the owner gave her the job, she still foresaw an arduous fight to convince her parents it was an honorable enough work.

That night she could barely sleep. Her legs ached like they’ve gotten a beating, and the temperature was hotter than usual. Even with air conditioning it’s unpleasant to sleep, and her mind couldn’t silence even for a second. She had already been to Tokyo before, but only with her parents, and it’s nowhere near as fun as it’s this time. She loved that place. To think she’d have to go back to her backwater town full of nothing to do and live under her parents’ roof again, having to obey every ridiculous rule and feeling imprisoned made her feel dizzy. The pressure to find something, anything, the next day was so unbearable she wanted to get up that same instant and continue searching, even though she was exhausted. Of course, she could wait until college to go out… but she’d probably already be a psychiatric patient by that time.

The next morning was even hotter, making any attempts of trying to shut eyes even for a moment futile. Fatigued, she went back to her job hunt by dawn. Of course it’s hard, but she was accepting almost any position, unless it was degrading. In a city that size, how hard could it be to land a job of a dog-walker, a salesclerk or a mascot for children parties anyway?

She visited a few streets known for having lots of videogame stores, imagining they’d want a girl who actually knew a lot about games to attract otaku… although the more she pictured in her mind the most extreme cases of strange nerdy guys drooling over virtual girls and making their manga pages sticky with saliva and… other… fluids, the more she regretted the idea. And her imagination was one of her strongest traits (unfortunately).

Welcome!, she would loudly and enthusiastically greet a customer by the sound of the bell ringing when the door was opened, only then noticing a short, thirty-something man with untidy hair, wide-open, beady eyes as if he’s being followed by some shadow assassin, sporting clothes four sizes bigger than him. On such sight all her hopes of suggesting interesting and decent games would’ve been abandoned.

After noticing her, he would probably freeze on the spot, his fingers erratically moving as if they’re living noodles, squirming over the Yen bills his mother clearly gave him. Starting to sweat profusely and hyperventilating, he’d indecisively whisper something along the lines of:

Do… do you have… the game… ‘G… Gotcha!!! Chained Strawberry Angels Palpitation Fever Ultimate: Super Nonconsensual Tentacle Hell Seven – Pure Loli Maiden Sisters Edition’?

By the time the ‘freaklient’ would be going out Naoko would have developed a severe case of traumatic twitching under an eye and, clinging to the farthest possible wall, her Thank you for your patronage, please come back soon! standard phrase would most likely come out more like "Please go back under your rock and don’t you ever show your face here again!"

Never mind the fact that she knew her stereotypes were prejudiced and far from truth… of a few otaku, at least. Or so she hoped. Nevertheless, she combed every gaming store. In most cases she couldn’t find the owner. Of the ones she did, at least two seemed interested, and one of them made a brief interview with her.

Her gaming knowledge wasn’t the problem. When it came to proper etiquette for clients, in that case the owner, however, Naoko noticed something wasn’t right. She was able to perform well the basics, like greeting a client when he came in and to count the change out loud, albeit it rubbed her the wrong way for some reason. She felt wrong, as if… she was being nice to someone just so they could give her something – money, in this case. It felt like backstabbing, but she could live with being polite. When he pushed her, impersonating a truly irritating customer, however, she started to ask herself if that was the kind of work she’d like to perform.

The owner was pleased with her and vowed to get in contact again in a couple of days. When she left the store, however, all she could feel was emptiness. To be mistreated, even if just in a pretended sale, without being able to do anything and having to keep her cool was a big pain for her. If she wanted to feel bad she would’ve stayed home.

Not only she looked drained, she also lost part of the will to work. The more she thought about how any job involved doing something for someone and tolerating frustration, stupid clients and people that were unable to listen to the truth without getting pissed off, the more she got depressed. She went over a mental list of every position she knew, both plausible and absurd, but no matter what, every single one involved people. Any employee could be fired if their superiors were dissatisfied with their performances. Their bosses would answer to directors. Even a CEO had to answer to stockholders and the general public. Maybe… maybe stockholders didn’t have to tolerate abuses! Yeah, they still relied on others, but they’re the ones getting pissed of there, if anyone. If she had a lot of money – or so she thought it’s necessary – and knew how to invest in stocks that would be a sweet option.

She day dreamingly crossed from sidewalk to sidewalk, automatically going in and out of every open door and only stopping to reapply sun filters every hour. At first she looked for signs that they were hiring, but after hearing so many indirect refusals Naoko got desensitized enough to try her luck everywhere she considered decent. At every opportunity she went back to her fantasies of operating stocks. Although that was the kind of work she considered boring, the more she supposed it to be similar to a game, the more excited she got. The ups and downs of those lines, the gaining of lots of money, the… well… that’s it. She had no idea how it performed in reality, but somehow Naoko was able to get thrilled about yet another thing out of the blue, just dreaming about having a computer with multiple screens, most of them showing trends of powerful companies full of people slaving away their uneventful lives for her while on the last screen she’d be playing something while waiting for the stocks to reach selling point or whatever.

There was a moment she got so pumped up about the idea that she could clearly see herself doing it during the next years. She could stay in her parents’ house, since she’d simply lock the door of her room and play. It wouldn’t be and adventurous life and she started to think she’d get lonely eventually, but her father wouldn’t be able to say she was being lazy or that all she did was to play videogame or computer games because by the end of the day, she’d receive much more than him! When she turned twenty and thus became legally an adult, Naoko would then rent an apartment in Tokyo and be free! Maybe she could even hire a handsome butler!

The ground started to shake slightly, bringing her back to reality. The seismic movement was so quick and weak it could’ve passed for a loaded cargo train approaching a platform, if there was any nearby. When the tremor stopped, a few seconds later, she had the impression many pedestrians hadn’t even felt it. But then it’s too late, her daydream was shattered.

It was strange, when she thought about it. She loved to be close to people. She loved Tokyo because it’s so lively! Why was she having cold feet about any position? Was it because of fear of responsibilities? But she was always responsible, despite being slightly hot-headed.

Entering a convenience store, she watched the saleslady perform her duties with a client. It wasn’t nowhere nearly as bad as she was thinking during the last few hours. And although Naoko had never worked for a paycheck before, in her hometown her nosy nature and her drive to stay away from home as much as she could lead her to do lots of voluntary works. School projects, caring for the elderly, doing whatever she was allowed to for firework festivals… It’s always fun. Why did she abruptly begin second-guessing her decisions? And, even in a worst-case scenario where a part-time job she got proved to be ill-treating, if she was to pick fights with a person she would meet for one minute in her entire life because he or she abused Naoko’s patience, the girl would essentially be giving reason for the arguments of her father that her short temper was nothing more than sheer immaturity. No, she would persevere. And, most importantly, she already knew how her home was akin to a penitentiary. No way she would go back there!

The convenience store ended up being another no-go, but she left the venue with renewed hopes and a snack she ate at an opportunity she got to sit down, the only thing she consumed that whole day. The sky leisurely turned red and started to go dark, increasing the feelings of frustration and her rush. The flight back home was scheduled for the upcoming morning, giving her few precious hours left, but she would hate to go back empty-handed.

She hurriedly kept searching for her dream arubaito – any plain part-time job, really. Eventually, though, her tired legs protested and refused to move. She, against her will, found a nice kids playground and sat down.

Only then, as resignation grew on her, she could take a moment to breath and pay attention to her surroundings. As the dusk got darker and the last sunbeams painted the clouds, few and far between, a rosy hue, the stars started to appear. Truth be told, the starry skies of Shimabara were prettier at night. In Tokyo there were hardly enough shining dots in the firmament to fill it. Only two or three. But the lights that steadily started to shine across the city more than made up for it in Naoko’s opinion.

She ran the entire day with mixed feelings and had little time to appreciate the experience, but looking back she found it fun. The towering buildings’ windows around her reflected one another and the street lamps, the squirming car headlights and rear lights that formed white and red rivers, the multicolored billboards, the glistening cellphone screens that made crowds sparkle as if sprinkled with silver dust, the airplanes coming and going and so much more. The metropolis radiated brighter at night with spinning lights that her hypnotized eyes reflected. To be there made her at peace, even if her stomach was empty and her body sore. Despite her sleepless last night, she didn’t notice her tiredness.

She stood there in silent contemplation for who knows how long, and as she decided to move again, her heart was full of peace. As she spent her last change on something to eat and took the train back to her uncle’s place, it’s already well past rush time and the number of people on the streets was manageable. She found herself a cozy seat next to a window and kept staring at the iridescent city that moved outside, while her reflex looked back with a mix of happiness and sadness.

The repetitive, low humming and the tender rocking of the train gently carried the bushed girl to a deep slumber. When she came back to her senses, her heart almost jumped out of her mouth. Her station had already passed by three stops, and Naoko dashed out of the vehicle the first chance she got.

Finding her way to the opposite platform to go back, she waited for a moment. For as much as she’d like to rest, her biggest desire was that this day never ended. So much, in fact, that when the train arrived she couldn’t force herself to get in. As she watched the doors open and close and the metal, serpent-like vehicle slip by, Naoko decided to go by foot. She was just three stations away from her uncle’s apartment, anyway.

Every corner of the streets was different than the last. Every new block was full of possibilities for a girl that felt caged in her real home. Every person dressed differently – with the exception of the suit-clad, sake-filled, tottering salarymen that seemed to spawn at alarming rates at every turn, but that was to be expected. In a new city even those generally annoying, loud men were amusing for her. They composed the experience of free roaming the capital.

A couple of blocks down the street, where small, two or three decade old but charming commercial buildings full of luminous signs aligned themselves, she found out some doors sported hiring notices. Too bad it was a quarter to ten and most offices were closed. If she knew that place before she could’ve found a part-time job there, maybe. Still, she wandered the long, straight avenue looking at every notification. A couple of them were really vague, but since offices seemed to be the thing there, it wasn’t hard to imagine they would need auxiliaries, secretaries and whatnot.

Eventually, after a lot of walking, she passed through a three-story building with a few lights still on. The door was opened, immediately leading to a dimly lit stairway that climbed, without stops, all the way up, whilst presenting doors to every pavement. A big hiring board by the door listed every open position for every floor. All were empty except the uppermost business, which simply and vaguely presented a accepting applications! statement.

Naoko gave a few steps back and looked up. As she had imagined, the windows of the third floor were still illuminated. Above them there was a retro-esque, neon billboard. From where she was standing, almost beneath it, it was hard to tell the name of the company, but she could see the symbol was a sort of a diamond with its lower tip sitting atop a disc of some sort. Even though the long, narrow stairs seemed somewhat shady, the big sign was really well made and flashy, and inspired confidence.

Naoko hesitated, looking at the hour on her cellphone. Even if the office was still open, it’s hard to imagine they would receive her at such an hour. But then again, the worst it could happen was another no, like the hundred or so she already obtained those two days. And there was nothing she could do, by next morning she’d already be leaving. If she explained it and was lucky enough perhaps they would still send her word in case some position came up.

Fat chance, she thought. A school girl with no prior experience in whatever office tasks she’d be required to do, probably looking miserably tired and with no business card to back her up would show up almost ten p.m. looking for work. Yeah, great chances of success. Well, at least she could say she was dedicated.

The expectation to hear another roundabout no made her legs start to move away, but as she started to think about it, she stopped again. To hell with probability, at that time all she wanted was not to go back and keep exploring. Given, the place looked a little suspicious, but nothing that made her think she’d be entering a mafia den. Although when that crossed her mind, her imagination started to play tricks on her.

Even then, she fought to control her fear. The last time she thought so vividly about bad things, she pictured herself selling porn games to a creepy otaku, and reality (so far) turned out to be not nearly as bad. Mustering up her courage and inquisitiveness, she went back and started climbing the stairs.

The steps were short and the inclination was steep. After two days of intense walking her legs shook like jelly. The very climb was a test of resolution, it seemed, but it just made her curiosity burn hotter.

The stairs wound up on a wall. After a L turn there was a small, carpeted corridor. To the right two restrooms and on the left a few couches and an old door. At the end of the hallway there was another entrance, from where the faint sound of a television and a fan came out. She made her way there and, vacillating for a while, regained her breath and knocked. By that time she had already thought about what she’d say if she found out a lot of gangsters and her years of martial arts classes that would certainly not save her flashed before her eyes.

Contrary to what she thought, she was greeted by a soothing male voice, maybe a little drowsy, politely asking for a second. After a brief pause the door opened slightly, and through the gap a tall and young man appeared. He definitely looked like he was sleeping, his face partially wrinkled and red. He seemed surprised, and after checking the person before him his cloudy eyes lost their half-asleep air. He opened the door, and behind him Naoko could see his room. It was the messiest thing she’d ever seen, even for an office. A small TV airing the news sat atop cardboard boxes and his desk was hidden behind a small fridge, a sofa still with the marks of someone who had slept there and other furniture. A strong smell of tobacco and dust clogged her nostrils. The neon lights came in from the darkness outside the windows, and an old ceiling fan span slowly, generating more noise than wind. It was surreal.

There was nothing to be liked on that chaos, but somehow places like that attracted Naoko. She secretly liked boy’s rooms for reasons even she didn’t fully understood. Maybe because the untidiness equated to freedom for her, and that was a precious thing.

Please, come in, the tall, slender and elegant man in his mid-twenties invited with a bow, looking lost. Noticing her eyes glancing around the room, he scratched the back of his head and apologetically explained while bowing again, I’m deeply sorry. We just move in, there’s still a lot to be done.

Closing the door behind the seemingly shocked girl, the man opened up a way to his desk and offered a seat for her. Taking everything from over the table and putting it over the sofa, he lowered the volume of the TV so that the images gave an impression of liveliness to the ambient but the sound didn’t interfere and, going back, he said, in a careful way:

Well… I’m Aratani Kouta, the owner of this agency. After a brief pause, the tall, slim man in his creased suit mentioned regretfully, It’s already past business hour, so I don’t know if I can help you now, but… Please, if I can be of any assistance, let me know.

Naoko knew it was a polite way of saying get the heck out of here and come back other time, but she was surprised the man named Kouta looked actually genuine in his intentions of assisting her. The girl quickly said, as politely as she felt comfortable to be:

It’s a pleasure to make you acquaintance, Aratani-San. I’m Yano Naoko. Sorry for coming at such late an hour, but… to be frank, this is my last night in Tokyo. Tomorrow morning I’ll be flying back to my hometown, and I wanted to… see if I could find a job so that I could pay my studies here. And I saw in the board by the entrance your company was accepting applications. So… I’m sorry to disturb you. I just wanted to know if I could know more about that position. I… couldn’t find any information about it, but…

The man, showing interest, leaned forward and told her in a considerate way:

No, I understand. Pausing briefly to think, he inhaled and exhaled the air through his nose as if ventilating the tiredness of the day while looking for something in the shelves of his desk. I’m thankful for your interest. You seem like a dedicated person, to be up at such an hour looking to fulfill your dreams.

She was afraid he’d take her wrongly, thinking a girl looking for work at such a late hour would be up to no good, but it looked like they thought similarly. Glad, she thanked him and waited while the man took a flyer and a business card in his hands and, putting them at the edge of the table for the time being, he asked:

Let’s get down to business, then. Yano-San, you seemed like you have some questions about the application. Can I help to clarify anything?

Hm… yes, Naoko replied, I’d like to know more about the position. What kind of job is it? I’m sixteen, and I don’t exactly have any previous experience in office work, but I’ve already done a lot of volunteer work at my hometown, and I’m a quick learner, I think.

The look on Aratani’s face became puzzled. Appearing to have lost part of his enthusiasm, he briefly gauged the girl’s eyes. He could see she was tired, but there was a glint of hope and something on her gave the impression she was more energetic and cheerful than that formal meeting made her to be. And although she had probably made a dumb question, she appeared to be smart. Her eyes were attentive and sharp. He decided to chalk up that misunderstanding to her weariness. Unsure, he clung to his gut-feeling and elucidated:

Well… about the application, I’m sorry it wasn’t very precise. We currently have no open positions in terms of office personnel. That invitation was due to the fact that we are a newly-founded idol producing agency. I’m the owner. We’re currently looking for talents to produce.

The moment Naoko heard the word idol, she petrified. All her will to continue that conversation was syphoned out of her body. Suddenly the messy but rather cozy room seemed like an intimidating place, one she got a sudden urge to leave.

The young man handled her a pamphlet written in big characters. The Paragon Idol Agency, it said. The logo was that of a big diamond, in its most classic shape, drawn in silver lines over a dark background. His lower tip levitated atop what appeared to be the center of a platinum-colored disk, CD, DVD, Blu-Ray or any kind of similar media. The disk was seen from a perspective, as if resting atop an invisible surface. Drawn over the diamond was the black silhouette of a young woman. There’re no details, but by the outline it could be imagined she was wearing a skirt and holding a microphone. The back of the flyer presented, in bullet-point listing, some information, but Naoko could hardly read anything.

Her eyes were covered by a cold mist, almost like if she got lost in her mind. Back in time and space to her hometown, seven or eight years before.

Remembering the day they first met, her producer, lying down on his chair with both feet over his desk, interrupted Naoko’s raconteur spree:

Yeah, I was under the impression you spaced out the moment you heard it’s an idol agency, but at that time I was so pressed to find a good talent to promote that I refrained from asking what was the problem. Smiling, he added, Not to say I was too afraid to lose such a rare diamond in rough like you over any argument to care, diamond girl.

Looking at his sly face, straight and unfaltering while complimenting her, Naoko laughed.

I’d pretend to be shocked if I wasn’t well aware of your womanizer’s traits. Keep them to yourself, you perv, the only one you’re going to get to know this way is a police officer.

You try to compliment the talent of a woman with no ulterior motives and she immediately raises shields against you, Aratani mentioned, jestingly looking hurt. Going back to his cool self, he inquired, Alright, Naoko-Chan. Get to the point. What was the deal? Why did you think I’d betray you?

Losing herself in memories, her eyes clouding again albeit without the shocking and disheartened expression of a few weeks before, the girl continued her narrative.

The moment that man told her about idol producing, her mind was pulled back to Momoko. Fuchigami Momoko was the older sister of Naoko’s oldest friend, Fuchigami Masahiro. Two years older than her and always the quiet type, Masahiro lived right across the street. He probably cared for Naoko more than anyone and, despite not being particularly adventurous, he’s always there to help her out of situations. He had a tendency to try and overprotect Naoko, taking the blame for things she did. Naoko eventually made many friends all across Shimabara and beyond, some from the streets, some from the karate dojo and the other martial arts centers she liked to take a peek, many from school, a few from online games and so on, but even then she maintained her childhood friendship.

Masahiro had a sister six years older than him, and thus eight years older than Naoko. Her name was Momoko. When Naoko was still a brat around eight years old, Momoko was already an attractive teenager. She always dreamed to be famous, maybe an actress or a singer. Her father encouraged her to pursue her dream, and somehow she found about an idol agency in Nagasaki that seemed interested in her. Her family invested in her, paying every fee the agency said it was necessary. Apparently the process was very complicated and involved many legal consulting and expenses for tests, singing and dancing classes, initial promotions and other things. Her family paid a lot of money.

After many travels, all of which ended up in frustration because for one reason or another every test, audition or interview with the producer-to-be got canceled at the last moment, the anticipation came to a sad conclusion. The agency simply vanished, taking all her money. Her producer was never seen again. The scam to prey on the dreams of girls made many families go into debt, and even though Momoko’s father and mother were able to eventually recover from the loss, their daughter was left emotionally scarred.

Although Naoko wasn’t exactly a friend of Momoko, which at that time was almost double her age, she knew her well enough to notice a drastic chance in her behaviors. After that incident the good-spirited girl became introspective and sour. Her bonds with her family grew tighter, as if she became so riddled with guilt that she did anything for her brother and parents, but at the same time she became distant and cold to others, sometimes borderline cruel. She got attached to animals, but her faith in humanity was compromised. So much that she became neurotic with her studies and a real workaholic, aiming only for perfection and not caring for any stranger anymore.

After that, similar stories were heard across Shimabara a few more times. Tales of supposedly big shots from Nagasaki, Osaka, Kyoto, Tokyo and so on getting an interest in a girl from small towns. For the women, it’s like being discovered against all odds. Then there was an expensive process that invariably ended up in the agency disappearing in thin air, leaving the girls and their families to lick their financial and emotional wounds.

It was easy for vile people to fool young girls with promises of stardom and fortune. In Japan the idol industry was a huge and well-oiled machine. Scouted boys and girls could go for nobody to national celebrity overnight. The entertainment industry craved for pretty faces and new songs. Billions of Yen changed hands over teenagers and spam a myriad of products. CDs, commercials, clothes, dolls, official school bags and other materials, shows and much more. Girls found themselves being interviewed in TV, appearing in building-tall electronic ads and having legions of fans calling her in the streets. As much as it was tantalizing, the idol industry had its own fair share of traps and competition was fierce, but nothing detracted from the dream of becoming the next one on the spotlights and every year dozens of thousands of women tried their lucks, looks and talents for a piece of the action. Only a few managed to get somewhere. Even when not falling victims to schemes, the idol road was fraught with dangers and hardships. For some it added value to the victors, but that was because nobody thinks they are going to be among the vast majority who falls flat.

To someone such as Naoko, who knew terror stories about con artists draining families of their resources or leading girls astray, to discover herself in an agency was almost worse than if she had actually met a group of bad looking men with their backs covered by tattoos.

Sure, the young man in front of her seemed like a decent person. Even then, his office was nowhere near what an authentic idol agency would look like, as far as what she knew. It was definitely a ruse.

To his merit, that con artist looked very smart, noticing something was amiss with her. Quickly, he started to detail the process his agency applied to idol candidates:

About the application itself, we try to make it as quick as possible. There’s a singing and dancing test, following guide rules from the supervisory organ. Then, there’s an interview to get to know the candidate, just to know with whom we could be working with. Finally, should everything be okay, I submit the data to the higher-ups so they can look into the paperwork. Usually the whole process doesn’t take more than four days.

Right off the bat Naoko caught on a discrepancy in his explanation and, without any care for what would the schemer feel, tossed it right at his face:

"Yeah, right, your ‘higher-ups’. Listen, didn’t you say you’re the owner of this lovely agency, ‘Produ-San’?’

The almost pet-like name Produ-San she called the supposed producer out of the blue was coated in venom. Despite having the unisex San suffix, which in Japanese denoted some degree of respect, often akin to Mr., Mrs., Ms. or something similar, in this case Naoko was being clearly sarcastic. To her disappointment, the man looked just slightly fazed, and instead of breaking the conversation on that point, he calmly answered, somewhat jokingly:

That’s correct, this lovely agency is all mine, I’m glad you liked it. The higher-ups I refer to are the people from the supervisory organ I mentioned.

What organ? questioned Naoko, crossing her arms. She actually liked the nonchalant attitude of that Aratani guy, but as far as she could tell there were no such things. He, in a matter of fact way, replied while handling her his business card, with the logo of his company, telephone number, e-mail address and something called an ‘I.S.S.G. ID’ followed by fourteen digits:

Every idol agency answers to the Idol Star System Generation Co., you know. Pausing to evaluate her expression and noticing she only seemed a little confused on top of her defensive posture, he asked Yano-San… knows about the I.S.S.G., I… think? Or… do you want me to clarify what’s it?

To make assumptions about other people in any conversation in Japan was a risky bet, and one Naoko usually did far more often than most people and incurred in bigger chances of offending someone. But on the other hand, she wasn’t nearly as much hurt when others did the same to her, and since the man was trying to be polite when implying she should probably know about that organization, she let that slip. Looking at the black business card, she merely said in a passive-aggressive way while thinking if she should just stand up and go away:

I’ve heard this name once or twice, but since I’ve never, ever wanted to be an idol and I barely keep up with idol trends and stuff like that, I don’t know much about it.

Getting more and more disappointed, Aratani leaned back on his chair. Out of politeness he replied:

"Most people think the Idol Star System Generation Co. is just a corporation that owns a few domes and theaters and promote gigs, but they’re actually a committee that regulates a few aspects of this branch