Vagera

I hadn't thought about it until now, but I never knew I'd miss seeing the stars.

What could've been a calm night sky now danced with obnoxious rainbow lights, the rave music and screaming girls not even letting me think in peace.

Sweat hung in the air like fog, a noxious smell buried beneath the scent of women's perfume and alcohol. I was the lone man in a sea of bouncing girls all waving blue glowsticks. We were packed worse than sardines, with breasts and shoulders constantly bumping against me. And no way for me to escape.

Th-This was a bad idea after all!

"K'yaaaaa! Have my babies, Smiles Vagera!" Girls around me screamed.

Performing on stage was an azure-haired man with wavy bangs jumping to the beat. Even from here I could see those abs—chiseled enough to grate cheese or be painful to the touch. He wore nothing except jeans and a royal-blue robe chained around both shoulders, that all emphasized his ego.

In almost hypnotic motions, he raised the mic to his lips. "Every grin is a sin—

"Every heartbeat is my apology—

"So come on over, this body is my promise—

"Do I need your consent to see you smile?"

The ocean of women all cheered; swooning screams made my ears ring. But the crowd just got rowdier as Vagera's singing continued:

"Touch me with your eyes, I'm already there—

"My voice is a dare—

"Now tell me who's melting, me or you?"

He danced in the blue spotlight as backup dancers wearing sexy maid outfits emerged. The stage became a grand performance when lights flashed and sparkles flew out over the crowd. I saw girls faint from excitement while others began crying.

The finale arrived when Vagera took center stage again:

"If you want my confession, let's hear yours first—

"I'm not your boyfriend, but if you want me, come and get me. I'm limited edition—

"I just cost a smile."

Even an hour into the concert, nothing felt appealing, nothing to stop me from yawning. Seeing a muscled man shake his hips for thousands of women hinted that I just wasn't the target audience.

But what about . . .

I glanced towards Tsukino beside me. She was wearing a cute, pink blouse that showed off eye-catching cleavage I didn't see often. And she'd tied her hair into a ponytail just like when we first met. Though unlike other girls, her expression was bored—deadpan—as if she'd rather be anywhere else. Even the glowstick she was holding hadn't been raised more than a few times all night.

"Should we leave?" I yelled into her ear. She barely heard me.

"No! Wait until the end like we planned!"

"It's lasting longer than you'd said!"

"Stop whining! Do you think I want to be here too?"

Hard guessing anything you want . . . But I just sighed and let the concert wind down.

After backup dancers finished their segment, music began quieting. The crowd calmed before Vagera walked on stage again to commence announcements.

"Thank you all for coming tonight," he said in a pretty-boy tone. "Seeing your smiles is what makes me Smiles Vagera."

"We love you, Vagera!" Girls yelled.

"I'd do anything for you!" another girl said.

He just flipped his bangs aside and winked. "I'd do any of you too."

God this guy is full of himself, I pouted. How do guys like this get popular?

But Tsukino's face still didn't look impressed. If anything, she cringed each time Vagera spoke.

He continued. "I'd also like to thank this lovely city of Besos Rojos for hosting us today. It's an apt venue considering its reputation for being Sin Nombre's city of love, wouldn't you all agree?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Heh. Then let's start our Q and A's. Everyone who's a journalist, please raise your badges and come forward."

All those women crowding ahead of the stage moved aside. Soon, people holding up black ID's began shimmying over one by one.

"Come on, let's go," Tsukino said.

"Right behind you."

We made our way through the crowd as we held our badges high. Women stared with envious eyes, their teeth grating. Other girls scoffed when we passed by, some even elbowed us. Their ire seemed directed at Tsukino who was prettier than most of them. But she didn't care one bit about meeting their douchebag idol.

Around twenty journalists from various agencies had gathered. At a glance nothing seemed off, then I noticed each journalist was a young, attractive woman wearing skimpy clothes—not a single man in sight.

I'm kinda the outlier here . . . My hippie garbs we'd bought in town were itchy and now sweaty after the rave. I couldn't wear trench coats since it'd get too hot.

"Don't bother raising your hand when he takes questions," Tsukino whispered. "He only ever calls on women."

"Why am I here then?"

"Because you wanted to see Vagera the Hero yourself."

"Yeah, I regret things."

Even now, I still couldn't believe that jerk smirking at us from the stage—was one of the four Heroes. His nipples were hard and his abs were even harder, with jeans tight enough for me to see a bulge. He lacked the tact of Amila or Nuri's earnest sincerity. There wasn't anything good I could say about him yet, except that he knew how to manage a crowd.

He twirled the mic in his hand before speaking. "Lovely reporters, many thanks for covering my events as usual. Without you I'd have a much harder time spreading smiles everywhere."

The female journalists all pulled out notepads, ready to take notes. I did the same.

"Now then," Vagera said, "by show of hand, which of you here is my biggest fan?"

Reporter hands all shot up, some hopping for attention. Vagera's finger pointed towards a big-breasted woman wearing a skimpy blouse.

"Yes!" he said. "That lovely lady back there may speak."

"Thanks," she replied. "If I may ask, there were rumors Nuri the Hero was here in Besos Rojos. Can you confirm or deny this?"

"Hmmm . . . It's true as one of my biggest fans that she came to check on me. She was worried I'd been spending too much time touring instead of performing Hero duties. But I keep telling her: spreading smiles for my fans is a Hero's duty!"

The crowd of women cheered—an echoing screech to my ears. It took Vagera waving girls down to calm them.

"See?" he said. "If you're still somewhere here, Nuri, revel in being part of this fandom!"

Somehow I doubt she thinks much of you, I thought.

The journalists finished jotting down his responses. And as Vagera whipped his finger out to take another question, each female reporter raised their hand and began bouncing.

He called on another woman whose breasts were bouncing so much it was unlikely she was wearing a bra.

"This gorgeous girl down there may speak," he smiled.

"Much obliged," she said. "Regarding White Swamp's attack in Oro Fantasma a few days ago, what can you say about the church's preparedness for potential future attacks? And is the ceasefire with Nombre Olvidado still holding strong?"

His eyes winced as if he didn't like the tough question. "Y-Yes. White Swamp was a formidable demon during past wars. But proven by his swift death to a Hero, it should be evident that this country is more than prepared for demonic activity in our borders. Naturally, all ceasefires still remain in effect."

Journalists wrote down his responses. Then everyone raised their hand to be called next.

Tsukino's hand shot up first, but it didn't matter. All the other women were bouncing to make their breasts bounce and be as eye-catching as possible.

Wait. I looked around me before coming to a realization. Is that why all these journalists are wearing skimpy outfits? And making their boobs bounce? To increase their chances of being called on by Vagera?

The lascivious man licked his lips, amused by the sight of girls competing for attention. But ironically, his gaze fell towards bored Tsukino, who was the only woman not bouncing. It made her stand out in the crowd more than anyone else.

"The woman in pink back there." He pointed. "What's your name?"

"Yuna. Tsukino. Of Borsalino," she said.

"B-Borsalino?" he stammered. "I didn't recognize you out of your trench coat."

"Apologies. I aimed for casual clothes tonight."

"Heh. You are looking lovely though. We haven't met face-to-face much, but I do think those dark coats hinder your beauty."

"I'll consider wearing them for events less often."

"Fabulous. What's your question now?"

Tsukino elbowed me to start taking photos. I pulled out the Memory Stone before she asked her question.

"Yes. Can you discuss—can you comment on your daily skin care routine?"

"Hmm?" he said, surprised. "Ah! You're beautiful and discerning. I've underestimated you. For your inquiry, I like rubbing my lips with a dash of skimmed honey in the morning. And before bed, massaging olive oil infused with chamomile over my face feels amazing."

Even though it was a nothingburger, each journalist jotted down his every word, while girls in the crowd behind us cheered.

I stood confused, dumbfounded over why Tsukino would ask such a softball question. It was unlike her, and she just shrugged when I glanced over towards her.

The rest of the session continued with journalists asking other things. A girl wearing high heels wanted to know about future concerts, and another woman was curious about where the fourth hero had been. Softball then tough questions all took turns alternating, almost like a system designed to keep Vagera engaged.

"Alright!" Vagera said, satisfied. "That's all our time for Q and A tonight. But every lady I called on—you're invited to an after-party at my villa! With some luck, you may even get an exclusive, one-on-one interview with me."

His flirty wink hinted at what interview entailed, and the audience fawned with cheers. Some journalists beside me instantly put on lipstick or loosened their blouse to be even more appealing.

Meanwhile, Tsukino just yawned. Bored.

Over several more minutes, the concert began closing down. Vagera bid everyone in the crowd farewell as he retreated backstage. Audience members begged for an encore that never came.

The female journalists all went separate ways. Some waltzed around the stage where they'd rendezvous for their after-party, while others followed fans out the venue.

"So where are we heading then?" I asked Tsukino.

She replied with stink eyes. "We're leaving."

"Don't you want to go to that party? And maybe interview him?"

"You're not dumb enough to not know what he meant by interview. I don't get paid for whore duty."

"Fair enough." That's honestly a relief . . . "Back to our inn then?"

"Yeah. We'll talk on our way. Let's go."

The outdoor plaza slowly emptied as we followed girls back into town. Even at night, Besos Rojos had an air of France to it—cobblestones clicked beneath our shoes while we passed sleeping cafes and boutiques. I could peer through windows and spot colorful parfaits or macarons waiting for tomorrow. And from the boulangeries, faint scents of butter still wafting around made me hungrier than usual.

But more than hungry, I was still curious.

"So," I told Tsukino, pacing beside me. "What happened back there?"

"Elucidate."

"With that softball question you asked; I thought you'd say something hard-hitting."

She just scoffed. "We're not hard-hitting journalists. Borsalino is already on thin ice with Vagera, so we ask soft questions so he'd pick us for more questions later."

"Oh, that actually makes sense."

"Yes. Remember, quid pro quo is journalism's bread and butter."

You can say that again . . . But as I tried sparking small talk, sounds of wings flapping behind me rang. An owl perched on my shoulder to groom itself.

"Trixie?" I said. "Where have you been?"

"Teheehee!" Owl Trixie said. "I was having fun watching the concert from a tree, but then a guy owl started chasing me because he wanted to do naughty things with me."

"Hey, that's not funny," Tsukino replied. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah! I was too quick for him! Zoom zoom!"

"Geez. Well you should've stayed at the inn like I said. You'll be tired tomorrow when we'll all be working hard."

"I think it's Aizawa that'll be way more tired, hehe."

"What? Huh?" I said. "Why?"

But neither girl replied as we took refuge under the light of a street lamp. It was a quick rest area, surrounded by lovers enjoying late night strolls.

Tsukino leaned forward on a railing, peering below towards flowing water. "We've been traveling together for one week now. But tomorrow will give a taste of what your actual job will be."

"Somehow I'm not too excited."

"I'm serious, just be ready. I have a feeling we'll be arguing by the end of the day too."

"Don't worry about me quitting," I chuckled. " I'm stuck with this job no matter what."

Her eyes looked conflicted, like they wanted to say something her lips couldn't. Then she paced down the street without another word.

Huh. Did I say something? Then it hit me—that at some point in time, my predecessor Morikawa also quit from this job, for whatever reason. Whether or not that was related to his duties, partners, or anything else remained a mystery though.

"Aizawa! Tsukino is leaving us behind!" Owl Trixie on my shoulder said.

"O-Oh yeah, sorry. Let's go catch up."

And I ran. And ran and ran, towards the woman who was the first person to ever really understand me.