"Unexpected Partnership"

The address Airi had been given for the Friday meeting led her not to another dusty, anonymous room but to a gleaming tower in the prestigious Koenji district. The building, emblazoned with the sleek, silver logo of Eclipse Entertainment, dwarfed every structure around it. This was the headquarters of the agency that managed Japan’s top idol groups, which she found strange because her luck neger led her to luxury.

Airi’s initial relief from paying off her rent was quickly eclipsed by a fresh wave of paralyzing nervousness. She was an archivist whose current life goal was to avoid spilling tea on herself; she did not belong in a lobby that looked like it was forged from ice and ambition.

After checking in, a polished assistant escorted her up to the 15th floor, which was all panoramic windows and hushed, expensive carpet. The assistant guided her to a private meeting room and gestured to the glass wall. "The client will be with you shortly, Ms. Komatsu."

Airi sat down at a long, sleek conference table, trying to look professional instead of like a stray student who had wandered into the wrong lecture hall. She smoothed her skirt and positioned the single folder containing her demo notes exactly parallel to the table edge. She hoped the "major entertainment entity" was a kind, elderly producer who appreciated quiet melodies.

The door finally opened, and Airi looked up, ready to offer her most polite, corporate bow. The man who walked in was not an elderly producer. He was the man with the soulful voice from the karaoke bar.

Ren Ichijō closed the door behind him. He was wearing an impeccably tailored, dark leather jacket that made him look taller and more impossibly striking than he did under the dim, flickering lights of the bar. His usually distant eyes held a flicker of something close to amusement.

Airi simply stared, the composure she had carefully manufactured shattering like dropped glass. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Ren walked toward the table, a slight, knowing curve on his lips. "I apologize for the delay, Ms. Komatsu," he said, his voice the same clear, melodic tone that haunted her when she wrote. He sat down opposite her, folding his hands on the table. "Though, perhaps it was my fate to keep you waiting."

Airi found her voice, but it was several tones higher than usual. "You," she squeaked. She gripped the edge of the table. "You bought my song? You’re the... the major entertainment entity?"

He nodded once. "Yes. Eclipse Entertainment purchased your composition, ‘Starlight and Side Streets.’ And I, Ren Ichijō, was the one who personally selected it as I found it appropriate.”

Airi felt a sudden rush of annoyance—a complete rejection of her earlier nervousness. "Appropriate? You're kidding me! You are haunting me! First, you show up at my terrible, dive karaoke bar and sing perfectly, and now you’re the client who bought my life’s work? This is insane."

Ren raised an eyebrow, the look of cool detachment returning, though his eyes still twinkled. "Haunting? I prefer to think of it as providence, Komatsu-san. Or maybe... karma."

He leaned forward slightly, his tone becoming suddenly serious, dropping the professional veneer. "This isn't the first time my career has intersected with your compositions, is it? We’ve worked together before."

Airi frowned, confused. "I—no. I’ve only ever sold one other song, back when I was a broke university student desperate for ramen money. It was a fast, catchy demo I wrote in about three hours. I sold it to some generic publishing house five years ago. I don’t even know what happened to it."

Ren smiled, a genuine, warm expression that momentarily broke the idol-perfect barrier. It was the same smile she had glimpsed when they shared a microphone in the dark booth.

"That generic publishing house pitched it to Eclipse Entertainment," Ren revealed. "It became the lead single for a boygroup I was in; Veritas's debut EP. Your three-hour ramen song, Komatsu-san, was our debut song.”

Airi gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Her mind flashed back to the distant memory: a frantic night, a terrible energy drink, and a burst of frenetic pop composition she had hated instantly but sold for a quick payout.

"No way," she whispered. "That... that was you?"

"It was me," Ren confirmed. "I looked really young, and now, five years later, you walk into a random karaoke bar in Shinjuku, and I hear your voice again. And then, I find your name on a publishing list and buy your most recent composition. Call it what you like, Airi Komatsu. But that sounds like fate."

Airi suddenly felt very small and utterly overwhelmed. The man sitting across from her—the idol, the stranger, the talented voice was tied to her professional life in a way she never could have imagined. Her quiet, internal passion had been soundtracking his massive, external success.

"I didn't even know you existed back then," Airi admitted, feeling a rush of defensiveness. "I sold ‘Dance with you’ because I needed to pay a textbook fee. I didn’t care who sang it or what agency bought it."

"I know," Ren said softly, the amusement fading entirely. "And that's why I bought 'Starlight and Side Streets.' That raw, honest intention is what I'm looking for."

He paused, collecting his thoughts, and then shifted back into a more formal, yet intensely focused, mode.

"Look, I have a problem, Airi Komatsu. The agency controls my image, my performance, and, increasingly, my music. I am tired of singing manufactured perfection. They tell me I’m just a pretty face and voice and nothing more. But when I sing your songs, I feel something real."

He tapped a finger on the table, eyes fixed on hers. "My agency is gearing up for a major album push. We need B-sides, but I need something original. Something that comes from a genuine place, like 'Starlight.' I need a collaborator who understands solitude, who knows how to make something beautiful out of an ordinary city night. I need someone who hasn't been corrupted by the Eclipse machine."

He pushed a thick, heavy folder across the table. It was titled: Exclusive Composer/Lyricist Contract – Ren Ichijō Projects.

"I want to hire you," he stated simply. "Not just for one song. I want you to be my personal, secret composer and co-lyricist for the next year. You name your price. This money will be separate from your office job income, and completely discrete from Kloudy Music Scouts. It will be channeled through a subsidiary shell company, so no one, not even my manager, will know your identity. We will continue to meet at the karaoke bar or wherever you feel comfortable."

Airi stared at the folder, then back at Ren. Her heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. This wasn't just a payday; this was an in. A continuous, private income stream that would erase her financial worries for the foreseeable future. More than that, it was a legitimate opportunity to write music, to collaborate with a vocal talent who brought her melodies to life.

And yet, it was terrifying. It was a secret deal with Japan's biggest idol. The potential for catastrophic scandal was enormous. She thought of the cold worry she felt at the mall, the constant stress of the overdue rent, the humiliation of giving her best work to a scammer. She thought of Saki’s words: You need to clear your head.

If she took this deal, her head would be clear. She would have the financial runway to actually pursue her dream. And maybe, just maybe, collaborating with Ren would give her the courage and the confidence to finally launch her own singing career, to stop freezing up on stage.

"A secret composer," Airi repeated, testing the phrase. "That sounds like a terrible idea."

"It's the only idea that works," Ren countered, his gaze intense. "Think of it as a guaranteed, high-paying side gig that happens to involve your deepest passion. And if we succeed, I get to make music I actually believe in."

Airi reached out and slowly placed her hand on the contract folder. "I need the money," she admitted honestly. "And I want to write the music." She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. "But if you think I'm going to let you buy my talent and then act like an untouchable celebrity, you're wrong. When we're working, you're just Ren, the singer. Deal?"

A small, genuine smile touched Ren's lips. "Deal, Airi Komatsu.”

My hand tingles when he shakes them. The anxiety was still there, but it was now overshadowed by the thrill of a secret, high-stakes partnership with the one and only, and mildly infuriating Ren Ichijō.