“Peace, Interrupted”

The air in the countryside was thin, crisp, and smelled overwhelmingly of damp earth and late-blooming chrysanthemums. Airi leaned back against the porch railing of her grandmother’s traditional house, closing her eyes as the faint warmth of the afternoon sun touched her face. The silence here was absolute, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the gentle rustle of bamboo.

For the first time since receiving the crushing promotion, Airi felt a measure of peace. She had fled the city as soon as Friday’s dinner ended, seeking refuge in the mountains of Saitama Prefecture, a familiar escape from the crushing weight of Tokyo.

Inside, the aroma of simmering dashi promised a quiet, delicious dinner. Airi had spent the morning helping her grandmother harvest vegetables and the afternoon drinking green tea, telling her about the recent upturn in her life.

“The office is much better now, Baa-chan,” Airi had exaggerated, carefully omitting the promotion details. “I’m doing specialized research projects that pay quite well. It has allowed me to finally pay off the student loan and send you a little extra, too.”

Her grandmother, a wise woman with kind eyes and perpetually stained apron, had beamed. “That is good, Airi. It is good to have security. And it is good to see you smiling like that again, too. You haven’t looked this light since university.”

Airi was lighter. The financial stress was gone, replaced by a thrilling, high-stakes creative challenge. The money was flowing, the music was demanding, and she was building a double life that felt infinitely more meaningful than her one-dimensional existence had before. Even the looming deadlines for Ren’s next album couldn't entirely steal her current serenity.

She was just about to doze off, enjoying the momentary escape from her overflowing office calendar, when her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a rhythmic, demanding vibration that felt wholly out of place against the quiet mountainside.

Airi sighed, reluctantly pulling the phone out. She expected a work email from Mr. Sako about Monday's compliance meeting. Instead, the sender was Junpei Kanda. Ren’s manager.

Her eyes snapped open. Junpei only contacted her when Ren’s schedule was in crisis. She clicked the email immediately.

Subject: IMMEDIATE STUDIO SESSION REQUIRED – CRITICAL ALBUM PUSH

Dear Komatsu-san (R.I. Publishing),

Please confirm your availability to be in the Studio Annex (B3) tomorrow morning, Sunday, 9:00 AM sharp.

There has been an unforeseen complication with the core arrangement of the lead single for the next album. This requires immediate intervention and lyrical/compositional restructuring from you and Ren-san. This is a critical adjustment to meet the new agency deadline. We apologize for the short notice, especially on a weekend, but your presence is absolutely essential. Please reply to this email ASAP.

J. Kanda Management, Eclipse Entertainment

Airi stared at the screen, her jaw tightening with sudden, white-hot frustration. Sunday. Nine in the morning. She was over two hours away from Tokyo by Shinkansen, and the earliest she could get back to the city was late tonight. Her one day—her only day of complete mental freedom had just been brutally seized by the chaotic rhythm of the idol industry.

Unforeseen complication. That translated to: Ren probably fought with the producer and wants to rewrite the song to make it more honest.

She leaned her head back against the wood railing and let out a long, silent stream of exasperation. The quiet beauty of the mountainside suddenly felt mocking. She had fought to get her weekends back from the relentless demands of the office, only to lose them instantly to the relentless demands of a secret pop career.

“Hidoi,” she muttered under her breath. Awful.

She thought of the Senior Analyst position waiting for her on Monday, the new five-year plan, the mountainous pile of work. If she lost her Sunday to the studio, she had absolutely no time to prepare for her new corporate duties. She would be running on fumes and instant ramen, trying to balance two careers that were actively trying to sabotage each other.

A tiny, bitter thought surfaced: I was happier when I was just broke and anonymous. But that was a lie. She wasn't happier then; she was just less stressed. She was fulfilled now. This chaos, this intensity, was the price of writing music that actually mattered.

Airi reluctantly typed a reply to Junpei Kanda: Confirming availability. Will be at Studio B3 by 8:45 AM. She stood up, shaking the dust off her jeans. She had to catch the 4:00 PM Shinkansen, which meant she needed to say her goodbyes immediately. The peaceful afternoon was over.

Walking back inside, the smell of simmering broth filled the air. Her grandmother was stirring a pot on the stove, her face serene.

"Oh, Airi," her grandmother smiled, looking up. "I was just making your favorite. Why don't you sit down? Dinner will be ready soon."

Airi walked over and hugged her grandmother from behind, resting her cheek on the soft, padded shoulder.

"I am so sorry, Baa-chan," Airi said, forcing a cheerful tone. "But I just got an urgent message from the city. A huge, unexpected project came up at the office—a client emergency. I have to catch the last train tonight, and I won't be back until late."

Her grandmother paused her stirring, her smile fading slightly. "An emergency? On a Sunday? That's not good, dear. Are they working you too hard, even with the new success?"

"No, no," Airi quickly reassured her, stepping back. "It’s a good problem, Baa-chan. It's a high-level project, and they only called me because I'm the one who can fix it. It means they value me. But I have to go now, or I'll miss the train."

She raced into the bedroom, shoving her few belongings into her small duffel bag. As she packed, she pulled out her phone again, opening her notes app to review the theme she had intended to work on: Defiance.

She needed to channel that defiance right now. Defiance against the corporate machine that wanted her hours, and defiance against the idol machine that wanted her weekends.

Airi looked at the clean, white page of her notes app, seeing the word "URGENT" looming large in Junpei’s email. She had been longing for a life that was chaotic and demanding, a life ruled by creative fire instead of fluorescent lights. Now that she had it, she found herself completely exhausted and slightly resentful.

This is the music game, she reminded herself. You have to keep giving the fans something to anticipate.

Airi zipped her bag shut. She would grab an extra-large coffee and an expensive pastry on the Shinkansen, review her composition notes, and arrive at the studio fully prepared, ready to fight for her creative vision, even if it meant sacrificing the last shred of her weekend peace. The cost of admission to the music game was high, and this weekend, she was paying the price in lost serenity and rushed travel.

"Goodbye, Baa-chan!" Airi called, rushing to the front door, dropping a quick kiss on her grandmother's cheek. "Don't worry! I'll call you as soon as the emergency is over!"

Then, she bolted out the door, running toward the nearest station, leaving the comforting quiet of the countryside behind her and racing toward the chaotic, rewarding demands of her secret life.