Aika - Spotlight To Lights Off

If you had told my fifteen-year-old self that I would one day live in a tiny village where the biggest attractions were a famous matcha drink and a new guy who apparently went viral for having a raccoon climb him as he made a public speech, I would have laughed at your face. Or cried, maybe? Well… probably cried. I wanted to be an idol, not a nobody.

But here I was, in a small village at the edge of Izu. A place so small that if you blinked, you’d miss the entire town square and the one vending machine everyone swore was haunted. It was definitely just the strays. Though, I had been training these cats to behave, so it will only be a matter of time before I could lead a cat army. 

This was exactly what I wanted. Maybe. Somewhere so desolate, no one knew me. Somewhere people didn’t point or whisper or secretly pull up my old videos the second my back was turned. Somewhere utterly, beautifully boring.

I hadn’t touched social media in months. Deleted everything. Burned everything. The only people I messaged were my parents, who were gentle, elderly, and deserved a long, peaceful life free of the shame I carried like a stain. And a few old friends who knew better than to ask about my “career change”.

After all, what was I supposed to say?

Hi, I’m Aika. Former idol. More recently, former adult video actress. Please hire me, I’m great with Excel and pretending I don’t exist. I could pretend to be boring and not stand out. I promise I’m good with my hands and I don’t tire easy. Well, maybe that one was a bit too soon and a bit crass.

Porn actresses don’t get hired, period. If you can’t smile naked, no one thinks you can smile behind a cash register. If you served men that way, no one thinks you can serve people any other way anymore, apparently.

So my options were to become a hermit, become a more committed hermit (hikikomori) or work in the one café that didn’t require a résumé, only a clean police record and the ability to serve coffee and matcha. Option 3 seemed the least tragic.

The café was attached to the local church, sponsored by it, actually. So all the customers were either elderly, religious, or some combination of both. Sometimes young men from the seminary all over the world came through for a few weeks stay, but they mostly ordered quietly, prayed quietly, and drank their coffee like it tasted like holy repentance.

This was perfect. No one here knew my name. No one asked. No one stared too long. I wiped tables, wore my hair tied low, and stayed in the back during rush hour. Or “rush hour”, which in Izu meant four people buying tea at the same time.

My apartment was small but clean. Four walls, one bed, one kettle, one bathtub with water that never got hot enough. It suited me. I didn’t need a palace to hide in. Just somewhere the ghosts couldn’t knock on the door. The complex was big enough though. Sometimes some of my neighbors were students who couldn’t afford rent on the huge cities a couple of buses away. They were not the same age bracket as me, so I remained anonymous.

But God, I was dull now.

The girl I used to be, the bright, colorful, cheerful Aika, would have taken one look at me and asked if I’d been taxidermied. There was no spark left. No colors. Just grayscale. Just exhaustion. The best memories I had were a thirty-second clip of a life that used to be happy.

The only real happiness I had now were the cats. The strays of Izu loved me, probably because they sensed I was also a stray. I fed them every morning and night. They gathered around me like I was a vending machine with legs.

They kept me sane with their pathetic and endearing antics.

Speaking of trying to keep it together, I also started a new hobby. Collecting abandoned books from the donation bin behind the library. I told myself I was doing it because books are free entertainment, but really, I just needed something quiet to drown out the storm in my head.

I gravitated toward philosophy and poetry. Stuff about finding meaning. Stuff about survival. Stuff I didn’t believe in but wanted to.

One day I found an old, water-damaged Bible in the bin. Half the pages swollen, the words smudged. I told myself I took it because I liked rescuing broken things.

But I wasn’t stupid. I knew I was taking it because I wanted something. A sign. A reason. A new start. Or maybe just a book with no pictures of me in it.

So every night, when the cats curled around my feet and my apartment was quiet, I read tiny pieces of it. Verses I barely understood. Words that sounded like they came from another world.

And most nights, I fell asleep before finishing a single chapter.

Still, it felt calming. Not healing, I was far from healed… But, calming. It gave me hope somehow. Like I was trying. Like I hadn’t completely given up on being human.

The people of Izu mostly ignored me, which I appreciated. They were old, weathered, and uninterested in drama. The most exciting thing that happened last week was that Mrs. Yamamoto’s dog stole the sandal of the new seminary boys and everyone talked about it for two days.

A paradise of nothingness and the mundane. Perfect for me…

But sometimes, late at night, I wondered if this nothingness would swallow me whole. If I would wake up one day and realize I had become exactly what I feared. A sad, quiet, rotting adult drifting through life, waiting to disappear.

Then, one morning, something out of the place happened.

I was feeding the cats behind the café, brushing crumbs off my apron, when I felt someone watching me. I turned around, expecting Mrs. Yamamoto or another elderly regular.

Instead, there was a man.

He stood out instantly. He was tall enough to cast a shadow that touched mine. Shoulders broad enough that his clerical shirt looked like it was struggling to behave. Eyes were a little green, framed by lashes unfairly long for someone who supposedly dedicated his life to humility. A straight, elegant nose. A jawline that hinted he once played sports or simply had absurdly blessed bone structure. A mouth that looked like it defaulted to gentle smiles even when he wasn’t aware of it.

His hair was blonde green, with a slight perm. A little too long to be strict, a little too neat to be rebellious. He was the kind of handsome that made you look away out of fear you might combust.

I’d heard the elderly ladies whisper at the cafe last Sunday about a “beautiful church boy” who looked like a fallen angel that repented too late. 

Even the market locals who had lived long enough to see charming travellers come and go, talked about him. “That foreign-looking boy”, they called him. “Too handsome for his own good. Or ours”.

I thought they just watched too much TV drama. I worked in the media industry. There wasn’t anyone who actually looked that good in real life. I mean, look at me. I’m basic. 

And now here he was, standing in front of me. So, the townsfolk were actually right…

He held a folder close to his chest. On the lapel of his jacket was a tiny silver cross. His gaze lifted to meet mine. He was warm, soft and welcoming. Like what I once was. He looked at me like he was greeting the sunrise instead of a disaster like me. 

He was just another man. Nothing more. Pretty face doesn’t equate to good heart. I should know. I glared at him.

‘A-ah, sorry!’ he blurted, startled by my expression. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt. My love. Please forgive me.’

My love? My heart dropped into my stomach. I wanted to be left alone. No romance for me. Hello? Kinda not liking men currently…

He reddened instantly after seeing my offended reaction. He waved his hands as if trying to erase his own words.

‘Oh no! No! That’s not—-I mean… that is how we greet in sermons sometimes! “My love”, you know! Like brethren, beloved… not like, not you specifically!’ He said, in an accent I don’t recognize.

Ah… One of the overseas clergymen-in-training who trains in Izu from time to time. Nothing special. Nothing dangerous. Just someone new I can plan to avoid, like everyone else.

I ended up staring at him as he trip over his words. He blinked furiously as he waited for my reaction. The cats stared in awe as well.

‘Will you please forgive me?’ He asked in English.

‘Sure… It’s no big deal’ I responded in English as I turned to leave.

‘Thank goodness! So someone can understand me fully afterall!”

Oh no..

Accidentally exposing my language skills due to my simple need to get rid of him right away, avoiding him suddenly didn’t feel like an option anymore.