The Role Without a Script

The morning light shone like a spotlight, turning the town into a stage of glass and motion. Each ray bounced off the skyscrapers' mirrored faces scattering their brilliance down onto the crowded sidewalk below.

Akari stood at the building’s base, neck craned upward, with her heart pounding away in her chest like it was trying to escape. The office structure towered over her; sleek, endless, and terrifyingly impressive.

She tugged at her scarf, smoothed her hair, and double-checked her make up in the mirrored surface of the front doors. Her reflection seemed to stare back at her like an imposter, daring her to turn and leave as quickly as possible.

Her fingers tightened around her purse strap.

“OK, Akari. Breathe. You’ve got this,” she whispered under her breath.

It’s just a meeting. Just a normal meeting… at one of the biggest agencies in Tokyo. No big deal.

Right. Right?

Before her nerves could talk her out of it, she winced hard and pushed her feet forward through the sliding doors. The cool blast of air conditioning hit her like a shock of reality. Her heels clicked too loudly against the polished floors as she made her way to the receptionist, who smiled with perfect politeness.

Following the guidance given to her, she made her way to the 23rd floor, Kirishima’s office. The man who was behind this mysterious role offer that felt like a fairy tale trap.

The doors closed and her world shrunk to the sound of calming music and her own heartbeat. The elevator ride felt like an eternity. Each floor’s cheerful ding made Akari’s stomach sink further.

By the time she had reached the top floor, she had run through every conceivable option of what this could be.

It’s a prank, I’ll open the doors and there will be hidden cameras everywhere.

It's just a very formal rejection, I’ll be handed a complimentary coffee and be asked to never contact them again.

Perfect. Can’t wait…

When the doors opened with a final ding, she stepped out into a long hallway with large glossy posters of faces she recognized instantly.

Tokyo’s elite idols.

The untouchables of Tokyo fame, who she had binged watched in movies and shows while slurping down cup noodles in her pajamas.

Their flawless smiles gleamed down on her, making her second hand blazer suddenly feel two sizes too big.

At the end of the hall were two wooden doors, large and dark, standing guard before her. Akari took a breath, gripping her leather folder with her headshots for reaffirmation. But as she was about to grab one of the brass door handles, she froze.

Wait! What if this is a giant kidnapping operation!?

Her brain supplied the imagery instantly: a less than flattering picture of her in the newspapers with the title “Naive Girl Walks into Obvious Trap”.

She didn’t want to be sold off into slavery!

“No, no, no,” she shook her head furiously, pulling her senses back.

Focus, Akari! No kidnappers wear suits and hand out meeting schedules.

This time, she politely knocked on the door first.

“Come in,” A male’s voice rose up from the other side.

Taking another deep breath, Akari peeked her head in.

“Excuse me, Mr. Kirishima?”

The office was enormous. Sunlight streamed in from the full-length windows, cutting across the room with warm ribbons. At the far end sat a wide desk, made of the same wood as the doors, behind which a man worked quietly at his laptop, his face half cast in shadow by the outdoor lighting.

Even from this distance, Akari could make out the lines chiseled into his face from time and large smiles. His graying hair slicked back with gel and his business suit sharp and neat in every corner.

While he continued typing on his laptop to the side, Akari slowly drifted further in with tentative steps. The scent of fresh coffee and wood polish wrapped around her like a calm she hadn’t felt yet.

By the time she was halfway into the room, the man stopped typing, his finger still on the keyboard. When he looked up, his gaze met her for the first time.

“Ah, Miss Akari Ishikawa,” he said, his voice smoothed and measured, “Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat.”

“Th-thank you,” Akari blurted out, bowing so quickly she nearly lost her balance before scurrying to one of the sleek gray chairs opposite his desk. Her hands fumbled with her folder on her lap, fingers fizzling with nervous energy.

Then, in a burst of desperate politeness, she sprang forward, bowing deeply and forcing her folder towards him.

“P-please, if you w-will. M-my a-a-acting resume!” She squeaked out with her eyes winced shut as if that would somehow keep her nerves in.

“Ah,” Kirishima adjusted her glasses and waved his hand mildly, “That won't be necessary.”

“Huh?” Akari blinked.

“I already have a file on you.”

She froze. Her head turned up in confusion.

He what?

Sure enough, he was already flipping through the pages of a manila folder. Just over the edge she caught a glimpse of a photo of herself–one she was not aware was taken of her on her last set.

“You’ve been acting for a few years now, yes?” His tone was calm, almost casual, as he leafed through the pages. “A few commercials and a handful of supporting roles here and there?”

“Ahaha… Y-yes,” Akari laughed nervously, “Mostly just background roles. Background extra, coffee girl, school girl who sits behind the lead…”

A strange chill ran down her spine. How’d they get all of this? Did I even send anything into them?

“Charming,” Kirishima smiled, taking off his glasses and setting them down next to her headshot, “We’ve been watching your work for a little while now.”

“Watching… my… what…?”

“And most importantly, we think you have potential for something we are working on. No, not just potential,” He continued, more thoughtfully, “something more than that. Something about you draws the eye in. Something that makes us not want to look away.”

Akari blinked, unsure whether to be flattered or deeply alarmed.

“I-I’m honored,” she cautiously spoke up, her voice seeming so small, “But may I ask what all of this is for? Your messages said something about a ‘special role’?”

“Yes, about that,” Kirishima smiled softly, too softly, “This won't be a typical acting job. There won't be a script and you won't be on set. Or at least not a set you are used to.”

No script. No normal set.

They’ve been watching me.

Something about drawing the eye.

They can’t look away.

It all suddenly clicked for Akari. And horribly so.

Her eyes widened in silent horror. Oh, no! They want me to act in porn!

Akari could never do such a thing. She could barely stay in just a towel after showering, let alone have pictures taken of her like that. Or worse…

She would rather be hit by a bus. Twice.

Her stomach did a full somersault as she shrank into her seat, “I… see? So, um, like… improv? Or a hidden camera thing? It’s not… a prank, right?”

She clung to hope like a kitten on a curtain.

Kirishima gave her a look. A tiny tilt to his head and a raised brow, one that looked both amusing and dangerous. Then, he reached into his desk and retrieved another folder.

“Does this look like a prank?” He asked, sliding it towards her.

Akari blinked and looked down. The papers were crisp, heavy. A contract. Her eyes skimmed the text.

Then she froze.

Zeroes.

So many zeroes.

Even the weekly breakdown was more than enough for her to quit the café and live peacefully on those payments alone. Even Yui, too. Perhaps Mrs. Jun as well.

“This… This isn’t a joke,” she felt her voice trailing off with the line of zeroes she was following.

“It’s all perfectly legitimate,” he assured her, his tone gentle but firm, “The duration of employment is indefinite for now. You’ll be trained accordingly. Lessons will consist of public behavior, media etiquette, and of course, acting believably. All we need is your discretion and your acting.”

He slid a sleek pen across the table, stopping just short of her fingertips.

“All that’s left,” he finished, “is your signature.”

The pen gleamed in the daylight. Everything about it felt so official. So real. Solid.

Which made it all feel so unreal.

Akari’s heart pounded loudly in her ears as she reached for the pen. Something in her was screaming for her to wait, to find out the catch. But something else was screaming louder.

Without another thought, she put pen to paper with big sweeping letters. The signature she had been practicing for years finally had purpose.

“Excellent,” Kirishima smiled as if everything fell neatly into place. He tucked the contract back into the file, his movements smooth and certain.

“Now we can begin immediately.” Reaching across his desk, he hit a button. “Send him in.”

Him?

Before she had a chance to ask, the door behind her opened with a soft click. The shift in the air was instant.

Akari turned. And froze.

The man who came in didn't appear to just walk in, he entered. Effortless, confident, a presence that made it feel like the whole world was tilting towards him. For a split second, Akari thought one of the posters outside had just come to life.

Tall, composed, and ridiculously handsome.

Her breath caught in her throat as recognition slammed into her like a truck.

No way. No way, no way, no way!

Takumi Hayase.

The one and only, Takumi Hayase.

The face on every magazine cover, billboard, and even the chat group her friends had made about “the perfect boyfriend”.

And he was standing there right in front of her. Dressed in a simple white t-shirt and black jacket that looked like it cost more than her yearly pay. His hair fell just perfectly, like gravity was obeying his whims.

Every move he made looked flawless, deliberate, like the world was his stage and he had already memorized every line.

Then he turned to see Akari. When his gaze fell upon her, he lit up with the most perfect of smiles.

“Ah, so you did come?” he said so smoothly as his hands dipped into his pockets, “Are you ready to be my girlfriend?”

At that moment, Akari’s brain short-circuited.

Girlfriend?