What the Hell

KAGAYAKI

“So… any dice?” Naomi asked, stepping out of the vehicle and into The COMEDOWN Compound.

A very subtle name given to a villa that houses the K-Pop stars of the same namesake.

“None,” Yumi replied.

“Craaap...”

“Indeed.”

If Yumi couldn’t find a post declaring that Riku was dropping out of the competition on Grapevine Social, then it meant for sure Riku was committing to the competition.

Naomi scanned her watch on the door’s security system. “Greetings, Kagayaki-san.”

“Guess I shouldn’t have counted my chickens before they hatched,” she said as she walked in.

Yumi walked quickly behind. “You never struck me as the type to be influenced by anyone.”

“He didn’t influence me, per se… I probably would have followed in mom and dad's footsteps anyway. It’s just…” Naomi hung her gold-jewelled COMEDOWN designer bag on the coat hanger before she splayed herself on the leather couch. “Forget it. No use crying over spilled milk.”

If Naomi shut her eyes now, she’d be off to Lalaland…

But one word said by one specific boy echoed throughout her tired mind.

“Never!”

That word alone was a jolt to her tired mind.

“Until I can’t move any more… I will just… keep… trying!”

Naomi sat bolt upright, every ounce of exhaustion instantly burned away by a fresh injection of pure mania.

What was she saying? Why was she giving up so easily? That was Riku’s job, not hers.

She wasn't to be out-efforted by that unjustifiably hard-to-please boy. After all, she was Miss Kagayaki!

But first, she had to call Mom.

She looked at the clock. 10 p.m.

Perfect. Her mom went to bed at 12 anyway.

“Darling daughter…” came the voice, not a shred of tiredness showing through. “What is it?”

“We have a PR blind spot with the challenge proposed.”

“Naomi, it is likely I have accounted for such elements—”

“Aren’t you at least going to hear me out?”

A pause.

“...Fine.”

“Your modified script is flawed,” Naomi said. “There is no way Riku would have access to the expert producers that Yuuji has. Yuuji also has a multi-million yen studio. The public would rightly point out that they wouldn't be on even playing fields. Then it won’t be #TeamRiku anymore. It would be #PoorRiku.”

“I feel you already have a proposal to solve this problem.”

“Correct. We must level the playing field on our end. We offer Riku studio time. At the Compound—”

“You are letting him get closer to you? And by extension, the other members of COMEDOWN? Are you truly so selfish as to risk the careers of your fellow members?”

“Let me finish. It will make me look magnanimous. It shows the 'Ice Princess' has a heart of gold underneath the frosty layers. It makes the 'game' fair, so when Yuuji wins, it's a clean win.”

For Naomi, ten seconds of silence from her mother felt like an hour.

“I… suppose that is an angle I have not considered. Good… job, daughter,” Akari conceded. “Send him a formal invitation through Damian.”

“I can't.”

“What now?”

“He's a ghost on the internet. Yumi already checked. He has zero online presence.”

“So?”

“I have to go to his house, Mother.”

Akari was likely weighing the risk against the PR masterstroke, judging by the silence on the other end.

“...Fine.”

Naomi sighed. Music to her ears.

She was about to hang up too. But her mother’s voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Naomi.”

Her mother's voice had lost its business tone.

Naomi shivered.

“...Yes, Mother?”

“You accurately identified the issue, yes. But the solution? Your sudden enthusiasm to solve this... 'problem'... is convenient, indeed. Not to mention it has a non-zero chance to screw Yuuji over at every turn; the plan I created.”

“I feel like my argument leaves little room for—”

“Do not think for a second that I am a fool.” The line hissed. “Some may find your pathetic attempts to weasel your way into getting what you want endearing. I do not. So let us lay out some ground rules. You are not there to give him hope. And you are certainly not there to indulge in some selfish quest for closure.”

“I… but…!”

“Because if I see public opinions shift too much... If I see any signs that you are double-crossing me and sabotaging this game in his favor... I will take it out of your hands. And I promise you, my methods will not nearly be as 'magnanimous' as yours. I will make Riku's ruined reputation the only thing he is known for, and I will do it using your brand. Do. Not. Test me.”

The line clicked dead.

Naomi’s hands were shaking.

\\\\\\\

RIKU

~DING!!~

The beep of the cash register was the only sound Riku could really process.

There needs to be a law that forces convenience stores to change out their lights to not be as aggressively bright.

Nine hours of packing boxes at the factory had left him bone-weary.

He was grateful to get a shift, on a weekend, no less, but the consequences were really starting to rear their ugly heads.

His aching hand slid the hundred yen 3-for-1 microwave rice packets onto the counter.

Can you blame him? That was a friggin’ bargain!

"Just this?" the cashier asked.

"And these," a sharp voice cut in. Hana dropped two high-caffeine energy drinks and a hot katsu-sando onto the counter next to his rice.

"Hana, I can’t take your money like that," Riku muttered, pulling his own worn-out wallet from his back pocket.

"Shut up, Riku.” She'd already tapped her own phone to the reader, paying for the lot before he could even get his coins out. “Your brain needs protein to write that competition-ready track. Honestly, a lack of protein to feed your brain would explain why you’re in this situation in the first place.”

Hana was an ace. Top of their class, president of the student council, and had her entire life mapped out on a 15-year plan to become a politician. She was a workaholic, permanently irritated by the inefficiency of the entire world... but never at Riku.

As they stepped out of the convenience store, the automatic chime fading behind them, Riku pulled his mask up. “Which begs the question… why are we working in the same factory? You could clearly get a sales position with that business tongue of yours.”

“I need perspective from the people I will serve in the future. The working class of Nagoya,” Hana responded simply. "From working that line, I've already confirmed two hypotheses."

"Two?"

"One," Hana said, holding up a finger, "if you are dead-tired by the end of your shift, the last thing you want to do is get an education. And even if you do, you probably won’t be able to retain the information. Two—"

“I-I get the picture,” Riku cut in. He kicked a loose stone on the sidewalk. He knew this was part of her "labor laws" passion project, in which she writes a foolproof plan to strengthen worker’s rights in Japan. “You shouldn’t be there, though. You're the student council president. I'm... I'm the one who drove Naomi away. When we transferred to that new school, the stigma… it was like I wore clothes made out of garden compost. Being associated with me is probably the only stain on your record."

Hana stopped dead in her tracks. She turned to him, and for the first time that day, the permanent irritation in her eyes was gone, replaced by... something else.

"You're an idiot, Riku."

"What now?"

"Why care about the opinions of other people again? I swear, you never practice what you preach. You're not the 'stain on my record.' You're the reason I'm on the student council in the first place. Hell, you're the reason for my entire career path."

Riku just stared. "I... I don't..."

Hana let out a frustrated sigh. "Your mom, Riku? Working the graveyard shift? My family took you in when you were kids to lessen the burden on your mom, yeah, but that wasn't a solution."

Her eyes were blazing now, with the passion he usually only saw her use in a student council debate. "People like her shouldn't have to work themselves to death just to make ends meet. That is the problem. That's the rot I'm going to fix."

Hana looked away, her face flushing at the fact she just went on a tirade.

"I still hope you realize that buying me this just makes me feel worse about everything," Riku said as they stepped out of the store.

"At least I'm not the one who picked a fight with two multi-million-yen K-Pop groups. And mind you, owned by the same company," Hana shot back.

Hana didn't look at Riku though. Instead, her eyes were scanning the street for... them. The fans.

"Hey, aren't you the..."

Riku turned around. Some random girl had stopped in the doorway—the one place Hana didn’t check.

The girl had her phone half-raised, the camera light shining.

Riku's heart stopped. She was about to record this interaction?!

Before he could even think, Hana stepped directly in front of him.

"Are you eyeing my boyfriend?"

…What?

The girl's face went crimson. "N-No! I was just, well, he looked like..."

Hana’s smile didn't waver. "Well, if it's all the same to you, we're trying to have a nice evening. Unless you want to push me further..."

"E-… E-... Eeeek!" The girl practically fled back into the store.

Hana let out a long, exhausted sigh, rubbing her temples.

"God, the things I do for you. Let's get to yours, pronto."

\\

Things were particularly awkward between Riku and Hana as they reached Riku’s apartment.

There was a non-verbal agreement to not talk about what happened during that fan confrontation.

Riku slid his key into the lock, his body aching from the factory shift. He loaded the single 100-yen rice packet into the fridge, careful as to not disturb his mom, who was probably sleeping.

Hana, with a familiar sigh, just lied on the rickety couch, pulling out her phone to scroll.

Barely ten minutes had passed, ten minutes of blessed, exhausted silence, before somebody intruded.

Knock-knock-knock.

Hana looked up from her phone, annoyed. “Riku, did you order something...? Never mind, your bank account answers for itself. Are you expecting anybody?”

“...No?” Riku called out from the tiny kitchen alcove. “Unless it’s the TV network guy again.”

Hana shivered, a look of pure disgust on her face. That license fee for a channel they both barely even watched. That was the first thing she was getting rid of when she finally made it into office, she’d decided.

“I am washing the rice here. Can you get the door for me instead?” Riku asked.

“Yeees, master.”

Her feet padded on the worn linoleum floor as she pulled the door open. She thought it was Riku’s mom entering, maybe home early from the graveyard shift, or just going out. But it was not something anybody could have predicted…

Hana recognized Naomi first—the pale, nervous face… the way she was biting her lip.

The "disguise" was a joke. An expensive black baseball cap was pulled low over her blonde-streaked hair, and she was wearing a cream-colored cashmere coat that Hana knew, instinctively, cost more than Riku's family paid in rent for six months.

It was Kagayaki alright.

And she was not alone.

Standing just behind her was another girl who brought a crater’s worth of eyebags.

On her shoulder, she held a broadcast-quality camera.

Its flash was glowing.

There was only one appropriate response to this situation.

“Naomi, what the f—”