Iori and the Noose

It’s not as though it was BAD news getting hired to do one of the leads for a popular series; ordinarily, this would be the sort of thing to make or break a career, or bring an idol of my standing from glorious success to legend. Even so, I could find a hundred reasons why I shouldn’t have done this, and it baffled me that Takane-san of all people seemed so enthused about the entire affair.

I’m sure she’s a fan of the series, and as is par for the course, simply hasn’t told anyone.

The problem that struck me, I suppose, was the implication behind it – I was voicing some kind of lesbian serial rapist based on the woman I fell in love with. Two big, huge strikes against wanting anything to do with that project (though I can only assume anyone sensible would at least object to the first part). Almost worse than that, it was pornography.

Do you know what it means for an idol to go into pornography?

That’s what happens when she has nothing else left and the public has forgotten about her. I’m teetering on the edge of a two-dollar discount box somewhere in the red light district. I was positive for a while that the awful little goblin that hung around the studio had already started selling tapes of me on the toilet. At this point it’s all but confirmed.

Yes, that about set the tone for my days as of late; the worst part about my time with 2020 Pro had undoubtedly been the ragged, dying breaths of my career. Or, to be more accurate…

“Come on, Iori-chan, are you gonna sit and mope for the whole break?”

…to be more accurate, the exhausting, relentlessly cheery dying breaths of my career. I felt her chest press into my back as she threw her arms around me, and I froze, fighting back the panic. She wasn’t going to hurt me, she wasn’t going to…do anything. I repeated it to myself over and over – safe. I’m safe. I’m safe.

I wish Chiaki-san were here.

I clutched at my purse, dug my nails into the stiff material. I knew Usagi-san was in there, of course, if I needed him, but I’m seventeen years old. I’m more than capable of keeping a grip without a stuffed animal. I pushed my thoughts away from Ruri, burned everything into anger. It was the easiest way to deal with this. I had often found it was the easiest way to deal with most things.

She did the same thing to everyone else, of course. Everyone loves Ruri, and Ruri loves everyone. Any idol of a certain caliber would do the same. We had all stepped out onto that stage many times before, and each time, every single person in the audience was our boyfriend. Or girlfriend, if you were into that sort of thing.

“Sorry, sorry! I forgot, no touching.” It still took her a moment to let go, as though it mattered to her.

“I’m fine,” I snapped. I didn’t need her pity. I had gotten more than tired of pity in the past few months.  It seemed to be all anyone had for me anymore. Well, that and thinly-veiled contempt. But the contempt I could stomach, at least – it was a natural part of being an idol.

…The smile Ruri flashed me was apologetic, uncharacteristically so. It reminded me of Yayoi in a way that made my heart ache. She was…kind, in her own way. Yayoi was kinder, of course. And not nearly so aggressive. Even so, for just a flash, we connected on a level that I realized I desperately craved.

Unfortunately for Ruri, I’m not so naïve.

Even in her smile I could feel it – an ever-present sort of pressure. She needed to own me, along with everyone at 2020, and this was the quickest way to do it. People belonged to Kirishima Ruri; in her mind, that was an inescapable fact. I’ve been told that on some level, that attitude is what sets superidols apart from those of us that end up masturbation fodder. It reminds me more of…’killing intent’, I’ve heard it called. She would make a frightening magical girl.

Just considering it sent a whirlwind of emotions through me. It made me sick, angry, jealous. …A woman of my caliber should have no trouble controlling a room, but every single person here was on Ruri’s leash, and I could feel the same noose tightening around my neck every time we spoke. Despite my better efforts, I was getting used to her.

“Hmmm, you’ve got that pouty princess look again…” The smile wasn’t enough, and a moment later, her eyes were locked on mine. She was already uncomfortably close, but now her eyes were fixed on my mind, pools of aquamarine filling my vision. My eyebrow twitched.

“You can talk to me, y’know. That’s what friends are for!” Her smile made my heart skip a beat again, and that only made me hate her a little bit more.

“Your assistant spit in my drink again.” It wasn’t precisely what I was thinking about, but it was true. I was above petty physical retaliation, of course, but given she’d spit in my drink every day since I’d begun working with 2020, I was very close to making a strangling-related exception.

The only thing stopping me at this point was the dawning realization that she would probably enjoy it.

Was…was she trying to goad me into choking her? Oh my god. Ugh. I hate this place.

“Weeeell, things like that are why I drink bottled water. And canned juice.” A manicured, green nail scratched at her neck. Even that gesture was measured.

“She’s not much of an assistant if she spits in your drinks,” I pointed out, with all the tact I could manage. Really, she was a sort of pathetic assistant to begin with.

“Oh, no, not her. Mappi-chan used to all the time. She learned some secret stage technique from Kyoujou. Spooky metal stuff. It’s like, the biggest, grossest loogie you’ve ever seen. Um, that doesn’t leave this room or anything, the moment anyone finds out we hock loogies or poop or whatever else, the whole industry’ll go down in flames.” For a moment, her smile turned…just a little more honest. Maybe a little bit sheepish. It must have been the expression on my face when she started talking about bodily functions.

“…Well, there are people that are into that, too.” Ruri mumbled it out, as though she’d suddenly realized this was a strange topic to go on about.

“Like Karasawa-san.”

“Like Noriko-chan,” she agreed all-too-readily. Have I mentioned I hate this place? We sat together in silence for a minute before she let out a little ‘oh!’ and pulled two cans of juice from her bag. She pressed one into my hand – orange juice, and the brand I typically preferred. She probably hunted me down just to bring it to me. For a moment, I almost felt bad for thinking ill of her, and her noose tightened a little more.

“…I get it, y’know? You don’t really like this. You want to perform with your friends-No. You’re like me, aren’t you?” I was taken aback for just a moment, but rather than justify it with a response, I set my jaw and opened my juice.

“You’re happier in the spotlight, alone. You’ve got something to prove, right?” …It was rather good, actually. I assumed she just picked one at random, but it was cool and comforting.

“You have siblings, hm? And you’re part of a zaibatsu-“

“Are you planning on wasting our entire break with this?” My family was the second to last thing I wanted to discuss right now, with the second to last person I wanted to talk to.

Third to last, if you count that little greasetrap.

“Geez, you’re as bad as Mappi-chan. But at least when you’re being sulky you don’t get all weird and German.” She took a long drink of her vegetable juice – it was some brand she’d done a commercial for, they probably paid her to drink it in public – and stretched.

“You two seem to be getting along better today.” A stern voice came out of nowhere, and I nearly spilled my drink. …It was Hatachikawa-san, 2020 Pro’s producer. He was a bit short and broad-shouldered, but he had a presence about him that made him seem much larger – he was still taller than the both of us, anyway. The very picture of a stoic Japanese man, and I’d already started to wonder by the way Ruri instantly deferred to him whether they had something…on the side.

“Mr. P! We’re so late you came to get us? So~rries~”  Ruri tittered and pranced to his side, then waved me over, too. I stared down at my can of juice. …Our producer would have waited for me to finish. He was unreliable, but at least he didn’t seem so…

…Creepy.

Hatachikawa-san laughed, but it seemed to come out just a little later than it should have. He was forcing himself to seem a bit more approachable for my sake, I’d been told before.

“I was worried – after all Minase-san has been through recently, and with this harsh change of venue…well, as long as you’re working with Kirishima-chan, then we would prefer to treat you like one of 2020 Productions' own valued performers. Your well-being and comfort are my utmost concern, Minase-san.” It came out smooth, as if rehearsed, and he smiled coolly. I pulled myself to my feet and flicked my hair over my shoulder.

I was off, then, to suffer through another two hours of voice-destroying growling, disgustingly hammy dialogue, and exaggerated moaning, with only half a can of orange juice and a heart full of spite and fury to run on.

Joy.