“Cut!
Take a five-minute break!”
“That take didn’t pass, Kana-chan.
Sorry, but we’ll have to trouble you for a reshoot in a bit, so go rest for five minutes first.”
“Yes…”
Beneath the sinking sun, the girl with wine-red hair and a small round hat — looking no more than eight years old — lifted her head.
Reflected in those vivid, magnificent red eyes was a man rubbing his hands together, his face plastered with a fawning smile.
Arima Kana lightly bit her lower lip, gave a small nod, and walked toward the makeup tent, looking somewhat dazed and dispirited.
…
“What a so-called ‘genius child star Arima Kana’!
Isn’t her acting, her whole performance, just way too damn poor?!
How can she possibly make this many mistakes?
Wasting all that time on one simple crying scene!
Wasn’t she supposed to be that ‘genius child star who can cry on cue in ten seconds’?!”
“Phew…
all right, all right, Director Arai, calm down — she’s just a kid, getting angry at her isn’t going to help…
Although, it does feel like her performance really has been a bit off lately.
I’ve worked with her before, and I have no idea why she’s turned out like this now…”
“Tch.
If she keeps performing like this, we’ll be putting cooperation with her agency on hold for the time being.
Got it?”
“…”
Hands pressed over her ears, hiding in the bathroom, Arima Kana clenched down hard on her lower lip.
Just what did acting mean to her, anyway?
Standing before the bathroom mirror, Arima Kana rose onto her tiptoes, her pale, tender fingers gripping the edge of the sink as she stared at her own reflection.
Short wine-red hair spilled along the brim of her hat down onto her frail, lovely shoulders.
A round, well-formed child’s face that seemed especially adorable.
No matter where she went, this was supposed to be the perfect face for a koyaku (child actor).
Only…
the one thing that fell short of perfection were those eyes.
Those crimson eyes, once dazzling and magnificent, like tiny suns, were now veiled by a faint shadow.
What did acting represent to her…
really?
Arima Kana’s plump, pale little legs lowered down from their tiptoe.
She closed her eyes.
“Mama isn’t wrong!”
“Everything Mama does is for you!”
“Why can’t you just understand that?!”
Her mother’s voice…
that shrill voice carried into her ears.
Followed by the sound of a phone being dialed.
“Director Yamashita, do you think there’s any chance you could let Kana join the cast of your new production?”
“What?!
No?!
Why not?!
This is our Kana we’re talking about!
The genius child star of the Showa era!”
“Damn it!
That director must have something wrong with his head — or maybe he just has no skill whatsoever!”
(In Japanese, the term for director should properly be ‘kantoku,’ which also has the abbreviation ‘D,’ along with ‘AD’ for assistant director later on, etc.
But for the sake of comprehension I’m just using ‘director’ here directly — it’s only a matter of swapping the title,)
“…”
The noise faded from her ears.
Arima Kana opened her eyes.
The self who had first stepped into this industry was, without question, very happy.
She had a natural gift for acting — all she had to do was casually act, put her ability on display, and she could win the adults’ approval, win her mother’s approval, and make everyone feel happy and joyful.
Which was why she didn’t understand it at all.
When exactly had everything started to change?
The work invitations she had once paid no mind to — the ones she could freely accept or turn down — began to dwindle.
Her popularity as a koyaku actress also began to slip.
Her mother started taking out her frustrations on her.
And the arguments at home grew more frequent by the day.
“If you can’t get along well with the people around you, you can’t survive in this industry.”
Arima Kana remembered.
A certain director had once said this to her.
But—
She had no way of grasping the deeper meaning of that sentence.
That was right.
She simply couldn’t fully grasp it.
Arima Kana.
Eight years old this year.
Even being a koyaku, even possessing what looked to be ‘mature’ abilities…
…a child was still a child.
Fundamentally different from an adult, and incapable of bearing such heavy pressure.
By the same token, a mere eight-year-old child could not possibly navigate every social entanglement of a chaotic film set with smooth, deft tact.
And so, at only eight years old, it came naturally to her to wonder whether she had simply stood out too much on set.
In that case…
if she matched her acting to suit the others around her, in order to make the production better and accommodate everyone…
wouldn’t she be able to earn the adults’ praise again, just like before?
Arima Kana reached out a hand.
Tender pink fingers lifted the small round hat from her head.
She hugged it tightly against her chest.
Tears looked as though they were about to disgracefully spill from the corners of her eyes.
She couldn’t cry.
Crying would smear the makeup on her face.
Smearing her makeup meant losing more time to a touch-up.
And so Arima Kana did not cry.
Only after the director and production assistants over by the men’s room had left—
—did she finally step out of the women’s restroom.
But she had hardly taken two paces.
A gentle, languid voice suddenly drifted toward her from up ahead.
“Heeey—”
“Eh?”
Arima Kana’s footsteps halted.
That was meant for her, surely?
Almost reflexively, she raised her head.
It was a boy roughly her own age.
At that moment, he was sitting on a lounge chair off to one side, leafing through a book in his hands.
Fair, healthy skin.
Jet-black short hair.
And beneath that, a well-formed, adorable face.
“Arima Kana?” the boy asked, closing the book at his side and rising to his feet.
“I’m…
yes…”
On any ordinary day, the Arima Kana of old would have been thoroughly displeased at having some peer suddenly address her by her full name, with such a lofty attitude.
After all, she was a genius child star — a genius in the truest sense of the word.
But perhaps because she was in such low spirits…
…she uncharacteristically didn’t say much at all.
No…
perhaps what was more crucial was…
Arima Kana swallowed.
The child in front of her…
those large, black eyes lifted up at her gave her the strange feeling that he wasn’t a peer at all.
He was clearly the same as her.
An adorable child’s face.
Roughly the same age.
And yet within those black eyes was something a child should not possess…
a kind of maturity?
Yes.
Perhaps it was strange to use the word ‘mature’ to describe a child who looked her age.
But that was the truth of it.
Arima Kana, exquisitely sensitive to acting, could feel it.
The boy in front of her — on his face was not the affected, mannered ‘maturity’ of a koyaku putting on the ‘little adult’ act, but a real, undisguised, adult-like maturity.
Arima Kana watched the boy rise to his feet.
He seemed entirely unbothered by her measuring gaze.
Instead, he calmly closed the book in his hands first, and then he spoke.
“I heard everything the director just said.”
“Huh?”
Arima Kana froze for a moment.
Heard it…
Meaning the child in front of her had deliberately stayed here to talk to her?
Did he want to watch her look humiliated?
Or was it…
that he wanted to take advantage of her low spirits to strike up a conversation, chat with her, comfort her?
Going by Arima Kana’s three years of experience as a koyaku—
—it was very likely the latter.
After all, she was a genius koyaku — a child star in the truest sense.
Even with her fame slipping somewhat now, she still wasn’t someone any random peer koyaku could just leech off of.
If they could win her favor…
if nothing else, dropping her name out in the world later on would significantly cut down on the ‘bullying’ that was particularly common among koyaku of the same age.
Once she figured this out, Arima Kana’s mood lifted noticeably — a rare thing.
She reached out a hand, and with an air of practiced ease, brushed back the red hair beside her ear, just about to speak—
“I actually don’t think what the director said was wrong.”
“Huh…?”
The red strands she had brushed back drifted slowly down again.
Her wine-red eyes widening, Arima Kana stared in shock at the boy resting his chin on his hand in front of her.
What was this guy even saying?
But his words showed no sign of stopping — not even a moment’s hesitation.
“Your acting today was honestly unbearable to watch.”
“Ugh!”
Arima Kana clutched at her flat chest.
“Frankly, why can’t a ‘genius koyaku’ even get through one simple crying scene?”
“Urgh!”
“Are you aware that your fee per scene is several times mine?”
“Uuu…”
Proud, high-spirited Arima Kana’s lips twitched, and her plump, adorable little legs were trembling with fury.
If it had been ordinary criticism, perhaps her finely-honed professionalism as a koyaku could have endured it.
The trouble was — was this guy’s mouth a tempered-steel blade?
Every word he stabbed her with drew blood, sliced flesh…
Combined with that incredibly disdainful tone, who could possibly take that?
“You little jerk!!!”
Gritting her teeth, she was about to demand which koyaku agency he belonged to — that he would dare be so rude in front of her, a senior who had already been in the koyaku industry for three years.
However—
“Do you think that was your real skill level?”
His tone shifted abruptly.
“Huh…?”
Arima Kana looked up.
Her eyes met the boy’s.
Within those pitch-black, crystal-clear eyes, every trace of the contempt and reproach from a moment ago had vanished.
He was simply looking at her, calmly.
Truly — that very quiet kind of gaze.
Somehow, the flames of anger that had been flickering inside her chest slowly faded away.
Because that question of his really had struck her at the core.
Her acting just now…
Had that really been her full ability?
Arima Kana knew the answer perfectly well.
But what could she possibly do by bringing out her full skill?
That pure, self-supreme acting — the kind that paid no mind to anyone else — in the end, her work would still keep dwindling, and her popularity would still keep falling.
Rather than that, she might as well—
“Rather than that, you might as well just coast along, put on adequate acting, accommodate the acting of the actors around you, accommodate the adults’ expectations, and do a better job completing the production.
Right?”
“…” Arima Kana.
Arima Kana said nothing.
She only lifted her head in shock, gaping at the boy in front of her.
She didn’t understand how this peer could see straight through her thoughts at a glance.
But the boy paid no heed to her astonished stare.
He simply spoke in a tone that left Arima Kana no room for doubt.
“But that way of thinking is wrong.”
Wrong…?
Arima Kana froze.
But what followed close on its heels was anger she couldn’t suppress.
“What the hell would you even know?!”
What did this boy understand?
After her popularity dropped, she had been suppressing herself the whole time, constantly accommodating others, all while enduring her mother’s uncomprehending stares at home…
Along this whole road, how many things had she, an eight-year-old child, had to live through?
What could this guy in front of her possibly understand?
“Don’t give me that high-and-mighty talk!”
She finally couldn’t hold herself back.
She rushed forward and grabbed the boy by the collar.
Eight-year-old girls developed faster than boys to begin with.
She stood a full shoulder taller than the boy before her.
“What would you know?!”
At last, the tears she had been holding back came welling up from her eyes.
Arima Kana spoke.
Her childish voice was choked with sobs.
Beside her ears, even her crimson strands of hair seemed to dim.
If this had been the typical male protagonist out of a light novel or anime, seeing an eight-year-old girl crying her heart out in front of him, he probably would have flailed around in a panic and then clumsily tried to console her.
But the guy in front of her seemed to have no human heart at all.
He merely cast her a cool glance.
Without an ounce of consolation, without the slightest intention to soothe her, he spoke.
“What do you think an actor is?”
“…” Arima Kana opened her mouth.
His question was a hard one for her, all of eight years old, to answer.
But the boy in front of her went on, as if he had already foreseen that outcome.
“An actor is someone who brings their craft to bear for their own selfish desire.”
“What an actor must do is not yield to the other actors, but bring out every ounce of their ability on set.
An actor is someone who pulls the focus of the entire set onto themselves.”
“But…
but…
if that’s the case…”
Arima Kana’s cherry-pink lips trembled around the words, and her gaze dimmed.
Because that was exactly what she had done before.
Bringing out her self-supreme acting, leaving many of the other koyaku — and even some adult actors — who shared scenes with her struggling to keep up.
It was like how, when many people watched films or TV dramas, there was always that one scenario — one actor was great, and the other simply couldn’t keep up with them.
But—
“So what?”
Arima Kana stared blankly at the boy in front of her.
“Directors, audiences — they only remember the actor with the better performance.”
He spoke in a calm tone.
Yes.
That was how the Japanese industry worked.
Part of what Arima Kana had been thinking was right — but a considerable part of it was, without question, her getting stuck in a dead-end mindset.
On a film set, social finesse — the ability to land work from directors and producers — was unquestionably top priority.
After all, you could only get more audiences to know you by appearing in roles and reaching the big screen.
But beyond all doubt, second priority was your own ability.
When two actors had roughly equal fame and roughly equal agency backing—
—as long as the director wasn’t blind, he would absolutely choose the one with the finer, more heart-moving performance.
Suppressing your own acting…?
Catering to the production’s level?
“That’s nothing more than you stubbornly trapping yourself in a dead-end way of thinking.”
The boy looked at Arima Kana as he gave his answer.
Without her even realizing it, Arima Kana’s grip on his collar had loosened.
She fell into silence.
At eight, she really didn’t grasp most of what he meant.
But there was one thing she did understand.
Suppressing her own ability on set — maybe that really wasn’t a good thing.
To put it plainly.
The boy lifted his face and fixed her with that adorable face of his.
Those deep eyes seemed about to draw her in.
“Beyond capital and connections, acting is an actor’s greatest weapon.”
So he said.
…
The crew exchanged greetings, the light shields were set in place, and once the cameras were positioned, the director and the production assistants sat down.
“White Coastline, Take Three, Scene Twenty-Three — action!”
Snap!
The slate clapped down!
The synopsis of White Coastline was actually a simple one: a young man living alone takes in an eight-year-old girl who had previously been bullied and abused by her foster father.
They come to know each other, gradually opening up their guarded hearts, until at last their feelings reach one another and they save each other in the end.
It was a very standard art film, made primarily to wring tears from its audience.
And this scene was the final conversation by the sea between the young man Shunta and his daughter Yui—
After the slate clapped down.
The crimson sun sank.
On the distant sea horizon, seagulls appeared—
The black silhouettes of the seagulls in the distance first entered the frame and then exited it; then the young man Shunta and his daughter Yui entered the frame.
The timing of the shot was perfect.
Sitting before the monitor, Director Arai nodded, and then couldn’t help but glance again at the two figures on the screen.
Honestly, the only thing he was worried about right now was Arima Kana’s performance.
After all, this ‘genius child star’ had genuinely disappointed him in everything up to this point.
It was for her acting that he had paid such a heavy fee to invite her on board — two months, and even given her the lead role.
But her performance had let him down enormously.
It hadn’t been quite unwatchable, but it had come nowhere near what he had pictured.
To put it in gacha terms, it was like dropping a fortune to pull a main DPS, only to find their output couldn’t even reach a fraction of your old characters’.
And this final crying scene was precisely the one that could best showcase the charm of the daughter, Yui.
Yui’s tears in this last scene were not only a release from her past suffering, but also her acceptance of her new father, Shunta.
That was the biggest reason he had been grumbling about Arima Kana earlier.
The earlier scenes could be brushed off with so-so acting, but this scene absolutely could not be muddled through…
And yet Arima Kana had disappointed him again — her crying scene flat and ordinary, with even an obvious ‘fakeness’ to it that he could feel plainly.
That was what had really pushed him to his limit, which was why he had flown into a rage while smoking out behind the men’s room.
“I hope this time she won’t let me down.”
Watching the girl on screen, her wine-red hair fluttering in the sea breeze, Director Arai kept his eyes fixed on the monitor.
But very soon…
he realized…
he could no longer look away.
The hem of the long white dress fluttered gently.
Loose grains of white sand clung between the girl’s pale toes.
“Keep going, Shunta-san!”
Riding on Shunta’s back, little Yui was laughing brightly, singing.
Because this was the first time she had ever seen the ocean — the first time she had ever felt this happy.
“Let’s stop right here, Shunta-san!”
She held down her hat so the sea wind wouldn’t take it.
Shunta turned his head, lowered her down, and seeing her so happy, a smile rose to his lips.
The two of them sat there, side by side, eyes narrowed, watching the sun sinking into the edge of the far horizon.
Suddenly, Yui beside him cried out loudly.
“Shunta-san!”
“Hm—?”
Shunta answered tenderly.
“Shunta-san!”
“Hm—?”
“Papa—”
“Hm—?”
Shunta started to respond, but in the very next instant, he turned his head in shock.
Because for Yui, ‘father’ was — without question — the title she most refused to speak aloud.
Abuse.
Bruises mottling her arms.
Cigarette burns.
Daily torment.
She had never escaped the shadow of ‘father.’
Which was why she had never called anyone ‘father.’
But now…
He turned his head.
She was looking at him too.
Up close, the red-haired girl sat with her arms hugged around her knees, her face turned to the side.
The sea breeze drifted through her long white dress.
Her tender child’s face, beneath the sinking sun, was as beautiful as an oil painting.
And yet her bright eyes had curved up in the faintest of smiles.
Crystal-clear tears slid down from the corner of her eye.
She was clearly crying.
And yet she seemed to be smiling.
The young male actor playing Shunta went still.
Director Arai, whose face had been full of impatience only moments before, rose to his feet.
Eyes wide, he stared at the scene.
Only at this moment did he finally understand what the industry meant when they called her acting ‘as dazzling as the sun.’
Everyone fell silent.
Then, at last, came the director’s excited voice.
“Cut!
Cut!
Cut!
That one’s a wrap!”
…
At the wrap party, wearing a child’s formal dress with a corsage pinned to her chest marked ‘Role of Yuka,’ Arima Kana scampered over to Director Arai.
“D-Director Arai!”
“Oh — it’s Kana-chan.
Your performance today really was excellent.
Is there something you need?” Director Arai smiled in greeting.
Although Arima Kana’s earlier performances had only been passable at best, her work in that final scene today had been so utterly stunning that even he couldn’t help but marvel at it.
On that single shot alone, he was confident it would land among the top ten shots in this quarter’s film magazine selection.
But at the same time, he was a little speechless — so you can pull off that level of work, and yet this is what you gave me earlier?
Were you messing with me on purpose?
“Um…
I wanted to ask, the other koyaku kid — where is he?”
Breathless, Arima Kana forced a gulp of air down her throat, her face full of urgency as she put forward her question.
“The other kid…?
Hm?”
Caught off guard by her sudden question, Director Arai paused for a moment.
Then it dawned on him.
“Kana-chan, you mean the boy who played Shirai…
right?”
White Coastline had only two child roles in total: the first was Yui, played by Arima Kana herself; the other was the boy Shirai, who, at Yui’s elementary school, helped her fit in with her class.
Arai actually had a fairly strong impression of that male koyaku.
After all, the boy was good-looking, and his acting was quite flawless — even with only one or two shots to his name, he had left a deeply memorable impression.
But unlike Arima Kana, a top-tier koyaku with name recognition outside the industry, the boy was merely a minor koyaku, and so Director Arai really hadn’t paid much attention to his name.
It was one of the more brutally realistic phenomena in the industry.
A minor koyaku with no resources, no capital, and no agency backing was worth less than the name ‘Arima Kana’ itself.
Director Arai scratched his head.
“Mm…
what was his name again…?
I remember his performance was pretty good.
I’m even thinking about working with him again next time.
Mm…
Takagiku, bring me the cast list, would you?”
“Yes, Director Arai.”
Beside him, the assistant director rummaged through his shoulder bag, pulled out the list, and handed it to Director Arai.
Seizing the moment, Arima Kana hurriedly squeezed in beside Director Arai.
She rose onto her tiptoes.
Tiptoeing as hard as she possibly could.
Only then was she finally able to squeeze her head in close enough.
She still remembered, even now, what that boy had said to her earlier.
“Beyond capital and connections, acting is an actor’s greatest weapon.”
And then, she caught sight of his name.
She read it out, character by character.
“Minami…
Yuji.”