Role pre-assignment.
Production-company favoritism, bringing capital into the production, package deals between insiders, and so on…
Within the industry, this was by no means a rare occurrence.
“It’s the same with this She and He — the role of Ryouya was pre-assigned a long time ago.”
Sakurajima Mai lowered her voice slightly — after all, this kind of thing wasn’t exactly something one could call honorable: “Haven’t the two of you noticed?
Almost none of the male koyaku who came to audition have any real name recognition.
They’re obviously here just to round out the numbers — purely going through the motions, racking up experience.”
If Sakurajima Mai hadn’t pointed it out, fine.
But once she did, both Minami Yuji and Arima Kana noticed it too.
Say nothing else of the female koyaku — their caliber was relatively high across the board, and there were even several whose names you could rattle off.
But over on the male koyaku side…
uh…
there were already kids in the throes of stage fright who didn’t dare step up onto the stage.
It looked like plenty of the major agencies had received word and hadn’t bothered sending their koyaku here to waste their time.
“The one who got the role pre-assigned — you’ve probably heard of him too.
It’s that boy from SF Koyaku Agency: Kobayashi Takaki.
Oh — perfect timing, it’s his turn now.
You can take a look.”
Hm?
Following the direction of Sakurajima Mai’s pointing finger, Minami Yuji and Arima Kana caught sight of a boy — roughly eight or nine years old, with a face that leaned toward cute — stepping up onto the audition stage.
Kobayashi Takaki.
Although he couldn’t compare to Arima Kana and Sakurajima Mai — the two ceilings of the current koyaku industry — within this line of work he was still considered a fairly popular male koyaku, and as for his acting…
“Don’t you dare bully Junko!”
Up on the stage, Kobayashi Takaki had already fully slipped into character.
The scene he was auditioning was the one where his little sister Junko gets picked on by boys from her class — gets called a ‘wild kid’ — and Ryouya, as her older brother, steps in to protect her.
This was actually a fairly difficult scene.
After all, an on-site audition couldn’t possibly bring in another actor specifically to play opposite Kobayashi Takaki — which meant he had to mix in some object-less acting.
But even so, Kobayashi Takaki’s acting was quite solid.
His eyes were wide open, his lower lip bitten down hard, as though he were intimidating the classmate boys — who weren’t actually there — who had been bullying his little sister.
That tiny body of his first leaned forward just a little, then drew back just slightly.
As though behind him, in that completely empty space, there really were a little sister with her head bowed, quietly sobbing.
It had to be said — this acting really was rather impressive.
From Minami Yuji’s perspective, he was probably reaching somewhere around acting LV5 or LV6 inside that Wicked System of his — that was already quite something.
Combine that with his popularity as a male koyaku…
It was no wonder the role of ‘Ryouya’ had been earmarked for him in advance.
“Right?
That’s exactly why it’s such a pain.”
Sakurajima Mai let out a sigh, the gaze she turned on Minami Yuji carrying just a hint of pity.
Your competitor was formidable, and the role had already been pre-assigned on top of that — that was something no one in your shoes could swallow easily, right?
Minami Yuji didn’t answer.
He just kept his head lowered.
As though digesting the information Sakurajima Mai had just shared.
Meanwhile, on the other side—
Arima Kana’s little white cloth shoes were tapping at the floor restlessly.
She watched the silent Minami Yuji.
Her small palm first lifted up, then came back down, and then lifted right back up again.
Already not exactly silver-tongued to begin with, in this moment she had no idea whatsoever how to comfort him.
About a minute passed like that.
Minami Yuji raised his head.
There was none of the hysterical breakdown Sakurajima Mai had anticipated, and even less of the childish bawling Arima Kana had imagined.
He simply nodded, very quietly.
“I see.
So that’s how it is.”
That tranquil expression left not just Arima Kana but even the usually composed Sakurajima Mai standing beside her somewhat shocked.
You just go with ‘so that’s how it is’?
Honestly speaking, if the same thing had happened to either of them, there was no way she could have managed it the way Minami Yuji just had.
An audition required a tremendous amount of time to prepare for.
You didn’t just have to memorize lines — you had to read the script over and over, get inside the character’s head, and spend an enormous amount of time on practice.
Even Sakurajima Mai — whose mentality was far more mature than that of the average koyaku — if she ran into something like this, she would probably grind her teeth and want nothing more than to march right up and slap the people pulling those ‘backdoor’ deals across the face.
Yuji-kun…
you’re alright, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say I’m alright.” Minami Yuji shook his head.
“It’s just that crying and making a fuss isn’t going to solve anything, is it?”
That was the truth.
The thing had already happened.
Even bawling about it wouldn’t have any meaning.
So—
“All I can do is keep moving forward,” he said.
“You say ‘moving forward’…
but how exactly are you planning to move forward?” Arima Kana’s old habit of blurting out whatever was on her mind flared up again.
“Hasn’t the role already been pre-assigned to someone—mmgh!”
It wasn’t until those last words were out that she snapped back to her senses and clamped a hand over her own mouth.
Are you an idiot?!
Arima Kana—
In this moment, Arima Kana absolutely hated this mouth of hers that would instinctively rip open other people’s scars.
However—
“Then that has nothing to do with me.”
Minami Yuji shook his head.
“Eh?”
Not just Arima Kana with her hand over her mouth — even Sakurajima Mai couldn’t help turning her gaze toward him.
Because by all rights, when confronted with this kind of unfair treatment, shouldn’t most people be filled with righteous indignation?
“But that wouldn’t carry any meaning, would it?”
A mature adult didn’t do anything meaningless.
“As far as I’m concerned, for this audition I’ve already done my absolute best, and I have a clear conscience about it.
So, no matter what the outcome turns out to be, I have an obligation to walk this road all the way through and accept it.”
After all, he wasn’t like the carefree Sakurajima Mai and Arima Kana.
Reincarnated into this world from the womb, and growing up smoothly to where he was now.
He really had received quite a lot of help from quite a lot of people.
From the relief organization that took him in during his infancy, to the orphanage that came after…
And right now, that orphanage was in a state of disrepair from years of neglect, its funds running tight.
As a properly educated, true-blooded man of the Celestial Empire, to stand here in front of two little girls whose ages didn’t even add up to eighteen and start sobbing and throwing a tantrum — wouldn’t that be way too unsightly?
He absolutely had to become famous!
And he absolutely had to earn serious money!
And right now, the audition opportunity for a ‘leading role’ was laid out right in front of him.
So not giving it his all was absolutely out of the question!
Even if there was only a one-percent chance.
Not giving it his all was still absolutely out of the question!
Even if the result had already been decided, he was still going to give it everything he had!
And so—
“Next up!
Northern Koyaku Agency, Minami Yuji!
Get ready!”
A call came down from above.
“Yes!”
Minami Yuji answered, and under the watching eyes of Sakurajima Mai and Arima Kana, he stepped up onto the audition stage without the slightest hesitation.
Acting, LV8.
Trait: Born Star
And below it, there was a line of annotation.
(This is the fruit of all the effort you have put in.
You, who have polished your craft day and night, are without a doubt a truly dazzling star — and the instant you step onto the stage of performance, your acting will draw every single person’s gaze.)
…
Just what was it that he’d come into the industry wanting to do, anyway?
That, perhaps, was something Yamashita Keiji — now over ten years into the industry — had completely forgotten.
No…
perhaps it was simply that he didn’t want to recall it at all.
When he first stepped into the industry, he had been brimming with passion, in love with life itself.
He wanted to do the things he wanted to do.
He wanted to write the stories he wanted to write.
But ideals were oh so plump, and reality oh so bony.
It was only after entering the industry that he came to understand.
This industry harbored far more filth and grime than he had ever imagined.
Under-the-table dealings happened all the time.
Unspoken rules, casting-couch arrangements…
Big companies bringing capital onto productions would high-handedly demand that he — the screenwriter — rewrite his script, and they’d unreasonably stuff jarring, out-of-place characters into it.
This industry was like a monster with a pitch-black, gaping maw — one that devoured people.
It opened its great mouth, swallowed him in, chewed him over carelessly for a while, and then spat him back out.
From the outside, he seemed entirely unchanged.
But in truth, if you looked a little more closely…
He hadn’t really been the man he used to be for a long time now.
He had lost the self of those earlier years, and he had lost every last bit of his passion.
He just kept going — mechanically, haphazardly — writing scripts he had no desire to write.
At the end of the day…
“Is there really any need to even hold this audition?”
Looking down at the rows of pure, innocent eyes of the koyaku below, Yamashita Keiji tightened his grip on the ballpoint pen in his hand.
The outcome of the audition — the producers, the director, and including him, the screenwriter, present on site — all of them had already had their answer long ago.
The female lead would be picked from either Arima Kana or Sakurajima Mai.
The male lead, on the other hand, had long since been pre-assigned to Kobayashi Takaki.
All of this current spectacle was nothing more than a way to plug up the mouths on the outside, to give the public an impression of ‘Look — our casting was all properly selected through a real audition.’
Hypocrisy.
The palm clenched around the ballpoint pen was still tightening.
But it quickly relaxed.
Yamashita Keiji let a self-mocking smile show at the corners of his mouth — he had already grown somewhat numb to it all.
Let’s be blunt about it.
What could he actually do, anyway?
Better to just set his expression straight again — don’t give the media gathering material from outside any opening in his face to pounce on.
“Next up!
Northern Koyaku Agency, Minami Yuji!
Get ready!”
“Yes!”
The staff member’s voice calling out the number came drifting in from up front.
Minami Yuji…?
Now that was an unusual name.
Yamashita Keiji propped up his face out of sheer boredom and watched the boy named Minami Yuji walking up from below.
Skin a healthy white tinged with the faintest hint of pink, features distinctly more handsome than the average male koyaku his age, jet-black short hair, and beneath that thicket of short hair, a pair of clean, crystal-clear eyes…
To tell the truth, in terms of appearance alone, this koyaku named Minami Yuji actually cleared the bar completely.
If his acting was solid on top of that, then maybe — just maybe — he really would have had a shot.
But—
“What good would that do, though?”
Yamashita Keiji’s expression was numb.
The pre-assignment of the role was already an accomplished fact.
No matter how flawlessly the child in front of him performed, no matter how heart-stirring he managed to be, it would not change the fact that capital was pulling the strings behind the scenes.
So…
the boy’s performance, his effort — none of it carried any meaning.
But this was, after all, an audition.
He still pretended to pull himself together, putting on a serious expression to watch Minami Yuji’s performance in front of him.
And as he watched, and watched, he noticed something.
Something was off…
There was something very off.
The numbness that had been on Yamashita Keiji’s face slowly began to dissipate.
In its place came the expression of his eyes opening a little wider in astonishment.
Because it was only at this moment that he realized…
It wasn’t just him.
Even the director and the producer on the other side…
Their eyes…
They couldn’t be torn away either.