Tokyo: My Best Actor Gear List

Chapter 62 Ambiguity

The rhythm of the waves lapping against the breakwater became slow and languid.

The pot of udon noodles, from which even the broth had been drunk clean, was now emitting its last bit of warmth.

Izumi Sakai sat on the warm hood of the Toyota Crown, her legs dangling in the air. After eating and drinking her fill, the tension that had been brought on by Daiko Nagato completely dissipated, replaced by a sense of "stealing half a day of leisure."

"Are we going back?" She looked at the blurry outline of the Being company building in the distance, her tone carrying a hint of resistance to facing reality.

"You've just finished eating, no rush. Sit down and rest for a bit; you need to catch your breath, right?"

Kitahara Shin leaned against the car door and lit a cigarette.

The red sparks flickered in the sea breeze.

Spring Water shrank back and pulled her trench coat tighter.

"Mr. Kitahara, may I have something to say to you?"

"Um?"

"Actually... I'm not afraid of singing, nor am I afraid of recording." She looked down at her toes, her voice soft, "But I'm afraid of that dark camera lens. Every time the cameraman shoves that big thing in my face, I feel my whole body stiffen, and I don't even know where to put my hands. President Nagato said my eyes are always wandering, but I don't know how to change it."

The feeling of being constantly scrutinized and having every micro-expression magnified is truly suffocating.

"I understand, it feels like having a gun pointed at you."

Kitahara Shin exhaled a smoke ring, a nostalgic expression on his face, and began to tell his story from his past life: "When I was an extra, I once played a corpse lying on the battlefield. That was my only scene all day."

Izumi looked up curiously: "A corpse? Mr. Kitahara, you've acted in this before?"

"Of course, I've acted in all kinds of roles."

"Dead people, right? The simplest scene." Kitahara Shin chuckled, his tone relaxed. "But I was still very nervous. When the camera slider came in, I felt like the lens was staring at me, so I tried desperately to stay still. And guess what?"

"What's wrong?"

"The more I tried to control it, the more my eyelids twitched. Finally, the director yelled 'Cut!' in a fit of rage, rushed over, pointed his finger at my nose, and yelled: 'You bastard! Have you ever seen a corpse wink at the camera? Are you dying with your eyes open or trying to seduce the cameraman?'"

"puff……"

The spring couldn't help but burst out laughing.

She imagined the scene: the usually calm and aloof Kitahara Shin lying in the mud, making a comical face as he frantically blinked at the camera.

That fear of the camera seems to have dissipated considerably in this somewhat absurd story.

So, don't take it too seriously.

Kitahara Shin looked at the girl whose shoulders were shaking with laughter, "The more you care about it, the more it acts like a judge. But if you ignore it, when all you have in your mind are lyrics and melody, it's just a silent stone. Have you ever seen anyone get nervous about a roadside stone?"

Spring turned its head to the side, the smile in the corner of its eye still lingering.

Kitahara Shin's profile appeared sharply defined in the dim moonlight.

This man always possessed a strange magic; no matter how big the problem, when he spoke of it, it seemed to become an old, amusing anecdote that could be enjoyed over drinks.

"A corpse throwing flirtatious glances..."

She repeated it softly, a smile involuntarily creeping onto her lips, "If today's moviegoers knew that 'Mad Dog Sawada' had this kind of dark history, they would definitely be shocked."

After the laughter subsided, the air softened.

"Oh, right..." Izumi seemed to suddenly remember something, her hands resting on the edge of the hood, her body leaning slightly forward, "President Nagato received a call today saying that my song has been selected as an insert song for that 'Getsu-9' drama."

She turned her head, looking at Kitahara Shin with a probing gaze, her tone carrying a hint of certainty: "Mr. Kitahara, it was you who helped me again, wasn't it?"

For a new band that hasn't even officially debuted yet to have their first single air in Fuji TV's prime time slot is practically a fantasy in the industry.

Besides the man in front of her, she couldn't think of anyone else who could do such a thing.

Kitahara Shin remained calm.

"I just happened to pass by the production department's conference room and casually mentioned that producer Duo Liang wanted a different voice, and I thought your voice was more suitable for this TV series than those sweet love songs."

He spoke of it casually.

But Quanshui knew in his heart that in this strictly hierarchical circle, there was no such thing as a "casual mention" of good fortune.

To put a newcomer like her, with no connections, into such an S-level project, it would take a lot of favors and resources. Although she is naive, she is not stupid.

He's always like that.

Give her a push when she wants to back down, pave the way for her when she's confused, and then stand aside as if it has nothing to do with him.

This quiet care weighed heavily on my heart, yet it also made me feel incredibly at ease.

Izumi's gaze fell on Kitahara Shin's hand resting on the car window frame.

Long, slender fingers with distinct knuckles.

These were the same hands that skillfully chopped scallions, cooked noodles, and served her soup. These were also the same hands that sheltered her from the wind and rain in places unseen.

That warm feeling is even more desirable than the bowl of noodles itself.

She unconsciously moved her hand in that direction.

One centimeter, two centimeters.

My fingertips touched the cold car window frame, and I was less than half a palm's distance from that warm, large hand.

My heart started pounding uncontrollably, as if it were about to put on a rock concert inside my chest.

"Mr. Kitahara."

To hide her guilty conscience, she suddenly spoke, her voice a half-tone higher than usual, "When is your birthday?"

"Um?"

Kitahara Shin paused, seemingly caught off guard by this sudden shift in thought. "November 5th, why are you asking that?"

"N-nothing!"

Quan Shui waved his hand hastily, pulling back the "scheming" hand and hiding it in his sleeve. "It was just... I suddenly remembered, and I just asked casually. It really was just a casual question."

She silently repeated the date three times in her mind: November 5th.

Scorpio.

I've heard that people of this zodiac sign are cold on the outside but warm on the inside, possessive, and very caring.

It seems that not everything in the horoscope books is a lie.

"And what about you?" Kitahara Shin asked in return.

"February 6th, Aquarius!"

Spring Water answered quickly, her eyes sparkling like a primary school student waiting for praise from her teacher.

"We're almost there."

Kitahara Shin stubbed out his cigarette. "I'll give you a gift later."

"real?"

"Why would I lie to you? But it depends on how well your single sells back then. If it doesn't sell and you get fired by the company, then I'll just have to send you a box of job application resumes."

"No way!"

The spring water puffed out its cheeks like a hamster hoarding food, "I'll be famous. I definitely will."

She jumped off the hood, her heels landing with a crisp sound.

Driven by this impulse, she walked up to Kitahara Shin and looked up at him.

"Mr. Kitahara."

"What's wrong now?"

"Once the single is released and I get my share of the profits... can I go out and have some fun?"

Her cheeks were flushed, and she spoke quickly, "Not like sneaking out to eat in the middle of the night, but going out to have fun openly, to an amusement park, or a zoo, or... anywhere is fine."

She nervously clutched the hem of her clothes.

Is this considered a date invitation?

I guess it counts?

Although the reason given was lame, claiming it was to "celebrate their debut," their ulterior motives were blatantly obvious.

Kitahara Shin looked at the girl in front of him, whose eyelashes were trembling with nervousness.

He smiled and reached out to tuck a stray strand of her bangs, which had been ruffled by the wind, behind her ear.

My fingertips brushed against my earlobe, causing a slight shiver.

"Okay."

He agreed readily, "As long as you're not afraid of being photographed by paparazzi."

"I'm not afraid."

The spring answered decisively, then burst into a big smile.

That smile was more dazzling than the moonlight over the sea.

"It's a deal then! Pinky promise!"

She extended her little finger.

Kitahara Shin sighed helplessly, then reached out and hooked his hand around that slender finger.

"stamp!"

Thumbs touching.

The heat traveled through her fingertips, and Quanshui felt her face burning up to her ears. She quickly withdrew her hand, turned around to tidy up the portable stove, trying to use busyness to mask her panic.

"Hurry up and pack! Otherwise, we'll really be found out!"

Kitahara Shin watched her flustered back, shook his head, opened the car door, and got into the driver's seat.

On the way back, the spring kept humming a song.

It's not rock or a sad love song, but an unknown, upbeat tune.

She leaned back in the passenger seat, watching the street scene rushing past the window, her palm gently stroking the edge of the seatbelt.

11 month 5 day.

There are still more than half a year to go.

No problem, she was already thinking about what to give in return.

Maybe it's a scarf? Or one of those expensive-looking fountain pens?

Anyway, we can't lose to that bowl of noodles.

……

The black Toyota Crown slowly drove away from the dock and eventually disappeared at the end of the road.

Fifty meters away, in the shadow of an abandoned shipping container, an inconspicuous gray sedan slowly rolled up its window.

"Click."

The man in the driver's seat put down the camera with the telephoto lens in his hand and slapped the steering wheel in frustration.

"Damn, it's too dark."

He picked up the freshly developed Polaroid sample (used to confirm the composition) and examined it carefully in the dim light of the dial.

The photo is blurry and has a lot of noise.

However, the two main subjects in the picture can still be barely identified.

One of them was a man leaning against the car smoking. In the brief moment the lighter shone, his angular profile was captured – it was none other than Kitahara Shin, who had recently been making headlines.

The other one was a woman sitting on the hood of a car.

Because her back was to the camera and she was wearing a large trench coat, her face was completely obscured; all that could be seen was a head of long hair flowing in the wind and a blurry yet remarkably intimate silhouette.

"Even though I can't see who the woman is, this is exclusive..."

The man shook a cigarette out of the pack, a smug smile spreading across his face.

At this time, in that deserted place, the woman was alone with Kitahara Shin.

Is it Honami Suzuki, with whom I'm about to collaborate? Or is it the top star of some club?

"No matter who it is, as long as the headline is good, tomorrow's sales are guaranteed."