dkrc Chapter 44 The Girl Named Sachiko
Chapter 44 The Girl Named Sachiko
The roar of the V10 engine tearing through the air was so powerful that it made one's heart pound, even through thick soundproof glass.
The Suzuka Circuit, known as the "Oriental Temple of Speed," is currently filled with the smells of burnt rubber, the pungent odor of high-octane fuel, and—the rotten sweetness of money fermenting.
Although the F1 Japanese Grand Prix is still a few weeks away, the sponsor activities of the major teams have already begun to generate buzz.
As the "villain of the year" who just became a sensation with "Yakuza Blood", Kitahara Shin was also invited by an electronics manufacturer to make an appearance.
"Kitahara-kun, the response to that 'Taisho Pharmaceutical' energy drink is fantastic!"
In the dressing room, manager Ota, while adjusting Kitahara Shin's collar, excitedly whispered, "The company representative was just praising your sharp eye for quality, insisting on using TUBE's 'Season in the Sun' as the soundtrack. Now the single and drinks are selling like hotcakes!"
"In particular, President Nagato of Being Company specially sent two cases of high-end champagne to express his gratitude, saying that you are much more knowledgeable than those GG planners who only look at data."
"It was just a coincidence."
Kitahara Shin replied casually, seemingly unconcerned about the praise.
He knew, of course, that song would be a hit; it was a summer anthem of the 90s. He was simply using "future memories" to do a favor in this bubble economy.
But this favor unexpectedly gave him a ticket to the music industry.
"In short, you're the darling of the GG world now." Ota grinned from ear to ear. "Just show your face when you go out later, President Takada and the others are waiting for you."
Kitahara Shin nodded, pushed open the door, and walked out.
But he had no interest in such noisy social occasions.
After dealing with several presidents who reeked of alcohol, he made an excuse to get some fresh air and headed to the backstage rest area.
This place is more like a hidden arena of fame and fortune.
Waiters carrying champagne weaved through the crowd, and there was also a group of "race girls" dressed in high-cut swimsuits that would make conservatives faint.
These young and beautiful girls were mostly in their early twenties. Under the powerful air conditioning, their skin was covered in goosebumps, yet they still had to put on sweet smiles for those bloated sponsors.
"Hey, don't dodge! Have another drink! This is the finest Dom Pérignon!"
A frivolous, teasing laugh came from the end of the corridor.
Kitahara Shin stopped and turned his head to look.
Several middle-aged men were surrounding a race car girl who was holding up a sign in a corner.
The girl looked different from the other heavily made-up models. She had slightly messy, medium-length black hair, light makeup, and an air of scholarly refinement about her, which seemed completely out of place for the occasion.
At that moment, she was desperately shrinking back, her hands covering her chest, trying to avoid a hand reaching for her waist.
"I'm so sorry... President Tanaka, I'm allergic to alcohol, I really can't drink anymore..."
"Allergic reaction? Ha! Stop pretending to be innocent!"
The bald man named Tanaka was clearly drunk, his face flushed. He grabbed the girl's wrist and said, "Why are you pretending to be a saint when you're working as a race queen? I have plenty of money. Come with me tonight, and I'll make you the star of tomorrow!"
The girl's face was deathly pale, and she bit her lip tightly, a last act of defiance.
"Please let go... I won't do that kind of thing!"
"Not doing it? You've got quite a temper for a little model..."
Enraged, Tanaka was about to reach for the girl's sash when he suddenly felt a chill in the air behind him.
The noisy background noise seemed to be cut off instantly.
A feeling of being watched by a wild beast shot up his spine.
"who……"
Tanaka instinctively turned around, then froze completely.
Standing behind him was a young man wearing a dark blue jacket and no tie.
The man stood tall with his hands in his pockets. His eyes, like two dry wells, stared at him coldly and without focus.
Tanaka has seen the movie. There are practically no people in all of Japan who don't recognize those eyes.
That was the look in "Mad Dog Sawada's" eyes before he made his move.
"Kita... Kitahara... Shin?" Tanaka sobered up instantly, and his grip on the girl's hand loosened as if he had been electrocuted.
Kitahara Shin ignored him.
He walked straight up to her, took off his jacket, and casually draped it over the shivering girl, covering her slightly revealing attire.
Then he turned around, his tone as flat as if he were talking about the weather:
"President Takada is looking for someone."
"President Takada...?" Tanaka swallowed hard.
That nouveau riche from Takada Realty? He's one of the biggest big spenders this time.
"Um."
Kitahara Shin tilted his head slightly, his gaze finally lingering on Tanaka's face for a second. "He said there's one less person holding the sign, and he wants me to bring someone. You have a problem with that?"
"No! No objection! Absolutely no objection!"
Tanaka waved his hands frantically, his fat face trembling, "Since he's the person President Takada wants, then... then please go ahead! It's all a misunderstanding!"
In this circle, fame and infamy sometimes go hand in hand. Faced with this "ruthless character" who even dares to play a real gangster, Tanaka wouldn't dare to act recklessly even if he had ten times the courage.
Kitahara Shin turned to the girl and gestured with his chin: "Let's go."
……
A few minutes later.
The air was much cleaner in the fire lane leading to the parking lot.
The girl was wrapped tightly in Kitahara Shin's oversized jacket, her head down as she followed behind him, her high heels making a slightly flustered sound on the floor tiles.
"Um... thank you."
The girl finally spoke. Her voice was somewhat deep, unlike the deliberately sweet, high-pitched voices of typical models; instead, it had a magnetic, transparent quality.
"And... actually, President Takada didn't contact me, right?"
Kitahara Shin stopped and leaned against the railing. He took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out, then remembered that this was a no-smoking area and put it back.
"That fat guy is busy drinking with other models right now, he doesn't have time to talk to you."
The girl paused for a moment, then gave a wry smile: "I knew it. I'm sorry to have troubled you, Mr. Kitahara."
She was about to take off her jacket and return it to him.
"Keep it on," Kitahara Shin stopped her. "It's windy outside, and if you go out dressed like this, you'll run into another President Tanaka."
The girl's hand froze.
She lowered her head, looking at her swimsuit, which seemed incredibly cheap and shameful in this setting, and her eyes reddened slightly.
"I...I'm not that kind of girl, I just...the company assigned me here..."
"I know."
Kitahara Shin interrupted her explanation.
He used the dim light in the corridor to sized up the girl in front of him.
Sachiko Kamaiike.
That is, Izumi Sakai, who later became known as the "Heisei Diva".
At this moment, she still had some baby fat, and her face was full of confusion and hesitation, but her clear eyes held a stubbornness.
There is no desire in your eyes.
Kitahara Shin looked at her and said, "The girls inside all have eyes that say they want to marry a rich man and become famous, but you're different."
Your eyes tell me you want to sing.
He pointed to the racetrack not far away, where the roar of engines could be heard, "instead of selling meat in a place like this."
Sachiko Kamachi suddenly raised her head, her pupils contracting slightly.
"How...how did you know?"
She never told anyone about her dreams, for fear of being ridiculed for being overconfident.
"Observing people is my job."
Kitahara Shin straightened his shirt cuffs. "Besides, your expression was much more lively when you were humming in the corner earlier."
Sachiko's cheeks flushed instantly.
It turns out that someone had overheard me humming a song.
"That song... is still only half-finished." She lowered her head somewhat embarrassedly, twisting the hem of her jacket with her fingers. "I just wrote it myself."
"The melody is nice."
Kitahara Shin did not offer any flattery.
"What's your name?"
"Takai. Kamai Sachiko."
"Miss Sachiko."
Kitahara Shin pulled a business card out of his pocket—it was printed for him by his manager, Ota Tsuyoshi, and it had the words "Kitahara Office" printed on it.
"If you can't make it in the modeling industry anymore, or if you don't want to be harassed by those greasy old men anymore, you can call this number."
He slipped the business card into Sachiko's hand.
"I may not know anything about songwriting, but I know a few guys who aren't too bad. Maybe they'd prefer to hear you sing rather than see you in a swimsuit."
After saying that, Kitahara Shin didn't linger and turned to walk towards the parking lot.
Sachiko Kamachi stood there, clutching the business card, still warm from her touch, tightly in her hand.
She was still wearing that dark blue jacket, the faint scent of tobacco and masculine aroma enveloping her, giving her a long-lost sense of security on this malicious night.
"Kitahara...Xin."
She watched the departing figure and softly murmured the name.
The rumored terrifying "rabid dog" seems to be quite different from what we imagined.
She took a deep breath and carefully placed the business card into her inner pocket.