October 21st, 2019
The studio address glowed on my phone screen, a beacon guiding me towards an uncertain future. I stared at it for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the navigation button. This was it. The first step into a new world, a new chapter of my life.
Just before I pocketed my phone, I paused. There was one more thing I needed to do. I quickly pulled up my messages, my fingers tapping out a quick text to Ai.
"Hey, just wanted to wish you luck on set today! You're going to be amazing. Let me know how it goes. I'll be thinking of you."
I hit send, a small smile tugging at my lips. Even in the midst of my own nerves, I couldn't forget about Ai. She was embarking on her own journey, stepping into a new role. I wanted her to know that I was there for her, even if I couldn't be there in person.
With the message sent, I slipped my phone into my pocket and headed out into the early morning.
The city was just starting to wake up, the streets filled with a soft, hazy light. I walked, letting the cool air clear my head. Snippets of melodies played in my mind, fragments of songs from another life.
I let them wash over me, savoring the familiarity, the comfort. But as I approached the studio, I let them fade into the background. Instead, the rhythmic beat of the song we were set to practice today started pulsing through my mind.
I had been up late last night, poring over the choreography videos Ichigo had sent me. The moves were complex, a blend of sharp angles and fluid grace. I had practiced until my muscles burned, until the steps were ingrained in my memory.
Now, as I walked, I found myself unconsciously marking the choreography, my feet tracing the patterns on the sidewalk. The chorus looped in my head, an endless refrain: "We're the ones who make the rules, we're the ones who break them too."
I arrived at the studio fifteen minutes early, always good to be early, right? I triple-checked the address, then pushed open the door. The space was large and airy, the walls lined with sound equipment and instruments.
But it wasn't empty. In the corner of the room, a figure was stretching, his long limbs extending with practiced grace. As I watched, he leaned into a deep lunge, his face a mask of concentration.
I must have made a sound, because he looked up sharply, his eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the silence stretching between us.
Then he straightened, rolling his shoulders back. "You must be Akira," he said, his voice low and controlled.
I nodded, stepping further into the room. "That's me. And you are?"
He appraised me for a moment, his gaze intense, calculating. "Kenji," he said finally. "I'm Kenji."
He didn't offer a hand, didn't make any move to close the distance between us. I got the sense that he was sizing me up, trying to figure out where I fit into this puzzle.
"It's good to meet you, Kenji," I said, setting my bag down. "I'm looking forward to working with you."
He grunted, a noncommittal sound. "We'll see," he muttered, turning back to his stretches. "We'll see if you can keep up."
I found a clear space and started my own stretches, feeling the familiar pull and burn of my muscles. It was a routine I knew well, a ritual that grounded me, focused me.
The silence stretched between us, not quite uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken questions. The door burst open, shattering the moment.
"Yo! What's up, guys?"
A young man strutted in, a mop of white and a grin that seemed permanently etched onto his face.
"Satoru," Kenji said, his tone flat. "You're late."
Satoru waved a dismissive hand. "Fashionably late, my man. Gotta keep the fans guessing, you know?"
His eyes landed on me, and his grin widened. "Hey, you must be the new guy! Akira, right?"
Before I could respond, he whipped out his phone. "Quick, let's get a selfie for the 'gram. Gotta document this momentous occasion!"
He slung an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. I blinked, startled by the sudden invasion of my personal space.
"Smile!" he commanded, holding out his phone. The camera clicked, immortalizing my bewildered expression.
"Perfect!" Satoru crowed, already tapping away at his screen. "Hashtag new beginnings, hashtag X-Factor, hashtag dream team!"
Kenji rolled his eyes, a subtle motion that spoke volumes. "Can we focus, please? We have work to do."
Satoru pouted, but pocketed his phone. "Always so serious, Kenji. You need to learn to live a little!"
He turned to me, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don't mind him, Akira. He's just jealous of my fame."
I managed a smile, still trying to get my bearings. "Right. Uh, nice to meet you, Satoru."
He clapped me on the back, nearly sending me stumbling. "Likewise, my man! I can tell we're going to be best buds."
Kenji cleared his throat pointedly. "If you're quite finished, Satoru, perhaps we can actually start preparing for the others to arrive."
Satoru heaved a dramatic sigh. "Fiiiine. But I'm telling you, Kenji, my moves are already perfect. I could do this choreography in my sleep."
He punctuated his words with a smooth spin, his feet gliding across the floor. I had to admit, he had skills. But there was a carelessness to his movements, a lack of precision that stood in stark contrast to Kenji's disciplined control.
Kenji watched him, his expression unreadable. "We'll see," he said, echoing his earlier words to me. "Perfection takes practice, Satoru. No matter how many followers you have."
Satoru laughed, unbothered by the jab. "Practice, schmactice. I've got natural talent, baby!"
He winked at me, as if inviting me to share in a private joke. I shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond.
Luckily, I was saved by the sound of the door opening once more. We all turned to see a slight figure slip into the room, as quiet and unobtrusive as a shadow.
"Daisuke," Kenji greeted, his voice a touch warmer than it had been with Satoru. "Glad you could make it."
Daisuke nodded, his eyes flickering to me briefly before settling on the floor. "Sorry if I'm late," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Nah, you're good, bro!" Satoru said, bounding over to sling an arm around Daisuke's shoulders. Daisuke stiffened, but didn't pull away. "We were just getting to know the new blood."
He gestured to me grandly, as if presenting a prize on a game show. "Daisuke, meet Akira, the latest addition to our little boy band. Akira, meet Daisuke, our resident poet and secret weapon."
Daisuke's cheeks flushed at the introduction, but he met my gaze steadily. "Welcome to the team, Akira," he said softly. "I look forward to working with you."
I smiled, warmed by his quiet sincerity. "Thanks, Daisuke. I'm excited to be here."
Kenji clapped his hands, drawing our attention. "Alright, now that the introductions are out of the way, let's get to work. We've got a lot of ground to cover before Hiroki gets here."
Just as we were about to start, the door swung open. Hiroki walked in, a large cup of coffee in his hand and an apologetic smile on his face.
"Sorry I'm late, guys," he said. "The cafe was jam-packed this morning. Apparently, everyone needed their caffeine fix."
Kenji shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "As long as you're here now, that's what matters."
Hiroki took a sip of his coffee, his eyes scanning the room. When his gaze landed on me, he smiled warmly. "Ah, you must be Akira. Welcome to the team."
I returned his smile, feeling a sense of ease wash over me. There was something about Hiroki's presence that was instantly calming, like a steady anchor in a turbulent sea.
"Thanks, Hiroki. It's great to be here."
He nodded, setting his coffee down and clapping his hands. "Alright, guys. Before we start, I just wanted to say..."
But before he could finish, the door opened again. This time, a man in a crisp suit strode in, his face a mask of professionalism.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he said, his voice clipped and efficient. "I'm Takeshi Nakamura, your manager from Strawberry Productions."
He surveyed the room, his gaze sharp and assessing. "I trust you're all ready to get to work?"
Kenji stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Yes, sir. We were just getting acquainted with our new member, Akira."
Takeshi's eyes landed on me, and I felt myself straighten instinctively. "Ah, yes. The new lead. I hope you're prepared for the responsibility that comes with that position."
I met his gaze steadily. "I am, sir. I'm ready to give this my all."
He nodded, a hint of approval in his expression. "Good. Because we have a lot of ground to cover, and not much time to do it."
He walked over to the whiteboard on the wall, uncapping a marker. "As you know, X-Factor is at a critical juncture. Your last lead, Jiro, left to pursue a solo career, leaving the group in a precarious position."
At the mention of Jiro, I saw a flicker of something cross the others' faces. Kenji's jaw tightened, Daisuke's eyes dropped to the floor, and even Hiroki's steady demeanor seemed to waver.
Satoru, however, leaned back, a wry smile on his lips. "Yeah, Jiro really screwed us over, didn't he? Left us high and dry to chase his own glory. Right before our big break too."
Takeshi's marker paused on the board. "Jiro made his choice," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Our job now is to move forward, to show the world that X-Factor is stronger than ever."
He turned back to the board, writing in bold strokes. "That's where you come in, Akira. We're counting on you to lead this group, to be the face and voice of X-Factor's new era."
"I won't let you down, sir."
Takeshi capped the marker, turning to face us fully. "I know you won't. Because if you do, it's not just your career on the line. It's all of theirs, too."
He gestured to the others, his point clear. We were in this together, for better or for worse.
Hiroki cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence. "So, what's our plan? How do we reintroduce X-Factor to the world?"
Takeshi tapped the board, where he'd written a series of dates and events. "We start with a showcase, a private performance for industry insiders and press. We need to generate buzz, get people talking about X-Factor again."
He pointed to another date. "Then, we launch your first single with Akira as lead. It needs to be a hit, something that showcases your new sound and dynamic."
Daisuke raised his hand tentatively. "What about the album? When do we start recording?"
Takeshi nodded. "The album will follow the single. But first, we need to establish your new identity. That means new photoshoots, new interviews, a new narrative."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over us. "It's not going to be easy. The industry is fickle, and the public's attention is fleeting. But if we work hard, if we stay focused and united, we can make X-Factor a force to be reckoned with."
There was a moment of heavy silence as his words sank in. Then, Satoru clapped his hands, a grin spreading across his face.
"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get this show on the road!"
His enthusiasm was infectious, cutting through the tension. Even Kenji cracked a smile, shaking his head at Satoru's antics.
As Takeshi began to detail our schedule, I felt a sense of purpose settle over me. This was my chance, my moment to prove myself.
I glanced around at my new teammates, at the determination in their eyes. We were X-Factor, and we were going to take the world by storm.
Together.