Yoko Hikasa, twenty-five, a vibrant star.
Today, she arrived early at the studio. Her hair carried the faint scent of fresh shampoo, her outfit a rare, sleek black ensemble, far from her usual lively style.
She entered, greeted the crew, took her seat, and opened her script, quietly preparing. Every move exuded the poise and professionalism of a top-tier voice actress.
But beneath the calm surface, Yoko's heart raced.
The day had finally come!
Her hand trembled slightly on the script, ambition burning within.
It was time to lead the fresh-faced rookies forward!
Life came in stages—graduation, work, marriage, kids, midlife doubts, retirement, even picking a gravestone. Each felt like a reboot.
Once, she was just an ordinary girl from Kanagawa, studying diligently, her boldest choice diving into a training agency.
Fate smiled, granting her a dazzling role early on.
With grit and every ounce of skill, she gave her all. In a blink, she was performing on grand stages; in another, colleagues were entrusting her with guiding new talent.
Unknowingly, the goofy girl who watched comedy shows after school had grown into someone others could rely on.
She had to embody a senpai's responsibility, lead by example!
So, diligent Yoko stayed up late reviewing the rookies' work.
Her verdict: solid acting, still raw but promising.
One had even done radio dramas—a niche path, as some pros specialized in radio or dubbing rather than anime.
She dug up their radio work, listening through earbuds while ironing.
Radio tested improv and adaptability more than voice acting. Keeping listeners hooked in the video era was tough; balancing entertainment and depth was tougher.
Young, green rookies must be like nervous fledglings, pushed onto the stage by ruthless producers, as cruel as eagles tossing chicks from the nest.
But fear not—here came the admired, dependable senpai, swooping in to guide them soaring!
[Give me back the ring. It was expensive.]
"Hahahaha..."
Her bachelor apartment echoed with hearty laughter, only to stop short as she scorched a hole in her favorite shirt. Kneeling on the floor, staring at the charred gap, Yoko fell silent.
A newbie guest, an underage host, yet the show flowed perfectly. Goofy banter had charm, and youthful musings carried a hint of poignant depth.
No wonder she'd heard the dark fantasy radio show was a hit.
Damn, were newbies this strong now? Her comedy show expertise was useless.
No, they had flaws. No matter how slick their talk, her studio experience—etiquette, networking, industry know-how—was her edge. Time-honed skills they lacked.
A true senpai didn't just teach work but shaped character, like a mentor beyond the classroom!
Yoko seemed focused but kept an eye on the door.
"Pardon us."
The door swung open, revealing two crisp, cheerful young men.
Here they were!
The star actress widened her eyes, memorizing their entrance.
"First time meeting, I'm Takizawa Satoru from I'm Enterprise."
"I'm Matsuoka Yoshitsugu from I'm Enterprise. Thanks for your guidance today."
"Saw a great bakery on the way, couldn't resist grabbing some treats. Care to try?"
The duo started quiet small talk, handing out pricey pastries like offerings to a shrine. Simple greetings, yet disarming.
One was strikingly handsome, his smile blooming like a field of flowers, pastries glowing with an idol's charm. The other radiated intensity, firing off polite phrases, bowing a precise ninety degrees. In minutes, the quiet set buzzed with their energy.
Yoko took it all in, mentally giving them high marks.
"You're Yoko Hikasa-san, right?" Takizawa spotted her, eyes bright, pulling Matsuoka forward. "Your outfit's so stylish, and that hairstyle's on point! Please accept this dessert!"
Such warm, disarming smiles, breaching all defenses, paired with the Louis Vuitton of pastries—macarons—chosen for mass appeal to minimize missteps.
Yoko maintained her expert aura, thanking them gracefully and accepting the gift.
Takizawa, seeing her unruffled demeanor, inwardly praised her veteran poise.
"Please guide us strictly—we won't let you down!" Matsuoka bowed with fervor.
Such fiery spirit, like a sumo wrestler's pre-match salute, ready for a clash…
Flawless.
Yoko felt uneasy… they left no opening for her to shine.
These two were tough!
"Kashiwai filled me in. Any questions, ask me, and don't be too nervous on set," Yoko said. "Also, try to impress the sound director, not just peers."
"Well said, but no worries—we've already paid our respects," The pretty boy said with a mock salute.
Minutes earlier, smoking area.
"Hey, Nagasaki-san, been a while."
"Yo, Takizawa? Put on some weight, huh?"
"Living well, eating better. Look, brought you something from the city's top shop."
"Too sweet for my age."
"This is for the kids. For you, a bottle of premium sake—pair it with fresh salmon at home, washes away work stress clean."
"Haha, so thoughtful. You need a favor, or is Kashiwai scheming again?"
"Just missed you, plus I'm still eyeing that signed Tezuka sketch at your place."
"Come by anytime."
"Sweet, thanks for the invite."
"How's work lately?"
"Your past tips helped—everything's smooth."
"Good. Any issues, talk to me. I see big potential in you."
…
After handing out gifts, Takizawa and Matsuoka didn't give Yoko a chance to explain set hierarchy or rules, instead huddling in a corner to regroup.
Takizawa feigned rest, mentally binging a sitcom.
Matsuoka, inspired by his friend's late-night grind, nodded off briefly before diving back into his script.
The two sat quietly in the corner, radiating hustle.
Yoko opened her mouth, staring at the ceiling with a complex gaze.
Lively yet not overbearing, passionate yet instantly professional.
She couldn't get a word in.
Damn it.
Fine—time to show her senpai prowess and composure in the performance!
***
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