Chapter Text
Anzu hoisted the fabrics as high as she could. Now was not the time to succumb to her aches- especially not when the anniversary project was just about to amp up. Her arms could sting as much as they would like, but after spending so long in the cutthroat P-Association, swallowing the pain was like breathing.
“Producer-dono, Salute~!!!... Wait, where are you-?”
Exhausted as she was, Ibara’s greeting escaped Anzu’s notice. It wasn’t until she had thrown her scraps of silk and fur across her desk, collapsed on her seat, and wiped the sweat off her brow that she could finally bring herself to address another human being.
Upon noticing Ibara, she instinctively straightened her back. Ibara bowed, professionally succinct in his timing, and addressed her again. “Producer-dono, His Eminence has an important update for us regarding the anniversary!”
Ibara slipped into the seat before her, hands folded over the table as he continued, “I have recommendations of my own to mention as well.
“You see, now that Crazy:B has been announced as one of the hosts, we will need to make alterations to the song schedule to accommodate for the host segments in between. Then, they will also need another set of costumes to fit the role. I would not be surprised to hear His Eminence make the same request for the second host unit of choice, assuming that they will be from StarPro! Not to mention…”
As Ibara laid his plans out, Anzu searched for spare accessories under her desk. There were all sorts of trends- bells, harnesses, belts, sheers, feathers and the like- that passed through the years. She was still juggling with her vision for the final outfit, but as Ibara explained, the hosts would be cooperating with her for the design as part of their appeal to the fans.
“Ah! Harnesses are still in fashion, so you may want to use this box,” Ibara advised. He rose from his seat and stepped around to Anzu’s side.
Once upon a time, she would have seen this as an attempt to condescend, intimidate, or meddle, but time gradually proved that unlike the other producers that Anzu worked with, Eden’s leader wanted to bring the best out of others- the same sentiment that propelled Anzu to continue with her work against all odds.
Together, they both laid out Anzu’s supplies and brainstormed over potential designs. Cool and stylish, or cute and friendly? Mature and sleek, or casual and retro? Ideas poured through the two of them, who wanted nothing less than perfection for this event.
After all, ES was born from the blood, sweat, and tears of not just the idols and the production staff, but also the fans who did all that they could to support the ones who inspired them. To ignore that devotion and commitment would turn the whole project useless.
In the midst of their planning, Ibara suddenly jumped, the vibration of his phone alarming him. At the same time, three quick raps rang on Anzu’s door.
“Come in,” Ibara answered after Anzu nodded to him. He juggled with his phone, eyeing the door from his peripherals while Anzu cleared her desk.
The door creaked open, and Eichi stood at the other end, his eyes void of the endless light that he tended to exude. He entered with little fanfare, bowing slightly before slowly, quietly, closing the door behind him without so much as a click.
“Are there any devices in this office?”
“Besides the mandatory security that you installed,” Ibara responded, his text ignored in favour of the man before him, “there should be nothing. Though I do have the means to investigate if you have doubts, Your Eminence.”
“No, that won’t be necessary. After all, in matters like these, few can measure up to you, Saegusa-kun.” Eichi smiled emptily, though the expression vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“Hahaha~! It appears that compliments can be quite effective even in deceitful matters!” Ibara pulled his lips into a practiced grin with just the right amount of teeth, but something in what he witnessed led him to drop to pretense.
Anzu, too, could not help herself from the gust of fear that travelled down her spine, from which goosebumps erupted along her skin. The three of them rarely spoke of personal matters, yet as they stared at Eichi, even Ibara could not help asking, “Is something the matter, Your Eminence?”
Eichi opened his mouth, closed it, before looking out the window at the clear blue sky- the same hue that his eyes would usually show. Unlike Anzu and Ibara, who were dressed in the business-casual standard of the office, Eichi was suited up in black, as though he had just returned from a funeral. His solemn behaviour also gave off a sense of mourning, as did his unusual lack of focus on his surroundings. It was not until a flock of pigeons blew past his sight that he finally seemed to regain his senses and muttered:
“Have either of you been in contact with the P-Association recently?”
“No, not since the project began,” Ibara responded honestly.
Anzu brought out her notepad. The tense atmosphere drained the energy from her vocal cords, and she would rather rely on a form of communication that was less likely to cause confusion.
To answer, she scribbled, “I update them from time to time on the project’s status, but otherwise no.”
There must have been something off, because Eichi’s eyes sharpened when he glared at Ibara.
“The president of COSPRO, did he not mention anything to you recently regarding Crazy:B?”
“Not at all, Your Eminence! Crazy:B’s reports come to me alone, and even in the rarest event that they do not, the president would not involve himself.” Ibara paused, a slow trepidation brewing within him before adding, “The president has also sworn not to involve himself in the anniversary unless explicitly requested to by myself.”
“I see.”
With those two words, everyone had been set on edge. Anzu numbly returned her tools to their place, an assumption slowly formulating in her head.
Given the P-Association’s newly emerging attitudes, she could risk a guess about their current target.
But what could she have done wrong?
She treated each unit with equal attention. She kept a professional distance, instructing everyone to call her by her role, not her name, even when she could see the ache it left in those who she spent her time with in Yumenosaki. She attended to each and every demand, no matter the hour, when she could have been studying for her exams, or preparing for her graduation, or doing anything , really.
She cast everything aside.
She changed her clothes because of complaints coming from those dismayed at a high schooler’s presence in the P-Association.
She built up and lost her reputation several times a week due to the poor planning of others.
She did everything.
She ran everything.
What now?
Eichi sighed, sinking into the chair before him. “I would suggest that you take a seat, too, Saegusa-kun,” he said, gesturing to the folded chair in the corner.
Without question, Ibara laid the chair out and prepared himself for Eichi’s declaration.
“ALKALOID and Crazy:B can no longer participate in the anniversary.”
No…
To think that the bullet would hit someone else instead.
Anzu and Ibara stared at Eichi breathlessly, but he was not done.
“Instead, they will film another program independent of the anniversary, and if they fail to attain a certain amount of revenue, both units will be disbanded soon after.”
But, for this decision to take place…
“This was unanimously decided by the Board of Directors and the P-Association. The only ones who refused or failed to respond within the given amount of time were myself, Keito, and Tsukasa-kun.”
Growing paler by the second, Anzu hastily sketched out her perspective.
“P-Association doesn’t have that authority + ALKALOID and Crazy:B are in the top 5 units for their agencies this year. We’ll have to change the whole anniversary. And what about the other program?”
With the tone of a robot, Eichi shared, “The P-Association will transfer Anzu to the new project in the interests of ES.”
… There it was.
But no matter how badly her heart was struck, she was still a producer above all else. So long as there was an idol seeking to shine, she would scrub off every blemish in sight that would prevent them from the stage that they deserved.
“And what would happen to my other proposal?”
“It has been cancelled.”
Anzu held her pen over the paper, but her mind ran dry. Beside her, Ibara fiddled with his glasses, slowly pushing them back into place.
“... Did they explain why? I assume that ALKALOID was chosen to host the event much like Crazy:B was, in which case calling this a ‘poor business decision’ could not be any less of an understatement.”
“They did.
“According to the Board of Directors, our current model is not efficient for producing idols. While ALKALOID and Crazy:B were deemed successes, the same could not be said of those following after them. It seems that the public has grown tired of having one dissappointing face after another thrust at them.
“So, as a solution, it was decided to remove the ‘tumour’ that is ALKALOID and Crazy:B to discourage other units from adopting their practices.” Eichi tucked a hand beneath his chin. “According to their investigation, ALKALOID and Crazy:B are the most threatening groups at the moment. That being said, the Board refuses to cooperate in explaining what that investigation entailed, and what they used as the basis of suspicion.”
Ibara moved his tongue to hiss, only to bite it back into a poker face. “Seeing this unscrupulous behaviour from the Board of Directors, wouldn’t you have the authority to remove or suspend them?”
Giggling, Eichi loosened up with relief knowing that others were asking the same questions. “I could; however, ES’ reputation would leave alongside them. It would be nothing less than the truth to call such a response an act of tyranny, and it is likewise true that a tyrant is free to act as he pleases until he is labelled a tyrant. If I acted with such obvious motives, they could paint the story in their own favour. The world has always been fond of underdogs, so it would be foolish for me to expect either reasoning or pity.”
“It is true that the world loves its underdogs,” Ibara noted, “which is precisely why the board accepted the MDM and the SS in the past. That is the narrative that partly led to ALKALOID and Crazy:B’s selection as hosts. This sudden change of heart must lie in something else. Would they happen to be tipped off?”
“If only they were.”
Ibara and Eichi leaned back in their seats, staring down at their polished shoes. As they worried over the business practices of former allies, Anzu was still hung up on one detail.
“Do you know why the P-Association commented?”
“It is an excellent question, is it not? I believe the answer lies in what the Board of Directors has discussed behind my back, as was explained to me by a startled Sengoku-kun who stumbled upon their clandestine meeting last week.”
With a teasing smile, Eichi stated, “The P-Association has been deemed too lax, as can be said about the idols under their care.” He gestured at the space between himself and Ibara. “In the eyes of the Board, the most troublesome members of the management are a ‘spoilt rich heir’, a ‘shady orphan of new wealth’, a ‘Buddhist abbot’s spare son’, and a ‘military family’s inexperienced child’, who also happen to be among the young idols that they wish to reform. To them, such characters can only act according to their own biases, so the best solution would be to treat them as the idols that they should be.”
Not that they assumed incorrectly, Anzu kept to herself. Had they been wrong, this conversation could not occur.
Ibara folded his arms, and with mirthless cheer announced, “How genius of them, to surpass their leaders in tyranny to assume control~!”
“Indeed,” Eichi agreed seriously.
He laid his hands in his lap and leaned back in his chair, basking in sunlight that no one else could see. Having had his fill, Eichi stared at them with an unusual sense of serenity, and offered his divine judgement. “There are two sayings to keep in mind: the first is that those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it, and the second- as I have said before- is that a tyrant is free to act as he pleases until he is recognized as a tyrant.”
Eichi was not basking in the sunlight, he was the sunlight, and now, the light within him could be brought out.
“Know this- a tyrant does not gain control in the eyes of those around him until he can sit on the throne.”
Ah. Anzu’s finger twitched.
(The only throne of note to her was the former Student Council President’s seat.)
“I see, Your Eminence! If they wish to be tyrants, then they will be considered failures until they succeed in crushing their competition, which should be us in this scenario.”
“I would say that it is part of the situation. However, in the interests of time, allow me to state the conclusion- we must allow the Board of Directors and the P-Association to assume a position of leadership. Once they have erred, we can assume the role of the underdog and restore the order. We will be able to point our own fingers back at them and condemn them as they once condemned us.”
The pen in Anzu’s hand hit the page with purpose. The history from which the Board could learn from could not be found on any page- but the memory was alive in the hearts of its characters, who found themselves drowning in the tale’s ink in moments of weakness.
“The Board is wrong about the idols- they are far from lax.”
Eichi faltered, though the answer trapped in his mind was found in Ibara’s mouth.
“With all due respect, only the idols that you contact have produced noticeable results, Producer-dono.” His neck must have snapped with how hastily he turned to face Eichi. “Since the Board of Directors is aware of Producer-dono’s work, relegating her to be an assistant producer would curb ALKALOID and Crazy:B’s chances of success.”
Eichi spared a moment to lose himself in thought, before rising with a blissful smile.
“In which case, we must give our Producer time to think, Saegusa-kun. The show is set to begin the day after tomorrow, and the P-Association is sure to make contact soon.”
With that said, StarPro’s representative left the room. Ibara followed behind cautiously, saluting Anzu with a waning sense of vigour. His farewell was met with equal energy- energy that vanished once the two businessmen were out of sight.
It was not until they were a few paces ahead that Ibara prodded his business rival.
“Are you content with leaving all the work to Yumenosaki’s ‘Goddess of Victory’?”
“Oh?” Eichi smirked. “Is that how my suggestion came across?”
Ibara paused, waiting for Eichi to explain himself.
“I was simply learning from history- which is to say, that since it has been proven that people work seriously under stress, I intend to make the most out of the human psychological condition.”
Cutting in with a hum, Ibara revealed Eichi’s plan: “And so, you will neglect to mention the circumstances of ALKALOID and Crazy:B’s dismissal and over-exaggerate the situation so that they feel the need to ‘pull out all the stops’, as you have with Producer-dono. It seems that I can still learn much from your strategies, Your Eminence!”
“I would not say that this warrants such excitement, but at the same time, it is quite the problem to have offered to us.”
Eichi paused before the flower vase at the end of hall- an old bundle of roses was wilting, its vivid scarlet colour drained, leaving behind a murky burgundy. He plucked the dead plants from their de-thorned stems and tossed them aimlessly into the nearby trash can. With that business complete, he straightened out the lapels of his black suit as he donned the uniform of an executioner.
Then, turning to Ibara, he said, “Eden and fine will be the hosts, which will give us an advantage when dealing with the P-Association and the Board, but understand that it is an advantage that we do not need. Perhaps I may be preaching to the choir given your efforts with Nagisa-kun, but there is no harm in the occasional reminder.
“Gods require believers, as their power can only be described as power by those who see it as such. Even the most feeble of creatures can be worshipped if it is a remnant of Heaven, and even the most influential of geniuses can be scorned if it is given form through Hellfire. Since a God must be determined by its work, you can understand what sort of evidence is needed to support the existence of a ‘Goddess of Victory’, and what foul measures must be taken to push her off from her pedestal.
“Likewise, you can understand why some would benefit from never having a pedestal at all, since there would be nowhere for them to fall from.”
“Of course, Your Eminence,” Ibara responded. Eichi had expertly deduced that Ibara was well-versed in this topic- perhaps even more than Eichi initially assumed- but it was better to have his competence doubted. “Then allow this moment to prove if Producer-dono deserves her perch, and if ALKALOID and Crazy:B are fit to ascend.”
Eichi nodded, before finally relaying, “We still have some time before the next section of the anniversary project. Let’s use this time to perfect this scheme.”
Ibara agreed readily, and escaped with a solid salute.
Alone, Eichi trudged along to his office. The era of clashing gods was long closed, and yet it still seeped into the corners of the industry. Though, who could be shocked? Idols were a form of salvation, just as religion was- that, Eichi could testify to through his personal experience.
Yes, emancipation and salvation were the prime pursuits of this damned life, which meant that just as corrupted churches were purged and corrupt governments were locked behind bars, it would fall on them to correct the path of those changed by selfishness.
And, more than that, to use those lessons of the past to prevent another War.