Chapter Text
Haruki Nakayama sat hunched over the small, scarred table in his cramped one-room apartment, the late afternoon light filtering through the thin curtains and casting long shadows across the floor. At twenty-three, he still clung to the dream that had brought him to Tokyo, but lately that dream felt more like a weight pressing down on his chest. His long strawberry-blond hair—his most distinctive feature, the one casting directors always commented on—fell in loose waves over his shoulders as he scrolled through his phone, checking yet another empty inbox. No callbacks. No emails from agents scouting new talent. Nothing.
The apartment was quiet except for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional clatter from the neighboring units. Empty ramen cups were stacked in the sink, and a pile of unpaid bills sat untouched on the counter. Haruki’s gentle face, with its soft features and wide hazel eyes, looked drawn and tired in the reflection of his phone screen. He had done a few stage plays in dingy bars—roles that paid just enough for rent and instant noodles—and a handful of commercials that, frustratingly, never even made it to air. “Background talent,” they called it. Extras with a line or two, if he was lucky.
His phone buzzed suddenly, jolting him out of his thoughts. The caller ID read “Take-san.” Koji Yatake, his manager—everyone just called him Take—was one of the few people who still bothered to check in. Haruki answered quickly, forcing a note of optimism into his voice.
“Hey, Take-san. What’s up?”
Take’s voice came through warm but edged with that familiar caution, like he was always bracing for bad news. “Haruki, you free to talk? I just got off the phone with a producer. Thought we could meet up—grab coffee or something?”
Haruki glanced around his empty apartment. “Yeah, sure. I’m not doing anything.” The words slipped out more bitterly than he intended.
They met at a small café near the station, the kind with mismatched chairs and steaming mugs that smelled of cheap coffee grounds. Take was already there when Haruki arrived, nursing a black coffee and scrolling through his tablet. He was in his mid-thirties, sharply dressed as always, with a no-nonsense haircut and a perpetual look of someone juggling too many clients.
Haruki slid into the seat across from him, ordering a simple green tea when the waiter came by. For a moment, they sat in silence, the clink of cups and murmur of other patrons filling the space.
Take finally set his tablet down and leaned forward. “How’ve you been holding up, kid?”
Haruki stared into his tea, watching the steam curl upward. “Not great,” he admitted quietly. “I keep checking my email, thinking maybe today it’ll be different. But it’s the same every time. Nothing. I thought after that last stage play—the one in Shibuya—I’d get some momentum. But… no calls. No auditions. I feel like I’m just… stuck.”
His voice cracked a little on the last word, and he hated how vulnerable it sounded. He wasn’t one to complain usually; he prided himself on being resilient, on smiling through the rejections. But the weight of it all—the endless waiting, the dwindling savings—was starting to crack that facade.
Take sighed, reaching across the table to give Haruki’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, listen to me. You’re talented, Haruki. That face of yours? It’s memorable. And your acting on stage—I’ve seen it. You light up when you’re in character. This industry’s brutal, yeah. It chews up a lot of good people. But you’re not out yet. We’ve got options. I’m always hustling for you.”
Haruki managed a weak smile, though his eyes were glassy. “Options? Like more bar plays? Or another commercial that gets shelved?”
Take shook his head. “Better than that. I’ve been pitching you everywhere—dramas, indie films, even some voice work. But… things are slow right now. The market’s flooded with new faces.”
They talked for a while about the possibilities—or lack thereof. Take listed out recent auditions Haruki had missed or been rejected from, explaining the competition, the nepotism, the sheer luck involved. Haruki nodded along, but inside, despair gnawed at him. He needed work. Any work. Rent was due soon, and his part-time job at a convenience store barely covered groceries.
Finally, Take hesitated, his fingers drumming on the table. He took a slow sip of coffee, as if buying time. “There’s something else. A gig that came across my desk yesterday. It’s not what you came to Tokyo for, but it’s steady pay. Good exposure, too.”
Haruki perked up slightly, leaning in. “What is it? A supporting role? Web drama?”
Take met his eyes steadily. “Are you open to boys’ love content? Like a BL video series?”
Haruki blinked, processing. Boys’ love wasn’t uncommon in the industry—plenty of actors dipped into it for the dedicated fanbase. It could be a stepping stone. “Yeah, I mean… I’m willing to take anything at this point. If it’s acting, I’m in.”
Take paused again, longer this time, his expression turning more serious. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s a boys’ love project, yeah. But… it’s adult. Full AV.”
The words hung in the air like a sudden chill. Haruki froze, his tea cup halfway to his lips. Adult video. Porn. Explicit. His mind reeled. He’d never considered it—not seriously. Sure, he’d heard stories from other struggling actors, whispers about how some crossed that line when things got desperate. But him? With his gentle image, his dreams of serious dramas?
Take hurried on, sensing the shock. “I know it’s a lot. The director contacted me directly. They saw your headshots and some clips from your stage work. Said you don’t even need to audition—they love your face. The look you’re going for fits the character perfectly.”
Haruki set his cup down slowly, his cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and resignation. “My face, huh?” he muttered, the words tasting bitter. It always came back to that—his soft, pretty features that got him typecast as the innocent type, but never the lead in anything substantial.
Take nodded enthusiastically, trying to spin it positive. “Exactly! And this isn’t some low-budget trash. It’s a proper series with a real story, good production values. You’ll be working with some amazing actors—professionals who cross over between mainstream and this side of the industry.”
Haruki arched an eyebrow, still processing. “AV idols, you mean.”
Take leaned back, a small smile breaking through. “One in particular. Akihiko Kaji.”
Haruki’s eyes widened instantly, his breath catching. Akihiko Kaji? The Akihiko Kaji? Half Japanese, half British, with that striking mix of sharp Western features and Eastern elegance. He’d burst onto the scene at eighteen, landing roles in everything from edgy dramas to blockbuster movies and even stage plays. Now, five years in, he was practically royalty—one of the most handsome men in Japan, according to every magazine poll. Known for his bad-boy charisma, especially in those drummer roles that had fans swooning. He modeled for high-end brands, too, his tall frame and intense gaze gracing billboards across Tokyo.
“He… he’s in this?” Haruki stammered, disbelief coloring his voice. “Akihiko Kaji does adult videos?”
Take chuckled lightly, as if it were common knowledge. “Yeah, he does. Both with men and women. His agency’s pretty progressive about it—lets him choose projects that interest him. And get this: his fans don’t care. If anything, it adds to his appeal. It’s Akihiko Kaji. The guy’s untouchable.”
Haruki sat back, his mind spinning. Pairing with someone like that… it was intimidating. Thrilling, even. But the reality of what it entailed—intimate scenes, on camera, explicit—made his stomach twist.
The next day, in his apartment, a package arrived from Take: the script for the series. Haruki spread the pages out on his bed, the title page staring up at him: Unscripted Rhythm.
He flipped through it carefully, his heart pounding. To his surprise, it wasn’t just mindless scenes strung together. There was a genuine plot—a story about two musicians navigating fame, rivalry, and unexpected attraction, with emotional depth and character arcs. Much of the dialogue was marked for improvisation, encouraging natural chemistry between the actors. It felt almost like a real drama… just with the added layer of raw, unsimulated intimacy.
Haruki bit his lip, a nervous habit, as he read deeper into the night. Tomorrow, he’d meet the director, producers, writers, and the rest of the cast for the first table read and discussion. Akihiko would be there. The thought sent a shiver through him—equal parts anxiety and curiosity.
He closed the script, staring at the ceiling. This wasn’t the path he’d imagined. But maybe, just maybe, it was the break he needed. Taking a deep breath, Haruki steeled himself. Tomorrow, everything would change.
The next morning dawned gray and drizzly, the kind of Tokyo weather that made everything feel a little heavier. Haruki stood in front of his cracked mirror, adjusting the collar of his nicest button-up shirt—the one he’d bought for auditions that never panned out. He tied his long strawberry-blond hair back into a loose ponytail, hoping it looked professional rather than disheveled. His stomach churned with a mix of nerves and reluctant excitement. This was it—his first real step into something substantial, even if it wasn’t the path he’d envisioned.
The meeting was scheduled at a sleek production office in Akihabara, tucked into a mid-rise building that housed several indie film and AV companies. Haruki had looked it up the night before: the studio specialized in high-quality BL content, blending storytelling with adult elements to appeal to a growing international audience. He’d arrived early, clutching a folder with his script pages and a bottle of water to combat his dry mouth. The lobby was modern but understated—white walls, a few framed posters of past projects (tastefully censored), and a receptionist who greeted him with a polite smile.
“Haruki Nakayama? For the Unscripted Rhythm table read?” she asked, checking her tablet.
He nodded, bowing slightly. “Yes, that’s me.”
She led him down a hallway to a spacious conference room with a long glass table, comfortable chairs, and a whiteboard covered in scribbled notes. A few staff members were already there—assistants setting out coffee and pastries, a writer flipping through notes, and the producer chatting quietly in the corner. The air smelled of fresh brew and printer ink. Haruki had never been in a meeting like this before. His previous “gigs” involved cramped back rooms in bars or quick emails—no formal table reads, no real production team. It felt strangely legitimate, which only heightened his anxiety.
One of the assistants, a young woman with a bright ponytail and a clipboard, noticed him hovering in the doorway and waved him in. “You must be Haruki-san! Come on in. I’m Kasai, one of the production assistants. We’ll start once everyone arrives, but let me introduce you to the director first.”
She guided him toward a man standing by the window, scrolling through his phone. Hiiragi Kashima looked younger than Haruki expected—maybe early thirties—with dyed blond hair that was starting to show dark brown roots at the part. His baby face was softened by round cheeks and bright eyes, but a distinctive fang-like canine tooth peeked out when he smiled, giving him an oddly charming, almost mischievous edge.
“Director Hiiragi,” Kasai said cheerfully, “this is Haruki Nakayama, our lead.”
Hiiragi looked up, pocketing his phone and extending a hand with a wide grin that flashed that signature fang. “Haruki! Great to finally meet you in person. Your headshots don’t do you justice—that hair and those eyes? Perfect for the role.”
Haruki bowed deeply, his cheeks warming as he shook the offered hand. “Thank you so much for having me on your project, Director. I’m really honored to be here.”
Hiiragi laughed lightly, clapping him on the shoulder. “Honored? Kid, thank you for accepting the offer on such short notice. We were scrambling after our original lead dropped out—scheduling conflicts or something. But when I saw your clips and photos? Instant yes. You’ve got that fresh, vulnerable look we need—the kind that draws viewers in and makes them root for your character. And don’t worry if this is new territory; we’ve got a great team to support you. This series is going to be something special—real emotion, real chemistry, not just the usual formula.”
Haruki forced a bright smile, channeling enthusiasm despite the knot in his gut. He was desperate, after all—this could pay bills, build a resume, maybe even open doors. “I’m excited to dive in,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt. “The script I read last night… it has so much heart. I’m ready to give it everything.”
Hiiragi nodded approvingly, his fang glinting again. “That’s the spirit. Grab a seat and some coffee. We’ll get started soon.”
Haruki settled at the table, sipping his water and trying to calm his racing heart. More staff trickled in—writers, lighting techs, even a intimacy coordinator, which surprised him with its professionalism. Then, the door swung open with a confident push, and in walked a tall figure that made the room feel smaller.
Akihiko Kaji.
He was even more striking in person: tall and lean, with tousled blond hair catching the fluorescent lights, multiple piercings glinting in his ears, and that effortless bad-boy aura that translated perfectly from screen to reality. Dressed in a fitted black shirt and jeans, he moved with easy confidence, nodding greetings to the staff as he entered.
Haruki’s breath caught. He was starstruck—completely frozen, staring like an idiot. Akihiko’s sharp eyes scanned the room briefly, landing on Haruki for a split second. A faint, unreadable glance—curious? Assessing?—before he looked away and took a seat across the table.
Moments later, another actor entered: shorter, with neatly styled dark hair and a classy tailored suit that screamed “established professional.” Ugetsu Murata. Haruki recognized him immediately—one of the kings of the BL industry, with ten solid years under his belt. Always cast as the quintessential uke: delicate features, intense expressions, and a knack for emotional scenes that had fans obsessed. But… he wasn’t an AV idol. His projects were strictly simulated intimacy—high-demand series on streaming platforms, never crossing into explicit territory. Why was he here, in an adult video production? Haruki’s confusion must have shown on his face as he watched Ugetsu slide into a chair with practiced grace.
Soon, the room filled up, and Hiiragi clapped his hands to start. “Alright, everyone! Let’s do quick introductions before we dive into the script. Name, role if you’re cast, and maybe one fun fact to break the ice.”
One by one, they went around the table: Kasai the assistant shared her love of cat videos; a writer admitted to being a secret karaoke champion; the producer joked about surviving on energy drinks. When it reached Haruki, he stood slightly, bowing again.
“Hi! My name is Haruki Nakayama,” he said, trying to sound confident and warm. “This will be my first time working on this type of project, so please be patient with me. I hope we all get along well!” He bowed deeper, sitting quickly as murmurs of welcome rippled around.
As he settled back, he caught Akihiko glancing at him again—those intense eyes lingering a beat longer this time, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Haruki’s face heated up; he turned away shyly, fiddling with his script pages to hide it.
Ugetsu’s turn came next. He leaned back in his chair, looking utterly bored, like he’d sat through a million of these meetings. “Ugetsu Murata,” he said flatly, without standing. “Playing the rival interest. Fun fact: I hate icebreakers.” A few chuckles broke the tension, but his expression remained detached, world-weary.
Akihiko went last among the leads, his voice deep and smooth. “Akihiko Kaji. Male lead. And fun fact—I play drums for real, so any music scenes? I’ll make them authentic.” He flashed a charismatic grin, earning appreciative nods.
With introductions done, Hiiragi stood at the head of the table, remote in hand as he pulled up slides on a projector. “Okay, let’s talk story. Unscripted Rhythm is about the raw side of the music industry—ambition, heartbreak, and connections that hit deeper than expected. One thing that sets this project apart: the three leads will be using your real first names. Haruki plays Haruki, Akihiko plays Akihiko, and Ugetsu plays Ugetsu—essentially heightened versions of yourselves. It’s a deliberate meta choice that makes improvisation easier, lets your natural personalities come through, and gives the audience that exciting feeling of watching something almost real.
Haruki is our protagonist and emotional center: a talented but inexperienced bassist trying to break into the scene. His main romance arc is with Akihiko—the charismatic drummer with a guarded past. Their relationship builds from tension to full passion. Then there’s the love triangle with Ugetsu—the polished violinist rival who pulls Haruki in a completely different direction. To highlight the contrast in styles, the Haruki-Akihiko scenes will be full unsimulated intimacy—real and raw. The Ugetsu side stays simulated only, lots of teasing tension without crossing lines, which fits perfectly with Ugetsu’s usual boundaries.”
The room nodded knowingly, but Haruki felt shock ripple through him. Unsimulated. Explicit. With Akihiko Kaji. On camera. He glanced across the table, catching another fleeting look from Akihiko—this one almost… intrigued?
Hiiragi wrapped up with a grin. “We’re aiming for something groundbreaking—emotion first, heat second. Questions?”
Haruki swallowed hard, his mind racing. This was real now. No turning back.