“Kenichi Takamura, but you, my dear, can call me Kenichi.”

  He was an older man, in his late forties or early fifties, his body had kept up well, however. Well-toned, perhaps not winning any marathons, but not losing any either. He had a head full of long black hair, only slightly greyed, tied up in a neat bun at the back like an old samurai. His clothes were blackish-grey, and the design was a mix between a traditional Fundoshi and a modern suit. It was tricky to describe, but what was obvious was the luxury of the outfit, and that directly translated into expensive.

  This was Seina’s final client for the night, and the man behind the dress she currently wore, the one that matched perfectly with his outfit.

  In other words, this is the real VIP of the day, the rest were just fillers in the schedule leading up to him.

  “Oh, but Takamura has such a nice ring to it?” Seina jested in a roundabout way of leading him on.

  Even with just this minor action, she was beautiful. Her every movement was refined, the way her lips curved into a smile was enough to bring empires to their knees, and how her dress fluttered as she shifted made her appear like a butterfly taking flight for the first time.

  Pure, perfect, clean, everything I am not.

  “Oh, does it indeed?” He laughed, not in a flirty way, but more in how a grandparent jokes with a child, “But I am quite fond of my name, so please, I insist, Kenichi.”

  Seina relented just as she’d always planned to do, with a teasing smile, and glint of mischief in her blue eyes. “Insist? Well, I can’t very well deny you now, can I, Kenichi.” She let his name sit on her tongue, almost as if she were tasting it.

  Takamura stared through Seina for a few seconds, a look of thought etched onto his face as though visualising an intense debate. And as if it never appeared in the first place, it vanished and was replaced with a kind smile that felt alien in this club, “My thanks, Seina.” He said her name with a practised familiarity that was at odds with this first meeting, “The papers call me Takamura, but face-to-face people use my name. I like it this way. So we maintain this tradition that is against tradition.”

  Japanese tradition dictates that only close friends, family or lovers refer to each other by name and that all others use the person’s family name. It’s a tradition that’s a little outdated today, but it’s still common practice to refer to strangers by family name until they say otherwise. It is a little strange of Takamura, not because he wants to be called by his first name, but because he seems to enjoy hitting back at a tradition that’s already on its way out of use. However, considering it would have been more strictly followed when he was younger, I suppose it is only a tad bit strange.

  Mainly since he seems so… traditional?

  But women have always been given a little more leeway in this regard, so perhaps this is his way of feigning closeness with Seina?

  She smiled and raised her drink in a toast, “To traditions against tradition!”

  Takamura leaned back in a laugh and mockingly hit the table while reaching for his drink. “Wonderful,” he complimented, “to traditions against tradition.”

  His expression morphed to a jokey kind of shock once he brought his drink up to his lips and realised it was near empty. “Ah, I’ve run dry.” He placed his hand on Seina’s shoulder before she could get up and order another drink. “Please, I can refill it myself. You stay here, " he chided.

  He took one step before catching his foot on the table leg and tumbling onto the floor. The glass in his hand exploded into a hundred little shards that scattered across the ground.

  “Takamura, are you ok?” Seina hurriedly asked while crouching down next to him to help him up.

  He shooed her concern away and awkwardly pulled himself up alone while trying to avoid impaling himself on any glass. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me girl, it’s just the drink making me unsteady.”

  Takamura sat back down again as Mikako quickly raced in to clean up the floor and replace the broken glass with a fresh drink.

  “No thank you.” Takamura said to Mikako upon seeing the fresh drink, “Any more and falling over will be the least of my problems.” He joked at his expense.

  He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and addressed Seina with his head forward and eyes shut, “That… that didn’t used to happen.”

  “Huh?” Was all she managed to reply before he continued in a sombre tone, “Becoming old. It… changes some things.” He grinned, a sudden turn from his previous tone, “Drink is one of them.” he chuckled.

  Seina didn’t say anything, she couldn’t. Because I couldn’t- didn’t know what to say.

  “You’re young, I’m sure this isn’t of interest to you.” He said, and for the briefest of moments, I thought he’d change topics to something- anything else. “But- never make a decision you’ll regret, even if it seems like it’ll be worth it in the end.”

  He turned to Seina, his brown eyes peering into her blue ones, “It won’t be.”

  “Kenichi?” Seina began.

  “Ah, pay me no mind. Just the ramblings of an old man. The drink must still be clouding my mind.” He brushed her concern off before she could even display it, all with a smile on his lips, but it wasn’t happiness framing his face, but something else.

  He checked his watch, taking note of the time, he returned his eyes to the surrounding buzz of the VIP area, watching the showhorses cart drinks to and from the other tables and the men stationed at opposite tables downing drinks with no time wasted but the long seconds spent ogling the solos next to them.

  They continued chatting for a bit, the pair of them trading words with no meaning. Small talk made to fill the atmosphere; Seina would offer a topic of conversation, giggling as she did, and then listening enraptured to whatever his reply was, even if her reaction was hand-crafted rather than felt.

  There was a faint hum of music in the air, and you could just about make out the shuffling of bodies coming from the dance floor down below in the common area. The day had ended, and now the night had arrived in full force, even more lively than the former.

  Takamura’s nose twitched unpleasantly against the smells of cheap alcohol drifting up from the bar below where Nao was working right now. And for just a moment, he appeared ephemeral, as if his actions tonight were simply the performance of a man who’d be more at home behind an old oak desk reading a lovingly discarded amateurish script illuminated by a light bulb more aged than him.

  “Seina, do you have a dream?” He suddenly asked, breaking the silence between us, his voice laced with the barest hint of disinterest.

  She smiled, graceful and beautiful, the start-up of a machine of lies, its engine hot and ready, “Well, when I was younger I dreamt of being an idol. The big stage, music washing over me, and thousands of people chanting my name.”

  All a part of the act, perfect Seina with a dream that perfectly suits her.

  “You’d be good at it.” He offered the most basic of comments, but he was being truthful, a rarity among the clientele that frequented the Ha:Yami.

  “Thank you,” She replied, “I sing here occasionally, you should come and watch me sometime. I’d enjoy that, and you can see for yourself how good I am.”

  “No need.” He said curtly, before switching to a smirk, “I can see how good you are already.”

  Seina propped herself up and leaned closer to Takamura, a trace of curiosity in her eyes, “Oh, how come? Have you seen me perform before? Or are you just saying that to flatter me?” She giggled as the last words left her lips.

  “All idols are excellent liars, you’d fit in perfectly.” He answered without a hint of mockery or edge to his words. He spoke the words as if he was merely answering a question of what bread to buy at the store, totally unaware that Seina might take offence at his answer.

  That’s not right, he knew that Seina- No, that I wouldn’t take offence.

  Seina’s expression jumped for a moment, a lingering worry that she’d messed up settled in beneath her skin, “Kenichi! I’m sorry, have I done something to upset you?”

  “No, not in the slightest. You’re everything I was told you’d be, a perfect girl for a first-timer like me.” He spoke calmly.

  “Then… I don’t understand. Are you unhappy with your visit?” She countered, her eyes wide and pleading like a puppy.

  Takamura shrugged, “I came here on a whim. The club here is beginning to grow a decent reputation, and a few associates of mine offhandedly mentioned the quality of the women here. So I was curious, booked a date and they gave me a menu of all the hostesses. I chose you. I didn’t expect much, but you’ve kept the boredom away, thank you for that, it is not an easy feat.”

  He was lying. It didn’t take an expert to figure that out. I could tell by the way he was avoiding my eyes, and by his hands still fidgeting with the refilled glass Mikako left on the table, not to mention the awkward pause he did when referring to his non-existent associates.

  “You’d have been a bad idol.” Seina teased while causally alluding that she picked up on his lie.

  He looked down at his hands, the glass still resting in his palms. “Ha, I suppose I would have.” He placed it back on the table and straightened his back against the chair.

  “Alright,” he continued after clearing his throat, “Call me a reminiscing old man if you will, but I came here because my favourite ramen shop used to be here, Garden Noodles, it was called. The store was bought and torn down about 20 years ago. This club sprang up in its place a bit after that, they tore down half the street to build it. So I’d hope it’d have been at least slightly worth it.”

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  “And was it, Kenichi?”

  He stood up, brushing himself down before turning back to me, “If it will make your bosses happy, then sure, it was perfect. You were perfect.”

  She always was.

  “Thank you, Kenichi, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself!” Seina said with a dumb smile that seemed to put Takamura at ease.

  “Yes, sure. You’re welcome. Enjoy the rest of your day, Seina. I believe I’ve learnt all I needed to from this visit, so I will be calling it for tonight. Goodbye.”

  He took stock of the few things he brought, his wallet, phone, a small bag and his car keys, then just as he was able to make his way out of the club, he gave one last glance to Seina, and said, “Call me Takamura. I think I prefer it that way, after all.”

  “Hmm? Okay, goodbye, Takamura.”

  He didn’t meet her smile with his own. Instead, he remained with his back turned to her, one foot towards the exit. “Seina,” he called out, “You’re a better liar when you don’t force yourself.”

  “Takamura?” She said, a look of confusion painted over her face.

  He looked back and tapped his nose, “It's the little things that catch us out.” he replied before turning back around and continuing towards the exit, leaving Seina all alone.

  Mikako arrived to clean up the table before Seina had the chance to start feeling lonely. “Work mode Seina scaring off a customer early? Strange. Usually, we have to drag them off you. Oh well, he looked happy enough, so I doubt you have anything to worry about.”

  Seina matched Mikako’s calm smile with one of her own, one laced with far more grace and dignity as she stood up straight before Mikako, “Mikako, you’re so kind to be concerned about me, but please worry no more. Takamura was more than satisfied.”

  Mikako let out a sigh, and fell back into the relaxed and more normal tone she used, “That’s good, I was worried for a bit after he fell. If you got in trouble, you know it’d hurt Nao, so try to be more careful.”

  Before Seina could agree and give another thanks, Mikako had cleared the table, gathered the empty glasses and left to return them to the bar.

  Slipping back into the employee area, Seina headed straight to the dressing room and sat down before the mirror.

  Seina looked over her appearance, her eyes focused on her nametag, rechecking its every detail.

  ‘Seina Kanemoto’ it read.

  The woman staring back at her was clean, pure, beautiful. She was everything you could ask for, totally and completely perfect.

  She was Seina Kanemoto.

  She removed the nametag.

  Now the woman staring back at her was tainted, impure, disgusting. She was no one, nothing.

  It was me.

  I was Seina Kanemoto.

  Now I am a void.

  Total blackness, a perfect, empty void.

  The door to the dressing room was suddenly opened, and Kiyoshi Shikichi stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders just about fitting in between the space of the door frame.

  “Seina.” He stated my name like a military officer addressing a private.

  “Yes?” My reply was completely neutral.

  “Your VIP, gone after twenty-five minutes? What happened?” He asked, his tone demanding an answer, yet still more concerned for my well-being than the client’s.

  “Nothing, he came, enjoyed himself, then left.”

  He met my stare head-on, then as if realising his mistake, his eyes darted to where my nametag would be if I were still wearing it. “Oh…” He muttered as if he were about to chastise himself for being an idiot, “You’re back to normal.”

  “Hello, Shikichi.” I greeted him.

  His face dropped at the sound of my voice, confirming what he already expected. He must have heard about my VIP falling and then left soon after, rushing over to catch me before I changed out of work mode. He thought Seina had made an impossible mistake. Perhaps if he’d spoken to her, then she might have been stupid enough to apologise for nothing just to appease him.

  But that’d never happen, Seina is perfect. She could never admit to a mistake, because she could never make one.

  Unlike me.

  “Hello, Kanemoto.” He returned the awkward greeting, using that family name as he always did once work mode abandoned me. “Are the bosses going to be mad at you for anything today?” He asked bluntly, not sparing any tenderness for me.

  “No.” I answered, matching his tone of bluntness.

  “Well… that’s good.” He remained standing by the doorway, letting the silence between us settle like snow on a winter's day. A chilly frost in his throat prevented him from talking to me, yet also from rudely walking away.

  “My VIP, Takamura. Who is he?” I was the first to unsettle this snow, prompting him to startle a bit.

  “An old movie director. Hasn’t made anything in a good few years, but he holds a lot of respect in the industry. Probably why the bosses wanted him well taken care of.” He paused, no different to a ronin examining the cut before striking, looking me up and down before asking, “Why are you interested, Kanemoto?”

  “Am I not allowed to ask questions about the clients who request me? The other hostesses always do.”

  He lifted a foot and placed it back down in uncertainty, “You are, I was only curious. You don’t usually care about your clients outside of work mode.”

  This conversation was over, I stood up and gathered what little things I bought with me today and bid farewell to Kiyoshi. “Goodbye, Shikichi.”

  He mumbled his own half-hearted goodbye, clearly annoyed by how I brushed his question off, but that didn’t bother me in the slightest.

  I left the Ha:Yami Club behind me as I began the trek back to my house.

  Nao and Mikako would be working for another few hours, so it was one of those rare days where Nao didn’t drag me around the back of the club for a ten-minute chat with them. It feels strange, not having them here to see me off.

  The walk to my apartment is the same as always.

  Lonely, dead, and quiet.

  My shift ended earlier than it did yesterday, the clock hadn’t yet reached 10 p.m.. So I suppose it wasn’t quite the same.

  There were more people, for one. The stores were still open, their lights brighter too, illuminating the pavement outside them. The music from the clubs was still audible as well, and the laughter of the roaming masses of people faded in and out as they passed by.

  Tokyo regularly stayed up late, and Shinjuku went double that.

  I rounded a tight corner and with a bang! I collided into a brick wall knocking myself backwards and onto the ground. I clutched my head and looked up at the blocking obstacle, and what I saw caused me to partially recoil as I realised I hadn’t hit a wall, but a person now on the ground before me.

  She was an older woman, at least late thirties, maybe early forties on a bad day. She was slender, tall, not as tall as me, but not far off, maybe if she wore heels she’d be taller. The strangest thing about her was that she had red hair, but it didn’t look dyed, it seemed almost natural, a mellow red that blended in with the look of fire in her eyes.

  “Kids these days. Always running, and running, and never looking. It gets tiresome quickly. Not that my opinion matters to them, they’ll never change.” She looked at me for the first time, and all traces of annoyance instantly vanished.

  “You. Speak quickly?” She shot her words out faster than a machine gun shoots bullets.

  I ignored her shock, assuming it to be exactly that, shock, as I stood myself up, and offered an apology, “I apologise for running into you.” I then held out a hand to help her up, which she promptly disregarded and clambered up herself.

  “My my, I didn’t expect you to sound so dead inside. Is that what passes for mysterious beauty these days? It suits you well.” She continued to survey me up and down, not unlike one of my club clients, before catching herself and saying, “Hatsuko Tsukumo, and you’re?”

  I bowed my head slightly in greeting, and answered her question with a lie, “Seina Kanemoto.”

  She stood there watching me wide-eyed for a moment, then said with amusement, “Amazing. You really do sound emotionless. And your name, rising star, it's pretty, matches perfectly.”

  She took a second moment, her mind jumping in and out of thoughts before she handed me a simple business card, her name and number were clearly defined in a shiny golden colour on it, and above all of that, the words Talent Manager sat overlooking the rest of the card like an emperor on high.

  “I have a job, nothing big. It's a play, Us of I. My last actor dropped out suddenly and I have no replacement. I’d rather not damage my reputation any more than it already is, so I need you to fill in. Any questions?” She briefed me as if I’d already signed a contract and been conscripted to work alongside her, not a doubt in her mind that I’d reject the offer.

  “I’ve never done acting.”

  “Oh, that doesn’t matter. You have the perfect amount of deadness for the character. Just memorise the script and you’ll give a passable effort and I’ll be let off the hook.” Her words seemed like a lie, something wrapped up in a masquerade of falsehoods with little truths sprinkled around on top.

  Sensing my unease, she let out a sigh and continued, “Alright, look, the play is at Hanako Hall, just give me a ring before Saturday and I can take you there. Oh, and give my card to your parents, I don’t want them freaking out when I come to collect you, ok?”

  “Parents?” I replied confused.

  “Oh, are you an orphan?” Hatsuko said without consideration, “Sorry, that’s an insensitive question. I mean, are your parents unavailable or something?”

  “I live alone…?”

  “Huh?” She muttered baffled, “Wait a minute, how old are you?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “Oh my, what are they feeding you guys to keep you looking so young? I’m shocked, I can’t believe I was talking to a grown woman. I thought you were eighteen or something…” She crossed her arms and looked to the ground for a moment, her foot tapping away in thought.

  “Ah, it doesn’t matter in the slightest.” She continued, “No, this makes it easier for me. Just ring me before Saturday, trust me, this’ll be good for you, it could change your life!” She pushed her card into my hand this time, forgetting she’d already given me one.

  “Another one?”

  Realising her mistake, she let out a laugh and nodded, “Two for good luck, ok?”

  “Ok.” I responded, holding her two business cards in each of my hands.

  Suddenly, she whipped past me and continued on her way, with a final message of, “Make sure you call me!”

  And before I could give her my reply, she’d vanished into the crowds surrounding us, like a shady salesman, her words seemed no different than a crafted chain begging for a neck, a lie or trick; bait upon the steel hook, the face she wore a mask matching with my own.

  Though Seina is far more than a mask, she is everything of mine given purpose, so for that red-headed woman to claim this would change my life, I only had one hope.

  That it would be her life that is changed.

  For it is the only one that really matters.