Chapter 18
TL: Akabane
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December is the busiest month of the year. There are many things that need to be done, not only at work, but also in our personal lives.
At our company, in particular, we finally wrap up the year by finishing the exhibition where stationery manufacturers gather. This year's schedule was no different, but the busyness was much different.
There was only one reason for this. Miina Yamamoto.
What I mean is the poster featuring her. The response has been tremendous. A storm was brewing among small and medium-sized companies.
In addition to distributing the posters to clients and customers, we uploaded them on social networking sites through our own small business accounts. This was a huge response. To use a recent phrase, it was a buzz.
It was expected that the idol otaku would make a fuss about "Momoka Aimi is back," but it was popular with the rest of the population. It was too good. Despite the fact that she is a former idol who left the group because of allegations of infatuation.
By her own wishes, her name was not included on the poster. Because of this, we had to be inundated with inquiries from people who had never heard of Momo.
Most of them were "I want to know her name," but some of them even asked for the poster. You are resellers, aren't you? You are the enemy of all mankind.
Ironically, it also became a hot topic on social networking sites that hurt her. In a good way, of course. There were even accounts that complained bitterly to her former firm for letting go of such good material.
There may have been some negative comments, but I couldn't find them because they were drowned out by the positive publicity. In any case, this is a happy miscalculation for us.
However, it's not without it's own concerns.
In recent years, it has become common for stories that become the talk of the town on SNS to spread to the Internet news and then to TV. I was cynical about how easy it would be to put the story on my own media without much coverage, but I was never exposed to this case.
Especially TV. Nowadays, if there is even a little buzz, it is covered on information programs, etc. but Momoka Aimi's name never appeared on the TV screen. It was all over the place when the allegations of infatuation were made.
Well, it's nothing to be deeply concerned about.
Thanks to Yamamoto, the exhibition was a great success. Although she didn't come to the exhibition, she had no trouble talking with customers who saw her posters. I was right after all.
The story has changed - it's the end of the year. It's the season for year-end parties.
Many young people don't like company drinking parties, but I don't mind them. I don't mind them because I can see the different faces of my co-workers after consuming alcohol. It's also just a chance to get to know each other. I see it as an event to make work easier.
Basically, it's often done within a department rather than company-wide. This year was supposed to be the same, but the Yamamoto incident had everyone on tenterhooks.
Because of this, in addition to inviting her, a large banquet was held, including members of the advertising agency that had helped with the photo shoot. All at their expense, of course. It's a loose company, in the good sense of the word.
So we decided to rent out a hotel room and enjoy an all-you-can-drink, all-course meal. It was quite a spectacle when nearly 40 people gathered.
At first, the seats were assigned, but once the drinks started flowing, we were free to move around as usual. As usual, everyone was talking wherever they wanted.
Among them, Yamamoto is extremely popular. Many people, both men and women, come to pour sake around her. She is adamant that she doesn't drink because she is weak. That's fine. You never know what they will do to you if you get drunk. Especially her.
"Hello. Long time no see."
As I'm drinking a hand-poured bottle of beer by myself, a familiar voice speaks to me. I put my empty glasses on the table and look at each other.
"You from that time!"
"I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye."
"No, no, not at all."
It was the stylist I had talked to briefly during the shoot. She still has her blonde hair and short cut, but her outfit is more formal than it was then. I got the impression that she was well dressed in a suit.
The seat next to me was empty, so she sat down there. She looked at my empty glass and picked up a bottled beer.
"Here you go."
"Oh, thank you."
She carefully pours the bottled beer with the label up.
I was a little surprised. She had an image of a maverick from the outside, but I didn't realize she had the manners of ordinary society. Appearances are deceiving.
I mean, this kind of thing is neither manners nor anything else. The fathers who shouted that this was good manners were so boisterous.
"You look frustrated."
"No, that's not ......."
"Did I pour badly?"
I was about to say, "You sounds like some kind of cabaret," but stopped. The relationship is too thin to say that. But her words had a lightness to them that naturally made me think so.
I took it straight to my mouth and poured the bitter taste down my throat, which I had come to think of as delicious. I always drink only happoshu, so beer tastes good. I felt like I was getting drunk faster than usual.
"That's a great response. That girl."
"I didn't think it would go this far."
"You have foresight, don't you?"
"No, I don't."
I've been pushing for Momoka Aimi for a long time. Not because I liked her, but as a fan, I thought she could do well on her own.
She sings and dances well, and she has that cute vibe that no other woman has. The fact that we are now launching together like this is no wonder.
"By the way, I never asked your name."
I said, and she laughed. I was about to take out my business card from the inside pocket of my suit, as is my usual habit.
I wasn't sure why she was laughing there, but I dismissed that suspicion by blaming it on alcohol.
"My name is Kanako Miya. I'm sorry it took me so long to greet you."
"Oh, no ......."
She suddenly bowed politely, so I quickly put the glass I was holding on the table. As we bail in unison, I hear laughter all around us. It wasn't at the sight of us, but I couldn't help but feel that way.
"That's an unusual last name. Miya-san."
"I'm sure it is. People often say it sounds like a nickname."
"Haha. Indeed."
The name sounds like something out of a Showa-era manga. I felt like saying this would be rude in many ways, so I held back.
The glass she brought was empty before I knew it. When I poured her a beer, she seemed satisfied and said, "I'm sorry." It was a strange feeling.
She was definitely older than me. Her speaking was natural, and she knew it too. But it was also true that she looked much younger than I thought she was.
"The beer you poured for me, Araki-kun, is delicious."
"I'm glad to hear that - you knew my name?"
"Yes. Of course."
Well, if she was a stylist commissioned by an advertising agency, it's not surprising that she knew me.
When she spoke to me that time, she knew that I had proposed the appointment of Yamamoto. No wonder. Here, I gently grabbed my glass, which was a little lukewarm. It was so lukewarm that I was slightly disinclined to drink.
--But what came out of her mouth were words I had not imagined at all.
"You're the guy from the weekly magazine, aren't you?"
I was glad I didn't have a beer in my mouth. If I had, I'm sure I would have blubbered profusely.
This time, instead, there was an inarticulate voice. A voice that could neither deny nor affirm. Of course, even I could tell that the appearance itself pointed to affirmation.
I don't know what she looks like now. I was too scared to make eye contact.
The upper management of the company knows this fact through the general manager. But that was it. There is no evidence of a relationship between us, and it's a matter that can be dismissed as a laughing matter.
But in front of her, I couldn't do it. To laugh it off.
Maybe it was because it was the first time I was confronted by someone in the industry. I had to assume that this person knew something I didn't know, and of course she had that scene in her head.
"Cigarette, you're a smoker, right?"
I thought for a moment and nodded, and she said, "Well, we'll continue there." She stands up and looks at me. I guess this means she wants me to come with her.
My vision wandered a little. Must be the drunkenness. Damn. Suddenly I feel like a drunk. Not understanding what was about to happen, I regretfully let go of my glass.
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