MadamMateria
patreon
Commission: Pop Sensation - Chapter 1 - Preview 2
🕑 Added 2020-05-02 23:05:42 +0000 UTCOne story, many characters. Getting a look at the rest of the major cast for this story in the second preview. I've actually been really enjoying writing this project. XD It's honestly been keeping me up, so I hope you enjoy!
"Standing in front of a grey, featureless building, Sam couldn’t help double checking his phone. Everything he could find online about them seemed to suggest they were a big company, they had their name behind dozens of different j-pop groups from over the past few years. He expected some sort of sign, or at least some branding, but no, this was it. This was the right place.
“Tobi, what are you getting me into?” he muttered to himself, his confidence wavering.
Pushing his way through the door, at least the inside looked more on the up and up. It was spacious enough for a light echo, if it weren’t filled with collapsed equiment, what looked like bleachers, and the rigging for a curtain. The majority of the free space was taken up by a stage, with five of the most beautiful women he'd ever laid his eyes on; even if they were dressed in awkward, stylized suits. They were busily going over notes, a curvy strawberry blonde in a sharp blue jacket guiding the discussion and giving directions.
Before the boy could take in anymore though, there was a thick fingered hand on his chest. “Can I help you, yankee?” a gruff voice pressed.
His hazel eyes followed the sound, to a stocky man squeezed into a garish white suit. A pair of expensive shades obscured his eyes, but the crease in his brow lent to the intimidation of the tree armed thug. The man only came up to Sam's nose, and yet the auburn haired American didn’t doubt the man would bend him in half.
“Um,” he stammered softly, still internally cursing his “friend”. “I’m Ramses, Samuel. I’m looking for Kanaszuchi Kane, about a job?”
“Kanaszuchi-sama,” the man “corrected”, taking his arm off the boy to slick back his greased hair. “So, what did Kudo-kun tell you about what we do here?”
It was so odd to hear Tobi referred to by his last name. Sam couldn’t let that trip him up though; first impression. Hopefully his sweating wasn’t too obvious. “I performed some independent research, Kanaszuchi-san,” the harsh scowl he got from the man had him reeling, quick to correct the mistake. “Kanaszuchi-sama. Happy Light is a media organisation, with a particular interest in creating and managing pop idol groups,” after his fumble, that was the easy, and safe, answer. Especially with the girls on stage, a few of whom had shifted their attention from their reading to the goings on.
Scoffing, and taking a moment to straighten the collar of his shirt, the man got straight to business. “Here’s what you need to know. Number one, no touching the talent,” he stated it firm, and clear. Even shooting a glare through his glasses, initially into the taller man's chest before adjusting, to drive that point home. “You touch the merchandise, and they’re going to have trouble finding you afterwards.”
He was having enough trouble with finding a job, he wasn’t about to mess this one up. “Yes, Kanaszuchi-sama,” Sam gave a small bow of the head to show he understood.
There was no indication he even cared for the American's understanding, the thuggish man just went on with his introduction to the place. “These here are the 'Liberty Girls',” at their mention the strawberry blonde turned, giving Sam a look that almost screamed she was undressing him with her eyes, only to quickly shift into a dagger-sharp glare. “Girls, come here,” the boss ordered with a small gesture of his hand.
The five lowered their scripts, sauntering over in a cacophony of clicking heels. The lot were even more stunning from the front, possessing curves Sam would have thought inhuman, or fake, if they weren’t bouncing in the tight confines of their stage costumes. “Girls, this is your new historical consultant, Ramses Samuel.”
Historical consultant? One among the girl’s, her costume a white shirt, little more than a long sleeved crop top really, under an open vest, gave a thankfully bow that had her dark hair pouring over her shoulders. “A pleasure to meet you Ramses-san,” she offered with dulcet toned words.
Before he could reply, Kanaszuchi was moving on. “Alright, foreigner,” a deliberate show of disrespect, as the muscular man tapped Sam on the chest. “This is Sasa-“
“We can introduce ourselves, Kanaszuchi,” the blonde of the group cut in, stepping up on her shapely legs.
Behind his shades it was clear the man was silently leering, and grinding his teeth to hold back any rebuttal. The blonde took the reins, marching right into Sam's space and jabbing two fingers into the center of his chest. “Suzuki Sakura,” she declared, though all the taller man could pay attention to was the smell of bleach coming from her hair. “I’m the leader of this group, so let me put this in a language you'll understand.”
She swapped to English, throwing Sam off for a brief second as he had to work and translate his own first language. “We do not need some yankee around, ogling us and telling us how to do our job.”
The vested girl gave a small mumble, back in Japanese that had the auburn consultant performing a quick translation again. “We kind of do. We're swimming in historical inaccuracies.”
The comment seemed to go ignored. Their “leader’s” little outburst had everyone more or less doing their own thing; distancing themselves from the goings on. The tallest among them was idly browsing her phone with a single finger. There was a redhead done in twin-tails, arms crossed across her bust stubbornly, as if refusing to admit the action was difficult with her pert and perky breasts. And the last among them, hiding behind a pair of bifocals, was idly sliding her finger in and out from between her lips. It had to be the difference between their heights, seeing as the girl was under five foot, but it seemed like she was staring at Sam's groin.
What could he say? This girl, Sakura, was adamant, glaring up at him as he fumbled for some idea of what to say. He was still trying to wrap his head around the job title.
“Cool it Suzuki-san,”Kanaszuchi came to his rescue. “He’s here to cover the company’s ass. So, whether you like it or not, you'll deal with it.”
The blonde went flush, giving the American one last look up and down that before backing off and straightening her skirt. “She’s the ‘George Washington’ of the ensemble,” their manager filled in the bits the hot headed girl had failed to in her short spiel, clearly having a bit of trouble with western naming schemes, “and handles the stage direction and choreography.”
Questions just kept piling on. At the very least the girl’s odd ensemble was explained. The tailed coat, the gold buttoned skirt, and the curls done into the sides of her long, light hair. Knowing what she was supposed to be, the “sexy George Washington” was more obvious; though, still very much bizarre.
“Next up,” not wishing for another interruption the shaded man gave a nod towards the tall woman, still browsing through her phone.
“Hm?” she lifted her head, as if only noticing now that they were in the middle of something. “Oh, you can go ahead Kanaszuchi-kun,” she waved her slender fingers at him, and went back to whatever it was she was doing with her phone.
He didn't seem to care for how casually she addressed him, but, biting his tongue, he pressed on. “This is Sasaki Asumi. Sasaki-san is the Liberty Girls' lead singer, and their ‘Thomas Jefferson’.”
At five and a half feet, Asumi was the tallest of the girls, blue-black hair hanging down almost to her mid-thigh, and cut in a fine square of bangs that framed her beautiful features. There was air of superiority to her, though not in the way Sakura tried, with chest pounding and shouting; it was just her seeming disinterest in everything going on. As the lead singer, her 'Jefferson' costume was the most extravagant. With layering in the sleeves, that looked like white flowers blooming from the cuffs of her dark jacket, and a mid-length ruffled dress skirt, just open enough to show off some of her stocking-clad legs. It had to be cumbersome to wear, as every few seconds you would catch her fingers idly wandering to brush fabric of her skirt off her thigh, or tug at her collar and expose a bit more of her impressive chest.
From the tallest to the shortest, the boss moved on. “Short stack” was the most accurate way you could describe the girl at first glance. Even with three layers working, a brown jacket, a scandalous vest, and the same type of modified crop-top as the more polite-speaking member of the group, she was clearly the most generously chested among the buxom girls. She was showing off a dark line of cleavage her costume did well to highlight, formed by breasts easily the size of her head. You were left to wonder if, maybe, at some point the girl had been overweight, but her costume cinched into a sinuously small waist.
As Kanaszuchi gestured to her, the girl just hid behind her bifocals, finger still in her mouth down to the second knuckles, and shook her head. The man needed no further prompting, happy to at least not have any back talk this time. “Watanabe Meiku. She’s our ‘Benjamin Franklin'.”
So that made three founding fathers. Sam was picking up on the pattern, and the reason for a “historical consultant”.
He expected a bit more about Meiku, but no. Taking a moment to fix his shades, the muscular man just moved on from the quiet girl, and didn’t need to do more than look the redhead's way before she took her cue. “Takahashi Kazuko,” she announced, stepping up to an imaginary rhythm that had her twin tails dancing, and her poorly restrained chest moving in her top. “I'm our group's rapper, so they’ve got me portraying ‘Alexander Hamilton'. Because the executives at Happy Light are a bunch of trend chasing idiots.”
You could tell the girl was full of energy, constantly moving as she spoke, and sending her costume into motion. It was made to move, with long coat tails that followed the flow of her hair, and blended nicely with an open front skirt. Her shirt rode high, showing off a soft, but tight core that showed she liked to take care of herself; even if the swell of her bust said otherwise, with how it was putting a strain on her buttons.
“They’re also taking far too many creative liberties,” the last girl was still mumbling unhappily. With the rest of the girls introduced though, attention finally dropped on her, and left them actually listening.
Kanaszuchi gave a small cough to ensure he had her attention. “Once again, that’s what he's for,” he gestured to Sam.
The girl blushed softly, darting a glance his way before taking a moment to re-compose herself. “My apologies Samuel-san,” she gave him a small bow. “I am Kimura Keiko. I’m more of a dancer in the group than a singer, and they have me in the role of ‘Paul Revere',” the way she said it held a note of contempt.
And really, Sam didn’t blame her. He'd been trying to piece the Liberty Girls together from the initial introduction. Washington, Jefferson, and Franklin were the big three, pretty much anyone knew them. Hamilton broke that, but was still a founding father, and dumb execs or not, at least people would know of him from the broadway show. Revere though? Sam was an American, and it took him a solid minute to even remember who that was. Would any Japanese person even have an inkling?
“So that’s the girls,” adjusting his sleeves, the stone-faced manager started for the door. “I’ll be back to pick them up tonight, with your contract.”
Whoa, contract? The boy barely knew the details of the job, and Kanaszuchi was talking like he'd accepted. “I thought-“ was all he got out of his mouth before the tight suited man was gone, leaving him alone with the Liberty Girls." - "Pop Sensation" by Madam Materia
