Tokyo, Thursday, sunny workday.
On the set of a kids' show, Baby Pineapple's Tears, Part B, break time.
"I love anime characters."
Shimazaki, playing Passerby A, set down his script and spoke with the solemnity of a monk grasping life's truths.
Takizawa, as Friend B, and Matsuoka, as Classmate C, shot him complex looks.
"Why the stares? Your eyes are weird—kinda rude."
"How should we look at you?" Takizawa asked cautiously.
"Real bros would jump in and share their own tastes." Shimazaki grinned broadly. "So, what kind of girls do you like?"
"People shouldn't be so narrow-minded—life's got way more worth chasing," Matsuoka sighed at his friend's shallowness.
"What's that mean?" Shimazaki frowned.
"Like, soul-shaking stuff." Matsuoka gestured animatedly.
"You mean spicy anime characters?" Shimazaki perked up.
"?"
"Why anime?" Takizawa zeroed in.
"Beyond human dimensions, ageless, eternally loyal." Shimazaki's eyes gleamed with pure conviction. "Pure, flawless, saintly."
"Too perfect's no good—just fantasy." Takizawa shook his head. "You only think that because you've never dated a real, breathing beauty. Whispers with warmth, closeness sparking heat, fingers locked, feeling a heartbeat's pulse against your chest. No flat art or canned lines can match that."
"Sounds like you're an expert."
"We're adults—time for adult things. Ever heard of Japan's nightlife districts? Wanna check one out?" Takizawa's old habits flared, offering a true man's invite.
"No thanks." Shimazaki wasn't biting. "You're the narrow one. Those places are all about profit—only big shots and CEOs get the real attention. Regulars just get timed chats and upsold drinks."
"What, you've been?"
"Truth is, post-graduation, I wanted to ditch my cringy teen self, so I took years of saved-up gift money and stepped into the adult world." Shimazaki reminisced.
"And?" Matsuoka leaned in, curious.
"Sigh, just pretty girls you can see but not touch, doing therapist-level work. Endless flattery, praise, encouragement—trying to inflate my ego into oblivion."
"Stress relief, same as host clubs for women," Takizawa said.
"Then why not hit Akihabara's maid cafes?" Shimazaki snorted.
In a way, maid cafes were pure stress relief for nerds—nothing wrong there.
"Wait, my adult stuff wasn't about chatting," Takizawa added after a pause.
"What kind then?"
"You know, that kind."
"What's that?"
"The stuff you wanna do with your anime crushes."
"What?! You're a wolf in sheep's clothing!" Shimazaki scolded loudly.
"?"
Heads turned on set. The trio instinctively raised their scripts to hide their faces, dodging the awkwardness.
"But seriously, in this world, no money or status means you're stuck," Shimazaki continued behind the script wall. "No cash, even kids won't give you the time of day, let alone spice up your nights."
"Then why be a voice actor? This gig doesn't pay big." Takizawa asked. "What were you thinking?"
"I wanted to pilot a mech."
"Perfect reason. I get it."
"Wonder if I'll ever get the chance." Shimazaki mumbled to himself. "Might just stay a background extra 'til retirement."
"Wait and hope," Takizawa consoled.
"You two seem chill, not stressed at all. Got career plans locked in?" Shimazaki eyed them.
"Why rush? I've got food, a warm bed, fast internet, and I'm a diamond-tier arcade member with a bit of a rep. Life's comfy," Takizawa said, puzzled.
"That's barely breaking even. What about marriage, kids, family? One extra kid and you're screwed. Not to mention aging parents' medical bills." Shimazaki pressed. "You'd have to leave pricey Tokyo, but your work's here—dead end."
"Divorced family, no obligations. And if I skip marriage, no stress." Takizawa waved it off. "Dating's fine, though."
"Play but no ring? A player right beside me?" Shimazaki's eyes widened.
"Mutual fun—how's that sleazy? Besides, I'm just talking, no moves yet. Might not even date. Women mostly just nag you for not earning enough," Takizawa huffed.
"What about when you're sixty, body failing, panting after a few steps, struggling to eat or use the bathroom?"
"Then I'll face the end quietly."
Takizawa stretched lazily, speaking slowly.
"I've made up my mind—this life, I'm living free, seeing more, doing more, unbound by cars, houses, marriage, or careers. If a normal life's a mapped-out trip, I'm wandering. Even if it means no support in old age, even if I die alone."
"That's hardcore. You serious?" Shimazaki looked shaken.
"Dead serious," Takizawa answered.
"…Hope you meet a good woman, or this 'abandon everything' life will bite you when you're old. Japan's got too many lonely elders already."
Shimazaki sighed.
"Dying forgotten, unnoticed until the stench alerts someone. There was this kind old man near my place, always walking alone at dawn. Then he vanished. Two months later, word came he'd passed. Everyone, me included, felt sad for a moment, then moved on."
"Thought you were a true anime fan, but you've got real-world depth," Takizawa raised a brow.
"Sigh, get real. A truck won't isekai you—it'll just kill you," Shimazaki muttered.
"…Not necessarily, weirder things have happened," The crimson skeptic mumbled, voice low.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"What about you, Matsuoka? Not planning to stay an extra forever, right?" Shimazaki leaned past the brooding man to ask.
"Uh, what's wrong with that?" Matsuoka scratched his head. "Working on the front lines, learning from pros, sharpening my skills—I'm good."
"Too content. How'll you stand out in this cutthroat industry and city?"
"It's already way better than before." Matsuoka's smile was infectious. "I'm sleeping six hours a night now! Soon, with just two jobs, I'll be stable."
Shimazaki fell silent at the high-octane hustle talk.
…Are there no normal people around me?
"Why sound like my agent, all ambitious? With a name like Nobunaga, live louder—maybe not crab-walking, but at least make senpais give up their seat or mic," Takizawa teased.
"I'd get blacklisted for being rude, please stop," Shimazaki surrendered.
The bit-part trio kept whispering.
"Background roles are good, no tweaks needed. Thanks for the work," The sound director's voice crackled through.
"Thanks for the guidance."
The extra trio stood, bowed in turn, and left the booth.
"Another solid day's work. Feels fulfilling," Takizawa said outside, beaming with the satisfaction of a job well done.
"You just said stuff like 'Pineapple-kun, Oda-sensei's calling,'" Shimazaki deadpanned.
"Still labor. Let's see, Matsuoka and I have another gig this afternoon. Lunch together then split?" Takizawa mused.
"Sure. You two seem tight lately," Shimazaki noted.
"Same agency, same agent."
"Kashiwai-san said our senpai's coming this afternoon too," Matsuoka sighed.
"Gotta grab some snacks on the way then," Takizawa said.
"Senpai?" Shimazaki asked.
"I'm Enterprise tradition. Think eagle catching chicks—the eagle's the murky industry, and the senpai's the mama hen shielding us, passing down wisdom."
"Pfft, what's so great? I'm working fine without one," Shimazaki said enviously. "Who is it? I'm Enterprise's got plenty of big names."
"I did my homework. Knowing your boss's likes, reading the room—it's mid-tier worker 101," Takizawa said confidently.
"Mid-tier? What's high-tier?" Matsuoka blinked.
"Management, bossing low- and mid-tier workers, under bigger bosses' whips. Never reached that level, so no comment. Check this out."
Takizawa pulled out his phone, showing a downloaded video clip.
The tiny screen forced the three to huddle, heads nearly touching.
Onscreen, a grand stage with wild fans waving glowsticks, a neon sea. Five lively girls played instruments, belting out cute, catchy tunes.
"The bassist's the one," Takizawa pointed.
Single ponytail, sporty T-shirt, shorts showing off long, fair legs. Sweaty, hair flying.
"Looks like a sharp, capable, independent woman," Matsuoka summed up.
"No senpai like that, and I'm still voicing," Shimazaki scoffed.
"Gotta work hard this afternoon, make a good impression," Matsuoka vowed.
"Nice!" Takizawa approved.
"What's her name?"
"This Yamato Nadeshiko's called Yoko Hikasa. Star vibes, right? Remember it!"
***
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