Japan, small yet mighty, ranks among the world's top cultural exporters.
Its ACG-driven subcultures stand alone, unmatched. Who hasn't dreamed of a pocketed robot cat or becoming a cryptic, shape-shifting phantom thief?
Matsuoka was no different. As a kid, he'd clutch his bowl, glued to the TV's anime channel. Forget the cash-grab mecha shows that lured him to voice acting; he at least fantasized about his own digital monster.
Oddly, now an industry insider, Matsuoka's anime knowledge was stuck in childhood, out of touch with current trends.
Older works, limited by their era, were rough and dramatic, yet TV broadcasts often had artistic gems. Now, with soaring output, the pace had quickened.
And the titles? Getting longer…
Matsuoka stared at the script's plain cover: The Mightiest Fox Spirit Reborn as My Neighborly Big Brother Who Dotes on Me.
Uh.
In his humble opinion, something snappy like Fox Loves Me would work better—catchy, no distortion of intent.
Today, he was, as usual, pouring his heart into Passerby A. His few lines were memorized cold—not that extra roles varied much. At his level, he nailed them in one take. No nerves.
He even had time to sneak glances around the studio.
Yoko was chatting with someone she knew, gripping their hand, whispering, her face alight with smiles, sometimes cracking when a topic hit just right.
As expected, she'd been hiding something from him and Takizawa.
Farther off sat later arrivals—vibrant young women, seasoned charismatic men. A decent crowd, likely because it was episode one, where everyone got face time.
But this episode's extra roles? All him and Yoko.
Rarely, Matsuoka's mind wandered, mulling nearby supermarket deals and flaws in his fried rice recipe.
Then, a figure entered the studio, caught in his peripheral vision.
A girl, dressed simply as always, her hair just washed and dried, no curls or styling. She greeted the room like a student to a teacher, bowing softly.
Like clear water, she flowed quietly, cleansing those around her. A tossed stone might ripple, but she'd soon settle back to calm.
Such a presence was what he admired.
"Oh, Matsuoka-san," She said, spotting him, her smile bright.
"Hey, looking forward to working together," Matsuoka replied, holding his script, smiling at the girl young enough to be his sister.
"Same here."
Their exchange, as before, was formal.
She scanned the many empty seats, hesitated, then chose one near the mic, opened her note-scribbled script, and reviewed in silence.
Her quiet was genuine, unlike Yoko's odd vibe.
But that wasn't what caught Matsuoka's attention. That "golden seat" was for leads or revered veterans. In this nitpicky society, overstepping status invited scorn.
Yet, this cautious girl surely knew that. Despite their shallow work connection, Matsuoka believed her social savvy rivaled Takizawa's.
So, sitting there despite knowing better? Only one explanation.
Suddenly, he recalled his own failed job. His temperament and experience had numbed him to setbacks, so he wasn't too crushed.
But now, he felt a strange pang of gloom.
As time passed, a stout figure settled behind the glass in the director's booth, signaling recording time.
Everyone stood, bowing in unison with ritualistic respect, like saying "Let's eat" before a meal.
"I'm Miyu Irino from Junction, voicing the fox spirit. I'll rely on your support."
"I'm Haruka Tomatsu from Music Ray'n, voicing Hana Mikawa."
"I'm Takahiro Sakurai from 91 Production, yo~"
"I'm Saori Hayami from I'm Enterprise. I've much to learn, so please guide me." The girl laughing with Yoko was a colleague, it seemed.
Was it just him, or did their charm outshine Yoko's?
"I'm Yui Ogura from Style Cube. My experience is lacking, and I'm nervous for this big role. Please look out for me."
As expected, a lead.
Matsuoka felt a twinge.
After that, aside from occasional line reads, he stayed in his corner, observing others' skills. Among the talented cast, the young, likely still-in-school girl stood out.
She treaded carefully but delivered the exact voice and emotion the crew wanted—undeniably skilled.
The studio's soft lighting bathed her as she focused under a spotlight, unaware of Matsuoka watching from his unobtrusive spot.
Suddenly, she felt so distant, despite him being older.
He'd feel this again, wouldn't he?
He'd never craved stardom, but who hadn't, while washing dishes, delivering papers, or eating a rice ball on break, dreamed of standing center-stage as a dashing hero?
Matsuoka glanced at his few, trivial lines.
A hard worker couldn't dwell on negativity. Once passion cooled, it drained, like a winter traveler closing their eyes, never to wake.
So, he let out a quiet sigh.
…
Episode one wrapped smoothly. As the first session, scriptwriters and animation directors dropped by, mingling jovially with the crew.
Matsuoka glanced at the lively group, then looked away, planning dinner.
"Hikasa-san, I'm heading out," He said politely.
"Don't go! It's dinnertime. We're picking a spot to eat, like a kickoff party," Yoko said.
"I'm good. My role's barely a few seconds."
"So what? I'm an extra too."
"…It's not the same. You're a big name."
"C'mon, don't be shy. Be bold to build connections. This is rare—let your senpai teach you some party quips to own the room and steal the spotlight!" Yoko beamed with confidence.
"I can't handle that, and I've got a side job. Really, I'm out," Matsuoka declined.
"Alright, next time then," Yoko said, a bit deflated at not leading her kouhai through the social scene.
"Yeah, see you."
Matsuoka packed up and left the studio.
***
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