LU Chapter 15

# Chapter Fifteen - "Why Me?"

### Junko

    This morning filming begins. At least, it does for most of us. As you can imagine with eleven idols the filming is split up quite a bit, and I won't actually be stepping in front of a camera at all today. My schedule mainly consists of rehearsing my choreography, a meeting with a local stylist, and downtime to work on whatever I need to to be ready for when it's my turn in the spotlight. And, I suppose, I should meet with our new project head too.

    "I take this to mean that you're accepting my offer."

    This is of course exactly what she would think. Dam-Bi had perhaps said it best. This isn't the sort of offer which anyone in their right mind would turn down, and no one knows this as well as Ms. Rossi herself. She had even been presumptuous enough to dismiss Ms. Nanasawa to attend to her other duties as soon as the morning briefing ended. Of course, I've already promised Rinko that I'm going to say yes, and so I probably still am, but the way she's *assumed* my answer irks me.

    So if I'm not sure I want to do this, then why *am* I here?

    I suppose it's because for the last twenty-four hours, even with everything else going on, my mind still keeps coming back to one thing. One nagging little thought that won't go away.

    "Ms. Rossi… Did you know her?"

    The directness of my question, contrary to what I'd come to think possible from her stoic poise, took her by surprise enough that she didn't answer immediately. At least I think that this is what happened. It's possible that, confronted with such a question, she was simply trying to determine what sort of answer I would respond to most favorably. If this was so then it was a wasted effort, because I'm not any more sure of the answer to that problem than anyone else. Would it be better to learn more about what she was like, or to keep living ignorant of the details?

    It's not incorrect to say that I never really knew my mother. In a strictly literal sense, I did know her for the first years of my life, but in what sense do you know anyone when you're still struggling to walk and have no bigger care in the world than making sure all of your plush animals are properly arranged for your imaginary tea party? But in the real sense of knowing someone, I never had the chance. We never got to have a real conversation. She never got to teach me how to make tea properly, or how to wear a kimono, or give me advice on my makeup. No matter how successful I end up being, she'll never get to see me perform or open a magazine to find one of my ads. I know dad tries - honestly a little too hard these days - but he's never gotten over her, and for so many years it was like I had lost both parents that I sometimes wonder if there's a point to it all, even though it would break his heart if I ever said that out loud. Not that I ever would. I do love him. He's my dad. Maybe I'm just a little resentful that he left me to be raised by nannies while he built his empire, even if he claims it was all for my sake.

    At least I found Rinko though, so I didn't have to grow up entirely alone…

    They say that no amount of money can ever buy a minute of time more. Supposing that money could equal time, just how many billion yen were my childhood years worth…?

    "Why don't we continue this in my office?"

    Once more I helped her to her feet and we moved the short distance to the relative privacy of her makeshift office space. It struck me how monotonous this sort of project must be for her. Each morning when we’ve arrived Ms. Rossi has already been in her seat at the head of the table, and each evening when we left she was no doubt still in here, watching the work going on just down the hall on monitors, and all for the sake of keeping up appearances. It seems like a lot to put yourself through for such stupid reasons.

    "Are all of your projects like this?"

    "In what sense?" If she hadn't been fussing with a small orange bottle she may have deduced what I'd meant. Very probably the same pills I'd seen her take before. It took me until she made her way over to the sofa and motioned for me to sit beside her to think of how to rephrase my query.

    "This seems like a lonely way to run a project. Is this how it usually is?"

    "Ah, no, no. My own studio is custom built to suit my needs. This is a rather drastic measure, but it's proved sufficient to the task. I promise I'm no stranger to suffering for my art, so don't fret about it. I've made due with worse accommodations before." She forced a smile, probably to downplay what I still think must be very inconvenient.

    "But why head the project from here at all if you're seeing most of it remotely? You could have done the same from anywhere, couldn't you?"

    "When one commits to something they must do so fully. Demanding excellence from a continent away is a fruitless task. You cannot take the measure of a model if you can't look them in the eye. Anything less and you may as well not even bother." I felt foolish asking the question when she gave such a predictable answer. You certainly can't fault Ms. Rossi's work ethic. I think she could tell I was slightly embarrassed, because she attempted to inject some levity into the conversation, which served mostly to make me feel even more awkward. "There's also a chef nearby who makes the best canard à l'orange I've ever had. Something about the Japanese mikan is positively transformative."

    Because a lot of people come to Tokyo for the French cuisine…

    "Of course I also hoped to discover my next protege. A new locale means new talent to foster. Frankly, once I read your file my mind was made up."

    "Why me? I'm honored, but some of the other girls are just as capable and even bigger fans of your work."

    Put another way, what's so special about me other than who my parents are? Is there anything? What exactly have ***I*** done to deserve the attention?

    "I suppose we should address your original question first, shouldn’t we? The truth is that while your mother was at the height of her career, my own had barely begun. I built my empire by my own hand, but I hardly came from nothing, and I'm ashamed to say it took me many years to recover from the mistakes of my youth. I started on this path far later than I should have."

    "I see. I understand…" They say that if you're unsure how you feel about something you should flip a coin. For the few moments when it's in the air, you're supposed to pay attention to which outcome you're rooting for, and that's the one which you really want. My disappointment in this outcome, I think, is similar.

    "I'm not certain that you do. It's true that our careers never touched directly, but we did move in some of the same circles for a time. I was lucky enough to meet her exactly once."

    "What was she like?"

    "Are you sure that's something you wish to hear from me, and not from someone who was closer to her?"

    "I only know one person who was close to her, and… They don't like talking about it."

    "I see. You poor child… Very well. It was in Madrid on the set of a gentleman friend's shoot, days before… Well, you've seen what happened. She was in a hurry to finish and catch a flight back to, I suppose, here. She must have been quite newly married, though of course that wasn't common knowledge at the time. I'm afraid we didn't have an opportunity to exchange more than a few words of smalltalk about whatever trivialities girls our age talked about back then. I'm sorry I can't offer any insight save that it was clear she possessed the glow you only ever see from a woman very much in love. Many women go their entire lives without finding that sort of happiness. I believe she would have considered herself a very lucky woman to have found it at such a young age."

    It felt almost cruel, being offered just these few words of anecdote. All my life I’ve wanted to know what she was really like, but nobody would talk honestly about her. I heard a few stories from some of the household staff growing up, but only a couple of them had known her at all, and I've since come to realize that their tales were filtered through the lens of a servant speaking to a child about her mother's legacy. A kindness at the time that's grown callous in retrospect. The only testament I've been able to find to who she was has been old interviews, and those offer no more insight into who she was as a real person. For a woman who was supposedly beloved by everyone who knew her, nobody seems to have actually known her beyond the most superficial interactions except my dad, and he's never told me anything beyond how beautiful and absolutely perfect she was. But I don't want to know that she was perfect. Nobody is perfect, no matter what someone in love with them may think. I want to know who she actually was.

    My frustration welled up inside of me and leaked out in a small trickle through my eyes, burning my cheeks in an altogether different way than outside the studio. Why now? Why did she have to give me false hope only to yank it away? It's not her fault, but she acted like she was so invested in who I came from. I thought maybe she had a real connection to her, but instead she offers nothing more than the one thing I've heard all my life: that my parents were very much in love.

    "Junko, I can barely begin to understand the depth of your loss, and it pains me to be able to tell you so little. I have many friends in this industry. Perhaps if I reach out personally, some may have better stories to share."

    More hope, being dangled in front of me like a carrot. How could I even know if what she is saying is true? But what if it is? To have this sort of opportunity and pass it up out of frustration and stubbornness…

    "Please excuse my bluntness, but I need to know, and my nerves are frazzled. Why do you want ***me*** for this position? Why specifically? Is it just because of who my parents are? Because if that's the case, I don't want anything to do with it. There's a reason I don't talk about it with anyone."

    "Junko, that should be obvious. I'm sorry if it hasn't been. I believe you have the potential to be much more than you currently aspire to be. Some women raise children. Those who can't find other outlets to create their legacy. Mine is in the young women I raise to greatness. I believe you have the talent to be among them one day."

    "That still doesn't answer why though. All of us are talented. We're all good looking, most of the group more than I am. Is it just because of her? Because that's not right! Dam-Bi knows way more about fashion than I do. If you want to work with anyone, it should be her."

    "Junko… Are you quite done trying to convince me that my instincts are wrong?"

    I glared at her in a way that isn't appropriate given our positions. Here I'm trying to be as honest as she's been trying to lead me to believe she is, and everything just rolls off of her back like water off a swan.

    "Ms. Han is an impressive talent, and one who did draw my attention. I have no doubt that someday, with hard work and proper guidance, she will make something of herself, as may several others among your peers. I would never stake the reputation of my agency on a project of this magnitude based on the talent of only a single participant. However, she is already quite motivated in that regard. Locating truly great talent isn't about finding those who are trying hard to be found. Anyone can see a diamond if it has already been cut and polished. You are, to use a horribly trite cliche, a diamond in the rough. No, you're more than that. You're a diamond trying desperately to hide your splendor to fool the world into mistaking you for a common stone. You cannot understand your own value because at the moment you're merely a lump of carbon, unaware of the breathtaking beauty you could become in the hands of a properly trained jeweler. Ms. Han is aware that she's a diamond, and has begun to shape herself to that end herself, for better or worse. You have not. I trust that makes things clear?"

    I nodded my head slightly. I understood only in the abstract, but didn't feel like arguing any more. In short, Ms. Rossi wants me for this position purely because, for her own reasons, she sees something in me that makes her want me for this position. It's a loop with no real beginning or end. It's a judgment that simply is, purely because Ms. Rossi feels that it is, and I don't believe any more explanation will be forthcoming from her on the matter. It would be extremely conceited if she didn't have the portfolio to back up her boasts.

    Fashionistas can be ridiculous sometimes…

    "I'll be clear and honest, since you seem to be having difficulty taking me at my word. I'll be as frank with you as I dare as a show of good faith. I too have lost the great loves of my life. As such I understand the meaning of what you're seeking, at least in some small way. This isn't a bribe. I plan on making the necessary calls to help you no matter what you say about my offer. I'm not sure I could look at myself in the mirror if I did not. That's already so hard as it is…" As her voice wavered, she clutched her head. Ms. Rossi's strength truly seems to ebb and flow unpredictably, or at least it seems so to a relative stranger such as me. "Please, Junko, I need an answer and I need it immediately. Forgive me for cutting our negotiations short, but if you still intend to decline after all my reassurances I'm afraid I'll need to ask you to return to set with your peers. I'll simply have to make due with Ms. Nanasawa. Either you trust me or you don’t. Nothing further will change that as quickly as needs require.”

    I still couldn't shake the feeling that this was a bad idea. Either because Ms. Rossi was still hiding something behind all of her disarming openness, or because I didn't feel up to the task on top of everything else, or because…

    I don't know why.

    Maybe she's right. Maybe I'm trying to keep my head down now so nobody else notices the similarities between me and Mom. If a bunch of magazine columnists can notice the resemblance then how long can it be before someone takes it further and figures out why? I may just be paranoid after a lifetime of being told how important it is that no one ever know what Ms. Rossi knows. Could anyone blame me?

    But if I'm really worried about that, why am I going to film a music video at all? Having my face plastered ten feet tall all over Akihabara is a terrible way to keep myself a secret. Plus, try as I might to find a good reason to sabotage this opportunity, she has been as kind as I could have possibly asked for even despite my brashness. Almost like an aunt instead of a boss, not at all like how she acts in our daily briefings. Maybe this is how Kazue feels dealing with Lina?

    In the end, there is only one decision that makes any real, logical sense if I'm going to take my career at all seriously.

    "Ms. Rossi, I'll accept the position. What do you need me to do?"

    "There's a folder for you on my desk. Take it to the set and observe for now. Please try to familiarize yourself with the contents and how the shoot is ran and report back here promptly when you're dismissed for lunch. Ms. Nanasawa and I will brief you more fully then."

    "Yes, Ms. Rossi. I'll do that."

    "Thank you for seizing this opportunity. I promise that… It will be a rewarding… I'm sorry, could you please turn off the light on your way out…? Thank you, Junko… We'll speak more later…"

    I could barely believe that the woman nearly doubled over in pain on the sofa was the same imposing authority who had cowed an entire room full of idols, let alone the person who had, through sheer force of persuasion, gotten Rinko, Eimi, Akira, and myself to all reach the same conclusions. It must be so hard to keep up appearances dealing with that.

    She's a very impressive woman…

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