Work Text:
He made it onto television for the first time in the summer of 2018, on the heels of a second recession in ten years and beneath five separate accusations from a major news agency against the government for falsifying public tax records. After two months of twiddling thumbs and lamenting the aftermath of stirring up all this shit, the bigwigs at the billiards table unanimously agreed that something more lighthearted was probably necessary for prime time television, and through several channels of belligerent bureaucracy, one person’s name was recommended for the job.
His studio was told to do a segment for international business from the 19:00 to 19:15 timeslot, run an anime miniseries by Shaft from 19:15 to 19:25, and surrender the rest of their precious airtime to a fortune-telling program. And the host of this program was, as requested, a fellow whom they were to address as “Midorima-sensei”.
“That’s tough shit for anyone to swallow,” said Kise. “Don’t you think so too, Akashicchi? I had to work five years before my manager so much as let me touch the Bandai CMs, ne.”
Akashi doesn’t spare him much sympathy. “He has been orchestrating the damage control behind Oha-Asa for years. I have faith that Shintarou can handle this. Moreover, next week will be a good one for a Sagittarius.”
“Heh. Care to bet on that? Ten thousand yen. And are you sure you’re not saying that just because Midorimacchi told you to record all of his shows?”
Akashi narrowed his eyes. “I don’t gamble, Ryouta. I know.”
Kise bared his teeth.
One week later, he conceded 10 thousand yen to Akashi. And for the next twenty-two years, A diagnosis from Midorima-sensei nanodayo remained the most popular program in its time block.