Chapter Text
It was routine now to leave work at ungodly hours, her throat dry and scratchy while her legs pulled the last of her strength just so she could stand upright. Her skin was still cold from the air conditioner and, trudging towards the vending machine for her parched throat, she idly wondered why the staff insisted on putting the aircon on blast like that when the recording room was tiny to begin with.
She reached her destination, but never getting an answer. Instead, she began pushing her hands on her pockets in search for coins, only to grumble when she remembered that she had left all her belongings in her locker room, as was instructed before the recording, and it would have to take two elevator rides for her to get her wallet and then back to the vending machine.
The idea of having to walk more made her groan. She plopped to the floor uncharacteristically, back against the purring snack machine and her palms flat against her face. She didn’t have the energy to care anymore that the metal against her skin was cool and that it left goosebumps to erupt. She was so tired to care about anything right now.
With another sigh, this one longer and close to breaking, Anna Kyoyama decided she would have to wait. It wasn’t her style, but she was out of choices. And knowing him, he was bound to follow her in a moment, reliable manager that he was.
She wasn’t wrong. Seconds ticked and she heard his familiar footsteps and from the corner of her eye, she saw Yoh Asakura jogging to her.
“Anna!” He called, quickly giving her a hand to boost her up. “Stand up before anyone sees you!”
She took his hand, letting him pull her up so easily despite her lack of effort. Anna remained unmoving as her manager started to fuss, gently brushing her blonde hair behind her ears before dusting off the sand on her pants. She slapped his hand away though when he got too close to her butt and rolled her eyes when he chuckled sheepishly, now that he was aware of his blunder.
“I’m not a child, Yoh.”
“I know, I know.” He held his hands up. “But we can’t let anyone see you like that, okay? Think about your image!”
“Okay.”
She understood completely.
The entertainment industry was glamorous at first glance, but behind the glitters and its fanciness was a cutthroat world that followed the primal belief of survival of the fittest. Anna was considered a newbie to most, even with her almost three years of singing on her belt, but it was mostly because of her style of entertaining the crowd and pleasing her fans.
Anna never showed off her face. Instead, she was the voice behind new-sensation AI idol named Megami or Megu-chan to her growing fanbase.
An innovation, as she was advertised by the industry. A new way for technology to evoke emotions in our human minds! A one of a kind! The promotion continued with its flowery tongue and grandiose presentation, and much to Anna and her team’s surprise, it worked. Their viewers ate up the novelty behind her performance, all loving the idea of an artificial idol with her robot-like generated voice and customable features, and it was too quick and too soon that her AI idol swept the nation with her songs and her dances.
To the other singers, however, this was incredibly childish and lazy. No one could ever entertain an audience if the star didn’t show their faces, and the likes of her would never amount to anything in the long run. They scoffed at the idea, and more than once Anna was at the receiving end of their judgmental stares and standoffish behavior. It used to bother her way back, but even Anna had to admit this was the best course for the likes of her. She loved singing, she loved performing during karaoke sessions if she was in the midst of people she knew and trusted, but there was no way in heaven or hell she was showing her face for anyone to see. If that meant being sneered at and ridiculed by her fellow singers, so be it. She was still being paid a hefty sum anyway. Them eating her proverbial dust was just a bonus to her growing career.
“You want a drink, right?” Her manager successfully took her out of her rumination, fingers already fishing for his pocket. “What do you want to drink, Anna?”
The singer turned to check the vending machine.
CHOOSE