Chapter Text
Kanade sits across from a large vanity in the corner. Bright lights along the frame illuminate her face in a busy room. The dressing area she’s in is a shared space among other women, all of them having come and gone throughout their sessions, as models do. A hairstylist combs through Kanade’s hair gently, sectioning and styling it desirably for her shoot. Her usual stylist was gone for a vacation, not that she minds, she just misses him a little. There’s comfort in familiarity. She behaves all the same though, sitting still and quietly, trusting entirely that the stylist does not ruin her hair in any way. They never do.
As Kanade watches the stylist work intently, having gone into an almost rhythmic flow of sectioning, combing, blow-drying, and trimming her hair, a slim binder is placed gently in her hands atop her lap. An intern, she assumes, is the one who gives it to her, bowing shortly before moving on to the next model’s needs. The stylist pauses to allow her to turn her head down and examine it. It is the finalized print of last weeks photos. Kanade skims through the papers, stilling momentarily to look more closely at any photos of herself. After a minute or two of examination, she finds nothing wrong with it and closes the binder atop the vanity. The stylist moves to continue her work.
Kanade, under her agent’s advisement, is made to review the “final print” of her photos before they are released to the public. It’s not particularly a bad thing, but her management takes great care to ensure whatever it is Kanade is supposedto be looking for, has been dealt with already. The most Kanade has to approve of is whether she likes the final product or not. Kanade thinks she looks.. fine. She does not consider herself the way a model should, she’s new to this line of work. She models for lesser known brands of clothing companies and hair products. Therefore, she sees no need to disapprove of any prints she’s given to evaluate. She doubts there’s really any editing happening to her photos in the publishing department anyway. The only editing Kanade has ever seen done to her was primarily the addition of more makeup. Her stylist typically sends her out with a light layer, enough to smooth her skin and lighten the circles under her eyes. In any final prints that feature her face from a closer shot, proof of her exhaustion is fully removed and her face is made to look just a little fuller. She didn’t really mind that choice of editing, she understood the purpose. Any changes or additions to a print was for the product to sell. Besides, Kanade didn’t know how to judge herself in this sort of work or if there was anything to judge at all in a print.
When the stylist finishes, Kanade gives a small bow and smile as thanks before the woman removes herself. Her hair is straightened out, no strand out of place, and her bangs were trimmed just a bit shorter, pulled into an almost curtain look. She smells like lavender. Kanade isn’t called until an hour later, and she feels silly walking out every time. She doesn’t carry herself tall like her peers, she’s timid and it shows. Still, she walks out, eyes downcast in a casual, layered outfit for the fall season, and stands on the marker on the stage. Kanade listens to the directors instructions, it’s a run though on what style of movement they want, and Kanade does her best to present that as shutters click and bright flashes come into her vision. She blinks and turns, changes position. It’s all a blur and all her focus is on receiving command and creating it exactly. Twenty minutes in she’s already fatigued. Her face is tense and she’s starting to shake. Looking un-phased and natural was incredibly hard. She’s almost done, Kanade thinks, and tries to hold on through one last shot.
It’s 2308 by the time she’s released and able to go home. She’s glad to be out and back in her own clothes. It’s dark out, the streets are a little bare, it makes her a little nervous but the car is parked close by. It’s a sleek black car supplied by the agency and it operates like a private taxi. It’s quite fancy in Kanade’s opinion. The driver is a friend of her agent. Kanade and him don’t usually talk because of the partition but she still makes sure to say hello, goodbye, and thank you, and he returns the statement.
When she gets in the car, Kanade thumbs through her phone, looking at all her missed notifications- a few from Honami, others from niigo. Her agent calls her two minutes into the ride back home.
“Ms. Yoisaki! How was the shoot today? Are last week’s photos up to standard?”
The woman’s voice was slightly strained, Kanade could hear her smile through the phone but her exhaustion was also a little apparent. Kanade hoped she would be able to rest well for today and tomorrow.
“Yes,” She starts trying to hide the fatigue in her own voice, “Everything was fine, nothing wrong. I didn’t see Mr. Hamada today.”
Mr. Hamada was an older man in his late-twenties, her given stylist from the agency. He was excitable and a little loud, but he was very kind. He was also quite tall, 180cm if she remembers correctly, with fluffy blonde hair and green eyes.
“Oh yes, I’m sorry. I forgot to inform you he’s on vacation at the moment. He’ll be back soon. He says he misses his favorite client.” Kanade smiles as the older woman giggles softly.
“I’m glad everything went well Ms. Yoisaki,” she continues, “The prints are to your liking?”
“Yes, they’re beautiful.”
There’s a hum over the phone then a sound of distant conversation.
“Excuse me, Ms. Yoisaki. Thank you for another day of good work, I have to go now. Text me when you’re safe at home.”
“Yes, thank you Ms. Tanaka. Have a good night.”
“Goodnight, Ms. Yoisaki. Be safe on your way home.”
A click.
-
Five months ago, Kanade had been considering picking up some side work to aid with her grandmothers finances toward her. Kanade reasoned that she would be out of school soon and she wanted to both repay her grandmother’s kindness while also proving herself a capable young adult. Of course, her grandmother had never asked her to do this, but she needed to- for herself.
The process was of getting a job was a little more difficult than Kanade wanted to admit. She had help from her friends, spending the better part of two weeks having their help applying and prepping for interviews. It was all very exhausting. Customer service jobs proved too much for her just physically. Standing and pacing aisles or around tables for long hours drained her to an embarrassing degree. Sometimes she wasn’t the best conversationalist either and it made her a little flustered. Ms. Mochizuki even offered to have Kanade try out her line of work. She admired the brunette and was incredibly grateful for the opportunity. However, cleaning and cooking for herself had always been a challenge. Doing it for another person felt impossible. All of this did.
So, she declined.
One day, while Ms. Mochizuki and Kanade were out shopping for groceries, Kanade was approached by her future agent. A woman, taller than Ms. Mochizuki by (what Kanade guessed was) a few centimeters, stopped them before a crosswalk. Her hair is dark, just lighter than the modest black suit she was wearing. Kanade thought at first glance she was an office worker.
“Young miss, you look so pretty! Your hair is quite beautiful.” She says and Kanade blushes softly, compliments always fluster her.
“T-thank you, ma’am.”
“Of course your friend is too, but..” Mochizuki smiles while Kanade spends the rest of the moment in a bit of a daze as the woman begins to ramble.
The woman was talking about the agency she worked in and how Kanade would make a gorgeous model.
Kanade had gotten tiny cards slipped into her hands and passing comments about modeling before but it was always just compliments from strangers, she supposed. Usually, she would say thank you and move on. Kanade never thought herself up for this kind of work. The work in itself, from what she knew of it in digital media (and by Ena and Mizuki), was that it was immensely draining to one’s person. Her “career” would be a lifestyle. It would be busy, even when she wasn’t. Furthermore, her physicality wasn’t exactly to be desired. Kanade was very weak and considered very fraile. She would never be able to keep up. Composing was her focus anyway. Kanade had to save…
…
As the woman finished up, Kanade is given a card. The woman’s name, title, contact info, and agency is printed on it. She tells her to contact her about details, auditions would be later in the week, and she’s gone. As she leaves, Ms. Mochizuki asks if Kanade is okay, giggling slightly at the stunned stupor the smaller girl had been rendered to at the noticeably one sided conversation. Kanade nods and reads over the card. Ai Tanaka.
On the way home, Kanade and Ms. Mochizuki discuss what happened at the crosswalk. Kanade expresses that she might consider this option, explore it. They talk a little back and forth about whether or not it is a good fit for her. The brunette says something to her that sticks to her heart and after a beat of silence, Kanade says thank you and she’ll keep it in mind.
After Ms. Mochizuki leaves, Kanade brings the conversation up to Niigo during their meeting. They were actually quite shocked and excited to hear about it. Mizuki had Kanade model for her before, mostly hairstyles, other times clothes. But for real modeling? That was a whole new thing! Mizuki joked and fantasized about how famous their composer would be. Kanade, according to them, was undoubtedly beautiful and basically an instant success.
Mizuki said offhandedly, “Well, if you do it and get big enough, you can spread our music!”
Ena told Mizuki off about selling Kanade out like that. The artist didn’t disagree about Kanade’s potential to excel, but did express the extent of labor that Kanade would have to be aware of, regardless of cause. Ena and Mizuki went into a sort of argumentative (?) discussion about idol work, which they reasoned was similar enough to modeling since it was “part of the job”. Kanade listened, mentally taking notes about every point. It was a lot to consider and even if she did the audition, it wasn’t guaranteed she’d be picked.
What concerned the entire group though, was Kanade’s health. She had gotten a little better with Ms. Mochizuki and Mafuyu ensuring she ate properly, and her walks with Ena… however it wasn’t quite enough. Kanade still gets breathless from the walks and they only get a few meters longer after two weeks. Her body has been struggling to retain weight too. Kanade came to the conclusion that she would at least try for the audition.
With the tight deadline, the whole group put in a lot of work to get her prepared. They were all elated at her proven success and the start of a new career.
-
Kanade arrives home at 2348. She thanks her driver and heads inside.
“I’m home”
The ticking of a clock greets her.
Kanade takes her shoes off at the door, drops her bag with the binder in it and heads into the kitchen. Ms. Mochizuki left her meals for the week in the fridge, a note taped on top. She smiles tiredly at it.
‘Good work today! I couldn’t clean upstairs today, something came up :( I’ll be back to finish tomorrow. Reheat for 3 mins.’
Kanade opens up the lid, it’s steamed vegetables with a side of meat. Even cold, Ms. Mochizuki’s meals smell good. Kanade sits at the table while she waits, fighting the urge to close her eyes and sleep. She rests her head on her arms atop the table and stares vacantly at the sink. Even in her sweats, she still smells like lavender. Kanade decides she should shower before bed after she calls with everyone. She would get to today’s school work tomorrow morning.
The microwave dings and Kanade takes a little extra time getting up to get her food and a fork. Her body is sluggish, weighted only by exhaustion. After taking her food from the microwave, Kanade puts her fork in the container, closes the lid on top, and drags herself up the stairs.
Her monitor is the same as she left it, papers are crumbled and scattered around. Kanade clears a space to put her food, papers and pencils clatter to the floor, and clicks on the monitor with her mouse to turn it on. The track she’s been working on is still up. She’ll just work on it a little more before the call starts. Kanade eats while she reviews where she left off, listening carefully to the piece she’s curated over the past couple of days. There’s no real direction for the song so far, there’s no message coming through. The piano sounds dull and the strings are failing to harmonize the way she wants them to. It just.. doesn’t elicit anything from her. She starts to poke at her food trying to decipher her own wants for this song and how to execute it. Two little broccoli and a single slice of meat is left in the container, it’s already starting to cool. It still tastes good, it almost feels like home. After tweaking the instrumental for the better part of an hour she gets a ping on her screen.
Amia : K~
Amia : where are you~ ٩( 'ω' )و
K : Ah, sorry.
K : Joining now.