Chapter Text
“Do you know what he called us in here for?” Hanabi asked impatiently, leaning against the wall beside their father’s office.
Hinata shook her head, standing straight as she waited. She knew her father watched the security cameras in this hallway. Hanabi knew that, too. She just didn’t care.
The door opened, making Hinata straighten even more, but Hanabi simply rolled her head to the side to look at the assistant that came out. “He will see you now, girls.”
They were directed inside by a wave of a hand, and they both settled on the couch in their father's office and waited.
Hiashi, despite calling them in, didn't look ready. He was looking at a magazine with a sour look on his face. Hinata's stomach ate at her, wondering what was this time that upset him. He tossed the magazine aside, huffing as he stood up to come around his desk. He lingered there momentarily, frowning at Hanabi’s posture and then at Hinata for not correcting it.
Hinata tapped her sister's leg. Hanabi made a face but sat up.
Hiashi didn’t look satisfied, but he was willing to drop it and get to what he wanted them here for. “Marionette Industries have contacted me with a proposal.” He lifted his nose to indicate he wasn’t pleased with the offer. “They want to sign a contract with one of you to be the face of the launch of their new product line.” One of them. “This contract could make or break a career.”
Translation: if Hanabi got it, it might be the end of Hinata's career.
“Dismissed,” Hiashi told them, or just Hanabi, as he tilted his head out the door. “Hinata, I need to speak to you.” He said with a darker tone.
Hanabi, who was unbothered before, hesitated mid-standing up, eyeing her with concern. Hinata made eye contact with her, ensuring she knew she needed to go. There was nothing she could do.
Hanabi reluctantly obeyed, and with her on the other side of the door, their father reached back and grabbed the magazine that he had been reading off of his desk. He jerked his arm back and threw the magazine down past Hinata onto the table, making her flinch. “Hanabi only debuted a few months ago, and she is already higher in the charts and sales than you have been in years.”
Hinata bowed her head in shame. He was going to blame her even if she had nothing to do with it.
He curated her image and controlled what she did. Maybe that was the problem.
As far as any of her fans knew, Hinata was a confident, sexually comfortable pop diva who demanded what she wanted and took nothing less. Or at least that’s what all her songs and choreography would tell you.
The curated image mortified Hinata, but people loved it. The unapologetic girl power idol persona made girls more confident, and she held the letters she received thanking her close to her heart, but it also cemented how much she felt like a fraud, especially now.
Hinata’s eyes fell to the magazine with her sister posing on the cover. Hanabi was given a soft, sweet persona and the matching love songs. It felt like a slap in the face for all she ever wanted, all being dangled out of reach, and maybe that was the point. The pride she had in her sister’s work was soured by what she knew it meant. It meant she was once again not working hard enough, at least in her father’s eyes.
Her hands tightened on her lap, tying together as her father paced to find what else he had to be mad about. She could feel the tips of her nails digging in. It didn’t hurt as much as his frown.
“And this.” He reached back for a blank CD case and snapped it on the magazine. “Is garbage.”
Hinata’s heart sank as she saw the title written directly on the CD. It was the new song she wrote.
Like all the others, she wouldn't be able to sing it. They didn't fit her image. The sweet, lovesick songs she made from her heart would look silly with her persona, but Hanabi had been taking them, and in Hinata’s heart it was worth it that her little sister was performing her songs for her. So, if anything, the songs at the top of the list were her songs, too, but she never argued that. If she did, it would be the last time her father ever took one.
The only reason he ever used any of her songs was to keep costs down, that and stringing her along year after year to keep her working without complaint under the promise that more of her songs would be released even if she was not going to be the one releasing them for the chance that one day she might get to have one for herself one day.
“I’ll rework it.” Hinata leaned forward to pick up the CD.
“Don’t bother, scrap it.” Hiashi snapped.
Hinata froze before letting her hands slip back to her lap. She pressed her lips together as a wave of disappointment hit her. At least she had heard Hanabi record the test.
Hiashi sighed and flicked his wrist. “Get out.”
Hinata bowed her head and left the room. She took a deep breath to shove down her frustration as she got to the other side, where Hanabi was waiting for her.
“Did he get rid of the new song?” Hanabi whispered. “No fair.” She pouted. “I liked that one.” She linked arms with her and looked over her shoulder to glare at the door, knowing it would be picked up on the cameras.
Hinata shook her head and pulled her down the hall to the elevator. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t important.”
“Wasn’t it about letting go of your first love?” Hanabi prodded at her. “After all those songs you wrote about him?”
“That’s probably why he doesn’t want it.” Hinata pressed the button and waited for the doors to open. “Falling in love and heartbreak are part of your brand. Letting go isn’t.” She stepped into the elevator.
Hanabi hissed as she hit the lobby button. “It’s not that serious.”
Hinata would have to agree, but it simply wasn’t her call.
Deidara pulled his sunglasses up onto the top of his head as he walked into the bland lobby of the building. This place could use some… something. Professionalism sapped all the fun out of art.
He came up to the front desk and knocked on it before pointing. “Is the big guy upstairs?”
The clerk stared at him, confused. “Do you have an appointment?”
Deidara shook his head. “Is he up there?”
“You need an appointment.” They repeated. They must be new.
Deidara waved his hand at them and headed for the elevator. They would be telling him that he wasn’t in to make him leave if he wasn’t in.
“Sir! You can’t…” Their protest was held off by another employee telling them it was fine.
Deidara pushed the button to close the elevator and looked at himself in the reflective surface of the door, pulling his sunglasses off his head, hanging them on his shirt, and fixing what putting them up there had done to his hair.
The music in here sucked. Why is all elevator music muted? Why not make it fun? Get something with a beat or something.
The elevator opened on the top floor, and Deidara stepped out, giving a wave to the secretary's desk before letting himself into Sasori’s office.
Sasori considered the two profiles in front of him. In this industry, one lousy spokesperson could make the whole company undesirable, and similarly, one spokesperson could propel the company into a trusted household name by association.
He just wanted to know which would cause him less trouble and play their role. He wanted a good doll to pose for the brand, and nothing more.
He pushed the folders away and pressed his fingers into his temples as it began to give him a headache.
The door opened, followed by the clunk of thick combat boots. Great, a whole other headache.
Deidara flopped down on a chair and kicked a leg up onto the table, shy of the papers he was agonizing over. “What are you working on, yeah?”
Sasori swiped his leg off, making his boot fall with a hard thud. “Get out.” He demanded in a low town.
“Hey.” Deidara crossed his arms and pouted, decidedly not doing what he was told. “What has you all worked up?”
Sasori’s face flattened out as he looked at him suspiciously. Deidara didn’t come by any more just to hang out. If he was here, then he wanted something. The quicker he got it, the quicker he went away. “Why are you here?”
Deidara shrugged, acting innocent, unconvincingly. “I can’t visit?”
“What do you need?” Sasori narrowed his eyes. He might prefer it if he just came in and demanded instead of this fake friendly bullshit.
“Need is a strong word.” Deidara twisted his face with an innocent pout.
He was not playing this game. “Get out.” Sasori snapped at him.
Deidara whined. “I just wanted tickets.” He pulled himself back up out of the chair, giving him a look. “You used to be fun.”
Sasori sighed, and his eyes fell on the more urgent problem. Then, an idea struck him. “Wait.” He put his hand out to make him stop. “You know what? If you take care of this, then you can have whatever ticket you want.”
“Depends on what you are signing me up for,” Deidara answered cautiously.
“The Hyuga sisters.” Sasori held up the two headshots for the files. “I’m planning to bring one of them on board as a sponsor, but I’m having trouble deciding which one will cause me less headache. The older sister has had a longer career and is well-loved. She would be a better investment, but she has a reputation for being a diva, and I don't want her if she's going to cause trouble.” He shook her picture. “The younger one is more of a risk on paper as she is new to the scene, but she's currently trending so if she is tolerable, she may be worth the risk.”
“I was trying to get tickets to her concert.” Deidara pointed to the younger sister’s picture as he plopped himself back down. “Why not both?”
Sasori flicked his wrist out. “They are opposites in style and reputation. It would make for messy marketing.” And as much as he thought it would be interesting to pit them against each other, that would be a mess that could blow up in his face.
“So you want me to just pick one?” Deidara raised an eyebrow.
“No.” Sasori put them down and slid them to him. “I will get you backstage, and I want you to recon to find out which of them is going to be more of a pain to work with.”
Deidara groaned. Sasori could see the question on his face: Were his tickets worth it if he had to deal with a prima donna? “Wouldn’t it just be easier to bring them both here to talk?”
Sasori shook his head. “They will be on their best behavior if they think they are going to get something out of it.”
Deidara chewed on his options for a moment. “Fine.”
Sasori picked up his phone. “I will have your backstage passes by this afternoon.”
Deidara tilted his head, satisfied that he at least got that out of it.
Deidara picked up the older sister’s headshot as Sasori got up to make his call. He didn’t like this one, but her music wasn’t made for him. It was all generic, girl-power music. He wasn’t saying it wasn’t music or anything pretentious like that. It just didn’t interest him. The message felt too corporate, and he hated music that felt manufactured.
Music should convey an emotion or make a statement, and the only statement her music made to him was that the company she worked for really wanted you to feel empowered to buy more crap from them.
Well, maybe that would make her perfect for Sasori.
He dropped the picture and picked up the other one. Hanabi’s songs had emotion to them. He was a sap for a sickly, sweet love song that felt personal to someone. Her songs felt more as if they were for one person to hear, rather than something to just hit the hearts of the masses.
Her songs felt like they were written by someone who cared.
Maybe if he convinced Sasori to sign her on, he would get to ask her what those love songs were about.