The Secret Lives of Pop Stars

Red Flyer

01

RED FLYER

"You know," Takagi says cautiously. "My grandpa used to say that kicking pebbles kicks out the good luck." 

My half raised foot freezes for a second before I proceed to kick the next pebble harder. It hits my house's compound wall and bounces off in a neat arc, as if to prove Takagi's grandfather wrong. That kicking pebbles meant physical force and science, not rickety superstition fading under old pages. "I don't have any good luck to begin with," I remind him. "Nothing to lose anyway." 

The entire town of Nanporo basks in sleepy, golden sunshine, lighting everything up like a scene from a dream but Takagi, my childhood friend, and I don't pause to take in the beautiful view. 

I just returned from Tokyo to my tiny town in Hokkaido prefecture. Like most days after an audition, my mood is in the gutter and Takagi— who had been waiting outside my house all evening— pestering me for details was certainly not helping. Honestly, I should be used to this by now. This isn't my first rejection but no matter how many times, it felt like the first time. Always.

"Well, there are always other companies..!" Takagi cheers weakly, and I can't help but snort. 

"Yeah, few more companies rejecting me without giving me a chance just because my mother is English." 

From my name to my life, everything looked like it was out of a satire show. My mother is a modern-day hippie who ran away to Japan to escape from her mother's catholic clutches while my father was a white collar who fell in love at first sight with a blonde woman because 'she had clear blue eyes just like the sora!', resulting in my effortless rejections in auditions. Genetics truly had a way of ridiculing people. 

Takagi shakes his head mildly. "You know, the lady who wrote Harry Potter—" 

Before he could start his acclimated and improvised speech on J.K. Rowling, I interrupt him. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You have only told this, like, a few hundred times." 

But I feel a mild sting as I look at my only friend and his squirrel features. Takagi did not deserve to be on the receiving end of my bad mood. Not after the endless nights he spent through my self learnt dance practices or through my no fun karaoke evenings when he could've clearly spent it with the other kids from school. Takagi was dorky but he was lovable. But he made the choice of dropping at my house with yoghurt and watermelon in summers when his neighbourhood kids called him to catch fireflies. He deserved better. 

In a pathetic attempt to rectify my previous outburst, I continue, "Did you finish homework?" 

And just like that, Takagi's goofy smile lights up his pudgy face. "Five takoyaki and I might even let you copy it." 

I laugh before opening the gates to my house. "Nah, might as well let go of this pipe dream and start studying for real. See you at school." An indescribable numbness gnaws a corner of my heart but I try to swallow it down, rather unsuccessfully before smiling brightly. This time, it really might be the end. 

My mind blankly reminisces as I take each step forward. The gravel crunches beneath my feet and  I count internally as I put distance between me and the gate. One, two, three. And in the meanwhile, between this dream and my reality. 

As a kid, I was once baited into attending a concert by my older cousin because my aunt forced him to not leave me alone at their summer home and ever since, becoming an idol was all I thought about. To someone who was normally apathetic and unappreciative, the lights, the crowd, the adrenaline, the special aura the singers had on-stage, everything-- it was something I've never experienced and unwittingly, I got swept away by it. How to experience it again? All the way up. All the way from its center, was all my heart could echo from that day. Eight years old me thought it was clearly reasonable to wish that one day, I'd be the reason someone gets swept away. Just like how I got, without even realising, that evening. 

But through the years, reality answered me that boys with black eyes and black hair which needed to be specifically bleached to dye were preferred more than my pale blue eyes and naturally faded dirty blond hair. Foreign facial features which only leaned a little on the Asian side was an unwanted bonus. 

I'm almost to my door when Takagi calls me, voice breathy and high. Like the time he downed three cups of coffee straight to pull an all nighter but ended up sleeping in the exam hall. Typical fired-up Takagi. 

"Char-chan!" 

I look back only to get hit across my face by something weightless. I bend down to take the paper rocket Takagi had thrown at me. From the looks of it, it is a red flyer and when I undo the rocket, the first words I see are a huge cliché.

'Victory is just another name for hard-work!' 

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and read the contents. It is a flyer advertising an open audition in Shibuya, Tokyo. The details are almost the same as other audition flyers so I skim over the fancy words until my eyes lock on the name of the agency at the end. 

I.B. Entertainment. 

I look up to find Takagi grinning at me. "Yeah, Char-chan." His smile widens and my breath gets caught in my throat. "The I.B. Entertainment." 

I.B. Ent. is special to me in a very simple and straightforward way. It was the agency who created the group whose concert pushed me into this mad game of becoming an idol myself. The lights, the crowd, the night-- they created it. They created Clōver, my ultimate group.

"But Clōver left," I mutter, once again reading through the flyer to make sure I had read the name right. "This company feels like trouble."

Takagi smiles again. "Didn't you just say? Everyone is out there to reject you, so why not give it a chance? It did create legends like Clōver." 

I would be lying if I say I wasn't in the least enticed by the idea of auditioning for I.B. But Clōver left for a reason. Especially when they were the first of their kind and almost had all of Japan's heart within their fingers. And all the other groups managed by I.B. left for a reason. People forgot the agency for a reason. If these weren't red flags, I honestly did not know what were.

"Well let's see," I say mildly, waving him off. With a careless flick, I turn around. "The audition is a good two weeks later anyways."

But later in the night, when almost the entire town of Nanporo was sleeping, I quietly dug my fingers into the drawer and take out the torch I had sneaked in hours ago. A sole muffled light brightens the room with shadows, lighting up the first floor of a normal Japanese house in mute colours. Pulling my comforter over my head, my fingers gingerly smooth the creases in the flyer. 

In the silence of the night, I hear my heart beating erratically and though normally I am level headed, this is a fanboy's heart getting excited. There is no controlling or rationalising it. 

I read the contents again. Once. Twice. Ten times. It's the same thing. An open audition two weeks from now. Anyone can register and registration opens on the day of the audition. I swallow the bubbling feeling filling and sinking my gut. An audition exclusively for boys. 

Clōver was the first and only male group in the agency. All the others that debuted after them were girl groups or male soloists. It isn't an exaggeration when I say this might very well be the first audition for boy trainees in years. 

I bite down on my lower lip to step on the frantic fervor but though my lip bleeds, the feeling never dies. 

This could very well be my chance!

But as soon as I think of that, doubt creeps into my mind. Ever since I was a boy, I was known in the neighbourhood for my nice singing but blaming every single rejection of mine on my western features didn't feel right. Maybe the old ladies who huddle together during winter hotpots while gushing about how I could very well be the twenty first century Haruomi Hosono are not a reliable judge to my singing skills. And maybe, there really is something seriously wrong with me for not getting recruited even once though I had been auditioning since I was eleven years old. 

I worry about my shortcomings as outside, the night grows old and the crickets grow louder. It's almost sunrise when somewhere between the blurred lines of consciousness and doubt, I slowly drift to sleep, a tattered red flyer gripped tightly in my hands. 

But two weeks later, I find myself in Shibuya, Tokyo, standing in front of a seven storey building which created the legend who ignited this dream of mine. Or the one who pushed me into this hopeless rabbit hole. 

Well, here goes nothing. 

_____

Glossary:

Takoyaki - a Japanese street food

-chan - A suffix most commonly used for younger girls along with their names but family and friends do use the suffix for boys too.

J-pop - a genre of music exclusive to Japan. Literally Japanese pop.

K-pop - Same as j-pop but exclusive to South Korea.