"What do you mean you want double?! We had a signed contract!" A man in a rumpled button-up shirt paced near the entrance, phone glued to his ear, free hand clawing at his thinning hair.
"No, I don't care what your agent told you. We agreed on terms!"
Yoichi felt Ichika tense beside him. His fingers, which had been possessively wrapped around hers since they left the car, loosened slightly. They now stood at the threshold of her world, not his.
The studio sprawled before them, a massive warehouse space transformed into a tropical beach fantasy. Sand had been trucked in and spread across one section. Palm trees in massive planters created the illusion of an island paradise. Massive lights hung from industrial rigging.
A small army of people bustled throughout—assistants with clipboards, stylists arranging swimwear on racks, makeup artists organizing palettes.
"Wow," he said quietly.
Ichika nodded, her professional mask slipping into place. "This isn't a small production."
Mamoru scurried ahead toward a check-in table. "Wait here, I'll get your information packet."
Yoichi scanned the room. The stressed man on the phone was clearly the director. The man in the expensive suit by the cameras was likely a producer. The young women being attended to by stylists were other models.
And then there was—
"Oh my god," Ichika froze, her fingers digging into his forearm. Her entire body went rigid. "Yoichi... that's her. That's the Ai."
He followed her gaze to a girl standing near the beach setup. Even from behind, she stood out—her posture perfect, her aura magnetic. Her hair fell in a gradient cascade, shifting from deep purple to vibrant pink.
"Ai who?" Yoichi asked, though he could guess from Ichika's reaction.
"Just Ai!" Ichika's voice dropped to an excited whisper. "From B-Komachi! Nino and I are obsessed with them! She's our age, but she's a rising star. She just came back from a year-and-a-half hiatus... This must be one of her first smaller gigs to ease back in. I thought maybe one of the other girls from the group might be here, but... to have the center herself..."
The idol stood with an older blond-haired man in glasses, nodding seriously as he spoke. Even in casual clothes—black joggers and an oversized hoodie—she radiated star quality.
"So?" Yoichi nudged Ichika gently with his elbow. "Go introduce yourself. You're both professionals here. It's called networking."
Ichika shook her head, her usual confidence evaporating. "I can't! What would I even say? I'd probably just start quoting her song lyrics and make a fool of myself."
"Fine." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Then I'll do it for you."
"Wait, what? No—Yoichi!"
He was already moving, pulling her along toward the idol and her manager. Ichika stumbled behind him, trapped between wanting to flee and the magnetic pull of meeting her idol.
The blond-haired man noticed their approach first, his conversation with Ai trailing off. Yoichi stopped at a respectful distance, still holding Ichika's hand.
"Excuse me," he said.
The idol turned around.
Yoichi had seen beautiful women before. Both Ichika and her sisters were stunning in their own ways. But Ai Hoshino existed on another level entirely. Her eyes were a gradient purple-pink that matched her hair and sparkled.
Her features were a perfect balance of feminine and fierce. Her skin glowed with health and vitality.
Okay. I get it. She's not just pretty; she's a work of art. More beautiful than Ichika, but in a completely different way. Ichika is a stunning girl-next-door; this one is a goddess who descended to Earth.
Ai's professional smile faltered for just a microsecond as her eyes landed on Yoichi.
The older man stepped forward slightly, assessing Yoichi with shrewd eyes.
"Ah, you must be the male model. You're late. What's your name?"
Yoichi laughed. "No, no. I'm not in the industry." He turned to Ichika, his expression softening. "That's for my girlfriend, Ichika."
He pulled her forward gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a small gesture of support.
Ichika recovered instantly, slipping back into professional mode. She bowed respectfully.
"It's an honor to be working with you today, Ai-san."
Ai's eyes moved from Yoichi to Ichika and back again, her smile returning with interest. "The honor is all mine, Ichika-chan." Her voice was melodic. "So... a model with a public relationship? How bold."
Ichika gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "Oh, no, we try to keep it private. He was just worried this might be one of those shady gigs that tries to trick you into doing naked photoshoots, so he insisted on coming along to make sure everything was on the level."
She glanced up at Yoichi. "He's a little... overprotective."
Ai's eyes widened slightly. "That's... actually quite sweet."
The blond man chuckled. "Refreshingly old-fashioned. I'm Ichigo Saitou, Ai's manager and producer at Strawberry Productions."
"Yoichi Tanigawa." Yoichi offered his hand, which Saitou shook firmly.
"And you're not in the industry at all?" Saitou asked.
"No sir."
"What do you do, then?"
Before Yoichi could answer, the director stormed up to their group, phone still clutched in his white-knuckled hand. His face had gone pale beneath his five o'clock shadow.
"He's out," he said to Saitou, his voice a choked whisper of pure panic. "The male model. He got a better-paying gig for a commercial and just... backed out. Left us completely high and dry."
He ran a hand through his thinning hair, glasses slipping down his nose. "We're completely screwed! Where am I supposed to find a male model with a six-pack, who can fit the sample size swimwear, on ten minutes' notice?!"
Saitou's expression hardened. "Hatanaka, you assured me—"
"I know what I assured you!" The director whirled around, scanning the room desperately. "But unless you can pull a suitable male model out of thin air, we're going to have to reschedule the entire shoot!"
His frantic gaze swept past assistants, past stylists, and landed squarely on Yoichi. His eyes narrowed, then widened with sudden hope.
"You," he said, pointing a trembling finger at Yoichi. "You're tall. You look fit… you wouldn't happen to have, say, visible abs under that shirt?"
Ichika jumped in. "He does! He works out every morning." She turned to Yoichi with pleading eyes. "Yoichi, take off your jacket. Show them."
Yoichi shot her a look that promised retribution later, but slowly unzipped his jacket and shrugged it off. The simple black t-shirt underneath clung to his torso, revealing a lean, muscular build.
Hatanaka circled him like a vulture. "Turn around. Arms up."
Yoichi complied, his face impassive.
"He'll do," Hatanaka said, relief flooding his voice. "He'll more than do. What's your rate?"
"He's not a model," Ichika explained quickly.
"We'll pay what we offered the last guy," Hatanaka said, already pulling out his phone. "Get him to wardrobe, now!"
"Wait," Yoichi held up a hand. "I didn't agree to this."
Everyone froze. Ichika's pleading eyes met his. Ai watched him with newfound interest. Saitou's analytical gaze seemed to be recalculating something.
"Please," Hatanaka begged. "It's just a few hours of your time. The concept is simple on a beach. Romantic summer vibes. We need a male model with your... qualities."
Yoichi turned to Ichika. "What do you think?"
"The role is yours if you want it," Hatanaka cut in. "Both of you. We'll make it work."
Ichika squeezed his hand. "Please, Yoichi. This is huge for me."
He sighed, a small smile playing at his lips. "Fine. But I want 50 percent more than what you offered the last guy and you owe me."
Hatanaka clapped his hands together. "Deal! Let's get you both to wardrobe!"
As assistants swooped in to guide them toward the dressing rooms, Ai stepped close to Yoichi, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for him.
"Never modeled before? This should be interesting." Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Don't worry, I'll guide you through it."
Her fingers brushed his arm. "Just follow my lead, and we'll make magic together."
Then she was gone, gliding toward her dressing room with the effortless grace of someone used to being watched.
Ichika appeared at his side, her expression a complicated mix of excitement and something darker. "Did she just...?"
"She's just being friendly," Yoichi said, though they both knew it wasn't entirely true.
An assistant arrived to guide Yoichi toward the male dressing area. Before he left, he leaned down, his lips brushing Ichika's ear.
"Remember, boyfriend or not, today I'm yours."
He pulled back with a wink and followed the assistant, leaving Ichika staring after him.
In the small dressing room, Yoichi found himself surrounded by racks of men's swimwear. A stylist handed him three options—board shorts in different colors and cuts.
"Try these. The blue ones might work best with your coloring."
Left alone, Yoichi changed quickly, selecting the navy blue shorts that hung low on his hips. He stood before the mirror, assessing himself critically. The years of countless push-ups and pull-ups done in tiny apartments, the physical labor jobs he'd taken to support himself and his mother… they had sculpted his body into something lean and powerful.
This isn't what I expected from today. Not even close.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Are you decent?" Ichika's voice.
"Yeah, come in."
She slipped inside, already changed into her outfit—a white one-piece swimsuit with strategic cutouts that emphasized her curves while maintaining an elegant silhouette. Her hair had been styled into loose waves, and subtle makeup enhanced her natural beauty.
She stopped when she saw him, her eyes widening slightly.
"Wow." The word escaped her lips before she could stop it.
Yoichi raised an eyebrow. "You've seen me without a shirt before. This morning, in fact."
"That was different." She stepped closer, her voice dropping. "Much different."
A production assistant knocked on the door. "Five minutes, everyone to set!"
Ichika straightened, slipping back into professional mode. "Ready to be a model for a day?"
Yoichi nodded, following her out of the dressing room toward the beach setup. As they approached, he saw Ai already positioned on the sand, looking like a vision in a white swimsuit. The photographer was adjusting his camera while assistants moved reflectors into position.
Ai looked up as they approached, her eyes locking onto Yoichi. Her gaze traveled slowly down his exposed torso and back up to his face, a small smile playing on her lips.
Hatanaka clapped his hands. "Places, everyone! Ai and Yoichi, center of the beach setup. Ichika, over by the palm trees for now."
As Ichika moved to her position, Yoichi stepped onto the artificial beach. Ai held out her hand to him, her smile luminous.
"You ready?" she asked quietly.
"Not really."
She laughed. "Relax. Just be natural. And maybe flex a little." She winked. "For the camera, of course."
Yoichi took her outstretched hand, acutely aware of Ichika watching from the sidelines.
"Alright," the photographer called. "Let's make some summer magic!"
The lights brightened, the camera clicked, and Yoichi found himself standing on a fake beach, holding hands with Japan's up and coming idol, while his pretend girlfriend watched from the shadows.
Some bet this turned out to be.