Chapter 41: The Signing Event
Sitting behind the signing table on the seventh floor of Shibuya HMV, Hikaru Hoshino stared at the long, winding queue before him, feeling utterly exhausted.
Forcing a smile for several hours straight every day had left his facial muscles completely stiff. Over the past four days, he had held a signing event in Shinjuku, Ikebukuro, Harajuku, and Akihabara respectively, encountering all walks of life within his fan base. The majority were female fans, some of whom were prone to getting a bit too hands-on, leaving Hikaru feeling incredibly helpless.
Fortunately, he had a personal bodyguard by his side.
Hikaru turned his head toward Rin Futamichi. Not far away, Rin stood leaning against the wall, clad in a sleek black suit and sunglasses, her sharp gaze systematically sweeping over every corner of the venue. As Xini Entertainment's head of security and a personal acquaintance of Hikaru, she had been deployed by the agency once again to guarantee the artist's safety.
Shibuya HMV was a massive record retail store, and its seventh floor was primarily utilized as an event space. The entire floor had been heavily rearranged for the day; the shelves originally displaying CDs and merchandise had been pushed to the sides, clearing out a vast, open area in the center. The store's interior design leaned toward modern minimalism, with crisp white walls plastered with various artist posters, and bright LED lights illuminating every nook and cranny.
Today, the signing table was positioned close to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The backdrop behind him was emblazoned with the album art of *A Poem Composed with You* alongside a subtly melancholic promotional photo of himself. A few signing markers and a bottle of mineral water sat neatly on the table, right next to a bouquet of red roses gifted by a fan.
A massive crowd of fans had already swarmed outside the cordoned signing zone, the queue snaking from the table all the way back to the elevators, and even spilling into the stairwells. Fans stood clustered in small groups, chatting excitedly. HMV staff members on crowd control duty were bustling about, double-checking the audio equipment to ensure everything was perfectly prepared.
During every signing event, the store's sound system would play the tracks from the album on a continuous loop, which lent a rather peculiar atmosphere to the venue. This was because the album did contain a few tracks that were arguably *too* heartbreaking–specifically those covers originally by back number.
Fortunately, the track currently echoing through the speakers was *Haiiro to Ao*. Being one of the more rhythmically driven tracks on the album, its brisk, upbeat tempo helped alleviate the heavy atmosphere significantly.
Gazing out at the dense sea of people, Hikaru felt his wrist aching before things had even kicked off. This was the fifth leg of his week-long promotional tour, and by far the largest in scale. They were projecting an attendance of over five hundred people today; just the thought of it made his scalp tingle.
He desperately wanted to raise his hand and announce, "I was actually socially anxious in my past life." But at this point, it was safe to assume absolutely no one would believe him. "Socially anxious? More like a social terrorist," was how he imagined everyone would reply.
Having been baptized by the four consecutive signing events earlier this week, Hikaru had transformed from a clumsy rookie who fumbled awkwardly in front of total strangers into a seasoned pro. He could now deliver standard pleasantries like "Thank you for your support" with flawless fluency. He had even managed to master Ai's signature skill–putting on a smiling mask to lie without batting an eye or breaking a sweat (though, truth be told, he was probably born with that trait anyway).
However, the angle of Hikaru's smile wasn't quite as flawless as Ai's, and prolonged smiling caused the muscles at the corners of his mouth to twitch with rigidity. Sometimes, a sudden muscle spasm would warp his expression into a crooked smirk, making him look like he belonged in a trashy web-novel ad.
"Hikari-san, are you ready? We're scheduled to begin in two minutes," an HMV staff member noted, stepping forward with a walkie-talkie in hand.
Hikaru flashed an OK gesture.
At exactly two o'clock in the afternoon, the signing event officially commenced. The queue began to shuffle forward, and the venue instantly grew noisy as ecstatic fans conversed in animated whispers, their footsteps and chatter intertwining into a lively hum.
The very first fan at the front of the line was a corporate working professional, sporting a voluptuous figure and a tailored black business suit. As the woman stepped forward, her eyes lit up the moment her gaze locked onto Hikaru's face.
"Hikaru-kun, you're actually this handsome in person! I honestly thought your photos online were heavily photoshopped," the older sister said, sliding her album across the table, her tone laced with a trace of flirtatious charm.
"You flatter me. Thank you so much for your support," Hikaru responded, deploying the smile he had rehearsed countless times.
His hand flew across the booklet, swiftly penning down the characters for "Hikari." After an immense amount of practice, his signature had become second nature. Once finished, Hikaru maintained his silence, waiting for the fan to cycle through.
Each attendee was strictly capped at a maximum of thirty seconds, meaning there was only enough time to exchange a sentence or two.
"I'll continue to support you forever, Hikaru-kun!" the older sister called out, waving her hand as she was guided toward the exit. Hikaru felt the muscles in his face stiffen a fraction more.
The second fan was a high school girl with a yellow ponytail, dressed in her school uniform, her eyes gleaming with fanatical adoration. Aside from the album, her hands were overflowing with a mountain of miscellaneous official merchandise.
"Hikari-kun! I super, super, *super* love you! I've been following you religiously ever since *Dry Flower*!" The girl was so incredibly worked up that her voice trembled violently. "I'm the vice leader of the No. 3 Hikari Fan Support Faction! The fan club is currently pooling funds together to prepare a New Year's gift for you, so please promise you'll accept it!"
"I don't accept gifts; that is a strict principle of mine," Hikaru frowned slightly. "Please put an immediate stop to any private fundraising activities among the fans."
"Ah, that's such a shame." The high school girl handed over her album.
"Thank you for your love," Hikaru said, scribbling his signature across the cover.
"When are you going to collaborate with Ai-chan again? Are you two secretly dating? Do I still stand a chance?" The girl fired off a barrage of three questions in a single breath.
"Time is up, next person please," a staff member chimed in right on cue.
"I will support you until the day I die!" the girl cried out reluctantly as she was ushered away by the staff.
Over the course of the next hour, a colorful assortment of fans filtered through the line. The crowd didn't consist solely of female fans either. Given that Hikaru was an undeniable, powerhouse singer-songwriter (?), he naturally commanded a massive following of male fans as well. Many of them stepped forward to express just how deeply they resonated with his album, particularly the heavy, devastating heartbreak tracks.
Those songs had struck a chord deep within their souls.
...To be completely honest, it was a little tragic.
Hikaru finalized another signature and snapped his head up, only to be met with a thoroughly displeased, familiar face.
Sporting sunglasses, a mop of bleached blonde hair, and a sharp buzzcut–it was none other than Ichigo Saitou, the president of Strawberry Productions.
"Brat, hurry up and sign it," Ichigo snorted, a gust of air escaping his nostrils.
"Thank you for your immense support, Old Man Saitou. Next."
Ichigo snatched his signed album and walked off, revealing Miyako Saitou standing directly behind him.
"Hikaru, you've truly become a massive star now. You look incredibly compatible with X," Miyako noted with a soft smile.
Though she left the name silent, Hikaru effortlessly deciphered "Ai" based on her lip movements.
He arched an eyebrow, pitching his voice a fraction higher. "Thank you for your support, Miyako-san. I wish you the best of luck in finding a handsome young boyfriend soon," Hikaru teased playfully as he signed her copy.
Miyako's brow furrowed. "How on earth did you... Ugh, whatever, stop talking nonsense. I gave up on those pipe dreams ages ago."
She snatched the album and walked away at a brisk pace.
Once Miyako stepped aside, the adult next in line didn't immediately step forward, leaving a bizarre, empty gap right in front of the signing table.
Feeling bewildered, Hikaru was just about to question the staff when a voice suddenly piped up from below.
"Down here!"
Hikaru watched as a tiny hand emerged from beneath the edge of the desk, waving wildly in the air.
He sat up straight and peered over the table, finally spotting Ruby, with a thoroughly expressionless Aqua standing right beside her.
Aqua extended the album in his hand. "The tracks are excellent. Yeah."
"To be completely accurate, I was dragged here entirely by Ruby," Aqua added, sharply averting his gaze.
"Huh?! Didn't *you* drag *me* here?!" Ruby's eyes widened in sheer disbelief as she whirled on him.
"...Considering we're acquaintances, it's only natural to show a baseline level of support, right?"
Aqua snatched his signed album, grabbed Ruby, and bolted from the scene like a streak of lightning.
Following that brief interlude, Hikaru welcomed a steady stream of familiar faces. There was Keigo Miura, the former manager from the Lalalai Theatrical Troupe; Yuri Kurokawa, who had arrived with her young daughter, Akane Kurokawa; and even Kana Arima, who had lined up entirely on her own.
Time ticked away second by second, and the queue finally began to dwindle down to its absolute end. Hikaru glanced down at his wristwatch; it was rapidly approaching five o'clock in the evening. A grueling, three-hour signing marathon was finally drawing to a close.
He slowly rotated his stiff shoulders, stretching his aching wrists, before gently massaging his facial muscles, which had gone entirely numb from maintaining a fixed smile for so long.
*Ah~ it's finally over.*
Hikaru couldn't resist letting out a massive stretch. The HMV staff members had already begun packing up the surrounding merchandise stands, preparing to clear the floor. The volume of the sound system was dialed down, the backdrop panels were being unbolted, and the vibrant clamor of the venue gradually subsided into a quiet lull, punctuated only by the sporadic sounds of packing.
Right at that moment, the final fan stepped forward.
It was a figure clad in a loose, grey hoodie, the hood pulled completely over their head to completely obscure their facial features.
Not far away, Rin Futamichi's gaze instantly turned razor-sharp. She straightened her posture away from the wall, her muscles instantly tensing up.
The individual walked slowly up to the edge of the signing table, reaching up to gracefully pull back the hood, revealing a cascading waterfall of vibrant purple hair.
Astonishingly, beneath the hood, she was still sporting a black baseball cap pulled low over her brow, paired with a large pair of dark sunglasses, making it virtually impossible for an ordinary bystander to discern her face.
*It's Ai,* Hikaru thought.
Truth be told, he had been holding out hope for her arrival all day. Since so many other familiar faces had made an appearance, he naturally harbored a quiet expectation deep within his heart that Ai would show up too.
Every single time a new fan had stepped forward today, his mind had instinctively compared their silhouette against Ai's figure, only to be met with a swift wave of disappointment each time.
Ai extended a fair, slender arm, presenting a freshly purchased copy of his album.
She lowered her voice to a soft whisper, "I'm a massive fan of Hikari too. Could you please sign this for me? Thank you."
Hikaru felt the dormant, exhausted muscles in his face instantly surge back to life. It felt as though he had just downed a full liter of black coffee; every ounce of fatigue plaguing his body vanished without a trace.
"Of course I can."
He offered her a brilliant, radiant smile.
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