Chapter 42: MV in Preparation
"If you get selected to perform at Kohaku, which song are you planning to sing?"
When Hikaru Hoshino seriously weighed this question, he inevitably fell into a prolonged state of indecision.
Under normal circumstances, an artist was strictly limited to performing a single song at the Kohaku Uta Gassen. He was naturally well-aware of this rule, and it was precisely why the choice was so agonizing.
Hikaru's current musical catalog was already remarkably substantial. Factoring in his debut album, he had released a grand total of fourteen tracks featuring his own vocals, and every single one of them possessed elite-tier quality. In the world prior to his transmigration, these exact tracks had achieved staggering milestones of commercial success.
As the tragic victims of his plagiarism, the original creators of these songs were all titans in their own right. Among them, only Yuuri and DISH lacked prior Kohaku experience. Yuuri's streaming metrics were historically phenomenal, more than enough to comfortably secure an invitation under normal circumstances, but personal image controversies had resulted in him being repeatedly snubbed. DISH, on the other hand, simply lacked a broader cluster of massive hits to firmly seize the opportunity.
The rest of the original artists had all graced the Kohaku stage. In fact, looking strictly at the discography Hikaru had released so far, three of his tracks had already been performed at Kohaku in his past life: "Kanade" – Performed by Sukima Switch in 2007.
"Machigai Sagashi" (Finding Faults) – Performed by Masaki Suda in 2019.
"Ao to Natsu" (Blue and Summer) – Performed by Mrs. GREEN APPLE during a 2024 Kohaku Special Feature.
Thus, as far as Hikaru was concerned, he was utterly spoiled for choice.
However, the current calendar in this world was still anchored in the year 2018. And *that* specific song–"Lemon"–was precisely the masterpiece that had taken the Kohaku stage by storm in the late winter of 2018 in his previous life.
Earlier, while meticulously recording his studio album, he had carved out enough personal time to finish tracking the definitive studio cut of "Lemon." He had officially joined the production ranks of the TV drama Unnatural as the mastermind behind its core theme song.
Hikaru set his phone down onto the desk. The screen still illuminated a fresh notification sent directly from the show's music coordinator:
"Apologies for the interruption, Hikari-sensei. The television drama has officially concluded its post-production phase and is slated to premier imminently on the TBS Friday Drama network block. If your schedule permits, the director would highly appreciate it if you could coordinate with the show's launch to conduct a handful of parallel promotional activities."
The mainstream traction generated by a hit television drama would inevitably act as a massive catalyst to amplify the reach of its theme song. Conversely, if the theme song caught fire, it became significantly easier for the television series to shatter niche boundaries and enter mainstream pop-culture discourse. It was a textbook win-win scenario, so Hikaru naturally intended to accept.
Aside from pushing a promotional teaser across his social media feeds, he planned to drop the song's official Music Video on the exact day the drama premiered.
Up until this point, the production formats of his released music videos had been wildly inconsistent. The music videos featuring Ai were naturally bankrolled and handled by Strawberry Productions, whereas Hikaru's solo projects had been cobbled together rather carelessly. Several of his tracks didn't even possess dedicated, high-budget promotional videos, relying strictly on raw studio footage or live performance edits. Fortunately, after aligning himself with a corporate powerhouse, the music videos for his album tracks had been thoroughly managed and completed by a professional production firm commissioned by Xini Entertainment.
*It's a little unseemly,* Hikaru mused to himself. Granted, the official music videos for a myriad of timeless classics in the past weren't necessarily cinematic masterpieces either, but they at least reflected the direct creative intent of the vocalists themselves. An artist like him, who acted completely hands-off and coasted through the process, was a rare anomaly in the industry.
*Alright! Time to execute a flawless run this time.* Hikaru enthusiastically rolled up his sleeves. He intended to personally helm the creative direction of this project rather than simply delegating it away.
He would use a concise music video as his definitive entry point, charting his initial step onto the grand trajectory of screenwriting!
Blessed with an exceptionally sharp memory, the precise cinematography, camera angles, and sequence cuts of the original music video remained crystal clear within his mind.
Reflecting upon it now, Kenshi Yonezu's performance in the original video essentially consisted of him staring blankly into space and singing his heart out. A performance threshold of that nature was entirely within Hikaru's comfort zone.
Pouring one's raw soul into a vocal performance was, after all, a baseline fundamental for any professional singer.
The overarching thematic core of the original music video centered around mourning the tragic passing of a cherished family member. Hikaru intended to introduce a handful of structural adaptations, reshaping the narrative blueprint to seamlessly align with the reality of this current world.
He pulled a fresh sheet of paper and a pen from his desk, beginning to rapidly sketch and scribble, meticulously materializing the vague, ethereal concepts lingering in his mind step by step.
The core theme would remain entirely untouched. However, a glaring narrative hurdle immediately presented itself: did he actually possess any deceased family members?
Hikaru paused his pen, lapsing into deep thought. In his previous life, he had been an orphan who grew up within the sterile walls of a welfare institution, rendering the concept of kin entirely foreign to him. In this current lifecycle, despite assuming the identity and body of Hikaru Kamiki, his daily existence had been remarkably stable, entirely detached from any devastating experiences of life-and-death parting.
He remained locked in deep reflection for a prolonged period. Right at that moment, his computer transitioned into standby mode, the monitor instantly turning pitch-black. Consequently, Hikaru caught a sharp reflection of his own countenance staring back from the dark glass–a monochrome silhouette that bore an uncanny, striking resemblance to a grown-up Aqua from the manga panels.
*Wait a minute, Aqua...*
A sudden spark of inspiration flashed brilliantly across his mind. Hikaru's eyes snapped wide as his pen flew across the page, rapidly drafting the rough screenplay layout.
The moment he finalized the draft, he snatched his phone and dialed Gotanda, intending to recruit the veteran filmmaker to direct the shoot.
"Whether it's Ai or you, why does every single member of your family instinctively look for me the exact moment a camera is involved?" Gotanda's voice echoed through the line, saturated with an unmissable trace of exhaustion.
"Ai approached you to shoot projects before?" Hikaru inquired, a thread of curiosity piqued.
"Yeah. We shot a promotional short film for B-Komachi back in the day, but the group ended up fracturing and disbanding before it ever saw the light of day," Gotanda answered. "What exactly are you trying to film this time? Let's establish a boundary first: my personal schedule is incredibly tight right now."
"I want to shoot a music video for a track," Hikaru stated. "Though, looking at your end, your main feature film wrapped production ages ago. What on earth are you still so busy with?"
Gotanda let out an immediate, amused chuckle. "My dear young master, a director functions as the absolute soul of a production crew; we are responsible for auditing every single frame of content. Do you honestly think I don't need to review the final edited cut? Do you think theater distribution channels just negotiate themselves?"
"However..." The middle-aged veteran's tone suddenly shifted. "Those administrative tasks are significantly less exhausting than managing an active set, so I do manage to retain a fraction of personal leisure time."
Gotanda readily accepted the proposal, noting that he would personally assemble the cinematography crew he frequently collaborated with.
Without a moment's delay, Hikaru compiled his design parameters and specific narrative direction into a comprehensive document, forwarding it over to Gotanda so the professional director could refine the operational logistics of the shoot.
Simultaneously, leveraging the corporate channels of Strawberry Productions, Hikaru formally extended a collaborative invitation to Ai–recruiting her to co-star in the music video.
The moment Ichigo Saitou parsed the details of the request, his facial expression soured dramatically.
"You absolute brat, the media frenzy surrounding that reality television show has barely simmered down, and you're already trying to drag Ai into a music video shoot? The two of you sharing a camera lens inside a music project–do you have any idea how that looks?" Ichigo's voice boomed through the receiver, radiating clear displeasure.
"That reality show hasn't even concluded its broadcasting cycle yet. We literally share a camera lens every single week on national television, so isn't this entirely normal? Besides, this is a standard commercial collaboration between professionals; there is absolutely no logical basis to avoid it."
"Perhaps *your* intent is a standard professional collaboration, but standard pop-culture fans are not inherently rational creatures. They trigger easily," Ichigo cautioned.
Hikaru slammed his hand firmly against the desk. "In scenarios like this, the absolute solution is to elevate the intrinsic artistic quality of the project to an untouchable height. As long as the final product commands an elite level of artistic mastery, the volatile noise of irrational fans will be effortlessly drowned out."
"You possess an astonishing amount of self-assurance–or rather, sheer arrogance. I caught onto that trait the literal first second I laid eyes on you," Ichigo Saitou let out a heavy sigh.
"I hold absolute confidence in the quality of this track. As for the quality of the music video itself, that rests entirely on the execution of the Director and Ai. If we operate in perfect, unyielding harmony, we are bound to forge an immortal chapter."
Ichigo didn't buy a single word of the grand rhetoric. "Keep painting those corporate pipe dreams, kid." Nevertheless, he ultimately relented and authorized Ai's participation in the shoot.
Gotanda's operational efficiency proved to be remarkably stellar. Within an incredibly brief window of time, he had officially finalized the production crew and locked down the specific calendar dates for principal photography. Aside from the two central leads–Ai and Hikaru–the remaining roles could be easily fulfilled by background extras, allowing the entire production pipeline to move at a breakneck pace.
The filming location was mapped out within the expansive Shinto shrine sector of Tokyo Film City. While it artificially appeared to be perched atop a serene mountain peak, it was in reality a massive, meticulously engineered set piece belonging to the studio lot, which Gotanda had temporarily leased. Crimson torii gates stood proudly before a flight of sweeping stone steps, flanked on either side by ancient, towering green trees. A traditional offering box sat squarely within the open courtyard, while stone lanterns flanked the winding pathways, the entire layout perfectly adhering to the authentic architectural standards of a traditional Japanese shrine.
"Listen up! Today's objective is to completely clear the shrine part. Let's give it everything we've got!" Gotanda announced loudly, waving his arm as he stood before a mountain of camera rigs and monitoring equipment.
"Understood!" The cinematography crew responded in unison, appearing exceptionally motivated.
Hikaru and Ai synchronized their movements, raising their hands in unison. "Oh!"
"Does the production provide boxed lunches?" a voice from the background extras inquired meekly.
Gotanda didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Yes, they are provided."
They had recruited roughly ten background extras for the day, all of whom were veteran background actors who routinely migrated across various studio sets. From a visual standpoint, they encompassed a highly diverse spectrum of character archetypes–there was a middle-aged gentleman sporting spectacles, a blonde foreign national, a vibrant young teenage girl, a gentle elderly grandfather, and a lively, adorable little child.
*Wait a minute... isn't that child a bit peculiar? Why does she possess a full head of white hair?*
Hikaru looked over toward that direction, his curiosity thoroughly piqued.
As if instinctively sensing the weight of his gaze, the little girl slowly rotated her head around, offering Hikaru a perfectly innocent, unblemished smile.
Beneath a matching set of snow-white eyelashes sat a pair of eyes that shone with the deep, unfathomable brilliance of crimson amber.
---
[100 Ps = 1 Bonus Chapter.]
[10 total review = 1 Bonus Chapter.]
[] Patreon:
➔ Unlock advanced chapters & exclusive supporter roles in discord!
➔ For 50 adv chapters. [email protected]/Prince_of_LanLi