118 Idol And Expectations

Sakura

May 22, 7:56 am, Tokyo, Japan

Sakura closed her eyes, and breathed in deep. Her new heels dug into her ankles weirdly; they might've been just a little too small, but they were cute; a shiny, baby blue that went perfectly with a similarly colored blazer she had found. That, put together with a white blouse and skirt, and she had a look going on. Professional, but somewhat relaxed and open. Powerful, but peaceful.

Definitely a vibe Sakura could leverage.

She had actually been a little surprised at how well it all came together. Sometimes, she'd have an idea of how an outfit would look like, but once it was on her body, it would look completely different. Thankfully, she seemed to be getting better at figuring out what looked good on her body. After all, she'd started out a lot later than most other girls.

But now was not the time to think about her looks.

Her new heels tapped against the concrete floor as she approached the small, unassuming white box of a building. It looked more like a one-story house than an office. However, it's location in the center of Tokyo's Marunouchi commercial district belied that it was a little more than it seemed.

She double-checked the plaque on the front door before heading in; Fallen Star Magazine – Tokyo Division HQ.

Reading the name made it real. For a moment, Sakura felt a well of emotion bubbling up; something that was bringing tears to her eyes.

Nope.

Sakura did not have the time to deal with complicated emotions right now. So, she fell back on the coping mechanism she relied on to get through her teenage years; she swallowed up that emotion, and locked it up, deep down, so it would come out some other time.

Exhaling, she walked up to the glass double-doors, and walked in.

The reception was spacious, sleek, and modern; definitely not the inside of a house. A vertical fountain flowed from the wall opposite the large, tinted windows. The receptionist's desk was on the wall opposite the door, below a set of analog clocks in the corner of the room.

As soon as Sakura walked in, the receptionist looked up and smiled at her.

"Welcome!" she said, getting and bowing. "You must be Miss Watanabe, right?"

Sakura simply nodded as she approached the desk. She noticed a badge with her face and name on it already in front of her. Next to it was an unattached lanyard. She looked up at the receptionist, who simply smiled at her.

Once Sakura had attached the lanyard and badge, and put it around her neck, the receptionist lead her through the door behind her, revealing a set of stairs and a kitchen. Sakura raised her eyebrows at the set up. Who designed this house?

She followed the receptionist up the stairs, both of them silent. On the landing at the top were two doors; one leading to a bathroom, the other unmarked.

Sakura nodded back, and passed her badge over the lock. With a buzz, it turned green. Without looking at the secretary, Sakura pushed the door open.

She was immediately assaulted by a cacophony of sound. People talking all at once, on the phone and to each other. Sakura immediately noticed that there weren't actually that many people; only about ten or so. But with the size of the room, and how the desks were all gathered together, it seemed like there were more people than there actually were.

As the door opened, everyone glanced over to Sakura, gave her a once over, then went back to whatever it was they were doing. A couple of the men's eyes' lingered, and one woman seemed particularly interested in Sakura's breasts, but they too eventually turned back to focus on their work.

Except one man.

He was in the corner of the room, leaning against a window as he spoke on the phone. He was looking out the window wistfully, mouth full with an e-cigarette. He had a five o'clock shadow on a jaw sharp enough to cut glass. Coupled with rolled up sleeves on a white dress shirt that seemed a little tight around the chest and a button undone, tucked into some comfortable black slacks, and Sakura guessed that this was the infamous Katsuo Tadano.

Sakura had been surprised when her mother had told her she would be THE Katsuo Tadano. The guy was famous in the world of journalism for taking on opponents that far outweighed him. And winning.

Most of the time.

"Working with him will get you the stripes you need," her mother had said on the phone. "It's least you could do after lending me your...website man."

Sakura had snorted at that. It had been a little difficult to get Bunta to accept the job. Something about him not knowing anything about website design, about how none of that was his forte.

Somehow, she had managed to convince him to do it by showing him the actual Fallen Star Magazine website.

"If this is the website they have, a monkey could make it better," he had said. "It won't be good, but I can definitely make it better."

Apparently, even his draft had been good enough to attract more attention than the mess the website already had. As such, Misao had been generous enough to lend her to Katsuo Tadano, former star of the journalism industry.

She walked over to him, stopping about a meter or so away from him. He didn't seem to notice, still on his phone and blowing on his e-cig. He blew out a cloud; it smelled like strawberries. Sakura raised an eyebrow at that.

Katsuo finally noticed her, giving her a quick once-over as he wrapped up his call. His eyes also lingered on her small breasts just a little too long before settling on her face.

"Nice," he said. "Talk later."

He hung up and Sakura held out a hand.

"Watanabe," she introduced herself. "Sakura."

He took her hand, narrowing his eyes as he watched her. Sakura felt like he was examining her, trying to see what she was thinking. She simply raised an eyebrow.

He gripped her hand firmly as he shook it.

"Tadano," he said. "Katsuo."

"I'm aware," she said, letting go of his hand.

"You left Miki chan alone back there," he said, jerking his head towards the door. He crossed his arms as he leaned back against the window.

"She seems like the type to let newbies figure things out themselves," Sakura said coolly. "And if she wasn't, too bad for her."

Katsuo simply looked at her, before cracking into a smile.

"Yeah, she's kind of a b****," he grinned, unfolding his arms. "But she's pretty nice once you get to know her. C'mon, I'll show you around."

Sakura blinked in surprise at his sudden change in personality. Before she could process it though, he was already moving towards the door at the back of the room.

He went on to show her around the office, which wasn't that large. He showed her the two bathrooms, the small kitchenette on the second floor (mostly used to make coffee), and showed her the door to the editor's office.

"No one uses it except your mom," Katsuo explained as they passed the door and back into the main office room.

"And she spends most of her time in Osaka now."

Sakura nodded, but one thing about that sentence stood out to her.

"Does everyone here know I'm Misao's daughter?"

"Her dau- ah, yes," said Katsuo, a little sheepishly. "We are journalists after all."

Sakura nodded, noting the little stutter at the beginning.

"So what exactly am I doing?" she finally asked as they approached his desk. She noticed that the desktop hard drive had a new laptop on it, but otherwise it was completely clean.

"Right, yes," Katsuo clapped his hands together and leaned over his desk, moving the mouse.

Sakura noticed most of the female staff and a couple of the male staff all suddenly look over to him. Specifically looking at his plump rear. To be fair, even Sakura had to admit it was very...shapely.

She briefly wondered if she could bounce coins off it.

Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to whatever Katsuo was doing on the computer.

"Alright, I just sent you an email," he said, picking up the laptop in one hand and handing it to Sakura while still looking at his screen.

"Everything's already set up, you should be good to go."

She took the laptop, and Katsuo straightened up and stretched a little.

"Where do I sit?" she asked.

"Um..."

Katsuo looked around, a little lost.

"Looks like...we forgot...to get you a desk..." he said slowly. He scratched his head in embarrassment.

"Um...maybe you can work in the kitchen downstairs for now?"

Sakura raised an eyebrow, but acquiesced.

"Sorry about that," Katsuo seemed genuinely apologetic for it. "I'll have a word with HR about getting you a desk tomorrow. Or maybe even later today."

"It's alright," said Sakura, already walking towards the door. "I'll manage."

Once she was out of the room, she let out a sigh.

That was...a lot different than what she expected. She'd thought that the people in there would treat her coldly, indifferently. But once she noted their curiosity, she wondered if it was because her mother had hidden the fact that she was her daughter.

But no. They had known. And they were treating her...relatively normally. Sure, they were gawking a little. Not to mention all the secret looks all the women were giving her.

It was too early to see how they would treat her. For now, it could go either way.

Sakura made her way downstairs, and into the larger kitchen. Katsuo had explained that this "lower kitchen" was used more for office parties and stuff, which Sakura supposed made some kind of sense. It was a lot larger, had a big, circular table in the middle, and a large, metallic fridge against the wall. The sinks were clean and chrome, the walls a calming blue, and the lights a standard LED.

Sakura set herself up on the big table, booting up the computer. She immediately opened up her email; her tasks should let her know exactly what her position was in this place.

As she read through the email, Sakura felt her eyes go wider and wider. Once she was done, she read it again. Then one more time, just to make sure she was reading this right.

Suddenly, she slammed the laptop shut, and stormed up the stairs. She fumbled a little at the door with her key card, drawing the attention of a couple people inside, then burst through the door once she was let in.

This time, everyone's eyes were on her. Including Katsuo's. She immediately locked onto him, and stomped over to him.

"What's wro-"

She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back across the room.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

Sakura didn't answer. She simply pulled him along, out of the room, down the stairs, and to the kitchen. There, she let him go, and turned around.

"What the hell are you thinking?" she demanded.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Katsuo parroted, looking annoyed as he answered, nursing his wrist.

Sakura opened the computer, and pointed at the email he sent her. Katsuo raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with the task?" he asked, apparently genuinely confused.

This time, Sakura raised an eyebrow.

"Have you ever had an intern?" she asked. "Or been one, for that matter?"

"Yeah," he said. "And it was boring as watching paint dry. Which is why I wanted to give you something fun."

"Something fun?" Sakura repeated in disbelief. She pointed at the email once more.

"You call investigating possible political corruption 'something fun?'"

Sakura was sure this was some kind of elaborate prank. There was no way the Katsuo Tadano was going to let a mere intern do the legwork for such a huge investigation.

But from the look on his face.

"Look, I saw your college grades," said Katsuo, "and your end-of-year project. You were good."

He stated it simply, like it was a fact.

"In fact, you were more than good. I'm pretty sure you were better than I was at your age."

Sakura narrowed her eyes. Was he saying this all to butter her up?

Were the accusations against him true?

But then, he said something that Sakura did not expect at all.

"I really think you can help me with this investigation," he said, face completely serious. "I'm at a bit of a block, and I don't know what to do."

Sakura stared at him, completely baffled.

This was Katsuo Tadano.

THE Katsuo Tadano.

The one that took on the Yamashita Financial Group and won.

The journalist that knew finance better than Japan's top financiers, and used that knowledge against them.

And he was asking HER for help?

Sakura narrowed her eyes. She couldn't believe it. There had to be some sort of trick. Some...weird thing at play.

Katsuo sighed, and rolled his eyes. He held out his hand.

"Give me your phone."

"Why?"

"Trust me," he said.

"I don't," Sakura replied frankly.

"Well, I'm going to do something that might help with that," he said, a little exasperated.

Slowly, Sakura handed over her phone.

He opened it up, and opened a recording app.

"I, Katsuo Tadano, promise to give Sakura Watanabe the byline next to my name if she helps me in any way for my story on the government's shady dealings with Neurix Pharmaceuticals," he said into the phone. "Even if all she does is get me one coffee that I didn't even ask for."

He ended the recording, and handed the phone back to Sakura.

"There," he said. "Proof that I'm not lying. And you can take that to court if you want."

Sakura took the recording slowly, her eyes wide.

What was that he just said?

"I, Katsuo Tadano, promise to give Sakura Watanabe the byline next to my name if she helps me in any way for my story on the government's shady dealings with Neurix Pharmaceuticals, e-"

Sakura paused the recording, then went back. There was no way.

"I see my reputation still isn't what it used to be," grumbled Katsuo, but Sakura ignored him.

"Neurix Pharmaceuticals."

There was no way.

Finally, she looked back up at him, curious. A battle waged in her mind.

She was pretty sure this was some kind of trap. For one thing, why would someone like THE Katsuo Tadano ask for her help on a story?

On top of that, a story that involved Neurix?

There was no way that could be a coincidence, right?

As much as she didn't want to believe such about one of her journalistic heroes...

Were the stories about Katsuo's shady dealings really true?

But if even so...even if he was working for them...

"Alright," she said, making up her mind. "I'll help you."

Katsuo grinned.

"Looking forward to working with you, Miss Watanabe," he said, holding out a hand.

Sakura took it, smiling as she gripped it.

She looked up at Katsuo's gentle, but guarded eyes. Whatever his plan was, whoever he was working for, Sakura was going to find out.