Tetsu came to pick me up at six in the evening. I excused myself from work, telling the Manager over the phone that I'd need to take the rest of the day off after school.
"No problem," he said. "You'll make up for it Friday night. And since it'll be late, I'll arrange a personal driver to take you home after your shift."
…Yeah. Typical Manager. Always obsessed with schedules. Like I was just another slot to fill.
I grimaced at the thought of some yakuza-type driver knowing where I lived—then realized it didn't matter. They probably already knew.
Damn it.
I knew I couldn't move forward on my own without them. I was never stupid enough to think that kind of help came for free.
Everything has a price.
And I guess mine wasn't something you pay once and walk away from. It was the kind that sticks. The kind that follows you.
Still… I don't care.
My fate was probably sealed the moment I was born. Like suffering was just part of the deal. No matter where I ran, it'd catch up eventually.
So if this is how it goes, fine.
I'll chase the money. I'll chase the fame.
And I'll just hope I survive long enough to actually enjoy it.
Still… the moment I stepped into my new apartment, carrying nothing but a worn backpack full of my stuff, I felt… genuinely happy. For the first time in years.
I didn't get to bring much. Some games, a few old vinyls, some clothes. My PC was still there, but I took my time wiping the history clean and uninstalling everything. Planned to save up for a laptop anyway.
Besides the money from work, my YouTube channel had finally hit 1k subscribers, with 61 hours of watch time.
My latest track, PXIN, had jumped to 50k plays from just 25k the last time I checked.
Which meant… I could finally monetize my channel.
So, yeah. Things were finally starting to go right in this shitty life of mine. Still felt like I was nothing more than some cosmic plaything, though.
But even through the clouds, the sun hit my streets, brighter than I'd seen it in years.
And worst of all… I couldn't enjoy it fully.
That evening, I saw it. STAR SIX's new single.
Suzuki threw a little sneak diss back at me. Honestly, I'm surprised her label let it slide.
When I recorded the diss track, I was so deep in my anger I forgot how stupidly risky it was for an underground rapper to go after a popular idol.
Career suicide, basically. And yet… it worked.
Exposure. A label offer. Numbers climbing like nothing ever happened.
Maybe I wasn't that unlucky after all.
Yeah. Sure.
Fate probably just felt bad for screwing me over too early and decided to throw me a bone. Balance things out a little.
The next day, I woke up in a good mood.
That part was almost funny. Like my brain finally gave up on pretending things could still go wrong.
Nothing could touch me. Not today.
Then I checked the time.
Late.
Not "oops" late. An hour late.
Didn't even care.
The ride to school felt longer than usual — a few stations by train, then a ten-minute walk. Same streets, same faces, but everything slid past me like background noise.
If I hurried, I'd still make it to second period.
English.
Worst case? I'd freestyle something, make the teacher laugh, and get waved in like always.
I made it to the classroom.
The teacher looked at me with a mix of relief and thinly veiled contempt. Like he was glad I showed up at all, but annoyed I had the nerve to do it late.
I didn't bother looking at my classmates. Couldn't care less.
"I apologize for my tardiness, sir," I said in a smooth, calm English.
"I was running errands until late last night."
He answered in Japanese, without missing a beat.
"You can take your seat now, Shiba."
…Hey.
You're an English teacher.
At least pretend to do your job, damn it.
I shrugged it off and headed for my seat, hands in my pockets.
I would've taken a nap, but… I wasn't tired. Not even a little.
So I checked my phone instead.
Facebook? Nothing.
LINE, Instagram? Two DMs from the usual two suspects… and one from Kaede.
I hovered over her name for a second, thinking about blocking her.
But no.
It'd be way more satisfying to let it sit there. To let her see me later. To let all of them see.
I'll flaunt it once I make it. No rush.
I can already picture Mom's face when I tell her I make more money than six of her monthly salaries combined.
Yeah.
That'll be worth the wait.
I pressed block anyway.
When I come back, it'll be on my terms.
Then I opened the DM from Suzuki.
Where have you been?
I snorted softly.
Overslept, I typed back. My bad.
By the way—congrats on the new track.
I stared at the chat for a second after sending it.
Whatever was going on between us… it didn't need to be a fight. Not right now.
After reassuring Yamashita I was fine, I noticed another DM.
The fourth one…
Yeah. That one wasn't from anyone I recognized.
An underground American rapper.
Eyo. What?
Lil V€xxx — that was his name.
I opened the message.
"Yo. What's good, bro?
Truth is, I'm flying over to Japan for my next single, Tokyo.
I wanna feature a Japanese rapper on it.
Yeah, I know you're from Matsumoto — song's set in Tokyo anyway.
Come through. Let's link."
I stared at the screen.
First thought?
Scam.
Then I checked the profile.
Verified.
25k followers.
I stared at the number longer than I probably should have.
By comparison, I'd only just hit 1.5k — up from 53 not that long ago.
That gap wasn't small.
I scrolled through his photos.
Black dude. Dreadlocks. Tall, judging by the way he towered over everyone in group shots.
His fits stood out immediately.
Designer jacket slung open like it was nothing, Versace logo everywhere — shirt, belt, even the frames of his sunglasses.
Ripped jeans dipped low on his waist, layered chains catching the light, rings on almost every finger. Fresh sneakers every other post. Probably never wore the same pair twice.
The kind of look that screamed American rapper without trying too hard.
I blinked. Once. Twice. The realization dawned over me.
…Nah.
Holy shit.
An actual rapper. From overseas.
Who wants to make a song with me.
I looked at the message again, just to make sure it didn't disappear.
You for real?
I haven't even collabed with local rappers. And now my first collaboration is going to be with someone from the States?
Sign me the hell up!