With Pink Lady, his moped, work felt fresher.
Some crave the peak to lord over all; others can't resist the ease of shortcuts. Takizawa, unhurried, savored the "on the road" feeling over full-throttle hustle.
Zipping through Tokyo's tangled traffic, he noticed details usually missed—the warm scent of fresh-baked bread, retro shops blasting Showa-era tunes, lazy cats sunning on walls.
Beneath the city's clamor, he glimpsed a rare, tranquil Tokyo charm.
Thirty kilometers an hour—slow, but life didn't need constant tension. This stolen half-day of leisure, free from chasing money or desire, carried a quiet zen.
So many lost themselves in the grind. In this moment, he was untethered, free, pure.
A relieved smile spread across his face, like Truman touching truth, reborn.
Change yourself, and the world responds loudly.
Sure enough, he was late.
"You rode from the coast or what?!" Kashiwai Ippei barked the moment they met. "The audition's almost over!"
"My bad, couldn't speed up," Takizawa said, hands clasped in apology. "The map's alleys were a maze—hit one dead end after another, like navigating a foggy mountain town."
"Save it, get ready," Kashiwai said, shoving him toward the studio like a herded duck.
Takizawa was no stranger to sets, having done plenty of auditions since his debut. He was seasoned at this.
Besides Alfredo and a ghost role, he hadn't landed anything big—just bit parts spouting throwaway lines.
Voice acting was cutthroat—too many monks, too little porridge. Even as a rookie, you didn't just compete with peers but with seasoned pros.
Nailing every side role he tried was already a gift.
But Kashiwai thought he could do more, pulling strings for supporting lead roles.
Real talk: Takizawa hadn't taken a single acting class. He coasted on his past life's training and a naturally great voice.
That wasn't enough.
This audition was for a volatile, charismatic villain. The sound director liked his tone and delivery at first, but after a few takes, unable to nail the spontaneous shifts they wanted, they called the next candidate.
They crossed paths in the hallway.
"Don't sweat it. Failure's no big deal," Kashiwai said gently.
"I'm not down," Takizawa waved off.
"Bull. I'm consoling myself. I know how thick your skin is," Kashiwai snorted.
"…"
"Still, watching you, your foundation's a bit thin," Kashiwai said. "Gotta study up. Do you watch anime?"
"You think I'd be in this biz and not watch?" Takizawa replied.
"Elaborate."
That was a tall order—borderline workplace bullying.
This parallel world was full of weird twists, and even with all he'd seen, it was hard to explain.
Take that tennis anime—famous for realism. No way would a ball blast walls, sink ships, or break bones with blood splattering courts. And the creator loved sweet romantic moments.
There was a mangaka known for diligence, never missing deadlines, hating gambling, especially card games.
A famed director crafting neurotic purple robots was all about efficiency, never delaying projects.
Countless oddities, as baffling as a gender-swapped warlord.
Sigh, why didn't King Arthur get the gender-swap? So dull.
"Young voice actors can't match veterans' skill. To stand out, you need branding," Kashiwai said. "Time to craft your 'persona.' You're good-looking, a Tokyo U student—perfect for the ideal boyfriend route aimed at female fans. Take on otome projects, do some meet-and-greets…"
"I've got a preferred role type," Takizawa cut in.
"What?" Kashiwai asked, intrigued.
"Harem rom-com lead!" Takizawa beamed.
"Reverse harem, got it," Kashiwai nodded, pretending to follow.
"No, surrounded by cute girls, not guys!" Takizawa insisted.
"That's way off the boyfriend route! Did you hear my pitch?" Kashiwai snapped.
"Sigh, this is a skill-based industry, and you want me to play a pretty boy, turning you into a pimp scamming young women for cash. I'm disappointed," Takizawa said.
"It's a necessary sacrifice," Kashiwai shook his head. "Some don't even have looks to leverage. No more talk—I'll scout female-targeted projects. For now, keep at it."
"Besides harem leads, I'm super into another role type. Work drive's through the roof," Takizawa said suddenly.
"What?" Kashiwai asked, sensing trouble.
"Adult anime lead."
"What?!" Kashiwai roared.
"You've got bias against adult VAs. Their acting's often better than mainstream anime—sometimes carrying weak visuals," Takizawa said seriously.
"No one dives straight into that! Drop it!" Kashiwai shut him down.
"Then adult visual novel leads…" Takizawa pressed.
"No way, don't even think it!"
"Not even a 1% chance?"
"You can skirt the edges, but switch genres," Kashiwai mused. "If it's BL for fujoshi, I won't stop you if you're committed…"
"Talk about double standards!" Takizawa gaped.
"Fine, we compromise. You skip adult stuff, I skip BL, and we stick to normal otome projects. Deal?" Kashiwai offered.
Full circle, classic negotiation trap.
"Fine, I'll take it. But if it flops, we switch," Takizawa sighed.
"Done! I won't go back on my word!" Kashiwai agreed, convinced Takizawa was born for this path.
"I've got a dinner meeting. Handle your schedule," Kashiwai said. "Oh, Matsuoka's here too. Find him."
"He's here?" Takizawa asked.
"Yeah, auditioning for a small role your villain kills off."
"I'll track him down. Have fun," Takizawa waved.
"Fun? Networking's work too!"
***
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