Chapter 83: Wager Your Dignity

The story must be traced back fifteen minutes earlier, to when Ye Zhao was leaving the sushi restaurant and answered a call from Ayako Fuji.

“Is there something I can help you with, Ayako-san?”

“I watched your performance on ‘MUSIC FAIR’ last Saturday. You did very well.”

“How did you know I was on that episode of ‘MUSIC FAIR’...?” Ye Zhao paused mid-sentence, suddenly remembering that Ayako Fuji’s close friend, Fuyumi Sakamoto, had appeared on that same show with him. With that realization, Ye Zhao changed tack, “Don’t tell me you tuned in to support Sakamoto-san and happened to discover me?”

Ayako Fuji responded with a soft, ambiguous laugh, then said, “Fuyumi mentioned you brought your single and sat with her for a while. She even praised you for being so polite.”

“Well, about that,” Ye Zhao explained the situation, feeling a bit embarrassed, then added, “Sakamoto-san also told me that you complained I sang her songs but not yours. But back then, Ayako-san, you never told me you wanted me to sing your songs.”

“It would be much too forward to say it outright myself—how embarrassing.”

“If it were me, I’d just say it directly.” Ye Zhao chuckled. “Ayako-san, if you’re ever singing at karaoke, please remember to sing my new songs.”

“You’ve released two new songs this time. Should I sing ‘Beautiful Flower’ or ‘Sakura’?” Ayako Fuji recited the titles with perfect clarity.

“Of course, you’ll have to sing both.” Ye Zhao laughed. “But when you sing ‘Sakura,’ I hope you’ll dance an enka step while singing, and at the end, clap and declare, ‘The single is a bestseller—joyous and delightful!’”

“Now you’re just making things difficult for me, aren’t you?”

Ye Zhao, enjoying the banter, said offhandedly, “If you do that, I’ll wager my pride as a rock singer and passionately sing your songs as a fair exchange.”

“How passionate?”

“At least not less than Kōji Kikkawa at a concert.”

After a moment, Ayako Fuji asked abruptly, “Ye-kun, are you busy now?”

“I’m currently dining near Akasaka with Fukuyama-san, and if there’s nothing else planned afterwards, I’ll probably just go home.”

“In that case,” Ayako Fuji invited warmly, “I’m at a karaoke near Akasaka Mitsuke right now. There’s no time like the present—why wait for next time? Ye-kun, why not come now and fulfill your promise? What do you say?”

“Huh?”

“You sound rather reluctant.” Ayako Fuji’s tone seemed to sprout devil’s horns. “Ye-kun, you’re not planning to bar-hop from Roppongi all the way to Ginza after dinner, are you? Well, it’s true, whether it’s the Crescent in Roppongi or Shiraishi in Ginza, there’s no shortage of lovely ladies.”

“...That’s not true!” And how do you know there are so many cute girls there?

“Then, shall we...”

“If I come after dinner, it’ll be a bit longer. Ayako-san, do you mind waiting?”

“That’s no problem at all.” Ayako Fuji’s tone was cheerful. “Fuyumi and the others are here, so with so many people, the atmosphere is lively—we won’t be lonely.”

“Eh?!” Eh eh eh eh eh—

“Um,” Ye Zhao struggled, “with all Ayako-san’s friends here, isn’t it a bit inappropriate for me to join?”

“Not at all. This call was made with everyone’s approval.” Ayako Fuji smiled as she delivered the final blow. “Everyone’s quite excited to hear you’ll be coming. And you’ve already agreed, Ye-kun. Are you planning to back out now?”

“Ugh...”

So I have to wager my dignity as a rock singer, and sing enka in the style of Kōji Kikkawa, in front of all these people? Numbly hanging up, Ye Zhao recalled Kawamoto Kazuyo’s prophetic words drifting before his eyes:

“Ye Zhao-san, you always talk big—one day, you’ll crash and burn.”

Sorry, that kind of bitter line is the last thing I want to hear.

...

“They’re no different from ordinary folks—everyone dresses casually and, when drunk, likes to kiss people at random.” That was Ayako Fuji’s description of enka singers’ bar gatherings.

So what would enka singers be like in a karaoke room? When Ye Zhao arrived at the karaoke near Akasaka Mitsuke, he finally found the answer.

Fuyumi Sakamoto, who’d left Ye Zhao with the impression of a “finale performer” backstage at ‘MUSIC FAIR,’ was now shaking a hand bell, gleefully cheering for her companions. Her hair, usually styled in a traditional updo with her kimono, now hung loose over her shoulders.

On the sofa sat two men and a woman. One man, with an artist’s mop of curly hair, and the woman, both looked to be in their late thirties and were unfamiliar faces—likely not from the entertainment world. But the other man, who seemed kindly, turned out to be the stage director Hideki Noda. The breadth of enka singers’ social circles was truly unexpected.

Currently holding the microphone was Ayako Fuji’s other friend, Natsuko Godai, another member of the “Enka Five Beauties,” and she was singing Shizuka Kudo’s “Grief”—the lyrics of which were penned by the legendary Miyuki Nakajima. But the highlight wasn’t the song, it was her outfit—karaoke rooms provided a few cosplay props, and Natsuko Godai, famed for her dignified and profound stage presence, was now wearing cat ears and paws.

“This scene is quite a shock,” Ye Zhao murmured. But realizing he might soon have to follow suit, he thought, wagering the dignity of a rock singer singing Ayako Fuji’s enka—perhaps it’s precisely because you sing it that your dignity is lost...

After the final lyric, Natsuko Godai put down the microphone, tilted her head, bent her knee, raised her two cat paws, and let out a playful “nyan~” like a kitten.

Everyone in the room applauded and cheered, especially the curly-haired man, who shouted “Saikō!” twice in succession.

“Mr. Ueno, you don’t have to be so dramatic,” Natsuko Godai joked as she returned to the sofa, protesting to the curly-haired man.

“It’s a rare spectacle, after all.” He smiled. “To witness this in person, it was well worth putting aside my studio work for tonight.”

At that moment, Ayako Fuji led Ye Zhao to the group. “Everyone, Ye-kun is here.”

“Well done, Fujimura-san, you actually managed to bring Ye Zhao-san. I thought you were joking.” The speaker was Hideki Noda. Fujimura was Ayako Fuji’s surname, and being able to address her by it suggested they were quite familiar.

“Good evening, Mr. Noda.” Ye Zhao greeted him respectfully.

Hideki Noda looked surprised. “You know me?”

“Of course. I’m a great admirer of ‘The Dreaming Sleepers,’ and I deeply respect your creativity, Mr. Noda. I never expected to meet you here.” Although in his previous life Ye Zhao didn’t know much about Hideki Noda, his scriptwriting school teacher had lectured extensively on his works. As a celebrated figure in domestic theater, Ye Zhao naturally held him in high regard.

‘The Dreaming Sleepers’ was a troupe led by Hideki Noda. Its predecessor was a student group formed mainly by the University of Tokyo’s Drama Research Society. In 1976, the WAN99 Hall in Aoyama, Tokyo, launched a collaborative performance to discover new drama talents and openly recruited participating troupes. That year, at twenty-one, Hideki Noda founded ‘The Dreaming Sleepers’ from that student group and secured a spot in the collaborative performance.

Over the following sixteen years, ‘The Dreaming Sleepers’ became one of the most popular troupes in the country, with every production both critically and commercially successful, until 1992, when Hideki Noda suddenly announced its dissolution.

“Thank you. It’s rare for someone your age to appreciate ‘The Dreaming Sleepers,’” Hideki Noda responded warmly. “If you’re interested, please come to the next NODAMAP production.” NODAMAP was the troupe Hideki Noda founded in 1993 after dissolving ‘The Dreaming Sleepers’ and returning from studying abroad in London.

“I’ll definitely be there.” Ye Zhao agreed, and turned to Ayako Fuji. “Ayako-san, thank you for inviting me tonight.”

Ayako Fuji smiled softly. “Then Ye-kun, don’t forget to honor your promise.”

“But before that, it’s Ayako-san who needs to fulfill her part of the deal, right?” Ye Zhao grinned at her.

“Ye-kun, what did Ayako use to convince you to come?” Fuyumi Sakamoto, the person Ye Zhao knew second best among the group, asked.

“She promised to dance an enka step while singing my ‘Sakura,’ and at the end, clap and say, ‘The single is a bestseller—joyous and delightful.’ If she does that...”

Having removed her cat ears, Natsuko Godai looked on with a mischievous smile. “Ayako, it’s your turn now.”

While Ayako Fuji reached for the song selection remote, Ye Zhao quietly sidled up to Fuyumi Sakamoto and whispered, “Sakamoto-san, what kind of karaoke gathering is this, anyway?” Everyone seemed a bit eccentric...

Fuyumi Sakamoto laughed. “Originally, it was just me, Ayako, Natsuko, and stage designer Uchiyama-san,” she gestured slightly toward the unfamiliar woman named Uchiyama, who nodded politely. “It was just the four of us singing, but Natsuko thought it was boring, so she suggested each of us invite a man to liven things up. If you couldn’t get someone to come, you’d have to accept a penalty.”

“Uchiyama-san invited Noda-san, Natsuko brought shamisen player Ueno-san—he wasn’t planning to come, but when Natsuko promised to wear cat ears and sing Kudo-san’s ‘Grief,’ he immediately changed his mind. As for Ayako, she somehow managed to get you.”

You’re all quite the handful... Ye Zhao silently grumbled, then asked curiously, “Uchiyama-san, Natsuko-san, Ayako-san have all brought their guests. Who did Sakamoto-san invite?”

“That,” Fuyumi Sakamoto teased, “I won’t tell you yet—you’ll find out soon enough.”