When the Leader's Away (3): Past or Present
Political marriages forged for reasons like corruption between politics and business, inheritance of wealth, and the like had persisted steadily even into modern times. No matter what anyone said, those in power never let go of what they'd grasped easily. The noble Arisugawa family, which had steadfastly maintained its lineage, was no exception. They had once teetered on the brink of ruin after backing the wrong side, but their keen business acumen allowed them to leverage their famous lineage and swiftly rebuild the house.
But as the family's scale grew this large, one drawback emerged. Japan was unexpectedly dotted with shops and clans boasting long histories. Especially those types—they were mostly custodians of Japan's intangible cultural heritage, traditional arts. They proclaimed their superiority and the rationality of it all to the world. Foolishly, people readily accepted it. Even though it was their own closed league. Wealth and prestige piled up steadily through the power of politics and media. Even declining traditional families allied with them to survive, so their fame never diminished, no matter how anachronistic—it only grew.
"However, our Arisugawa family has little to boast about."
It was all money. Was it because their lineage had been severed once and then rebuilt? For a Kyoto noble family, the Arisugawas had an unusually short pedigree. And they had no traditional something-or-other to claim, leaving them with scant grounds to proudly flaunt to others. Naturally, they faced subtle contempt in upper-class circles, branded as nouveau riche.
"The contempt and arrogant glares from the likes of Naritaya or Otowaya—I still can't forget them."
Economic power alone wasn't enough. After all, the Arisugawas weren't the only ones accumulating wealth. To safeguard the family's honor, they needed to match wits with those others on the cultural and traditional front.
"That's why the Arisugawas have aggressively supported cultural ventures more than anyone."
They poured investments into music, art, dance, acting—every field imaginable. Their role as the biggest patron of Yuuma High School, a powerhouse in arts and athletics, was all part of that strategy. Falling behind in culture? Strike back with culture.
"And that's how we reeled in your friend, Honjo."
Honjo Rena. It was a sponsorship program yielding steady results, but Rena was a true prize catch. She even shattered the traditional values circulating in upper-class circles. With so many eyeing her purely for her looks and talent, that said it all.
"The public goes wild for a girl like that."
So they pushed her into the modern art world, the pinnacle of Western painting. A half-Japanese girl who looked every bit the Westerner, with Japanese nationality and bloodlines from the West. Exceptional artistic sense, fluent in Japanese like a native over English, and adorably cute to boot. Marketing her unfortunate family background and striking appearance as key elements sparked an explosive response.
"We got lucky. The girl had real talent, after all."
Rena's value skyrocketed. If only her personality were a bit milder, she might already be engaged to some prestigious family. Japan's traditional upper crust had an intense craving for beautiful, talented women.
"Why do you think that is?"
"No idea."
"Heh. Playing dumb."
Zenjiro chuckled dryly, tapping his pipe into the ashtray.
"The reason's simple."
Because the heirs they bore needed exceptional artistic talent and senses.
"Only then can they succeed the family head and ensure the house endures."
Even with talent, many crumbled under the pressure. They needed as many children as possible, too. That was why the family shamelessly pursued relationships with standout actresses or singers from entertainment, enduring the scandal.
Rena was perfect.
"Her build looks a bit tricky for childbearing compared to typical Westerners, but whatever—she'll grow into it."
"Then Rena-chan..."
"No forcing it. But once she's of age, marriage proposals will start trickling in from here and there."
Zenjiro wrapped up, suggesting she'd wisely pick a family friendly with the Arisugawas if she had any sense. His utterly indifferent gaze then settled on the traditional garden of rocks and sand.
Tradition. Tradition here, too. Tradition there. Everything was tradition.
Iris twitched her eyebrows from an angle Zenjiro couldn't see. She was sick to death of the word.
"What? You're no different."
For the mother who risked her life to bear you, and the family that raised you. Grow even more beautiful, even healthier, please.
Ah.
Lost in thought, Iris snapped to attention. It was a dull thud of a sensation, like being hoisted awake by a fireman's carry from sleep. Her lowered gaze rose again. Glancing down, two pairs of curious eyes stared up at her. Amber. And violet. Their jewel-like saturation stole her gaze.
Papa and I talked about that stuff once, too...
It was right after she'd beaten the crap out of a kid bullying Rena, at a gathering full of cousins and strangers her age she barely knew.
Put a leash on Rena and keep her in check.
Iris had taken Zenjiro's private talk as that warning. Flicking her eyes sideways, she saw Rena's oblivious face. Engagement. As if pleading not to tell, Rena shook her head side to side with an anxious look.
Iris closed her eyes again. Damn irritatingly, Rena's attitude often sparked issues in the family, too. They overlooked it as youthful folly for now. But in two more years, they'd both be adults graduating high school, age aside. Talk would surely swirl.
Sponsorship program. What a joke. Most kids backed by the Arisugawas ended up engaged to branch families or allied houses that benefited the clan. The parties claimed satisfaction with their matches—maybe their romance cells were dead—but Iris was certain Rena felt differently.
And that's because Rena-chan...
Shin Tae-il. Enter the problem boy. Like some Hikaru Genji seducing women left and right, he seemed primed to stir every kind of trouble.
Two planted bombs.
This band, which could turn TT or TOT any moment, already had two ticking bombs. One: Iris's engagement forcing her exit. Two: Tae-il's romantic drama blowing it all up. The latter she could maybe control, but the former? Neither she nor Tae-il could touch it.
The family was already buzzing with marriage talk for her. Inevitably, it'd leak out whether she liked it or not. And if it did? Even if the band succeeded gloriously, she might have to abandon music and return. She'd heard of a girl from a traditional instrument family who ran away but came crawling back. And ended up married. The gap in power between individual and clan was monstrous. Iris feared a future where struggling changed nothing.
Above all.
The scariest part was the fallout hitting not just the band, but Rena too. Iris knew the clan's cunning terror well. No matter how they dismissed or ignored her, the elders were sly serpents weathered by every storm—unlike her, raised like a greenhouse flower.
Rena-chan at least needs some escape route...
Was it possible? Rena's fame and wealth all stemmed from Arisugawa backing. If they willed it, they could wage a PR war and tarnish her rep. And Rena's rough personality was her Achilles' heel. That same trait had shielded Iris, excused by many as teenage spunk and flair—but it bred plenty of enemies who disliked her.
What to do...
Suddenly, Iris recalled her talk with Rena. Believe me. Not full trust like with Shin Tae-il, but as a friend. Trusting others? Utterly foreign to Iris. Relationships were a chain of betrayals for her. Rena alone was different. The sole friend who'd stuck by her side.
Iris knew Rena's efforts now. She hadn't before. But she did. The pitiful girl who'd strived harder than anyone to protect her. Actions only possible from a one-of-a-kind friend. For the first time, Iris—who'd always seen herself as victim—felt self-reproach.
Why'd I think Tae-il stole her from me?
Because she was her friend. Always by her side. Why the betrayal pang? Because she'd trusted her, really.
Aah. Her face burned. Iris grew embarrassed by her past childish antics, like a three-year-old.
"Um..."
She trusted Shin Tae-il. Reason unknown. Gazing at that idiot face sparked belief anyway. Naive or just dumb, she couldn't tell. But Tae-il was too straightforward, even hiding things. That's why trust bloomed. He clearly saw her as beneath him—a superiority from thinking he had her pegged. But no. Whenever she assumed that, Tae-il threw a surprise party that stunned her.
His freakishly underrated musical talent. His ties to Tenma Izumi. She'd been pissed at first, a bit envious too. Now? Thinking of him beside Izumi just irked her faintly. He's the guy who hurt you? Why smile like an idiot? Chest bumping or what? Seriously. Men are all beasts. Big tits and...
I have 'em too.
The swells below her shoulders were massive enough to block her view of her feet. Overwhelming enough for Rena to envy outright. Uncomfortable as it was, seeing women's jealous glances stirred secret superiority. Realizing this motherly allure was what the family—and men—demanded made her want to rip them off. But nah.
Too many perks to ditch 'em.
Iris was human, after all. Even facing Sakuya—who rivaled her without a flaw—she held confidence thanks to her chest. Huh? Why am I fretting this?
Iris frowned. Comparing herself to others felt like some lovestruck girl anxious over Tae-il. Gross. Shin Tae-il was a problem child, prime delinquent playboy. She had to leash him tight. The others chased his favor, swayed by him. If she slipped too, who knew what horrific drama it'd unleash.
"So..."
Spill it. Iris decided. She closed her eyes softly, sorted her thoughts, then carefully scanned each member.
"Iris?"
First, Katsuragi Ayane. Not a bad kid. Hardworking above all, sometimes pitifully clueless like someone. Just a tad sly and creepy. Without Tae-il tangling her up, Iris would like her plenty.
"Haha?"
Next, Sakuraba Sakuya. They played friendly out of necessity, but Iris found her insufferable. Maybe too perfect. The one spec that truly threatened Iris. Still, her girliness shone in how she treated Tae-il. The do-everything image cracked adorably when music didn't bend to her will. Iris wanted more of that.
"Hey, Iris. You okay?"
Last, the worried Honjo Rena. No need to elaborate. Meeting Rena was Iris's life's greatest luck.
"Phew."
Iris exhaled deeply. Honestly, excluding Rena, her time with these girls was pathetically short. To know true nature, live under one roof. We've only been face-to-face three months-ish...
Too scant to judge trust. But.
Tae-il trusts them. Even me.
What was this idiot, Jesus? Treating everyone so equally.
"One confession."
"Ah."
Rena, guessing the worst, dry-wiped her face. Ayane looked curious. Sakuya's reaction was oddest—almost like she sensed something, looking awkward alone.
"Secret from everyone else?"
Iris smiled. Secrets stay secrets only in the grave. Blabbing like this? Neighborhood gossip fodder.
But whatever, it's open secret in the family anyway. Not my problem.
Too lazy to dwell. Just blast it. Mind made up to reveal her hidden truth, her thoughts simplified astonishingly.
"Never told anyone, right? Why I want a band. My goal."
"'Cause you like BARD?"
"Sure, that too."
"Huh?"
Ayane panicked. The nuance felt off from usual. Iris still loved BARD, of course—their songs brought heart-soothing peace. But something bigger mattered now.
"At first, I wanted to be a singer like BARD."
More precisely.
"Like Tenma Izumi."
She'd idolized her. Always loved singing most. Izumi was her ideal singer. BARD's path was so stellar, Iris wanted to follow it.
"But."
Regrettably.
Dreams' purity didn't last.
"As I aged, my dream warped a bit."
The sage said it: Admiration is the emotion farthest from understanding. True. Iris chased only Izumi's ideals. Chasing ideals is fine. The issue? Not noticing her own changes while doing so.
"Music was my escape. Liberation from family pressure, if brief."
Outside, studying, even gestures—everything tied to family. Stressful. For free-spirited Iris, constant calculation was exhausting.
"Music was rebellion for me."
And in that rebellion lived BARD. Singing love. Everyday's preciousness. World's beauty. Human emotions sculpted gorgeously.
"I wanted it."
Izumi's spotlight. Iris craved it too.
"What made her better than me?"
Looks were taste; her body and voice matched Izumi's. She'd subconsciously thought so. Even after botching the middle school festival, pride held.
That was their fault, not mine.
She could've nailed the stage. Undeterred by Zenjiro's deep, bottomless gaze. Terror gripped her, but survival instinct drove her to finish singing, collapsed or not.
Tae-il acknowledged me.
The clincher. Shin Tae-il of all people validating her exploded her validation hunger—from sync rooms and small communities to craving vast stages of love via song.
"My goal and means swapped."
Break free from family chains. Soar unbound from the cage.
Yeah, all pipe dreams.
Face facts. Her dreams faced massive reality checks—unachievable. World wasn't kind; gains demand losses. Born noble, gained wealth. Enviable beauty, physique. Singer talent too.
Me hogging all? Unfair. Gotta lose something.
To Iris, that was dreaming. She'd abandon song inevitably. Family would force it, resistance futile.
So.
Iris hugged her knees.
"I, uh... think engagement talks'll come next year?"
"Engagement!?"
"Whoa, people actually do it for real..."
Hated it. Handsome suitor or rich, didn't matter—hated it. So.
"If not now, no more chances to sing like this and earn recognition."
Iris wanted to leave rebellion's mark. Boast Arisugawa Iris could've been the brightest star. Blame the damn family for clipping my wings—shove the finger-pointing their way.
"Sorry if it's a burden..."
One favor? Iris wheedled her members.
"Help me out a bit."
Maybe.
Her last shot with these comrades.