“Three sevens. Is anyone beating that?”

Mikako asked casually to the pair surrounding the table, their heads buried into the cards hidden away in their hands. They weren’t playing to win, nor were there any stakes, this was simply pure and boring fun to pass the time.

Kiyoshi was the first to fold, his tattooed and muscled arms gently lowering the cards similar to how I imagine a giant plant's flowers, smoothing them out softly as he goes. “Out.” He announced with none of the fanfare that was usually present in these games.

He leaned back on his chair, crossing his arms as both he and Mikako jointly turned their heads towards the final hand at the table.

“I don’t get it?” Nao’s confused voice cut the tension like butter, drawing sighs from the other two at the table, “Does this win?” She continued, placing her cards on the table face up for everyone to see.

Mikako leaned over the table to get a better view of Nao’s cards, and then wordlessly sat down with a telling smile.

“I lost?” Nao squeaked, already understanding what Mikako’s body language was saying, “This game is shit, let’s play something fun.” She grumbled, both Mikako and Kiyoshi fully aware that ‘fun’ for Nao meant easy to win at.

It was a Monday, and here I was loitering just outside the breakroom where those three were playing a game of blackjack. It wasn’t surprising that Mikako won, it was either her or Kiyoshi who always did.

I was in the same boat as Nao, always losing and not really understanding how to play. Of course, my lack of knowledge is due to disinterest, Nao’s is… I’m not actually sure.

She’s intelligent, even if she might put on a cutesy show that says otherwise. I can’t say that she’ll win any Nobel Prizes, but she’s definitely smart enough to learn a game of blackjack.

But she doesn’t.

It's an act. Strange, isn’t it? Most times when someone lies or undersells their abilities it’s for a nefarious reason, but this? I think she just likes making Mikako happy, and she’s always over the moon at a victory, even if she has started to get a little cocky recently.

“Another game?” Nao begged with a puppy dog smile aimed directly at Kiyoshi.

He was the linchpin of the game, Mikako would follow whatever Nao did. So if he was in for another round, then they were playing another round.

Kiyoshi let out a grunt as he gathered up the cards and began shuffling them with practised expertise.

As he was now, he’d fit in perfectly at a casino. A dealer tucked behind a blackjack table, his toned body and stacked arms dissuading any card counting or underhanded tactics.

The tattoos further added to that image, you just didn’t have ones like that if you weren’t affiliated with some kind of gang. Or at least that’s how it used to be, a couple of decades back. Sure, tattoos still carry around that stigma even today, but it's slowly fading out.

“Kiyoshiiiiiiiiiii, any day now!” Nao complained in her girly, yet half-joking voice, earning her a pleasant giggle from Mikako, which was the obvious intention.

“If I didn’t shuffle this properly, you’d accuse me of cheating.” Kiyoshi shot back, his tone as soft as physically possible for the hardened man.

A devious chuckle was Nao’s reply, one so bad that Mikako soon fell into laughter alongside her.

“Kiyoshi~” Nao began, the whole table aware of what she was about to say, “Are you cheating?”

“Yes.” He deadpanned, further pushing the girls into laughter, his sight crack of a grin joining in with them.

There is a disconnect here, in the air floating like static electricity. Yesterday was Sunday, yesterday I was in the room of an actress, a playwright, and a teacher.

Yesterday I abandoned a lie and was politely asked to leave by Emiko, betrayal painted over her face.

And today I return to Ha:Yami like a lost daughter finally escaping the forest and crawling back home bloodied and winded. The joyous laughter of my co-workers, familiarity and accep-… no, not acceptance, but ignorance.

They know nothing of me, and I nothing of them.

Four years, and all I have to show for it is an escape from my past, and… one woman trying to be my friend, and the other trying to protect her best friend from me.

Why am I still here? At Ha:Yami… I’ve escaped, there is no false boyfriend that I am piggybacking off, no parents hiding, waiting in the dark with a tightening collar for my neck. I have no need to continue to save money for a getaway, for an apartment, for an escape.

What am I running from? The highway has ended, the tarmac has run dry, and my fuel tank has hit empty.

I’ve asked myself so many times why I accepted Hatsuko’s acting job, but never once why I am still here.

It's because of you, isn’t it?

Seina.

Because without Ha:Yami, you cannot exist.

And without you, I will never exist.

Oh.

I think I get it now.

Why I want to act.

“Oh my, is that our little miss patient zero? Seina, come join us, please.” Mikako called out upon spotting me lingering outside.

“Huh, Seina!?” Nao leapt off her seat as I entered the room and barrelled into me, embracing me in a hug.

I froze and just stood there.

Physical contact wasn’t something I was opposed to, but it also wasn’t something I cared for. Especially when it was forceful and without warning…

She jumped back, a million questions on her tongue, but she settled for just one, “What happened? It's not like you to get sick, are you alright, oh- and did you get our message?” Nao continued, maybe not settling on just the one as I first thought.

“I collapsed.” I replied, glossing over the rest of her questions and choosing to answer the simplest one.

The reaction of Nao was as if I had dropped a bomb on her, pure shock, mixed in with confusion plastered on her face.

“Huh?”

That mutter was all she was able to say before Mikako cut in with her own concern, though more obligatory than voluntary. “You collapsed? I’d assumed it was that cold going around. Have you seen a doctor? Do you know why you collapsed?”

“It was exhaustion, nothing more.” I confirmed, attempting to move along this topic of conversation.

“You’re certain?” Mikako continued to press, sceptical of my words.

It was Kiyoshi who picked up on my intentions first, which was an unusual development as normally Nao was the more perceptive of the bunch.

“If she says it was exhaustion, it was exhaustion.” He declared, tactically ignoring the pointed looks from the two girls who didn’t like their catch-up time being interrupted. “Come on, take a seat.” He finished, strategically tapping the chair next to where Nao was sitting to appease her.

I did as asked, which prompted Mikako to return to her seat, and Nao to follow suit after pushing her chair a little closer to mine.

“Hey, I still missed you, 4 days is a long time… kinda.” Nao whispered to me, her words a tad more voluntary than Mikako’s, but not by much.

“One last game before tonight's shift, you in?” Kiyoshi asked his eyes on the card deck in his hands, and not me.

My priority tonight wasn’t a zero-stakes game of blackjack. How could it ever be, I only have one reason for working here, and even if the game had a million yen on the line, I’d still back out.

It wasn’t worth it to me.

“No, what’s my schedule for tonight?” I pressed, more focused on what was worth it.

It wasn’t an uncommon question, schedules for the night were released moments before it began, thank a few old girls accidentally leaking a weekly schedule to the press for that. The hounded VIPs were not impressed with that mess up, and ever since then, it’s been daily schedules handed out 5 minutes beforehand.

He finally looked up from his cards and into my eyes, “You know the rules, Kanemoto.”

My family name. Kiyoshi used it exclusively to refer to me outside of work mode, if he were a thoughtless man, I would say he wields it like a weapon against me. But no, he does it due to unfamiliarity, he must believe that it is more respectful than feigning closest by using my first name.

My first name.

What a fucking joke.

“The schedule… please.” I continued, the ‘please’ tacked on at the last minute, giving no illusions that it was meant.

He sighed, straightened his posture, and withdrew a yellow envelope from his back pocket. Removing the tape at the top, he shifted through it before pulling a street and sliding it over to me.

“Huh- wait, what?” Nao said in disbelief, her eyes widening as she leaned closer to the table to take a peak, “You’re actually giving it to her? Favouritism, what the hell?”

Mikako raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Kiyoshi, but said nothing. Letting her body language do the talking.

I quickly took the schedule into my hands, it was only my daily one, meaning it had the details of Monday’s shift and nothing else, but that was enough. I had to make sure I’d get what I wanted.

My eyes scanned the paper, gently running over each word before they stopped, a glaring blockade standing at the top of the page.

Drinks jockey.

“Why the fuck am I down in the common area?” I practically shouted it at him, far too loud and emotional than I had meant to-

No, that’s not true. I’d meant it completely and utterly.

This was the reason he’d given in and shown me my schedule early, I wasn’t working with any VIPs tonight, which meant it posed no risk.

It also meant I wouldn’t be Seina.

And what the fuck was the point of working here if I couldn’t be Seina.

“Calm down.” Kiyoshi cautioned with a raise of his hand, “The bosses assumed you were sick, so they didn’t want you interacting with any VIPs until we could confirm you wouldn’t pass anything to them. You’ll be back on solo duty tomorr-”

“That isn’t good enough.” I cut him off, violently, brutally, I didn’t care how I looked to the other hostesses. We weren’t alone in this breakroom, and this outburst of mine wasn’t doing my reputation as a bitch any favours.

But since when did I care about them?

Wednesday was the last time I was Seina, 4 fucking days ago, and now it would be 5.

“Kanemoto, I said-”

I didn’t hear the rest of his sentence, I tore the schedule in two and was halfway out the door the moment I heard that name.

There was shouting behind me, confusion, and general disorder.

I ignored it all and continued, outside the club, onto the streets of Shinjuku, and away from everyone.

Earlier, I figured it out. Exactly why I want to act, why I stayed at the Ha:Yami even after I had escaped from everything.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

It was Seina.

I want to be Seina, I need to be her, I’m addicted to being her.

It's why I worked here, it was the only way I knew how to become her.

I lowered myself, sold myself, crushed my pride, and desires, and became devoted purely to appeasing people I cared nothing about.

And it was all because of Seina.

To become Seina, I need a purpose, a reason why, she needs something to strive towards. Without that, I remain just a void.

A void of a person that can only be filled with her.

I’m pathetic.

But, at least I can become a person, a real human filled with beauty, intelligence, love, and kindness, and purity.

Without Seina, I am nothing. It is only through her that I can live, can feel.

And there is only one other time outside of the club that I’ve been able to become Seina.

Acting.

There were brief, fleeting moments in between script readings, or the time when Seina first lied to Adachi, the first time I became her outside of the club, and then again with Hatsuko, lying to her about what I am- a void.

It's a new purpose, a new escape, a new… Seina… one I have just begun to scratch the surface of.

Because without acting, you cannot exist.

And without you, I will never exist.

I fumbled my smartphone out of my pocket, the time read 5:28 p.m., 2 minutes before the club opened. It usually opened later on a Monday, there wasn’t really much point even with the reduced shift times, most people who could come in on a Monday, would likely have just come in on the weekend instead.

This morning Emiko had sent me a text message, she wanted to meet up and discuss what happened yesterday. We set the meeting for 1 a.m. tonight, or I suppose tomorrow. It was the only time I had free after my shift, and we couldn’t schedule it during the day as she was in class.

So by luck or sheer force of will, she would stay up late, and sneak out in the middle of the night to meet me in a tucked away location by the Tokyo Bay, near where she lives.

Reminding myself of the plan like this makes it obvious just how stupid it is. However, now that I have no shift, or at least no shift worth doing, we can pull that meeting forward.

I sent off my text message.

The reply came within five minutes.

Same spot? 30 minutes

I shot off my answer of, yes, which in turn was answered with a thumbs up.

The location we had chosen was an abandoned pier that overlooks the ending of the Sumida River as it drains into Tokyo Bay. It’s on the outskirts of Koto City, one of the wards that sits close to the centre of Tokyo.

I flagged down a taxi, which wasn’t hard in a ward like Shinjuku, and sent him heading towards the pier. It took us 36 minutes to arrive, longer than expected, but I was coming from a lot further away than Emiko who lived in the ward opposite Koto.

Paying my fee, I left the taxi and watched as it drove off.

In front of me was Jonpexi Electrical Manufacturing, an abandoned factory four storeys high and shaped like it was the poster boy for Bauhaus architecture with its simple curves, functional design and concrete construction.

Its name was written in individual worn green symbols that sat just above the roof pushed out by metal support railings. One of the symbols had fallen down into the courtyard at the front of the building, the rusted metal finally giving out after years of wear and tear.

The building was situated on the raised stone river bank that ran down all the different rivers and canals throughout Tokyo. Resting at the bottom of the bank was a pier that once connected Jonpexi with the rest of the cargo shipping that once sailed across the waterways before the expressways replaced them.

To my right, a road ran down further into Koto flanked by more modern buildings and parks, while to my left a bridge crossed over the canal below, cutting neatly above the pier where Emiko was hopefully waiting for me.

All around the factory, a 3-metre high fence topped with barbed wire secured the perimeter, preventing any squatters, or more likely, teenagers from breaking into the building.

However, using the word ‘preventing’ wasn’t correct here. At best the authorities had delayed the entry, and judging from the large hole kicked into the corner of the rusted gate in the centre of the fence, it wasn’t for long either.

I followed the trail left behind and slipped under the hole and into Jonpexi’s courtyard. The walk towards the pier was quiet, deathly even. Birds had made themselves at home in the steel beams zig-zagging across the roof inside, but they all ceased to make a sound as I entered the building.

It wasn’t fear or caution. It was confusion, this building was the byproduct of a Tokyo decades old, and the only things that moved here were ghosts and faded ideas. It was likely that the only thing that kept this building running as long as it did was the microchips it was selling, but even with goods in high demand, it didn’t stop the building from being condemned and scheduled to be torn down in the near future.

I wonder what shut down this building, I doubted it was an accident or unprofitability. No, it was either thanks to a family issue, some problem with the inheritance, or the more likely story… zoning laws.

How spooky, city planning.

The boring answer is usually the right one.

To reach the pier, I had to cut through the main factory building and creep down a stairwell covered in graffiti and littered with empty beer bottles.

A red metal double door, reinforced with a rusted bar lock blocked the path to the pier just behind it. Fortunately, I wasn’t the first person to travel down this route, so all it took was a harsh tug before the bar slid back and I was able to push the door open.

The pier juts out slightly into the water, with rotting wooden crates scattered along its banks, and a half-submerged barge moored to the docking clamps. The whole place carried that type of smell you get when pollution and algae mix, the rapid growth and then death of the algae from the corrosive, collapsing dock maintaining a continuous cycle that kept the stench of decay in the air.

“Seina!” Emiko called out to me further down the banks, and away from the looming shadows of the bridge that sat above this section of the pier.

She was sitting on a metal crate that was inches away from the drop into the water, her legs dangling over the edge recklessly. There was a second crate next to hers, and she tapped it, silent communication to sit next to her.

“Sorry I’m late, my taxi got stuck in traffic.” I excused myself as I sat down next to her.

She didn’t react, her head staring motionlessly out over the water, while her legs lazily kicked back and forth out of sync, almost like a sailor enchanted by a mermaid. Except it wasn’t the supernatural that held her attention, but a pair of wireless earbuds drowning out the noises of the creaking bridge and the trucks rumbling over the expressway nearby.

Bringing her fingers up to her ears, Emiko hooked out her earbuds and placed them in her pocket.

“I want you to quit.” She declared, her voice steadfast and resolved as she continued looking out over the water. “I’ve thought about it…” She carried on, “You don’t deserve to be the lead. You have none of the talents- you’ve lied to everyone, to Director Ttio, to Hatsuko, to your fellow actors, and to me.”

“No, I haven’t.” I stated the same resolve as her coating my words.

To be Seina, I needed to be an actress.

I will not give this up.

Not for a lie that was never mine.

Emiko suddenly turned to look at me, her brown finding my blue as our stares locked together.

“Don’t do this, you’ve already betrayed everyone at Hanako’s. Quit, and I won’t tell anyone about your lie, we can make up an excuse, and you can leave without anyone the wiser.”

“It isn’t my lie.”

She was confused, but that confusion quickly gave way to anger, “Stop.” Her voice came harshly, without question in her demands, “I don’t want to hear any more lies from you, if you won’t quit then I’ll tell eve-”

“It was Hatsuko.” I cut her off, her words coming to a dead stop as I said the name of the woman who managed us both. “She told the lie about my experience, not me.”

“W-what?” Emiko stuttered out her reply, but it wasn’t because of disbelief, but the opposite.

“I have never once said I was an ‘experienced actress’, have I?” I tilted my head, it was a challenge, forcing her to look back through her memories at everything I’ve said. She wouldn’t find anything, because this was never my lie, so why would I enforce it?

She broke eye contact under my scrutinising gaze, her head instead turning down as she began to recall our every conversation.

And she found nothing.

“B-but… why would Hatsuko lie on your behalf?” She stood up, leaping off the crate as she began pacing left and right, the exact same as she had yesterday while in her room. “What does she have to gain from it? It doesn’t make sense, if you’re a newbie actress then why go through the trouble of lying for you? I- unless…”

Emiko’s legs stopped, held firm on solid ground as her eyes returned to mine, watching and observing my every move.

“Who are you?” She demanded, her voice a flat tone.

“Seina Kanemoto.” I lied.

She crossed her arms, looked away in annoyance with a tut, and then met my gaze again with a face of irritation.

“I know that- I mean who are you? Why would she lie about you in particular, she didn’t do it for me, but I’m a nobody, a washed-up child actress, and everyone can see that. So why you?”

Her words were… oddly enough not filled with jealousy, but- integrity.

Respect for the craft. She had that in droves, so the idea that Hatsuko disregarded that for my stake, that she spat on the work of all the actors who put blood, sweat and tears into getting jobs; it pissed her off.

“A runaway.”

“What? I- I had expected you to tell me you were the daughter of a big shot director, or a billionaire, or- or anything? But a runaway? That doesn’t make sense, why bother lying for- for… you?”

And for a moment, there was silence. Emiko said nothing, she made no movement, simply stood there unflinching, her hand tucked against her chin as she thought.

“She didn’t lie for you.” She announced, declared, and knew.

She’d figured it out.

“Hatsuko lied for herself.”

I could have told her that at the start of this and saved us all some time, but that wouldn’t have worked. No, Emiko had to come to this conclusion based on her own deduction. If I had told her, she would have assumed I was lying again, and we never would have gotten anywhere.

Well, that’s not true, we would have gotten somewhere. But that ‘somewhere’ would have been her telling the Director and me losing the lead actress position. And that was never an option.

“Fake it until you make it.” I rehearsed that line, just as I have done before.

The one phrase that perfectly summarises Hatsuko.

“But that still doesn’t make sense, Hatsuko used to be an actress. I’ve even seen some of her movies! Why would she suddenly betray the craft? Turn her back on it and defile it?”

Is that naivety?

She wears it well, suits her perfectly. But I suppose it would, youth and naivety go together like cheese and wine, and the very thought that someone would burn other people for their own gain, completely alien.

Well, perhaps not completely alien. I’m certain she knows that some people are bad, it's just not the people around her, not the actors and actresses she works alongside.

“Her reputation. Everything she does is for her reputation.” I explained, briefly, and barely. Leaving the meaning behind my words open to interpretation.

“But she’s already respected? She acted throughout her 20s, sure they weren’t big roles, but it was enough to get her recognised, and from there she made a jump into talent managing, and I mean- for God's sake, she’s the one who scouted Amii Kaiko! Managed her for three years before a scandal caused them to part, the debut years of her acting career, a career that still has her ranking at number one on Japanese top actress lists even today!” She continued, exasperated, shocked and still searching for an answer we could only guess at.

Why was Hatsuko so focused on her reputation? Even I was curious about that.

But now is not the time to focus on questions unanswered, but instead on what I've already answered.

“I- I-” Emiko began, but I spoke first, “Let it go.”

I vaulted myself off the crate and straightened my posture out, my eyes snapping to meet hers’, I took my first step towards her, slowly, elegantly…

Intimidating.

“I can’t, I have to tell Director Ttio-”

A part of me regrets my actions yesterday, if I simply hadn’t told her, none of this would have happened. This is a mistake of my own making, a hole that my past self dug herself into that I now have to escape from.

It isn’t entirely her fault, after all, I only figured out today why I want to act.

Seina.

I can see the humour in this situation, though. Spending today, fixing yesterday. How many times have I done this exact same thing before?

Oh, too many times.

I was right in front of her now, my hand reaching out and gently soothing the side of her face. Her hazel eyes buzzed with nerves, barely inches away from my own blue, peering into her like an abyss. I wondered what she saw within them, because it wasn’t me…

“Let it go, just until the play is finished.” She spoke, her head delicately tilting to the side like a petal about to fall from a flower, her voice silk and pleading, undeniable to all but the steeliest of wills.

It was Seina.

“I- but I have to. If she’s lied about this, think about how many more things she could have lied about.”

Welcome back, Seina.

It’s been far too long.

“I know, and we’ll expose her, but after the play. Please.”

Even if all the stars and moons and planets and rocks were to collide, the energy generated would be the equivalent of one of Seina’s words.

And the beauty wouldn’t match a single of her eyes.

“Why are you so adamant about doing it after?” Emiko attempted a rebuttal, but her words came out uneven and awkward as she took a step back, trying to put some distance between her and Seina’s consuming presence.

It didn’t work, it never would.

Eyes are the window to the soul, and all it takes is one split-second glance for Seina to make her home in your mind, forever and always; you’ll never forget.

“Because I want to act, Emiko. And wouldn’t you agree that it's cruel and unfair for Hatsuko to take that away from me? All because of a lie she told without my knowledge?” She pressed, her every word tugging on the compassion that Emiko had in bucketfuls spread throughout her body; she never stood a chance.

Seina is a river, vast and unending.

And did you know that rivers cannot be controlled?

Even today, with all this modern technology available, engineers still can’t do it. They try; they build dams, and levees, dredge channels deeper and mine the gravel from the banks. But that upsets the equilibrium of the river, erosion will continue, and there'll always be a bigger flood to undo all the changes. It might take time, but it will happen no matter what…

The river will win.

“But you can’t act?” She cried back, her defences already starting to fail. After all, it was unfair and cruel to deny an actress based on another's actions, you’d need to lack integrity to allow that to happen.

Except, Seina isn’t just a river.

“Then teach me.”

She’s the black hole at the centre of the Milky Way, grand and inspiring, become trapped in her orbit and all you can do is struggle against the gradual pull.

And if Emiko was a frightened puppy around me, too afraid to act on the off chance that she’ll upset me…

“Fine, I’ll agree on one condition.”

Then in front of Seina, she’s a piece of space dust, already long past the event horizon.

“You have to prove you deserve the role. You have to prove you can rival Kaede Esumi.”

A goddess versus a black hole.

“Done.”

One creates, one devours.