[2] New Person, Same Old Mistakes

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

I slammed my hand on my phone, groaning. 6:30 AM. Who the hell set that alarm?

I sat up, squinting in the grayish light seeping through the blinds. A tiny apartment stared back at me. Clothes all over the floor, instant ramen cups overflowing from the trash can. Home sweet home.

I stumbled to the bathroom, flicking on the light and immediately wishing I hadn't. Purple hair stuck up like I'd stuck my finger in a socket. Dark circles under my eyes.

I leaned closer to the mirror. Was it just the shit lighting, or did I look... younger?

"That's Weird."

At least my voice sounded the same. One point for consistency in this bizarro world.

I splashed some water on my face, trying to get my brain in gear. Okay. Facts.

My name is Akira Hoshino. I was 15, somehow. Two years younger than I remembered.

I lived alone in this shithole apartment. No surprise there. But how was I affording it? Did I have a job?

And these memories... Hidetora. Hana. The yakuza. Getting shot. That wild voice telling me I had a second chance.

It couldn't be real. Right?

I padded back to my room, grabbing my decrepit laptop and plopping on the bed. Time for some answers.

I typed in Hidetora's name, holding my breath. I waited for the articles, the pictures, the evidence of the monster who'd owned me body and soul.

Nothing. Just some random social media profiles. No yakuza boss. No empire of crime and depravity.

My heart stuttered. I tried again, fingers shaking as I typed in the names of his clubs, the ones he'd forced me to perform in night after night.

Still nothing. Like they'd never existed.

I sat back, mind reeling. This couldn't be right. It had to be some trick, some fluke of the algorithm.

On a whim, I typed in Hana's full name. Held my breath and clicked search.

A Facebook profile popped up. I clicked it, pulse thundering in my ears.

A photo filled the screen. A woman, mid-30s, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had her arm around a man, two kids mugging for the camera in front of them.

I stared at her smile, at the laugh lines crinkling her eyes. She looked... happy. Content.

Nothing like the ambitious girl who'd sold me out for a shot at fame.

I slammed the laptop shut, breathing hard. This was too much.

No parents. No family. No Hidetora, no Hana, no clubs or cons or midnight beatdowns in the alley.

Just me, in this crappy apartment, with a head full of memories that didn't fit. That belonged to someone else, some other world.

I flopped back on the bed, throwing my arm over my eyes. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

"I'm so sorry, little one. You were not supposed to die."

The voice echoed in my head, as clear as if it had spoken right beside me. I jolted up, heart pounding.

"There is so much left undone. But that doesn't mean the story is over. A new world, a new chance... if you are willing."

Willing? I hadn't been given a choice. Just shoved into this new life, this alternate reality where nothing made sense.

But...

I looked around the dingy apartment. At the piles of clothes, the empty ramen cups.

It was a blank slate. A fresh start.

No Hidetora pulling my strings. No Hana to stab me in the back. No one to answer to but myself.

Maybe... maybe this was my chance. To be someone else. Someone better.

To find out who I could be, without all the baggage of the past weighing me down.

I grabbed my phone, figuring it might hold some clues about this new life. The lock screen was a generic landscape - no hints there. I punched in a few passcode guesses before 1234 did the trick. Amateur hour security, but whatever.

Scrolling through my apps, nothing jumped out as unusual. Social media, music, some game I didn't recognize. I tapped on the photos app, bracing myself.

Empty. Not a single picture.

"Seriously?" I muttered. "What kind of teenager doesn't have photos?"

The kind who just got dropped into a brand new life, apparently.

I opened the browser, curious what else might be different in this world. I typed in the names of some big stars - actors, singers, the ones who were always plastered across billboards and magazine covers.

Nothing. Or rather, results for totally different people. No glitzy photoshoots, no scandals, no hit singles.

It was like someone had taken an eraser to the entire entertainment industry and rewritten it from scratch.

My stomach churned. If those people didn't exist here, what did that mean for me? For my dreams of making it big?

I shook my head. One crisis at a time. I opened my banking app, wincing as I punched in the PIN.

Balance: 36,483 yen.

"Shit."

I scrolled through the transactions, hoping for some explanation. A few small purchases - convenience store runs, mostly. One larger deposit from something called "Sunrise Agency" about three months ago.

But nothing else. No steady income, no parental support. Just a dwindling balance and-

An alert popped up, making me jump.

"Reminder: Rent due in 21 days. 165,000 yen."

stared at the screen, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. That was... a problem.

"Okay," I said out loud, trying to calm my racing thoughts. "Okay. You can figure this out. You've been in tighter spots."

Had I, though? Those memories felt like they belonged to someone else.

I flopped back on the bed, mind spinning. How the hell was I supposed to come up with that kind of cash in three weeks?

A notification dinged. I lifted the phone, grateful for the distraction.

"Reminder: Yoto High School entrance exam in 2 months."

I groaned, throwing my arm over my eyes. "You've got to be kidding me."

Great. So not only did I need to magically conjure up some cash, I also had to pass an exam for a school I knew nothing about.

"Focus," I told myself. "One thing at a time. Money first."

I sat up, grabbing a crumpled receipt and a pen from the nightstand. Time to brainstorm.

"Get a job," I scrawled. But that wouldn't pay enough, not fast enough.

"Sell stuff." I glanced around the sparse apartment. What stuff?

"Busk?" Possible, if I could find my guitar. If I even had one here.

I tapped the pen against my chin, thinking. What skills did I have that could make quick cash?

My eyes landed on a faded poster stuck to the wall. Some boy group, fresh-faced and cheesy. But it sparked an idea.

"Modeling," I wrote, underlining it twice.

It wasn't singing or acting, but it was adjacent. Something I knew I could do.

I grabbed my phone again, searching for modeling agencies nearby. Most looked sketchy as hell, but one caught my eye. "Rising Star Talent Agency - Open Casting Call This Saturday!"

I checked the date. Four days away. Cutting it close, but doable.

I scanned the requirements. Headshots, comp card, portfolio...

"Crap."

I had exactly none of those things. But maybe...

I pulled up the camera app, flipping it to selfie mode. Time to get creative.

An hour and about a thousand awkward poses later, I had a handful of decent shots. Nothing professional, but better than nothing.

I emailed them to the agency along with a hastily written bio. It was a long shot, but what choice did I have?

Now for the harder part. I pulled up another search. "How to study for high school entrance exam."

The results made my head spin. Calculus, history, physics... How was I supposed to cram all that in short time? Hidetora never thought teaching me things like that would be useful.

"One thing at a time," I reminded myself. "Money first, then school."

I grabbed my ratty backpack, shoving in some clean clothes and my meager attempt at a portfolio. Time to hit the streets, see what other opportunities I could dig up.

I hit the streets, my makeshift portfolio clutched tight. The city buzzed around me, all sharp edges and neon promises. I'd walked these sidewalks a thousand times before, but everything felt... off. Like someone had shifted all the buildings two inches to the left when I wasn't looking.

A group of kids about my age - my new age, I guess - passed by, laughing. I caught a snippet of their conversation.

"Did you see the new Starlight video? Mio's dance break was insane!"

I froze. Starlight? Mio? Those names meant nothing to me, but the way they said it... It was how people used to talk about my group. About me.

My chest tightened. I'd been replaced. Erased. In this world, I was nobody.

I shook my head, forcing myself to keep moving. No time for a pity party.

I ducked into a convenience store, grabbing an energy drink and a protein bar. As I paid, I noticed a "Help Wanted" sign in the window.

"You hiring?" I asked the cashier, a bored-looking guy with bad acne.

He shrugged. "Manager does interviews on Tuesdays. But it's just stocking shelves and stuff. Minimum wage."

I did some quick math. Even if I worked every hour they'd let me, it wouldn't be enough. Not in time.

"Thanks anyway," I muttered, heading back out.

I wandered the streets for hours, dropping into every shop with a "Now Hiring" sign. By sunset, I had a stack of applications and a throbbing headache, but no solid leads.

Exhausted, I slumped onto a bench in a small park. Kids played on the swings nearby, their shrieks of laughter grating on my nerves.

"This is hopeless," I growled, kicking at a pebble.

"Rough day?"

I looked up. An old man sat on the other end of the bench, feeding pigeons from a paper bag.

I snorted. "You could say that."

He studied me for a moment, then held out the bag. "Want to feed the birds? Always cheers me up."

I stared at him, then laughed. It came out harsh, bitter. "Thanks, but I don't think bird seed is gonna solve my problems."

The old man shrugged. "Suit yourself." He tossed another handful to the cooing pigeons. "You know, when I was your age, I thought I had it all figured out. Had my whole life planned. Then life threw me a curveball, and suddenly nothing made sense anymore."

I raised an eyebrow at the old man. "What, you gonna tell me how you turned it all around? Found your true calling or whatever?"

He chuckled, tossing another handful to the birds. "Nah, kid. I screwed up plenty more times after that. Still am, probably."

I snorted. "Great pep talk, gramps."

"Not trying to pep you up. Just saying, life's messy. You roll with it or you get rolled over."

I opened my mouth to argue, then stopped. Wasn't that exactly what I was trying to do? Roll with this insane situation I'd been dumped into?

The old man stood up, brushing crumbs from his pants. "Anyway, good luck with whatever you're dealing with. Try not to take yourself too seriously, yeah?"

He shuffled off, leaving me alone with the pigeons and my thoughts.

I sighed, pulling out my phone to check the time. 7:15. Might as well head back to the apartment, try to make sense of all those job applications.

As I stood up, my phone buzzed. A new email.

"Re: Rising Star Open Casting Call"

I hesitated, finger hovering over the notification. This could make or break everything.

Taking a deep breath, I opened it.

"Dear Akira Hoshino,

Thank you for your interest in our agency. While your submitted photos do not meet our usual standards, we see potential. Please come to our office Tomorrow at 2 PM for a trial shoot.

Address attached.

Regards,

Mio Sato

Rising Star Agency"

I stared at the email, my heart pounding. This was it. My shot.

"Akira Hoshino," I whispered, testing the name on my tongue. It felt foreign, yet... right. A blank canvas, waiting to be painted.

I pocketed my phone and headed back to the apartment, my mind churning. Who did I want Akira to be?

Not Tenko. Never again. That scared, broken kid was dead and buried.

No, Akira needed to be... more. Brighter. Bolder.

I caught my reflection in a store window. Purple hair, sharp purple eyes. The face of someone who could command attention.

"Charming but mysterious," I muttered to myself, picking up the pace. "Friendly, but with an edge of danger."

I burst into the apartment, tearing through my meager closet. Most of it was crap, but I managed to cobble together an outfit that didn't scream "desperate teenager."

Slim black jeans. A white V-neck that showed off just enough collarbone. A leather jacket I'd gotten from a thrift shop.

I styled my hair into carefully calculated chaos, then practiced my smile in the mirror. Not too eager. Just a hint of a smirk, like I knew something you didn't.

"Nice to meet you, Akira Hoshino. Remember the name."

The next morning, I hit the streets early. I needed to scope out the agency, get a feel for the neighborhood.

As I walked, I practiced my new persona. Shoulders back, chin up. Every step deliberate, like I owned the damn sidewalk.

A group of girls passed by, giggling. I caught one's eye and winked. She blushed, whispering to her friends.

I grinned. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.

The agency was in a sleek high-rise, all glass and steel. I circled the block, noting the nearby cafes and shops. Places Akira might frequent, building his mystique.

At 1:55, I strode through the revolving doors, channeling every ounce of confidence I could muster.

"Akira Hoshino," I told the receptionist. "I have an appointment with Mio Sato."

She blinked, then smiled. "Of course. Please, have a seat. She'll be with you shortly."

I settled into a plush chair, crossing my legs casually. Inside, my stomach was doing backflips. But on the outside? Cool as ice.

This was it. My chance to reinvent myself. To become the shining star that everyone would be drawn to.

Akira Hoshino was about to take center stage.