The compulsive cheers from the female dominant crowd took over the soft, ambient soundtrack bouncing from the stage speakers. Though a mere thousand were in the event, the panning cameras that glided on a swivel broadcasted to hundreds of thousands of fans. The only light permitted shone handsomely on the faultless skin of the Crown Prince: Akimitsu, played by beloved Japanese actor Nijiaki Kaneko. 

This event was a fan meet and the final goodbye for season one of A Moon to Shine, detailing the great challenges the Crown Prince, Akimitsu, must face as he prepares to take the throne. Although it wasn’t the novel that took off, but the face attached to the drama adaptation. Ever since the speculation of Nijiaki playing Akimitsu circulated on the internet, his popularity has blossomed. 

He waved with both hands to the crowd, twisting his waist to greet each side. With each glance, a particular spot in the audience would get louder. It took several seconds for the cheers to die down as he moved to adjusting his earpiece. Of course, his affirming grin reigned no matter what he did. 

“Thank you to everyone for the support for A Moon to Shine so far. As Nijiaki, I am forever grateful for all of the love that has been sent for me. As Akimitsu…” His smile twisted and he extended out his index finger to the audience. “” he repeated as a monumental quote from the series. The howls blew up once more---this time shorter. 

Once they faltered, he continued. “I hope that you will continue to support the series, as well as the future projects me and the rest of the cast have planned. And I heard,” his voice suddenly dropped as he cupped his mouth with his hand, “Haruki and Akimitsu will spend lots of special moments together in season two.” 

He bowed, and while his head lifted up faster than his chest, he winked. As he stepped off stage, even the virtual fans tuned in could be heard screaming.

The backstage was a sweet relief from the beaming spotlights scorching him in his silk black suit. He was dressed in full character, with gold tassels dangling from his shoulder plates, intricately laced metal buttoned up to his neck, and a polished sword hilt rested at his hip. 

His assistant manager raced at him with the makeup artists to unclasp him from his outfit. He breathed out as soon as he felt his lungs were no longer restricted.

“What time is my appointment?” he asked, letting his sleeves slip off, then reached for the handkerchief one of the women offered.

“In thirty minutes, sir,” the assistant manager answered.

He blotted the sweat off his face and neck, continuing down to his chest area, when he pulled back his hand and studied the lacing intricacies of the stitching.

Kijuro Adachi… He should’ve starred in A Moon to Shine with a name like that.

“I need you to get rid of someone.” 

Nijiaki’s eyes butted against Kijuro’s, clashing like two crisp swords waiting for one to break. Who was going to win?

“I apologize… but I don’t do that.” He employed the tactic: lie. 

With a mere sentence, Nijiaki’s sword collapsed upon impact. As expected from a leader of a Tokyo gang. He brought his sword beside his chest and with gritted teeth he retorted, “According to my sources---from people you know---you specialize in this. Do you think I’ll underpay you?” 

“I do not involve myself with celebrity figures,” he said, the wind blowing bitterly past his hair. His sword had been retrieved to its sheathe, but in doing so, a gnawing pain accompanied Nijiaki’s heart. He stood no match to the cold-blooded gang leader. Even with his eyes dropped, they were etched into Nijiaki’s head. 

“At least listen to my reasoning,” Nijiaki said.

“There are no exceptions. You’ll only waste your breath and potentially get caught.”

Kijuro picked up the handles of his bags. On top of home brought bags, there were large paper bags with a printed logo that read ZENEN. How lowly would it be of him to knock his groceries out of his arms? 

No. Instead he dropped to his knees and bent to the ground with the help of his arms and yelled, “Please reconsider my request!” It’s still lowly for him to do, but as a gang leader, surely---

“I don’t know how you found me, but do not use your sources to come after my friends.” He stepped around him, his friend tagging along, legs coming and going in his vision. Nijiaki could feel his blood pressure physically rise to his head as a burning sensation tingled his ears. He sprouted up to the direction they were walking. 

“You should listen to your friend. Do you know who I am?” His brows toughened in the middle. “Oi! Watch who you mess with. From now on we’re enemies! I don’t even care if you reconsider!” By then, he was too far for him to be yelling. He snarled with his sigh and tucked his forehead between his thumb and index finger.

“Goodness…”

Nijiaki pressed his lips together, his hand crinkling the handkerchief with it, and pushed it back into the woman’s hands. “Get the car ready.” 

He rushed to the changing room, forcing them to clear the way in the process. The group watched with appalled gazes. The assistant manager hesitantly bowed. “Yes, sir,” she said. 

As he changed to a gray sweater and a jacket, he plotted out the next few hours in his head. It was crucial for him to learn the correct dialect, tone, and phrasing, just like he would acting. Clearly, money wasn’t going to get his point across, so a different deal must be done. 

If the Prisms weren’t going to take his request… then the Cross Road Kings would.