“’Generic harem dialog’?” I read, scowling at the updated notes from the writer of the game we were working on. “’Oh! MC, you are just so amazing! You are the only one for me. Et al’” The main character was a moron. There is no way in hell all these other people would fall for them. “’I want you to do me like a stained dress in a dry cleaner…’” I mumbled to myself as I read the script. What the hell did that mean? This whole story is just garbage, I decided. I’d dealt with some crappy writing in the eight months I’d been working here, but this was just... I shook my head and closed the message. There were no words, I decided.

Honestly, I didn’t care. The story wasn’t my problem. The game, honestly, wasn’t my problem. My problem was drawing some of these characters the writer pulled out of their ass. The idiotic white-haired catgirl hadn’t been a problem, nor were the vampire princesses. Even the blue demon girl wasn’t an issue, but how did I draw a MILF ghost who was time-sharing in the main character’s head?

I moved the pen over the tablet I was using, lines appearing on the screen. A few minutes later an image appeared. I cocked my head from side to side for a long moment before deleting it. “Nope,” I scowled. “Not right.”

Again, and again images appeared, each unusable. Before I knew it the two hours I’d come in early were over and Nyoko settled into her desk beside me. I felt the muscles in my neck tense as she deliberately set her purse beside her and took off her coat and scarf and settled into her chair. I fiercely kept my eyes on my screens as shapes, like ants, crawled over the screen, gradually forming images.

“Here early today, huh, Kasumi?” She said brightly, her voice immediately causing me to grit my teeth.

“Yep,” I said curtly, focusing so hard on whatever gibberish my pen was vomiting onto the screen I was glaring. Though, honestly, I could have just as easily been glaring at her sudden presence. If I was honest, it was most likely the latter rather than the former, especially seeing as how what I was drawing was awful and most definitely didn’t require any sort of concentration. Or skill, for that matter. I was, however, acutely aware of her staring at me intensely to the point that I finally turned my head.

“What?” I demanded, eyes narrowing as she stared at me with a weird expression on her face I couldn’t quite place.

“When were you going to tell me?” Nyoko asked, positively humming in excitement.

“What are you talking about? Tell you what?” I frowned.

“Are you insane?” She gasped at me. “It’s all over the place! I’m famous now just for knowing someone famous! It’s like… being famous by osmodeus!”

“Osmosis,” I corrected her. “That aside, I still have no clue what you’re talking about,” I insisted, though I had a sinking suspicion I knew precisely what she was talking about.

“You are a tough nut to crack,” she sighed dramatically at me before producing her phone. A few seconds later she held it up for me to see. A video of me sitting in the spotlight while Akari introduced me played on her phone. I blinked at it. Of course, I thought to myself. This is the modern age. A squirrel couldn’t pee on a bush without there being 70 videos of it. How could I have been so naïve as to believe this wouldn’t be all over the place within a matter of seconds? “I swear! You have your own subreddit, now, and everything! Everyone wants to know who you are! God! To think my desk mate would be famous! I already called my mom and friends. Can I get your autograph?!”

I stared in silent horror at the video as it reached the end and began to repeat, Nyoko’s voice fading into the background as the pounding of my heart in my ears grew louder and louder. This was worse than the worst thing I could have imagined.

With mounting unease, I pulled my phone woodenly out of my purse and pressed the power button until the screen came to life. Working through the biometric passcode I blinked at it. 1,174 messages. “Fuck me,” I whispered in disbelief.

“Hey! My sister really wants to be an idol!” Nyoko’s voice came rushing through the temporary mental paralysis. “When do the auditions start?”

“What?” I glanced over at her earnest face.

“The auditions for the new band. When do they start?” Nyoko pressed eagerly.

“How the hell should I know?” I growled.

“You’re the managing director!” Nyoko chuckled. “Isn’t it kind of your job to know?”

“I…” I trailed off as my brain struggled to come to grips with this unpleasant development. I imagined that was probably something the managing director should know if I were to hazard a guess.

There had been a part of me which had decided the whole situation wasn’t nearly what I had made it up in my head as being. I would simply talk to Nanami after I was done being mad at her, explain my position and go back to my peaceful, quiet life. A mere butterfly-sized blip on the public’s radar.

The 400,000 views on the video playing over and over in front of my face significantly complicated that notion. I mean, maybe there was still time to salvage something. Anything. But I’d have to work quickly. The first step was, obviously, calling Nanami and telling her that there was no way in hell I was doing anything involving managing or directing.

From there it was all about damage control. I’d have Kunoichi issue a retraction naming anyone else managing director. And, if that wasn’t quite enough, I’d simply move to Antarctica for the next six months until I could go from point A to point B without being harassed.

“Oh!” Nyoko gasped. “This is a better angle!” She tapped the screen and brought up an angle with my face in the middle of the screen, the look of a captured wild fox plastered across it. “So, you’ll tell me when the auditions are, right? My sister would love to join! She’s wanted to be an idol for years! She’s 15, though. Is that too old?”

“Kasumi, I need to talk to you,” Hanzo said as he walked past us. “Now.” Of course he does, I scowled. I got to my feet, putting my phone in airplane mode to avoid the near constant pinging of new messages coming in.

“Don’t forget about my niece!” Nyoko called as I walked toward Hanzo’s office. I waved my hand noncommittally before plunging into the belly of the beast and closing the door behind me.

“Have a seat, Kasumi,” Hanzo gestured to the chair opposite the desk he had settled behind. I sat down wearily and stared at him wordlessly. “How long have you been working here?”

“Eight months,” I responded promptly.

“And you do amazing work,” Hanzo peered at me over the rim of his glasses. “You are quick and accurate, and your characters are unique and follow the design document almost exactly. Almost.” He emphasized.

“Is this about the pubic hair thing, again?” I scowled. “I’ll redo it. I said I would.”

“What’s the number one rule in our business?” Hanzo leaned forward, placing the palms of his hands on his desk for emphasis.

“The investors are always right?” I asked. I had no idea, but I vaguely recall that being the focus of a meeting earlier in the fall so I went with it.

“Well, yes. But the other number one rule,” Hanzo shrugged.

“How can there be more than one number one rule?” I scowled.

“In this business there are a lot of number one rules,” Hanzo explained nonsensically.

“Uh…the focus groups are always right?” I shrugged cluelessly.

“Again, yes, it’s good you pay attention,” Hanzo flicked a smile on and off at me. “But, no, there’s a rule even bigger than those. Well, not bigger, I guess, but on par with them at least.” He corrected himself. “That rule is that no one person is more important than the game or studio.”

“O…k?” I cocked an eyebrow curiously. He sighed at me in disappointment and turned the tv sitting on the small bar he had in his office on.

“What does this look like to you?” He gestured to the screen while sitting back dramatically, folding his fingers into a tent on top of his chest.

“A soap commercial,” I replied, watching the stunning young woman on the screen parading about the house while anime inspired soap bubbles followed her like children behind the pied piper, cleaning as they went.

“Ah, son of a bitch,” Hanzo sighed, grabbing the remote and changing the channel. It was some entertainment show with yet another man screaming nearly hysterically from behind a desk while the woman beside him nodded enthusiastically.

“We now take you out to our reporter on the street!” The man, plainly unable to affect a normal speaking voice declared. The scene cut to an attractive woman standing in the cold on a street corner, several dozen people peering up intently at the building they were standing in front of. I recognized the building immediately since I was currently inside it, staring at the event unfolding.

“There is a buzz of excitement surrounding this non-descript office building along the banks of the Kanda River as it’s been revealed that the new managing director of the future Kunoichi Enterprises is inside. Dozens of hopefuls and new fans have gathered outside waiting for a glimpse of Kasumi Tanaka and maybe, just maybe, a chance at stardom!” The reporter enthused, trying to keep her hair from getting too ruffled in the wind.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered bitterly. Antarctica may not be far enough, I mused ruefully. They knew my name, now, too.

“What brings you here today?” The reporter asked a tall, lanky girl standing with some friends in front of the building.

“We want to be idols!” The girl was practically jumping up and down in excitement. The other girls squealed wildly behind her.

“We want to be in Kunoichi!” One of the nearby girls chimed in. Soon the reporter was surrounded by a throng of girls with more trying to get into the shot. Mercifully, Hanzo turned the tv off and sat back in his chair, tapping his cheek thoughtfully.

“What would you call that?” He finally asked me.

“A nightmarish shitshow?” I sighed, my headache expanding dangerously until I felt my head was going to crack in two.

“Well, yes,” Hanzo agreed. “But I would call it a distraction. Wouldn’t you, Kasumi?” I turned toward him and slumped back into the chair dejectedly. “The board has been in discussion since this… issue cropped up. There are those who believe it’s a good thing and will draw attention to our games. There is another faction which feels it is a distraction and that a character artist has suddenly become bigger than the company itself.” There was little doubt which side of the fence Hanzo had come down on.

“Kasumi,” Hanzo sat forward, looking like a disappointed high school teacher talking to the Yankee delinquent who refused to wear her stockings properly. “You’re a good artist. You have some issues with authority and are rather hardheaded about things, but you’re talented. You’ve brought the characters for Reaver’s Song to life and we’re all grateful. But we can’t have this…” he waved his hand vaguely toward the window to indicate the ruckus outside.

“I don’t want a termination to be a black mark on your employment record, so I will give you the choice of whether you wish to resign or be terminated,” He sat back in anticipation of my answer.

“So that’s what it comes down to, huh,” I chuckled mirthlessly. “Quit or get fired.” All because of something out of my control. Oh, yes, I decided, Nanami and I are going to have words with meaning after this.

“I hope you understand,” Hanzo shrugged. “It’s just a business decision.”

“Well, as such I guess I tender my resignation,” I sighed, plainly left with little choice.

“You can finish the day and then clean your things out,” Hanzo nodded. “Thank you for your hard work.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, the conversation clearly over. “Thanks.” I stood from the chair and trudged back toward my desk.