Chapter 2: Correctional Counselor

Passing through the gates of the correctional facility, Asami felt a slight sense of tension in the quiet atmosphere that stretched before her.

Yet beneath that tension lay something unexpected.

Hope.

A tiny fragment of hope.

Perhaps it was the first sign that her heart was beginning to change.

She even found herself suppressing a faint smile.

But who would ever be happy about being incarcerated?

The towering gates looked more like the entrance to hell itself.

Guards stood on either side like silent gatekeepers of the underworld.

For Asami, the word “hope” had appeared in her mind only a handful of times throughout her life.

Most likely, it was because she had finally been freed from the pressure that had suffocated her for so many years.

For her, ordinary life had been the real prison.

Perhaps this detention center was closer to freedom than the world she had come from.

Maybe some small part of her believed this place could change her.

The feeling bubbling up from deep within her chest was unfamiliar.

No one was forcing it into her.

No one was commanding it.

It simply existed.

As she left the counseling room, she was guided through the facility.

White walls.

Soft lighting.

Cold hallways.

Yet the silence somehow calmed her.

Warm.

Not physically.

Her heart felt warm.

For the first time in years, she felt unbound.

No more chains.

No more surveillance disguised as daily life.

No more living as a prisoner under constant observation.

Was this what freedom felt like?

The burdens inside her seemed to dissolve one by one.

Every day before had been filled with anxiety.

Her heart had always raced.

She never wanted to return to that life.

The thought emerged from somewhere deep inside her.

A hidden self was beginning to crawl out from the darkness.

No.

Don’t come out.

She pressed both hands against her chest.

I’m a machine.

A tool.

A perfectly programmed device designed to execute instructions.

Not a person.

This place is only wasted time.

An idol in a state of shutdown.

I need to finish my sentence and return.

Yet she was terrified.

Terrified of her own emotions being released.

Terrified of freedom itself.

Could she trust these feelings?

Were they right?

Were they wrong?

She couldn’t tell.

I’m expendable.

A pawn.

A disposable soldier on a chessboard.

I need to return to the battlefield.

I refuse to remain a captive.

“Ms. Asami? What are you doing? This way.”

The counselor’s voice pulled her back.

Soon she was shown to a small room.

A simple bed.

A desk.

Sunlight streaming through a window.

Strangely, the room felt more comforting than the apartment her agency had provided.

“This isn’t a prison,” the counselor explained.

“It’s a rehabilitation facility.”

“A place to prepare for returning to society.”

“In your case, it also serves as part of your counseling program.”

“You can think of it as a school.”

The counselor opened the door.

“This will be your room.”

“You may unpack your belongings.”

“Here you’ll have time to face yourself.”

“If you need anything, our staff will always be available.”

Then she added:

“Oh, one more thing.”

“You’ll be sharing this room.”

“You have a roommate.”

“We’d like you to begin by learning to live alongside someone else.”

Asami froze.

A shared room.

Living with another person.

Sharing private space.

The blood drained from her face.

“W-Where is she now?”

The question escaped in a whisper.

“She’s attending counseling at the moment.”

“And don’t worry.”

“We haven’t told her who you are yet.”

“A woman?”

Surprisingly, Asami’s expression remained calm.

It took all her strength to maintain that composure.

“Of course.”

The counselor laughed softly.

“We’re not putting you in a room with a man.”

“It wouldn’t end well.”

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

Asami’s voice was empty.

“I’m not a virgin.”

“For idols, our bodies are just another weapon.”

The counselor’s expression changed.

“We’re taught that.”

“Again and again.”

“Our bodies are tools.”

“Tools for selling a name.”

“My feelings.”

“My body.”

“Everything.”

The words flowed out as though she were reading from a script.

“If you want to sell records…”

“If you want to perform concerts…”

“If you want television appearances…”

She stopped.

“I don’t think I need to explain the rest.”

“If you refuse, you disappear from the industry.”

“You fall.”

“And you never climb back out.”

Silence filled the room.

The counselor spoke carefully.

“People your age…”

“I’ve heard rumors.”

Asami immediately replied.

“It was my choice.”

“No one forced me.”

“The agency isn’t responsible.”

“The industry isn’t responsible.”

“The final decision was always mine.”

Her eyes trembled.

Yet she refused to bend.

The counselor watched her quietly.

Then she sighed.

“Choice?”

“Are you sure that’s what it was?”

“Sometimes pressure doesn’t need words.”

“Sometimes silence can be coercion.”

The counselor caught herself.

There were things she could not say.

Her role was not to deny Asami’s experiences.

Her role was to help her heal.

“Come in.”

“This room belongs to you now.”

Asami stepped inside.

Before leaving, the counselor turned around one last time.

“If you want to stop being a manual-driven person, then develop your creativity.”

“Paint.”

“Write.”

“Compose music.”

“Write lyrics.”

“You’re good at those things, aren’t you?”

A gentle smile appeared.

“This time, don’t sing someone else’s songs.”

“Try creating your own.”

“You’re not unnecessary.”

“You can do it.”

“I’m sure of that.”

Then she added:

“And whatever you do…”

“Don’t become Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

“I see that happen often.”

With that, she left.

Asami sat quietly on the bed.

Sunlight touched her face.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

Perhaps this place would force her to confront herself.

Perhaps that was what frightened her most.

Hours later, footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Slowly approaching.

Her heart began to race.

No.

Not again.

They’re watching me.

They’re here.

She hid beneath the blanket, pressing herself against the wall.

Then—

The door opened.

“Asami!”

“It’s okay.”

“You’re safe.”

The counselor wrapped her arms around her.

Gently patting her back.

Like the heartbeat of a mother.

Eventually, Asami calmed down.

Then the counselor smiled.

“Meet your roommate.”

A small woman stood in the doorway carrying luggage.

Long hair tied in a ponytail.

A bright smile.

“Hello!”

individual

Lyrics: Ayami Hoshino

I walk a road that never ends

A road that feels like endless pain

But if you’re here beside me

That road becomes a path of hope

As long as you’re here…

(Rap Part)

You barge into my heart without permission

Stirring up all these tangled emotions

The devastation is easy to imagine

Yet I ride upon your overflowing love

Toward a future dyed deep ultramarine

Take it easy… Shake it

That shakes up this emotion

The humiliation of yesterday

Still fills my head today

But somehow

Your kindness inside me

Turns into pain

I tear myself apart

I curse myself down

Yet your smile transforms into hope

Something is born from suffering

But I still cannot see what it is

As a teen

The world praised my talent

But what becomes of me from here?

A wall waits ahead

A wall I must overcome

Pain and conflict

Beyond that point

I cannot move forward

I cannot arrive

Take it easy… Shake it

That shakes up this emotion

But somehow

Your concern for me

Turns into suffering

Relentless

Without escape

The sunlight of tomorrow

A light I cannot yet see

A light called hope

Copyright © 2023 Ayami Hoshino

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