Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 48 Searching for That Voice

(Thanks to the amazing user "Bai Zhiyong who loves silver bar essence" for the verification! Bonus chapter is here~)

The sun in Kanagawa Prefecture is so scorching it feels like it's on fire.

On the streets of Hiratsuka City, the heat distorted the air. Cicadas chirped irritatingly in the roadside trees, and occasionally a few modified motorcycles roared past, revving their engines—these were the biker gangs unique to the Shonan region, their exhaust pipes spewing black smoke mixed with the salty smell of the sea and the acrid stench of cheap gasoline.

Standing outside the automatic doors of "Toto Real Estate," Itakura felt like she was about to melt.

His dark blue suit had turned a deep black, clinging tightly to his back, with two large, embarrassing sweat stains under his armpits. He pulled out a handkerchief that was already soaked through, wiped the oily sweat from his face haphazardly, and then glanced down at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

"Long hair. Beautiful profile. Clear eyes."

"What kind of clue is this...?"

Itakura wailed inwardly.

Because of a vague order from his boss, he had been wandering around Hiratsuka City for three whole days. Every time he saw a real estate agency, he would go in pretending to be interested in buying a house, while his eyes were darting around, staring at the female employees. For this, he had been kicked out five times and almost ended up in the police station as a corporate spy.

This is the last one.

If he still couldn't find it, he would have no choice but to commit seppuku to atone for his sins—although he wasn't sure if the young lady would hand him a knife, he had heard that land reclamation was quite popular lately.

"call……"

Itakura took a deep breath, adjusted the tie that was almost strangling his neck, and forced out a smile that looked like that of a "successful person".

The automatic door sensed his stomach and slid open with a "ding-dong".

A strong blast of cold air hit me.

Itakura shuddered, almost groaning out loud from the pleasure.

There weren't many customers in the store. A few male salesmen were gathered together smoking and chatting. When they saw Itakura's sweaty and disheveled appearance, they just glanced at him lazily and made no move to get up.

Welcome!

A cool, clear voice came from behind the counter in the corner.

Itakura subconsciously turned his head away.

Then, he froze.

Behind the counter stood a young girl.

She wore a plain light blue uniform vest over a white shirt, with a dark blue ribbon tied at the collar. Her long black hair was simply tied back, revealing her smooth, full forehead.

She was holding a stack of documents and operating the copier sideways.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the blinds, casting dappled patterns on her face.

It was a bare face. There was no heavy makeup as is currently popular, nor any exaggerated earrings or jewelry. But in that light and shadow, the lines of her profile were breathtakingly beautiful.

That kind of beauty is not an aggressive kind of glamour, but a kind of pure, transparent beauty, like a clear mountain spring.

Itakura's heart skipped a beat.

The description on the note came to life.

It's her.

No need for confirmation, not even for asking names. The "radar" honed by a seasoned otaku went into overdrive, triggering alarms at this moment.

The girl seemed to sense the overly intense gaze and turned her head away.

Those eyes.

It is clear in black and white, crystal clear, yet it carries a subtle sense of alienation and weariness.

"Sir? Are you here to rent or buy a house?"

The girl asked politely, her voice not loud, but with a strange magnetism.

Itakura snapped out of his daze, quickly wiped the sweat from his palms, and hurried over.

"Ah... well, I'm not here to buy a house."

He pulled out a business card holder from his pocket that read "President of SA Entertainment," his movements clumsy due to nervousness, even scattering several business cards on the counter.

"I am...I am a talent scout."

Itakura pushed a business card in front of the girl, putting on what he thought was a friendly smile.

"My name is Itakura. We have an entertainment company in Tokyo and are looking for promising individuals..."

The girl glanced at the business card, then at Itakura, who was covered in sweat and had a vacant look in his eyes.

Her eyes instantly turned cold.

That polite distance turned into naked defensiveness.

"Not interested."

She turned around and continued organizing the documents, not even glancing at Itakura again.

"I have work to do, please don't bother me."

"Hey? Wait! Let me hear you out!"

Itakura got impatient and clung to the counter, refusing to leave.

"I'm not that kind of scammer! Our company is very powerful! We have a building in Shinjuku and an office in Roppongi..."

"The last guy who approached me said he was a producer from Fuji Television and wanted to invite me to shoot a swimsuit photobook."

The girl didn't turn her head, her voice as cold as ice.

"The next one said he was a model's agent and wanted to take me to a high-class club in Akasaka to broaden my horizons."

She slammed the neatly organized documents heavily onto the table with a loud "thud".

"Uncle, your sales pitches are all pretty much the same. Can't you come up with something new?"

"No! I didn't mean for you to do a photoshoot!" Itakura's face turned red with anxiety. "I mean, I think you have a certain presence... I mean, I think you might be able to sing!"

The girl paused for a moment.

But then she turned around and pressed the intercom button on the table.

"Security, a guest is causing disturbance at the front desk. Please ask him to leave."

"No! Don't call security!"

Itakura watched the burly man walk out of the lounge and closed his eyes in despair.

It’s over.

Mission failed.

Just as the security guard's burly hand was about to touch Itakura's shoulder.

"Wait a moment."

A youthful yet authoritative voice pierced through the sweltering air and rang out in the quiet hall.

The automatic door opened again.

Satsuki stood at the door.

She was wearing a white dress, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and sunglasses.

She took off her sunglasses, revealing a pair of eyes deeper than a deep pool.

There was no sign of security guards or warehouse staff.

Her gaze swept across the hall and landed on the girl behind the counter.

"Ms. Sachiko Kamachi, is that right?"

Satsuki walked in. Her steps were light, but the male salesmen present instinctively straightened up, as if they had seen a leader inspecting their work.

The girl—namely, Sachiko Kamachi—looked at the little girl who had suddenly appeared with some surprise.

"Who are you?"

"I am his boss."

Satsuki pointed to Itakura, who looked disheveled, next to her.

"And the only one who came not to see your face, but to hear your voice."

She walked up to the counter, but instead of handing over her business card, she took out a small notebook from her bag.

"I've worked as a real estate receptionist, a race queen, and filmed some karaoke background videos that I didn't like."

Satsuki opened her notebook and read aloud in a calm voice.

"You're beautiful. Everyone tells you that if you're willing to take your clothes off and smile, you'll become famous."

"But you refused."

Satsuki closed her notebook, looked up, and stared directly into Sachiko's eyes.

"Because you secretly write lyrics in izakayas after get off work, or on deserted beaches."

"Because you feel that those who treat you like a pretty face have no idea what kind of magma is hidden inside you."

Sachiko's pupils contracted sharply.

Her hand holding the document trembled slightly.

This is her deepest secret. In this materialistic age, everyone just wants to make quick money; no one cares whether a race queen is writing poetry.

"Who...are you?"

Sachiko's voice was no longer cold, but carried a trembling expectation.

"I'm here to give you the microphone."

Satsuki turned around and pointed outside the door.

"There's a Snack Bar nearby called 'Seagull,' and I just booked the whole place."

"Go sing a song."

"If you think I'm lying to you, you're free to leave anytime. Your life can't be any worse than this, can it?"

Sachiko looked at the girl, who was only a teenager.

There was silence for a moment.

Then, she untied the ribbon around her neck and took off the uniform vest that symbolized "restraint".

"it is good."

Sachiko came out from behind the counter.

"I'll go with you."

……

"Seagull" Snark.

This is a typical Showa-era style bar. Red velvet sofas, dim lighting, and several guitars hanging on the wall.

Because it was afternoon, there were no customers in the store, only the old air conditioner making a "buzzing" sound.

The proprietress wisely retreated into the back kitchen.

Itakura sat nervously in the corner, holding a glass of ice water in his hand.

Satsuki sat at the bar and pressed a few buttons on the huge karaoke machine.

There were no currently popular sweet songs by Seiko Matsuda.

The screen lights up.

It's an old English song.

The Beatles - Let It Be.

The prelude of piano music begins.

Sachiko stood in the center of the venue, holding the wired microphone with slightly chipped paint. She looked somewhat uneasy, gripping the microphone stand tightly with both hands, like a drowning person clinging to a piece of driftwood.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"When I find myself in times of trouble..."

The instant the first note is uttered.

Itakura shook the glass in his hand, and the ice cubes hit the glass with a crisp sound.

That voice.

It was no longer the coldness and aloofness I felt at the front desk.

It was a grainy, slightly deep yet incredibly clear voice. It wasn't cloyingly sweet like those idol singers, nor was it overly technically affected like those of enka singers.

It is straight.

It pierced straight through the smoky air, through Itakura's thick layer of fat, and struck his heart directly.

That was the sound of life.

It is a cry of wanting to run, wanting to breathe, wanting to live even in despair.

Satsuki listened quietly.

She looked at the girl singing with her eyes closed.

At this time, Sachiko was not yet the national diva who would later be known as "ZARD" and stand at the peak of the 90s. Her vocal technique was still somewhat raw, and her English pronunciation was not standard.

But that power called "truth" has already broken through the soil.

The song reached its climax.

Sachiko leaned forward slightly, her long hair obscuring half her face. She was no longer hesitant; her voice grew louder and steadyer, as if she wanted to release all the grievances she had suffered over the years at the real estate company and the racetrack through her song.

"Speaking words of wisdom, let it be..."

The last note faded away.

The room fell into dead silence.

Sachiko slowly opened her eyes, slightly out of breath. She looked at Satsuki with a hint of trepidation in her eyes, like a child awaiting judgment.

"Slap, slap, slap."

Satsuki clapped softly.

Itakura.

"Yes, yes!" Itakura quickly stood up, his eyes a little red. Just a moment ago, this otaku had almost cried.

"Bring out the contract."

Itakura frantically pulled a document from his briefcase and placed it on the water-stained table.

Satsuki pushed the contract in front of Sachiko.

"Take a look at the terms and conditions."

Sachiko hesitated for a moment, then picked up the contract.

She originally expected to see harsh terms like "no dating," "must comply with company packaging," and "100 million yen penalty for breach of contract."

But she was stunned.

The contract is very simple.

Party B's rights:

Public appearances are not mandatory. (If you don't want to appear on television, you can just release a record.)

Wearing swimwear is not mandatory.

They own the copyright to the lyrics.

"this……"

Sachiko looked up in disbelief.

Why?

"Because although your face is beautiful, your voice is more valuable."

Satsuki jumped down from the high stool and walked up to Sachiko.

She reached out and helped Sachiko tidy her slightly messy long hair.

"Miss Puchi, this era is too noisy."

"Everyone is shouting, yelling, and going crazy for money."

"But after that crazy bubble burst, when everyone was battered and bruised."

"What they need isn't sweet candy, but painkillers."

"Your voice is the medicine."

Satsuki took the pen from Itakura and handed it to Sachiko.

"Sign it."

"We don't need you to be an idol. We just need you to be yourself."

"Wear jeans, go bare-faced, and sing the songs you want to sing."

Sachiko held the pen.

Her tears flowed without warning.

So many years.

In front of those cameras filled with erotic gazes, at those dinner parties where she was treated like a decorative object, she kept waiting for one sentence.

Waiting for the words, "Be yourself."

"I'll sign."

Sachiko wiped away her tears and nodded vigorously.

At the end of the contract, she solemnly wrote that name:

Sachiko Kamaiike.

"very good."

Satsuki put away the contract, a smile playing on her lips.

Welcome to SA Entertainment.

"From today onwards, forget the name Sachiko Kamachi."

She turned around and pushed open the door to Snark.

The sunlight outside was still blinding, and the sea breeze carried a salty smell.

We will give you a new name.

"A name as free as the wind, as mysterious as a riddle."

Itakura followed behind, watching the newly signed girl.

Although he didn't know what the future held.

But he had a premonition.

Today, in this run-down little tavern, he witnessed the birth of a legend.