All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

Merii Hizuki naturally understood Ririn Hoshizaki’s eager gaze. Right now, she was at the stage where her popularity was steadily rising, and indeed, she needed to prepare another new song soon to further boost her fame and solidify her reputation.

To whet the fans’ appetite, it wouldn’t be released immediately, but preparations had to begin early. When everything was ready, they would announce it with a surprise teaser, giving fans a shock and once again pushing her popularity higher.

For rookies, it was all about bringing constant surprises to the industry. Although Fly Me to the Star had already been this year’s big surprise from Ririn Hoshizaki, most singers, after releasing one massively popular song, would pause for a while to market that single song.

Veteran singers, even those who hadn’t released a new album in years, could still rely on their past hits—not only to earn money for a lifetime but also to maintain their high popularity despite not releasing new songs or albums for years.

Of course, such singers were very rare in the music industry, belonging only to that small group at the very top of the pyramid.

Even for ordinary entertainment companies, let alone Nichirushi’s agency—ranked among Japan’s top three—if they managed to produce such a singer or artist, the higher-ups would treat them like an ancestor to be worshipped.

And every newcomer who debuted carried the dream of standing at the very top of the pyramid of the music and entertainment industry.

Ririn Hoshizaki had chosen to become a trainee at Nichirushi’s agency precisely because of that dream.

In the past, even though the company promoted her as a potential rookie queen, she often felt lost. Every time she saw her old peers eliminated, or saw others apply to withdraw, she would feel confused about her own path. She thought that if she failed in the rookie season, she might be eliminated from Nichirushi too.

But Izumi’s Fly Me to the Star, in the midst of her confusion, was like a holy, radiant hand reaching out to her. She grabbed it, and with it, she was pulled out of the fog of uncertainty and placed under a sky symbolizing the future and hope.

Ririn Hoshizaki wanted to sing another song composed by Izumi. Even if she didn’t earn a single yen from it, even if Izumi took advantage of her for free, she would gladly accept it!

For someone young who had come to Tokyo alone with the dream of becoming a singer, Ririn Hoshizaki now had in her heart a god named Izumi.

Merii Hizuki lit a cigarette, puffing as she thought. Now that Ririn Hoshizaki, with Fly Me to the Star, was shining brighter in the rookie season, crushing Hebi-O and Hela agencies, things had changed.

At the last online meeting, the company executives were very pleased with this outcome. Recently, they had even started pouring money into Twitter, making Ririn Hoshizaki’s name as a rookie singer keep appearing on the trending list. They had also told Merii Hizuki:

”Reallocate part of the resources from other rookies to invest in Ririn Hoshizaki. Help her win the rookie season in one go. And not just win—she has to win beautifully. The company will also provide stronger support across all aspects.”

Now, with Izumi collaborating with Hideaki Anno, Nichirushi’s agency also wanted to be involved. It wasn’t about sharing profits—it was because Evangelion was a super-phenomenon anime in Japan, with massive global popularity.

Every year, just from merchandise alone, countless businesses sought IP collaborations with Evangelion.

Some of these collaborations were priced extremely high. Yet the buyers were even more numerous.

Now that the final chapter of the new Evangelion movies was about to be released, since the very first trailer dropped, the global buzz had been skyrocketing.

Nichirushi’s agency wanted to have one of their singers involved—even without being paid. Because through the platform of Evangelion: 3.0 You Can (Not) Redo, any singer who participated would see both their fame and value rise dramatically after the film’s release.

Merii Hizuki’s personality naturally wouldn’t allow her to miss such an opportunity. And right now, Ririn Hoshizaki was lacking a brighter stage. If she could be the singer for Evangelion: 3.0 You Can (Not) Redo…

Then starting next year, Ririn Hoshizaki would no longer count as just a company rookie. Her popularity could rival that of some of the agency’s top-tier singers.

Ririn wanted this chance to perform. Merii Hizuki wanted to give her this chance. Unfortunately… Izumi had already said it herself: she would not only compose for Evangelion: 3.0 You Can (Not) Redo but also perform the songs.

In the car, Merii Hizuki finished her cigarette, then looked at Ririn Hoshizaki and shook her head. Ririn could only lower her head in disappointment.

”If it were under normal circumstances, even if you didn’t request it, I would’ve fought to get you this chance. You’re the company’s most supported rookie, and with more resources invested, we could’ve created a win-win situation.

”But unfortunately, with Izumi-sensei, I can’t negotiate. So this time, I can’t help you win the singer’s role.

”After all, she isn’t a contracted composer of Nichirushi. If she were, I could at least speak to her directly. But she isn’t. Her collaboration with Nichirushi may just be out of personal interest. If she can work with Nichirushi, she can just as easily work with other agencies.

”So, in matters like this, not just you—even I, the chief manager, have to follow her lead.”

”I understand. Has Izumi-sensei already decided which singer she’ll choose?”

Though she felt a little disappointed, Ririn reminded herself to be content. Many singers might never in their lives get even one song composed for them by a master-level composer.

Izumi might not yet be a great master, but she had the potential.

Her own rookie debut song had been Izumi’s Fly Me to the Star. Even many famous debut singers couldn’t boast of such treatment.

I should be patient and keep working hard. I need to see which singer Izumi chooses this time, and compare myself with her. What gap lies between us? Ririn thought.

”You could say it’s already been decided.”

”May I ask, who is the singer Izumi-sensei chose this time? What’s their name?”

”Izumi…”

”Eh?”

Ririn Hoshizaki stared blankly at Merii Hizuki. Just a moment ago, she had been going through a list of powerful singers in her mind, guessing which one Izumi might pick. But this answer? Could it be that the singer Izumi chose this time… was herself?!

Izumi could not only compose, but also sing?

Merii Hizuki noticed the shock in Ririn’s eyes, but wasn’t surprised. When she first learned that Kotomi could not only compose but also confidently claimed she would perform, she too had been stunned. Though it wasn’t strange for composers to sing, composing and singing were still separate fields—each required professional mastery.

But hearing Kotomi’s confident tone, Merii decided not to question it. For someone who could very well become a great master, she could only follow her lead. Even if Izumi sang off-key, she would be the first to clap and say: Father! Your singing is heavenly! Truly divine!

Hideaki Anno could handle the communication with Kotomi.

The film’s theme song, and specifically which singer would perform it, had to be decided jointly by the composer and the director.

”Being able to compose already shows musical talent. You’re new to the industry, so you might not know, but some composers are actually quite good at singing… It seems Izumi-sensei has a lot of confidence in her singing ability.”

Merii Hizuki casually gave this explanation to Ririn. Indeed, many composers could sing, though most preferred to hand their songs to others rather than perform them themselves.

It was like how game developers rarely played their own games.

Ririn Hoshizaki’s eyes grew dazed. Even though she had never met her in person, only heard her voice over the phone, a composer who could also sing made her long to meet Izumi face to face—to see what kind of person she was in reality.

Perhaps it was because of her talent.

Or perhaps it was that charming, gentle voice she had once heard over the phone—the one that had given Ririn a beautiful dream that very night.

The admiration in Ririn Hoshizaki’s heart for Izumi grew ever stronger.

After Ririn Hoshizaki returned to her apartment, Merii Hizuki also drove back to her villa.

After parking her car, she went inside, thinking about sobering up. Yet her hands instead poured herself a glass of whiskey.

With a glass of whiskey and a small plate of dried cheese, she walked into the first-floor living room. After setting them on the table, she dialed Hideaki Anno’s number.

”Hello, good afternoon. Still wrestling with your script?” Merii Hizuki greeted casually.

On the other end of the line, an older man whose hair and beard were already starting to gray chuckled, took off his glasses, and stepped away from the computer to rest for a moment.

For half the day, he had been at home, scrolling through the script from beginning to end. Whenever inspiration struck or he felt something needed changing, he would slowly type, revising the story bit by bit.

In the anime world, he was without a doubt successful. And Evangelion, from its earliest creation until now, had accompanied him for decades. Now that he was about to put a period on this work—to say farewell on screen: Goodbye, all Evangelions.

Hideaki Anno was carefully polishing nearly every detail, determined to give this final chapter an ending that would make people smile, cry, sigh in relief, and applaud with both hands.

The script and visuals were no longer an issue. But… what was missing now was the music.

Anno had contacted many big names in the music industry, but none of the responses reached the effect he wanted.

The decision to let a high school girl compose for Evangelion’s final chapter was one only Merii Hizuki knew. Not even his wife had been told. He knew if word got out, people would surely think he had gone mad—that he was treating the Evangelion finale like a joke.

”How’s Izumi-sensei’s response?”

”You’re not even going to ask me why I took so long to call you?”

”What’s there to ask? Since last year, I’ve spent most of my time holed up at home polishing the script for the final chapter. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping an eye on outside news, alright? Congratulations on leading a rookie singer to victory in the rookie season. If I remember correctly, it’s been a long while since Nichirushi last won there.”

”It’s not completely won yet.” Merii Hizuki stretched lazily.

”You’ve been taking that rookie singer to endless banquets lately, so whether the rookie season is won or not—does it really matter?”

”Haha, you’re right. The Rookie King award is indeed valuable, but for us as a business company, what we really care about is how much commercial cooperation and profit it can bring. Ririn Hoshizaki may not have officially won the crown yet, but she’s already received multiple commercial contracts. With such excellent commercial results, the title of Rookie King doesn’t mean much.”

This was why, even before the rookie season had ended, Merii Hizuki had already relaxed, no longer paying much attention to it.

Whether Nichirushi, Hela, or Hebi-O agencies spent big money training their rookies for the rookie season, the main goal was always the same: to use the platform to help their rookies gain fame quickly, earn the Rookie King title, and add weight to their résumés.

That way, their carefully nurtured rookies would have greater value, attracting outside investors to cooperate with their entertainment company.

Now that Ririn Hoshizaki had risen to fame with Fly Me to the Star, countless business collaborations were already pouring into Nichirushi. Her commercial results were more than passing—they could even be called excellent.

The company executives, seeing these results, were satisfied. So whether or not she won Rookie King in the end no longer mattered much.

Of course, that was from the perspective of a chief manager in a commercial company. From the perspective of Merii Hizuki, as the trusted ”Merii-san” in Ririn’s eyes, she still hoped the girl could claim the Rookie King crown. For someone still new, a résumé with a few awards was simply too important.

”You’ve been so busy with endless banquets lately, no wonder you kept forgetting to call me.” Hideaki Anno chuckled.

”Sorry, sorry. I’ll treat you to drinks another day—or maybe for your birthday, I’ll get you a Kamen Rider CSM belt.”

”I’d prefer the Kamen Rider belt, hahaha… So, how did Izumi-sensei respond? I’m really looking forward to working with her.”

”Izumi-sensei just entered high school. She’s at the age where she’s very interested in anime and such. Coincidentally, she’s a fan of Evangelion. Oh—you might not know this, but her Line avatar is Rei Ayanami.”

”She likes Evangelion? That’s wonderful news.”

”When I told her you wanted to collaborate, she agreed right away. She practically slapped the table and insisted on taking charge of all the music for Evangelion: 3.0 You Can (Not) Redo.”

”Such ambition—truly fitting for someone young. I’m growing more and more curious about what kind of songs she’ll compose for the finale.”

”Besides composing, she also wants to perform the theme song herself. That was her one condition.”

”Oh?” Hideaki Anno was a little surprised. He had expected her to demand a high fee, but instead, her request was to sing the theme song herself? After a moment’s thought, he continued: ”I haven’t heard her sing before.”

”I haven’t either. But she seems very confident, like she’s certain she can do it well.”

After a moment of silence, Hideaki Anno slowly said: ”I recall she’s still in high school, isn’t she?”

”Yes.”

”Which school?”

”Let me think… I believe it’s Sobu High School in Chiba City.”

”Sobu High? I see. I had originally considered finding time to meet her. But now, it seems I won’t have to make special arrangements.”

”What do you mean?” Merii Hizuki didn’t quite follow.

”My wife’s friend has a child at Sobu High. Apparently, their cultural festival is coming up soon, and my wife’s friend invited us to attend together.

”I wasn’t planning on going, but now it seems I’ll have to pay Sobu High a visit.

”As for the details of the collaboration—and whether she’ll sing the theme song—I’ll discuss it with her slowly once we meet there.”

”That works. From here on, it’s your negotiation with Izumi-sensei. Honestly, passing messages back and forth is already feeling like a hassle.”

”Thanks, old friend. When the finale is released, please watch it in theaters. I know you don’t really like anime.”

”It’s not that I dislike anime—I’m just not interested in most of it. But since this is your work, and it’s the final chapter, I’ll definitely go to the theater and watch it carefully.”

...

Kotomi blinked awake. She remembered coming to Yukino Yukinoshita’s house that afternoon. After chatting for a while, Yukino had gone to play the piano arrangements of the two songs she had written.

Perhaps because she had sung too long at the KTV earlier, as she listened to Yukino’s piano performance, Kotomi’s mind gradually relaxed. Without realizing it, she had closed her eyes and fallen asleep.

Stretching comfortably, Kotomi realized she wasn’t lying on the sofa in the living room, but in Yukino Yukinoshita’s bed.

”I’m in Yukino’s room… sleeping in Yukino’s bed…”

Looking down at the blanket covering her, Kotomi thought: Is this Yukino’s usual blanket? It smells so good… so comfortable…

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