Chapter 20

Chapter 20: 020, HALO Personal Studio — Becoming the Master Chief?

The meeting the next day went smoothly. Their previous cooperation had been successful, and the future prospects were clear.

The revenue split remained the same as before, 3:7. Nagayama Naoki did not request a higher percentage despite the strong results of the earlier advertisement.

After all, that ratio already belonged to the higher tier within the industry.

However, since this was now a year-long advertising contract, they could not continue using the previous single-project agreement. What Yoshimura Daitomo mainly discussed this time was Naoki joining the STARTLIGHT agency.

“Daitomo-san, I still don’t want to limit my personal career within an agency,” Nagayama Naoki said with some difficulty. He truly had no intention of tying himself to a single company. Once inside, he would simply become an employee.

“Our STARTLIGHT agency offers very good conditions, Naoki-san. Contract terms can still be negotiated,” Yoshimura Daitomo tried to salvage the situation. “Personally, I still have some authority to adjust contractual clauses.”

A contract lasting over a year meant enormous revenue. If a single commercial cost fifty million yen, the yearly flow would easily exceed six hundred million yen. Naturally, the agency wanted the model under its control.

Once signed, there would be countless ways to ensure obedience.

“I understand your sincerity, Daitomo-san, but I want to stick to my own approach. Honestly, I never planned to develop a career in the entertainment industry.”

Negotiation always began high and settled later.

“Tch… he’s already appeared on television programs,” Yoshimura Daitomo thought internally. The agency had already investigated Naoki’s background and knew this young man was bargaining.

“Naoki-san, do you have concerns about agencies? Everything is negotiable. Besides, large personal earnings also create tax complications. If you joined an agency, all those administrative matters would be handled for you.”

In Japan, once someone entered a formal company position, they were effectively tied to it for years. Entertainment agencies in particular were notorious for strict internal rules and hidden practices.

“Joining an agency is still not an option. If my family learned I joined another agency, they might break my legs,” Nagayama Naoki replied, once again using the excuse of a yakuza family background.

The Yamaguchi-gumi indeed had influence within the entertainment industry. For outsiders, that explanation sounded convincing enough.

Yoshimura Daitomo remembered the intimidation he had felt before. “Didn’t you say your family wouldn’t oppose it?”

“Well, Daitomo-san, I heard that overseas there’s a growing trend called a personal studio. Individuals can accept various projects under their own name while handling taxes independently.”

Now Naoki revealed his true intention.

Personal studios were not uncommon in Japan, but they mostly existed in fields like architecture or manga. In the entertainment industry, even top stars rarely operated this way because exposure channels—advertisers, magazines, television stations—had long been monopolized by major agencies. Leaving an agency usually meant losing opportunities entirely.

But Nagayama Naoki was different. He never intended to pursue a traditional entertainment career, and this collaboration existed because the client specifically wanted him.

“So, Naoki-san intends to cooperate under a personal studio name?” Yoshimura Daitomo asked. Essentially the same arrangement as before, only now formalized as a studio.

“Yes. I believe this approach is most beneficial for future development.”

Beneficial? From the agency’s perspective, a small unknown studio would normally have no future projects after this campaign.

Yet Yoshimura Daitomo had no real leverage. The client insisted on Nagayama Naoki, and the new advertising plan required him as a central figure.

“I understand, Naoki-san. Then we will sign the contract under your personal studio.”

“What is the name of your studio?”

“Well… it hasn’t been established yet. I’ll have to trouble you, Daitomo-san, to help register a shell company.”

“…What?”

Even the registration had to be handled by them.

A few days later, Nagayama Naoki’s personal studio, HALO, officially signed a contract with the STARTLIGHT agency.

“HALO… a halo. Time to become the Master Chief,” Naoki joked to himself.

He soon met again with the artistic producer Itō Shūichi, who also served as director.

Their connection was clearly strong.

During discussions, Itō Shūichi explained that the advertisement series would consist of four parts corresponding to spring, summer, autumn, and winter, each linked to a different flavor.

It was already February, so the next soda would be sakura flavor. Not cherry, but cherry blossom itself—an unexpectedly novel idea.

Listening to the advertisement concept:

During cherry blossom season, two strangers shelter from light rain beneath a convenience store awning. Petals fall from a nearby sakura tree and transform into Tomomasu Beverage’s sakura soda. The pair eventually become a couple. The narration asks, “What does sakura taste like?”

Nagayama Naoki gradually became absorbed.

Two young strangers. Rain shelter. Falling blossoms. Becoming lovers.

Something connected with memories buried deep within him. Images flowed into his mind like spring water.

“Sakura, sakura, I want to see you, I want to see you right now.”

“It’s alright. Don’t cry anymore. I am the wind surrounding you.”

“Sakura, sakura, I want to see you, I want to see you right now.”

A beautiful, melancholic yet hopeful song, “Sakura Anata ni Deaete Yokatta” (“Sakura, I’m Glad I Met You”), echoed in his ears, accompanied by scenes from the music video.

“Naoki-kun… Nagayama-kun!” Itō Shūichi’s voice carried slight dissatisfaction. “Are you listening? Do you have any opinions?”

“Yes, I’m listening,” Nagayama Naoki said, returning to reality.

“I see. Then what do you think about the advertising story?”

“Well… Shūichi-san, I actually do have an idea.”