A sound so enchanting it threatened to short-circuit his very soul. That was Kuroha Akira's first, violently instinctive thought.
It wasn't the deliberately provocative, whisper-close ASMR from his past life. No, this was something far more dangerous—a girl's utterly pure, completely natural moan of relief, unfiltered and sincere. It pierced straight through his defenses, making his heart pound against his ribs like a frantic taiko drum.
This is bad. This is really, really bad.
Across from him, Shinomiya Shion sat in a daze, her usual composed elegance utterly dissolved. Her violet eyes were glazed, misty with overwhelmed sensation, and a hint of saliva almost—almost—glistened at the corner of her soft, parted lips. She looked beautifully, devastatingly wrecked.
"Shinomiya," Akira began, his own voice surprisingly steady despite the internal chaos. He adopted the tone of a seasoned director addressing a rookie seiyuu. "If it's too much, you don't have to suppress it. Just let it out. There's no one here who would get the wrong idea, and we're not exactly engaged in any… illicit activities, right?"
Rather, he thought wryly, even if we were, Granny Kobayashi and Tsuchikata would probably just tactfully vanish. And Toshiro-san isn't even home.
The mental image was absurd. A one-on-one, boy-girl "battle" in the middle of the living room… This wasn't his house. If they accidentally stained the pristine sofa, Granny Kobayashi's wrath would be a force of nature rivaling any final boss.
If such a physical overlapping accident really had to happen, it'd be better to just get a room—NO! He slammed a mental steel seal on that line of thought. Impossible. Out of the question.
He had sworn an oath to himself: he would never, ever take advantage of his position to devour the 'golden goose' in his care. A true man, when faced with such temptation, must choose to be 'worse than a beast' and never cross that line. Besides, his wallet screamed in unanimous agreement—no funds for a love hotel, let alone for… preventative measures.
"Trying to hold it back just makes it sound more like that kind of cry, you know?" he continued, his analysis clinical, a shield against the warmth spreading in his gut. "Compared to a simple 'Ah!', a stifled 'Mm… Ah!' carries that… ambiguous, wanton flavor. As if something's in your mouth, and you can only let out that decadent sound when it's pushed to the limit."
"Ah… I-I understand," Shion breathed, her voice a shaky whisper.
Guided by his oddly practical advice, she relaxed her tensed body, surrendering to the simple, surprising pleasure of sore muscles being kneaded away. Her next vocalization surged from her diaphragm, flowing smoothly through her throat. It was clearer, more melodic, and longer now. The piercing pitch had softened into something lower, a soft and unconsciously alluring vocal line that seemed to curl in the air between them.
Neither realized that, in this bizarre context, Shinomiya Shion had just mastered the basics of abdominal breathing.
Kuroha Akira, however, was in a fresh new hell. The reduced volume was no longer a clarion call for conquest, but this… this was like having a girlfriend nuzzle into the crook of his neck and murmur her contentment directly into his ear. In some ways, it was more stimulating, pricking a man's innate desire to protect and cherish.
If this were paired with lines like 'Please,' 'I can't take anymore,' 'No, wait—', 'More,' 'Slower,' 'Faster,' 'I'm going to—'...
He'd have to call an immediate halt, sprint for the coldest shower imaginable, and recite the periodic table backwards until his blood cooled. Even his ironclad self-restraint was fraying at the edges. Once again, he felt the terrifying, gravitational pull of a top-tier talent.
You're incredible, Shinomiya… he thought, a mix of professional awe and personal agony. Even if you went into R18 voice work—a niche within a niche—you'd undoubtedly become a legend.
The massage of her beautiful, white-stockinged feet finally concluded. Akira moved his hands upward, kneading the firm yet soft muscle of her calves. The sensation was even better than her feet, like touching the impossibly smooth cheek of a newborn. For Shion, the most sensitive part was over. Her calves were less ticklish, and she let out a long, relieved sigh, her body going pliant against the sofa.
As his thumbs worked from her Achilles tendon up to the back of her knee, he began his lecture, the 'Producer' mask firmly back in place.
"Shinomiya, are you pushing yourself too hard on purpose? You mentioned your feet hurt this morning, so why volunteer for the weeding duty?"
"...Hmm."
Her morning complaint had been just an excuse, but after a full day of battling weeds under the summer sun, the ache in her legs and soreness in her feet were very real. While her will was strong, her body, unaccustomed to manual labor, was loudly protesting its fatigue.
Feeling she had become a burden, Shion's shoulders slumped slightly. "I'm sorry…"
"I'm not asking for an apology," Akira said, his voice firm but not unkind. "I'm saying that 'effort' shouldn't mean forcing yourself into misery. You don't have to do things that make you feel wronged or uncomfortable."
You are a genius, he wanted to shout. You hold a 'choice' others can only dream of. If you don't want to do something, you don't have to. Any path you walk, you can become a superstar. That was the privilege her talent afforded her.
"When you enter the professional world, you'll definitely face annoying situations. But then, what you need to learn isn't 'how to endure it,' but 'how to refuse.'"
"Can I… really be that willful?" Her voice was small, doubting the very possibility.
"Of course you can," Akira stated, as if explaining that the sky was blue. "Because you're not alone. All you need to do is shove all those disgusting, troublesome things right at me. I'll handle them."
He continued, his tone matter-of-fact, leaving no room for argument. "I told you before. I'm your partner, your Producer. A Producer is the one who stands in front of you when you need it. Whether it's fetching tea, massaging your feet, or dealing with sleazy executives—whatever you need, I'm willing to do it. So, feel free to treat me as your personal servant. Your health and condition are the top priority."
"...Mm."
The understanding settled over her once more, warm and solid. That's why he said something yesterday that could be mistaken for a confession. That was his serious, professional vow.
"Akira-kun…" she started, her gaze drifting to his focused profile. "Why are you so confident that I can make… a lot of money?"
What she really wanted to ask was, 'Why are you so good to me?' But the answer to that seemed to have been given from the very beginning.
It was for money.
She wasn't naive. She could sense the very normal, very male appreciation in his gaze sometimes. He didn't bother to hide his lust entirely.
Yet, Shinomiya Shion knew, with absolute certainty, that she was safe. Because Kuroha Akira would never let that lust destroy her future. To do so would be to ruin his investment.
But if it was truly just for money, why would he so easily agree to her willful request to remain faceless? If she simply leveraged her appearance, even she knew she could attract attention…
"You're mistaken," Akira said, interrupting her thoughts. His hands paused on her calf. "I don't 'believe' in you. I believe in my own judgment."
More accurately, I believe in the infallible intel from my cheat, he added silently. He'd already verified its accuracy.
"Shion, your greatest asset isn't your face. That is my professional judgment. So, if I say you can do it, then you can do it. Understood?"
"Ugh…"
She was still adrift. She had always felt her face was her only fortress and her only prison. The very beauty that overshadowed everything else had blinded her to her own latent gems, allowing Akira to stumble upon a treasure everyone else missed.
People only ever praised Shinomiya Shion's looks. That mountain of praise hadn't built her confidence; it had buried any other potential under its weight, making her believe there was nothing else to praise.
Building her confidence in her talent has to be the first step, Akira resolved. In fact, that was the entire point of today's plan.
"Alright," he announced, pulling his hands away as if from a live wire. "The territory above this is outside my jurisdiction. You can handle your own thighs."
…Does that mean, Shion wondered, a faint, curious heat rising to her cheeks, that if our relationship changed, he would give me more… thorough and comforting massages? She filed the thought away in a secret corner of her mind.
"Thank you, Akira-kun. I feel much better."
"Good. Then, it's time to begin today's voice acting fundamentals!"
"Mm!" She nodded, a spark of anticipation finally cutting through her residual embarrassment.
"Okay. Then let's watch some anime."
"…Eh?"
Her sparkling eyes widened in pure, unadulterated confusion.
Want to be a voice actor?
Start by being an otaku.