You are following with your big trunk many of the people you just sat beside in a way too small plain for more than 14 hours. You are happy you can finally move about freely again. You still find it hard to believe that you are now at here.
Just a few weeks ago you were just the average American, just out of High-school and with a dream. You tried out at American Idol, but in the second round you got already out.
You nearly gave up on becoming a professional singer as the famous Japanese producer Kei Osaki called you. Up until then you never had heard of him, but after googling you found out he was the most famous producer in Japan, producing many No.1 singer and bands. You couldn't believe he had called you wanting to produce you. But he called a second and a third time making clear he wouldn't stop until you agreed. After you did the contract came by mail. It was threefold, two in Japanese, which you couldn't read, and one in English.
You signed the two Japanese contracts after reading the English one. After sending them back you began packing your bags. In the contract stood you had to come to Tokyo for at least the next year. If by then you didn't made it you would get a very good compensation and could go back. But you are determined to make it and now that you are at Narita-Airport you can't go back.
Johnson Kyle stands on a board a man in a black suit is holding. You walk towards him.
"Johnson-san?" He asks before making a bow. "Welcome to Japan."
You don't really know what to say, so you make a little bow.
"I am Taku Matsumoto, personal assistant of Mister Osaki." He says in his broken English making an other bow. "I am here to help you getting to Tokyo. Please let me carry your bag." He takes your bag and walks so fast away you have a little trouble following him.
As you got into a cab he doesn't say anything until you ask him.
"Mister Matsumoto?"
"Yes?" He responds turning towards you.
"Where are we going to?"
He turns back to look ahead, like he would talk to somebody in front of him and not to you. "Mister Osaki wants to see you as soon as possible."
It's a ride for more than two hours in which Mister Matsumoto doesn't talk. On the way you see many small rice fields and even more small houses, a few forests on small mounds and as soon as you enter the metropolitan area the Tokyo-Sky-Tree. The ride goes between skyscrapers on the small Japanese expressways until you are in a suburb on the other side of Tokyo before a building with six stories.
"This is Matsu-corp. The company you are going to work for." Mister Matsumoto says as you both got out of the cab. He then says something to the driver you don't understand because it's Japanese before guiding you inside.
"Ohayo gozaimasu!" You both get greeted by the receptionist. Mister Matsumoto quickly guides you to the elevators.
On the sixth floor you get greeted by Mister Osaki. "Johnson-san. It's nice to meet you." He shakes your hand speaking perfect English. He is a bigger than you had thought, nearly a head bigger than you, but that's because you aren't very big for a normal male American. "Did you had a good flight?"
"Yes." You answer. "But I'm a little tired. It was a very long trip."
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