many apologies for how it took me to update! I've had half of this laying around for years, and recently finished a year of college. I'm getting back into things and the next chapter will be longer, I promise.

again, with much inspiration from the Korean show.

"It's best if we don't tell them." Tsunade replied, sipping her sake. "They won't react positively, and it might be better for views if their reactions are caught on camera." She nodded her head for emphasis.

Jiraiya agreed with this view. "Very wise, Tsunade-hime." He said emphatically.

"Oh shut up, you old tub of lard."

"Hey!"

Sakura held her breath as she opened the pink envelope. It was a message from the directors of the show, telling her where to go. She was already being filmed by the camera as she stood there in the park but she suspected the clip wouldn't be shown. She had been on enough variety shows to know that boring parts of shows were usually cut out to make room for the more interesting.

So she was relatively calm, for now.

"Go to the tallest building in this city." She read carefully. "The tallest building?" She looked around, but as expected, from the park she could see nothing. From her own prior knowledge, she suspected it was the newly opened mall over at the east end of the city so she walked to the bus stop.

After five minutes, the bus still hadn't arrived. She began to feel bored and started humming to herself. The cameraman gave her a thumbs up which made her feel uneasy. She didn't like being reminded that her every move was being watched.

Finally the bus arrived. "You're late." Sakura remarked.

The bus driver was an old man so Sakura faltered. She didn't want to appear rude. "I mean—sorry."

The driver bowed and motioned to the back of the bus. Sakura followed where he was pointing and sat down. The bus moved at a snail's pace. It seemed like an eternity when the driver finally announced, "We have reached the last stop."

Sakura thanked the driver and got out quickly. A quick look upwards told her that it might rain soon. Sighing, but careful to maintain a neutral expression, she walked towards the building.

Once inside, she was struck by the splendor of the building. It was decorated plainly but its walls and ceiling were obviously expensive and luxurious looking. She wondered if she would get to stay in this building during the show. Probably not, since the building had been built as a hotel or a tourist attraction of sorts. Sakura herself had been there when she had first debuted, as the concert hall had been nearby.

Suddenly she gave a shout. There, in the mirror in front of her she could see a man in blue clothing was following her! She turned around quickly.

He bowed and handed her a pink envelope. Sakura scowled, but quickly masked her irritation. "I am not here, but actually up on floor 78." She read. "Floor 78? How high does this building go up to?" She said partially for herself, and partially for the sake of the ninja audience that was watching this.

After navigating her way through the building, she finally arrived on floor 78. There, a man with flowing blond hair that reached past his shoulders and dressed completely in white stood, facing the immense glass window. Sakura watched him with apprehension. He seemed not to know that she was there.

"Um, excuse me." Sakura began, feeling annoyance seeping into her veins, "Can you tell me what I should do?"

The man turned to face her, his expression mirroring her displeasure. "How should I know?"

"Well," Sakura replied, not liking his tone, "You were here before me."

The man gave a short laugh. "That doesn't prove anything, yeah."

Sakura gave a small glance towards the cameraman. The cameraman looked perplexed, as if unsure what to do. Sakura turned back to face the blonde. "Well, if you're done being unpleasant. Are you the male lead in this drama?" So sue her, she was breaking the fourth wall. It had to be done, so that she could at least figure out something.

"Drama? Pinky, does this look like a drama to you?" The man replied wryly.

Sakura looked around her curiously, ignoring his dig. "If it is, I never got the script." She admitted.

The man laughed. "Neither did I, yeah."

Sakura felt as though she should at least make some effort to make the show more interesting. Heck, even she wouldn't watch this crap. "Wait, have you gotten a pink envelope?"

The man narrowed his eyes. "Is that some kind of innuendo?"

Sakura frowned. "No…" She really doubted he was a celebrity—celebrities were never so crass, whether on camera or not. The public would hate them if they were since they were supposed to be the pinnacle of perfection. It was probably bad for her image to even be seen with him…what was her company thinking?

"Well…now that I think about it…I did get some stupid yellow envelope, yeah." The man replied, digging into his pockets.

"Oh!" Sakura remarked sharply. "What's your name?" She felt abashed, frankly; she'd forgotten basic rules of etiquette in her haste.

The man gave her a flat stare. Apparently, he wasn't very impressed either. "You're kidding right? You've never heard of me?"

Sakura looked at him closely. Of course he was right. If he was on this show then he should be a celebrity. But although his appearance seemed showy enough, Sakura couldn't pinpoint any names. "No." She said, hoping he wouldn't take it the wrong way.

"Tch. You probably don't listen to that kind of music anyways." The man replied, opening the envelope. "Ah, I never bothered with this crap, so I had no idea what it said, yeah." He examined its contents. "What in the…?"

Sakura's curiosity was piqued. "What does it say?" She asked, momentarily forgetting introductions. She would have to find out at some point anyways.

"It says we have to go eat in a restaurant now. Preferably expensive, since we're filming. I hope they're paying for this, yeah." The man said irritably.

Sakura blinked for a few moments. Eat with this man? Was this the producers' idea of an entertaining show? She was sure the ratings would be incredibly low, which would allow her to move back towards her singing career, anyways. She felt considerably better now, but there was a small twinge of…incompetence? That she couldn't even put on a successful show…

She agreed to have lunch with him. "But you've got to tell me your name." She protested.

The man looked bored. "It's Deidara, yeah." He stated. "What's yours?"

Sakura almost didn't want to reply, noting his complete indifference. Still, for the sake of appearances, she did so, "Sakura. Do you prefer honorifics or no?"

Deidara shrugged. "It doesn't matter. What kind of food do you want? We're leaving now, because I hate the smell of this building." He announced like it was an order, which Sakura detested. She inhaled the scent of the building—it smelled like petroleum, probably because of how industrialized it was. He must have been there since morning, if the smell had gotten to him, she thought distractedly, as they walked towards the elevator.

"I like seafood?" She replied, though given her confused state of mind, the statement ended up as more of a question.

Deidara was all for looking attractive. Why not? It didn't conflict with his music, he attracted more attention that way, and besides, it could be a source of entertainment in and of itself.

What he didn't like however, was how hard those manufactured pop idols tried to achieve that attractiveness. So much so that they'd stuff their own personalities and pretend to be sugary pretty angels of perfection when they were just as corrupt and jaded as Deidara himself.

Which was why, when Sakura, that pretty pinkette with the green eyes and pale complex, informed him that she was a pop star, he blanched. He had suspected the content of the show he had been forced into. To be told that his counterpart was in fact a pop star…it didn't agree with his values. He liked defiance, rebellion, a little anarchy, and a lot of arrogance (in himself, of course). Pop stars just didn't fit that bill.

"Uh huh." He answered non-committally.

"Are you even paying attention?" Sakura said edgily, forgetting the camera for the moment.

"Sure." Deidara gave her a smirk. Still, she was attractive. And would make a suitable diversion for this tedious season of WGM.

"Whatever." Sakura said with a sigh, but Deidara already wasn't listening. They ate for a while in silence until she noticed the sliver of paper under her plate.

She tugged it out and unfurled it. Her forced smile sank.

Deidara stared at her. "What?"

Wordlessly, she passed him the scroll.

He let out a string of expletives, not noticing the cameraman or Sakura wincing.

"So, we're married, yeah." he said casually. "Goddamn, and I was just about to pen a whole new album. Fuck."

He stared at her lecherously, as if just now taking in her well-placed zipper and soft skin. "Although...I wouldn't mind having you for a bride."

"...You knew about this, didn't you?" Sakura said flatly, her voice taking on a bitter tone. "I was the last to know."

"Well, what did you think this was, Pinky? No such thing as a free meal." He snatched up his lobster and bit into its head.

Sakura felt her career satisfaction die in her throat.

"Get a move on, girl. They want us in the studios soon." He slurped out the rest of the lobster and tossed it back onto the plate. It struck Sakura's soup bowl and flicks of seaweed shot up and landed on her cheek. She wiped it off with a napkin.

She looked quietly at him, then, she walked slowly over to his side of the booth and sat down, with a strange look in her eyes.

For a split-second, he wondered amusedly if his sexual charms had finally overwhelmed her, before she grabbed him by the collar and brought her face very close to his.

In his ear, she growled, "Listen up, Blondie. I've wanted to be a singer since I was a kid. This is my career you're joking around with. If this show doesn't do well, it means both our careers will be irrelevant."

She tightened her grip. "And if that happens, I swear, I will hunt you down for the rest of your life and destroy you. So, stop acting like a common street harasser and more like an actual h," her throat caught on the word and choked it out, "-husband!"

She let him go and returned to her seat. After a minute of silence passed, she dared to look up and was met with eyes that were burning with hatred.

"But, oh, Pinky, you've just started a war, yeah."

The cameraman yelled cut.

I'm listening to Kelly Clarkson and Taylor Swift to get into this pop business. I'm more of a dark indie girl, myself.

until next time (next week)