Many a people might think that being a professional model– or in any field, really– is ligh work. Just smile, wave, shake hands and rake in the fame, wealth, and glory, no?
How simpleminded!
Kaido sighed and sipped his coffee – extravagantly black – while studying the results of his impromptu 'students'.
It had been a week ever since he accepted the invite from Miss Rin; to tutor a bunch of nobodies the way of the 'Front Page'! He grumbled at the memory and massaged his brow. His eyes were gifted with sleep–deprived dark circles. He looked pathetic and he knew that, after all, he hasn't yet put on his make up to hide the panda eyes. A model's appearance is his worth!
Enough of that. Kaido made for the washroom to prepare for the day. He had two hours till his class with the boys. He felt tired already, dreading the day. On his way to the showers, he popped sleeping pills – enough to boderline suicidal dose – yet he knew they wouldn't be effective. It had been weeks since he last had a satisfactory sleep.
He caught a glimpse of himself on a reflective surface – thoroughly polished silver perhaps –and stopped to critique his appearance.
For a middle-aged man, he still held onto a fit physique, the wrinkles on his face weren't overwhelming...yet. His dark hair curled back to allow his features their well–deserved spotlight. A sardonic smile graced his lips and he walked off to the showers.
His back...was riddled with tales!
He went for another coffee (If sleep evaded his grasp, so be it. Insomnia can kiss his ass while at it) his fourth mug this morning. His feet mechanically directed him towards the gym within the building.
And yes, he found him there. Again!
So far, in all his career, this was the first person he had ever seen, grind through training this hard. It was almost fanatical!
Kaido, knew the importance of a fit body for those aspiring to be the top in the industry. The diets were disgusting, the swimming and running...hectic. But this guy! Ken Kaneki, was it?
'What the fuck is he training for?!'
He recognized Kick boxing, Krav maga and Muay Thai. The others? Alien techniques. His footwork a myriad of forms executed absentmindedly.
Kaido's gaze shifted to the young man's torso. A swimmer's body? Forget that, this was borderline bodybuilding...yet, his muscles weren't being inflated for show alone.
His body had somehow found a way to compress the bulk into efficiency. Yes, he was getting big. Yes, he was gaining inches by the week. But! Efficiency!
It was all an equation. And Kaido was failing to reverse–engineer the formulas back into the question that begun all this.
He thought of the future, how this new factor will play out in the Industry. Paradoxical! And he was all up for it! His smirk widened into a shit–eating–grin when he thought of the chaos soon to ensue on his students' debut. Societal structures would crumble overnight, the system would have to update itself so as to integrate the 'bugs' into the bigger picture!
And this was only one of them, Nagachika was another pandora's box that would spice everything up.
Kaido's eyes glazed over with pure ecstasy, they will pay! Every single one of those fuckers! He felt a stir in his pants. He was getting aroused.
★★★
"Despite having explained this countless times. I'll do it again so as to engrave it into your being," the uprising faces of fashion gazed at the twins attentively. Rem and Ram were the other tutors designated to them.
They focused mostly on the ins–and–outs of the profession. The basics— theories, etiquette, body language, mild manipulation and so on and so forth! While Kaido, he took them through the practical sectors and update their fashion sense.
"Modeling isn't just about angles and lighting—though let's be honest, catching the light just right can feel like summoning a small miracle. Behind every smoldering look is a study in posture, brand psychology, and knowing when to smile like your rent depends on it." Ram declared, or was it Rem?
"Modeling is 10% genetics, 20% lighting, and 70% knowing how to arch an eyebrow like it's a thesis statement. Anyone can wear clothes—models wear narratives," the twins nodded suggestingly.
"Behind every effortless pose is 43 takes, a caffeine crash, and a photographer whispering, 'Yes, give me despair, but make it Dior—"
The session treaded on for hours, instilling knowledge into Hide and Kaneki. The twins (in their early forties) were bearingly energetic and efficient in the art of narration. They shared the same mind and couldn't be distinguishable from the other. One began a sentence while the other finished it. One would set up a question while the other offered hints on how to tackle it.
••• ••••
"Everyone glamorizes the spotlight, but no one tells you it burns. You think the hardest part is walking a straight line in stilettos? Try waking up to a stranger at your hotel door because they tracked your scent through a tagged photo. Fanatics don't just love you—they consume you.
And it's not just physical. You'll smile for fifteen cameras while bleeding inside, and no one will ask if you're okay unless it makes for a good headline. You're not a person to them—you're a brand, a fantasy. It's not all fun and games!
So you want to model? Fine. I'll teach you how to own a runway and command a lens. But I'll also teach you how to read a crowd, how to spot the eyes that linger too long. I'll teach you how to walk away before the admiration turns into obsession.
Because out there, beauty isn't admired—it's hunted."
It was late afternoon and Kaido had the reigns in his hands. A tough man! Hide had thought. But he couldn't deny that the man had a valid point. Not everything that glitters is gold. The world, the system was rusted iron hastily coated in golden paint. Their tutor was trying to disillusion them from this early on so that they don't despair in their naivety when their talent disowned them.
Movement caught Hide's attention at the corner of his eye. Kaido had abruptly moved. His movements shockingly fast, belying his age (He was past his youth to be moving this fast!)
Kaido slid to a halt before Kaneki, applying the residing momentum, redirecting it through the joints of his leg–to his hip–shoulder– and a clenched fist!
Whoosh!
Swift and devastating, aimed at the unexpecting student's jaw. But it never connected! Kaneki had swerved. Not taking a step back, no, he had angled his torso to the left, effectively evading the trajectory.
He didn't stop at that. Kaneki dropped to the ground, his left arm stopping his awkward descent, his hand building up energy for his counter. Like a compressed cord, his feet lashed out towards Kaido, who, despite being momentarily caught off guard by how the tables had been turned; he'd drawn his arms into a cross–guard before his chest.
He was launched off the ground and thrown back. Hide remained dumbstruck, mouth agape at the turn of events.
Kaido caught himself while mid–air with a flip, glanced at Kaneki and effortlessly executed a roundhouse kick. His heel crashing into Hide's temple.
His feet touched the ground the same time as Hide's body. Kaido brushed off imaginary dust from his sleeves. Hide gasped into consciousness the next moment, brows furrowed in pain and confusion.
"Great responsive time, Ken," Kaido nodded and Kaneki returned the gesture. He then turned to stare at his other student.
"Nagachika—" His features became pensive.
"From this point on, modeling isn't just catwalks and couture. We're integrating self-defense into your training. Because out there, a flash of charm can attract more than just photographers.
If you're going to make it in this industry, you'll need more than angles and attitude. You'll need reflexes. Awareness. The ability to smile while calculating escape routes.
So starting tomorrow, you learn how to pose and how to punch. Anyone who disagrees can leave—and hope their pepper spray works better than their instincts."
Beautiful things don't just shine, they bleed!