He couldn’t believe his plan finally worked. Satoru had adored you from your very first debut as an idol — sometimes thinking of himself as your #1 fan. He bought all of your merch, studied all of your personal history down to the birth time put on your birth certificate (information he’d pulled some strings for).

No matter how much information he’d consumed about you…it still wasn’t enough. But now the hole in his heart was finally filled, now that he had you handcuffed on his couch in his beautiful penthouse.

You awoke to him stroking your hair with a tender look. “Oh, hiya babe,”he greeted you sweetly. “You must’ve been really sleepy, hm?” Then he paused to flip through the tv channels, stopping at the news. When he registered what story was going on, his soft hand gripped on your hair harshly, making you turn to look at the TV. “Look, honey…it’s you.”

Your drug addled mind was surprised to see he was indeed correct. It was a picture of you on the flatscreen next to another with an aerial photo of a car crumpled terribly. Underneath, the text read: Japan’s Beloved Rising star snuffed out too soon.