By the time they returned to the entrance of the Kobayashi property, the morning sun had fully ascended, its warmth palpable in the air.
Though it was just a five-kilometer jog at a gentle pace, a thin sheen of sweat coated Kuroha Akira's skin. A moment later, Shinomiya crossed the 'finish line' as well. Akira asked her about her first run.
"How do you feel? Everything okay? Any trouble breathing?"
Shinomiya placed a hand on her lower abdomen, quickly regulating her breathing before replying calmly, "Whew… Hmm, I feel good. My body feels light and responsive. No soreness."
In truth, there was some discomfort—just not the lactic acid burn from running. It was interference from other… factors.
Mainly, going without a bra meant her nipples were a bit sore from rubbing against the inner lining of the sportswear jacket. And since she could only zip it up, the inside had become a humid, steamy little sauna after she started sweating—incredibly stuffy.
Also, her shoes weren't designed for running, so the soles of her feet ached, and she longed to go back and give them a good rub.
But Shinomiya didn't list these grievances one by one. She didn't want Kuroha Akira to think she was some hothouse flower who couldn't endure a little hardship.
"As expected of talent…" Kuroha Akira marveled once more at the sheer power of an S-rank gift.
Even though he'd slowed his pace, running five kilometers non-stop is no easy feat for a beginner, especially in improper footwear. That Shinomiya could keep up so effortlessly had to be credited to her [Light Body Flexibility S]. The name suggested excellence in coordination, balance, agility, and overall physical grace. With that talent alone, she could probably start training now, even at her age, and still become a professional athlete—a figure skater or a gymnast, perhaps.
Generally, sports like figure skating and gymnastics require starting at four or five years old. Young girls are light, making jumps easier. By Shinomiya's current age, prodigies in those fields are already world champions. It's a terrifying arena where talent is wielded as a weapon for mutual 'slaughter.' To Akira, those athletes were still undeveloped lolis thrown into a brutal competition. 'Famous from a young age' described exactly that.
So, if Shinomiya entered the sports world now, even if she succeeded, she'd be labeled a 'late bloomer,' evoking a sense of missed potential rather than the triumph of choosing the right path at the perfect time.
Moreover, the life of an athlete carried high risks—frequent injuries, short careers. Among post-retirement options, only coaching seemed relatively stable. But having talent doesn't mean one can teach; Maradona was a superstar player but a mediocre, even terrible, coach. And a coach's income wouldn't sustain a lavish lifestyle. That path was best discarded.
Having too many talents was its own dilemma, leading to hesitation about which direction to take. After all, the real world wasn't a life simulator; you couldn't reload a save after choosing wrong. Changing careers mid-stream came with enormous sunk costs. While Shinomiya's gifts gave her a much wider margin for error in life, it didn't grant her license to be reckless.
Kuroha Akira's role was to eliminate life paths that would lead to 'mediocrity' and to polish this rough gem into the largest, most brilliant, and priceless treasure. In a very real sense, he had taken on the weight of Shinomiya Shion's life, bearing the responsibility of a life designer. So his earlier declaration, which had sounded like a marriage proposal, was no mere gimmick.
In fact, in Kuroha Akira's estimation, becoming a professional voice actor wasn't Shinomiya Shion's most ideal life path.
Top-tier voice actors in Japan earned annual salaries ranging from about 30 to 70 million yen (1.5 to 3.5 million RMB). However, that was the ceiling for top male seiyuu. Being rarer, male voice actors enjoyed higher status and more promotional opportunities. The vast majority of female voice actors faced fiercer competition and internal strife, leading to highly unstable incomes.
Voice actors were generally paid per job, not a fixed salary, though an average could be estimated. An ordinary seiyuu, even in a good year, might earn no more than 2 million yen (less than 100,000 RMB)—less than a fresh graduate in a standard office job.
Even veterans might struggle to break 10 million yen.
For newcomers just signed to an agency, the pay is downright pitiful. It's a life of genuine uncertainty, never knowing where the next meal is coming from… they're essentially being exploited by the very industry they aspire to. Moreover, if they continuously fail to land roles, they face the threat of being dropped by their agency, living in a constant state of low-grade anxiety.
In Japan, the voice acting income structure is brutally polarized. Roughly 10% of the industry's elite control the lion's share of the earnings. For the remaining 90%, making a living solely from voice work is an extreme challenge.
As a result, rookie voice actors can't survive on anime roles alone. Many take on part-time jobs; it's not uncommon to find aspiring seiyuu working as convenience store cashiers or food delivery riders. Those in slightly better positions, like the theater troupe crossovers Akira mentioned earlier, often juggle both stage work and voice acting initially, only shifting focus once one path gains traction.
Later, as they become more established, most voice actors diversify. Beyond voice acting, they moonlight as singers, performing anime OP/EDs, character songs, and releasing CDs for royalty income. They appear on TV shows, radio programs, and variety shows to boost their visibility. Some female seiyuu even take a semi-idol route, holding concerts, fan meets, and even releasing photobooks.
So, in Japan, a 'voice actor' isn't merely a 'voice actor.' It's a multifaceted profession with diversified income streams. To put it bluntly, they can't make a living within their core field, so they're forced to scrounge for earnings elsewhere.
A voice actor's income is influenced by many factors: vocal type, acting expressiveness, technical control, character interpretation, line delivery skill…
However, these technical aspects aren't the most crucial.
In Japan, the most important thing for a voice actor is… popularity! Being famous is everything!
The 'sei' (声, voice) in 'seiyuu' (声優) isn't the most important part; it's the 'yuu' (優, excellence/prestige) that truly matters!
But achieving that often comes down to sheer luck…
If they're fortunate enough to land a role in a breakout anime or hit game, they gain a famous representative character, and their popularity soars. After all, audiences might not remember the seiyuu's name, but they remember the name of their beloved character. 'Oh! So XXX is voiced by this person!'—that's the common path for the public to first recognize a voice actor.
But if they're stuck with minor roles in flop animations, even after ten or twenty years in the industry, they'll remain low-tier voice actors.
In summary, being a voice actor is not a profession where one can 'get rich quick.' Moreover, to become famous, one must typically grind in the industry for years.
Furthermore, Shinomiya's refusal to show her face meant she couldn't take the fast-track to fame through idol-like activities or visual media.
This was the source of Kuroha Akira's inner conflict.
While he was confident he could train Shinomiya into a top-tier voice actor…
She was a once-in-a-millennium SSS-rank genius…
Was it really enough for her to just be a voice actor?