Kentarō Yamamoto, once the leader of a yakuza trio, endured a childhood of abandonment, raised solely by his grandfather. His youth, marred by isolation and violence, led him to seek belonging within the yakuza, where he earned the moniker “Aniki” for his commanding loyalty. Yet the familial bonds he craved remained elusive. A catastrophic mission failure forced him and his subordinates into an unthinkable choice: gender reassignment to become the idol group Gokudols or execution.

Surviving as Airi Yamamoto, he clung to his gruff, authoritative persona while navigating the glittering idol world, his fans showering him with opulent tokens. The ghosts of his past lingered, sharpest in a wrenching reunion with an ex-lover he’d abandoned to shield her from his criminal life. Confronted with her young daughter—briefly mistaken for his own—he unraveled upon learning she’d swiftly married another, leaving him torn between relief and desolation.

Juggling identities, Kentarō battled residual yakuza impulses, slipping into drunken benders or neglecting hormone regimens, his stubble a visceral reminder of the life he’d lost. Moments of raw vulnerability surfaced, like solitary nights in his old haunt, a dim bar where he dissected the paradox of his existence: a hardened gangster turned performative icon.

Across adaptations, his arc wove threads of sacrifice and fractured identity. As Airi, he shielded his group from rival gangs and public disdain, grudgingly merging his street-forged tenacity with idol theatrics. Though he inched toward accepting his dual reality, flashes of his former self emerged—a protective snarl, a calculated gamble—proof that Kentarō, beneath the stardom, endured.