It’s the Saturday before the exams.
My classmates are probably holed up somewhere, diligently tackling their studies. Naturally, I’d love to be doing the same. But there’s a reason I can’t.
“What should I do… I mean, really…”
It’s just past noon, and I’m trying to focus on studying in my room when my concentration is shattered. The culprit? The doorbell, rung by a certain girl standing right in front of me—Minase Nagisa.
When I opened the door, her first words were, “Is anyone home? If not, let me in. To your room.” Words that would make any high school boy across the country jump for joy. But what she actually started talking about was something heavy—whether or not to quit school.
“Well, it’s not like you have a pressing reason to quit right now, right?”
“Yeah… but I haven’t been going to school much, and the person I enrolled to meet isn’t even there. The only people I can talk to naturally are Akari and you, Yuto. And since we live so close, I’d still see you two even if I quit…”
Her mention of “the person” she enrolled to meet catches my attention involuntarily. According to her, my father, Kitajo Yuya, told her about an incredibly talented peer she’d meet at Ichiyo High. If I told her that person might be me, what would she think? Joy at finding her target? No, more likely disappointment. She veered away from her peers in the entertainment industry to find someone in the advanced studies course, an acting amateur. It’d be nothing but a letdown.
After all, I’ve avoided acting precisely because I didn’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps. If he thought I had talent despite my lack of experience, that’s just a parent’s bias gone too far.
“Well, I probably won’t even be able to take the exams, so maybe it’s just how it is…” she says, her gaze tinged with resignation as she stares out the window.
“…If you’re ever in trouble, just tell me. I might be able to help… probably.”
At that, she looks mildly surprised before bursting into laughter. “What’s that? What can you do, Yuto?” she teases, closing the distance between us with a mocking grin.
I only said it as a small way to atone for not even being able to tell her that Kitajo Yuya is coming to our school. But now, embarrassment wells up inside me. She’s a working actress, and I’m just an ordinary guy. Our positions are worlds apart.
Feeling my cheeks flush, I endure her teasing. Then, suddenly, she presses her face against my shoulder.
“But… I’ll take that kindness,” she says softly.
I can’t see her face, so I don’t know if she means it. Nagisa’s usually so haughty—maybe this vulnerable voice is just another one of her acts. But it doesn’t matter. For now, I’ll just listen to her words. I’ll believe in them.
After a moment, she lifts her head. “Well, if I’m really in trouble, I’ll come crying to you.”
“Please don’t. I don’t think I could say no to anything you ask.”
“Oh? You act all cool, but you’re weak to a girl’s tears, huh?”
“Blame my mom’s upbringing.”
“You know, nine out of ten times, a girl’s tears are fake.”
“Then guys are fine getting fooled for that one out of ten.”
Our usual meaningless banter resumes. Then, Nagisa flops onto my bed. “Sorry for interrupting. You were studying for the exams, right? Go ahead, I’ll be quiet.”
I thought she was joking, but she seems serious about staying, lazily scrolling through her phone. I try to refocus on my desk, but it’s different from when Akari’s here. For some reason, she seems at ease with me, but a high school girl lounging on a guy’s bed? That’s bold. There’s no point saying anything, though, so I soldier on with about half my usual focus.
◆
The following Monday. The first day of exams.
I’m waiting for Akari by the elevator when her slightly ajar apartment door reveals her in pajamas, shouting, “Go on ahead!” It’s something that happened a lot in middle school, so I don’t think much of it and press the elevator button. Then, someone slaps my back hard.
“Morning!”
“Nagisa, huh? You’re going to school today?”
“Yup. What about Akari?”
“She overslept and said she’ll be late.”
“Got it… I kinda wanted to walk with her to make some memories, though…”
“…Have you decided already?”
“…Pretty much. There’s nothing left for me to learn in the performing arts course, and I’m kinda curious about the correspondence school my friends told me about.”
“I see. My mom said you’re welcome at our place anytime, so don’t act like a stranger. You’re one of my few friends, you know.”
At that, Nagisa looks at me with a satisfied glint in her eyes and chuckles. “What’s that? Fine, I’ll respect you as one of my few normal friends.”
“Thanks for that.”
From there, our conversation flows as usual. The clouded expression she had on Saturday seems to have cleared up today, her face noticeably brighter.
We pass through the school gate and change into indoor shoes at the entrance to the academic building. Normally, I’d part ways here with Akari, Murai-san, and Nagisa, since their classrooms are on the second floor. But today’s different.
There’s a crowd gathered in front of the bulletin board, where posters for club activities and school events are usually pinned.
“What’s with the crowd?”
“No idea. Something’s up on the bulletin board, I guess…”
“Eh, doesn’t matter to me since I’m quitting soon,” Nagisa says, turning toward her classroom. But before she can, a familiar classmate wedges himself between us.
“Yuto! Did you see it? That!” Yamada Soma points toward the bulletin board, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Nah, not yet.”
Nagisa, startled by Soma’s energy, pauses and looks his way.
“Get this! Kitajo Yuya is coming to judge the performing arts exam!” Soma says, pointing again.
Nagisa’s expression freezes behind him.
“That’s… great, I guess?” I reply awkwardly, thrown off by the fact that I already knew this and by hearing my dad’s name from a friend’s mouth.
As we talk, Nagisa snaps out of her stupor, pushes past Soma, and grabs my shoulders with both hands. “Yuto… I can’t quit yet.”
Her face looks more exhilarated than I’ve ever seen.
◆
Ichiyo High’s written exams span five days, with two to three subjects per day. Thanks to that, students in my course get to leave early during exam week. Some use the extra time to study in the school library or hit up cafes with friends for study sessions. But my only study buddy, Soma, apparently has plans with other friends today.
He invited me to join, but I politely declined. I can already picture myself clamming up around strangers and ruining the vibe.
After the exams, I wander the school during what would normally be class time. Most students are still in their classrooms, so the halls are quiet, with only a few others walking around.
I reach the entrance without incident and spot a familiar face by the bulletin board where the crowd was this morning. It’s Aida Yume-san, the girl who sits in front of me.
We’re not exactly close enough to chat casually, so I plan to just head home. But then, a clear voice, like the one I heard at the entrance ceremony, calls out to me.
“…Aoi-kun, was it? Did you see this poster?”
Surprised, I turn to see Aida-san pointing at the poster about Kitajo Yuya’s visit. “I haven’t seen it, but Yamada told me about it, so I know.”
“Oh… sorry. I must’ve startled you. You’ve got that dumb look, like a pigeon hit by a peashooter.”
Was it that obvious on my face? More importantly, is casual roasting a trend among high school girls these days? Akari and Nagisa do it too sometimes.
“I just wasn’t expecting you to talk to me. No need to apologize.”
“True, I wouldn’t normally. Sorry. You can go home now.”
She says that, but unless I’m imagining it, her vibe practically screams, “Ask me why I talked to you!” Still, that’s just my gut feeling, and I could be wrong. So I take her at her word and start to leave.
“See you, Aida-san. Tomorrow, then,” I say in my head as I change into my outdoor shoes.
“…Why didn’t you ask? Like, ‘Why’d you talk to me today?’”
Her directness makes me drop the shoe in my hand. “I mean, it felt weird to pry when we’ve barely talked before…”
“Barely talked? We have talked. The day after the entrance ceremony, three minutes before first period’s short homeroom. You, Yamada-kun, and I had a conversation, didn’t we?”
“…Was that a conversation?”
It felt more like her scolding us for a sentence or two.
“It was a conversation. A conversation is when two or more people talk to each other. By that definition, it counts.”
“…Fair enough.”
This exchange alone tells me what kind of person Aida-san is.
“Anyway, I talked to you because I was just hyped up.”
“Hyped up?”
“I’m a fan of Kitajo Yuya.”
She says it with a smug hum and a proud expression. “Oh, so that’s why you were staring at the poster.”
“Yup.”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone into actors like that.”
“And I don’t think there’s anything weird about it, but…”
From my seat, I always see her studious side—long, neat black hair, perfect posture, a pristine uniform with a skirt that reaches well below her knees. It all gives off a prim, serious vibe.
“…Hey.”
Maybe it was a mistake to glance downward while thinking that. “Could you not stare at my thighs?”
She’s completely misunderstood me as some kind of pervert.
“I wasn’t staring…”
“Don’t lie. You like girls’ thighs, don’t you?”
I vaguely recall a conversation with Soma about that topic when Aida-san walked by. “I’m not that desperate, come on.”
“Debatable.”
She hugs herself protectively, as if shielding her body. Please, stop. People are starting to stare.
“Just kidding. You seem pretty used to girls, so maybe you’re not desperate.”
Another misunderstanding. “I’m not used to girls at all…”
“Really? You’re always hanging out with people from the performing arts course. Weren’t you with Minase-san this morning?”
“I was… but she’s just one of my few friends. I’m not some ladies’ man.”
“Oh? My bad, then.”
“It’s fine. I’m heading home now. Got more exams tomorrow.”
The sooner I can study in peace, the better. I say my goodbyes, change shoes, and start walking.
“Wait a sec.”
“…What?”
Aida-san approaches, phone in hand. “Let’s exchange contact info. We’ve talked this much, so we’re friends now, right?”
I don’t have a good reason to refuse, so I scan the QR code she shows me, wondering if this school is full of eccentrics. I thought she was the studious, bookworm type, but today proved me wrong. Like Soma, she’s a bit of a whirlwind.
After exchanging contacts, she darts off somewhere, leaving me alone at the entrance. I glance at my phone. Her profile icon is my dad.
“…This kinda sucks…”
The words slip out unconsciously.
◆
Back home, I’m unusually focused in my room. Normally, Akari drops by weekly, and last week’s surprise visit from Nagisa threw me off even more. I’m not too worried about the exams, but extra prep never hurts.
My mom’s out, so I whip up a quick cup of instant ramen for lunch and dive back into studying in my quiet room—an ideal exam week setup. I work in thirty-minute bursts with five-minute breaks, a schedule that suits me. Time flies, and soon it’s past 5 p.m., when I’d usually get home.
I step out to refill my empty mug with green tea and start boiling water when the doorbell rings.
“Here I cooome!” My childhood friend Akari steps in with a lively rhythm.
“Pardon the intrusion,” Murai-san says politely, following her as if it’s the most natural thing.
“Come in.”
I increase the boiling water to make tea for them too. “Ooh, how thoughtful!” Akari chirps.
“Thank you,” Murai-san adds.
Akari’s so comfortable here she forgets it’s not her house, while Murai-san remains courteous. As the saying goes, “Look at others to correct yourself.” I wish Akari would take a page from Murai-san’s book.
“Sorry, Aoi-kun. I knew it’s exam week and tried to stop Akari-chan, but…” Murai-san says.
“It’s fine. I got home early and studied plenty, so I’m happy to have you both here for a break.”
“Is that so? Good, then.”
Murai-san sinks into the sofa next to Akari, looking relaxed. I set my tea on the nightstand and sprawl on my bed behind them. Akari’s in a movie mood today, not gaming, and picks a romance film I’ve never seen. I watch movies sometimes, but usually only ones without my dad in them.
The two of them don’t seem too invested in the film, chatting while glancing at the screen. “Oh, by the way, Aoi-kun, did you hear? Kitajo-san is coming to Ichiyo!” Murai-san says.
“Yeah, I heard.”
“Kinda dry response… It’s a big deal, you know? The performing arts kids are super excited. Kitajo Yuya is like a legend for aspiring actors.”
“Huh… Are you a fan too, Murai-san?” Akari asks.
“Um… not exactly a fan…” Murai-san blushes slightly, her eyes pleading, “Don’t laugh, okay?”
“I wouldn’t think that,” I reassure her.
“Well… more like someone I want to catch up to,” she says, her voice stiffening with nervous determination.
“That’s not embarrassing at all,” I say.
“Really…?”
She blushes again and turns back to the screen. “But this year’s students are so lucky! Getting their acting judged by Kitajo-san and even getting personal feedback afterward?” Akari adds.
“Yeah, it’s lucky. But…” Murai-san’s expression clouds over. “It might make things tougher for Minase-san.”
She stares at her mug, murmuring, “With Kitajo-san as a judge, the panel’s influence in the industry becomes massive. Few people would want to be compared to Minase-san in that context, and anyone who teams up with her might just hold her back.”
I process Murai-san’s words. This morning, Nagisa’s eyes were full of determination. She must see value in being judged by her idol, not as a peer but as a professional. The problem, though, hasn’t changed: finding someone to team up with her on stage.
“It’s weird, actually. People forming teams are supposed to register with the teacher and get their names listed on the sheet by the staff room, but Minase-san’s name isn’t there. She didn’t even seem to be looking for a team until today, when I heard she asked a few people, but most already have partners…” Murai-san says sadly.
She’s such a kind person. Nagisa probably wasn’t motivated to take the exam before, but that changed today. Unfortunately, it might be too late.
“I wish I could leave my team to help her, but when I tried talking to her today, she said she only needs one guy at minimum and turned me down…”
“She’s probably mindful of her own influence. She’s got that side to her,” I say. Limiting her team to the bare minimum is likely her way of being considerate.
“Huh? Aoi-kun, you know Minase-san?” Murai-san’s serious tone shifts to surprise.
“Didn’t I tell you, Hinata-chan? Minase-san lives next door!” Akari says.
“Yeah, she just moved in recently, so we’re not that close… Guess I forgot to mention,” I add.
“I had no idea!” Murai-san exclaims, emphasizing the “no” as she leans forward.
“If I’d known, I could’ve tried to get closer to her and help somehow…”
“You’re such a good person, Murai-san,” I say.
“Right? Hinata-chan’s the best!” Akari beams, proudly ruffling Murai-san’s hair as she blushes.
“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” I say.
“That’s kind of irresponsible…” Murai-san protests.
“It’ll be fine,” I repeat, more firmly. “I’ll figure something out.”
◆
Thursday, the second-to-last day of exams.
My routine is set: study alone at noon, then Akari and Murai-san come over in the evening. Today, I’m focused as usual when the doorbell rings earlier than expected, just past 3 p.m.
“…Yo.”
“Work today?”
“Yup.”
“Got it.”
With that brief exchange, I let Nagisa in. She stares at the steam rising from the mug I hand her, her expression unreadable. She sits on my bed without a care, and after a moment’s hesitation, I sit on the opposite end, keeping some distance.
“So? What’s up, YOU? Why’re you at my place?” I try to lighten the heavy atmosphere with a lame attempt at humor.
“…Dunno, just felt like it?” she replies, my joke fizzling out like the steam she’s staring at.
“…Something happen?”
I can guess, but I go through the motions step by step. The slow tick of time pushes me to.
“I said I wanted to take the exam, right?” she murmurs.
“You said you ‘can’t quit yet.’”
“Yuya-san’s been praising my acting since we worked together I was a kid.”
“He seems like a good guy,” I say. He’s always said on TV that he loves kids.
“Totally… So, one day, I got curious. What would happen if Yuya-san really judged my acting?”
“So you decided to take the exam.”
“Yup. But… looks like I won’t be able to.”
Her self-deprecating tone carries a darkness that feels like it could swallow all her motivation. “I should’ve acted sooner. Everyone’s already got their teams.”
“That’s because you were being considerate in your own way, right? You’ve got that side to you.”
Her dark expression vanishes, replaced by a sly grin. “Oh? What’s this? Acting like my boyfriend now? Sure, we’ve gotten closer, but isn’t that a bit fast? Guess when you don’t have many girl friends, you miss these cues, huh? Maybe try again after we’re a bit closer?”
Her teasing tone and condescending attitude make it feel like she’s talking to a kid. “That’s not what I meant…”
Her “boyfriend” comment makes my face heat up. My cheeks are probably red, and she smirks, satisfied.
“Well, I’ll go to school tomorrow and try a bit harder,” she says, downing her tea in one go, setting the empty mug on the nightstand, and standing. “Can I read some manga?”
“They’re Akari’s, but sure.”
“…Should I check with her first?”
“It’s fine. They’re in my room, so they’re technically mine. I think.”
“Fair enough.”
A while later, the doorbell rings again, followed by the sound of two sets of footsteps heading straight for my room.
“Coming iiin… Oh, Nagisa! Work done already?” Akari says, claiming her usual spot on the sofa.
“Yup, got off early today,” Nagisa replies.
“Cool, cool,” Akari says. Murai-san, usually right behind her, glances awkwardly between Akari and me.
“Hi. We’ve talked before, right? Murai-san, was it?” Nagisa says.
“Hello… Murai Hinata, yes,” Murai-san replies.
“I’m fine sitting next to Yuto, so you can take your usual spot next to Akari,” Nagisa offers.
“Oh, thank you.”
Murai-san sits cautiously, probably hesitant to leave Nagisa out in a group of three girls.
“Speaking of, Hinata-chan told me, but Nagisa, you coming tomorrow? For Yuto’s exam-end party!” Akari says.
“Wait, what? I didn’t hear about this,” I say.
“Yuto’s mom mentioned it!” Akari replies.
“News to me…”
Apparently, a party’s been planned without my knowledge. As I stand there, confused, Nagisa whispers just loud enough for me to hear, “You act all cool, but it’s kinda funny seeing you teased.”
“So, Nagisa, you in?” Akari asks.
Nagisa folds her knees into a triangle, smiles softly at me, and says, “Can I come?”
“…Sure.”
Her gentle smile and breathy voice leave me no choice but to nod, careful not to let anyone see my face.
◆
The next day, Friday, I skip Soma’s big exam-end party for both the regular and advanced courses and head straight home. I’m enjoying a quiet afternoon with a book when Akari and Murai-san show up. My mom starts setting out an unusually elaborate spread, but Nagisa still hasn’t arrived. I’m sent to fetch her.
Ding-dong…
No response after a few seconds. Maybe she got held up? Or she’s napping? I ring again.
“…Yeah?” comes her voice.
“It’s Yuto. You coming today? Mom and the others are waiting, but if you don’t want to, I can let them know.”
“…Come in.”
After a brief pause, she invites me inside. I hesitate, wondering if it’s okay to enter a girl’s apartment alone, but I open the door anyway.
“It’s dark…”
Compared to the brightly lit hallway, her apartment is dimly lit by faint, cloudy moonlight streaming through the window. “Pardon me…”
Luckily, I know the layout of these apartments, so I find the light switch by the moonlight.
“…You okay?” I ask as the lights reveal Nagisa slumped over the low table in front of her TV.
“Didn’t work out, huh?”
“…Yeah.”
Her quiet reply drips with sadness. I don’t know how much Kitajo Yuya means to her, but he must be a massive presence—someone she’s admired since childhood, a chance she finally grasped but couldn’t hold onto. I can’t even imagine the depth of her regret.
“…Can you tell Akari I’m not coming? Look at me, I’m a mess.”
Her muffled voice sounds damp, heavy with emotion.
“…Can you lift your head?”
“Why…?”
“I thought you might be crying.”
“…Actresses don’t cry in private. It cheapens the tears we use in our craft. We’re not supposed to cry off-stage. So this… this is just acting.”
Her voice trembles even more now.
“Then I’ll let you act. I’m fine being fooled by the nine out of ten.”
“…For the one out of ten?”
“Exactly.”
“…Idiot.”
I sit down next to Nagisa.
“I told you before, didn’t I? I’d help you out.”
No response comes, but I can tell she’s waiting for my words.
“I’ve been thinking about it since then. The exam rules don’t say you have to team up with someone from the performing arts course. I checked with a teacher on Tuesday, and that’s how it is.”
Nagisa’s body shifts slightly.
“You’re in a bit of trouble, right?”
“…I’m not,” she says, her trembling voice growing even more watery.
“Then, in a lot of trouble?”
At that, she slowly lifts her head, glances at me sideways, and collapses onto my lap. “That’s not fair… so not fair. So not fair, Yuto. You’re totally bad at this kind of thing, aren’t you?”
Her head, conveniently positioned on my lap, is in a perfect spot for petting, but I barely hold onto my rationality to resist. “The way you talk is unfair. Seeing through the flow of the conversation is unfair. Seeing through my acting is unfair. Being kind to a crying girl is the most unfair!” she complains, lightly smacking my thigh.
“…If I came to you crying for help, what would you do, Yuto?” Her voice carries a hint of expectation, like she already knows my answer.
“I’d make it work. No matter what.”
“Then… help me…?” She suddenly grabs my arm, guiding it to rest on her head.
I tell her what I’d already decided in my heart. I confirmed with the teacher—there’s no issue with the rules. Besides, if I’m not in the performing arts course, I wouldn’t be judged by the panel, and their evaluation wouldn’t matter to me.
“Can I join you for the exam?”
The hand I’d placed on her head feels her nod.
◆
“…Um, shouldn’t we get going soon?”
It’s probably been a few minutes since we decided I’d join Nagisa for the exam. I’m still stuck, unable to stand, because her head’s resting on my lap.
“I’m not ready to face everyone yet.”
“How much longer do you need?”
“Hmm… a bit more?”
Her vague response makes me uneasy. If I stay too long, my mom and the others will definitely start wondering.
“Yuto, your hand stopped.”
“Yes, sorry.”
The embarrassment from what I’ve done keeps hitting me, and every time I try to stop petting her, she nudges me to keep going. What is this situation? It’s way too sweet. The atmosphere, completely unlike my own room, and the distinct scent of a girl’s space—they’re messing with my head. I might end up holding her hand or something if I’m not careful.
As I’m lost in thought, Nagisa, who’d been showing me only the back of her head, shifts to look up at me. If I meet her gaze, I might actually misinterpret things, grab her hand, and give Akari ammo to tease me mercilessly. So, after hesitating, I fix my eyes on the ceiling. I regret turning on the room’s lights earlier—my flushed cheeks are probably obvious.
“I won’t ask why you’re avoiding my eyes,” she says, her tone teasing.
“That’d be a big help…”
She probably knows I’m embarrassed.
“Hey, Yuto?” Her voice, warm and syrupy like she’s half-asleep, makes me feel dazed.
“…What?”
“Hehe, nothing, really.”
If she’s saying that genuinely, that’s terrifying. I take a deep breath, steady myself, and look at her. She’s wearing a mischievous grin, clearly pleased that our eyes finally met. Our gazes lock, and in the quiet room, all I can hear is our breathing…
“Yuto! You’re taking forever!” Akari’s voice rings out as the front door opens. While I freeze, Nagisa reacts instantly, pushing my hand away and sitting up to prepare for Akari’s arrival. Her tears are already gone. What even was that moment?
“Geez, what’re you doing?” Akari pokes her head through the open door to the hallway, cheeks puffed out in mock anger. I hadn’t noticed earlier, but Murai-san is behind her.
“Sorry, sorry. I was just having him adjust the TV angle,” Nagisa says, her expression completely neutral, as if nothing happened. Actresses are terrifying.
“Ohhh, so that’s why Aoi-kun’s face is all red. I thought we were interrupting something,” Murai-san says sharply, making my heart skip. I keep my poker face and stand.
“It’s kinda funny that Aoi’s all red,” Akari teases.
Ignoring my annoying childhood friend, we leave Nagisa’s place. Back at my house, the living room is already set with food—not just at the usual four-person dining table but also at the low table in front of the TV. Without anyone saying anything, the three girls claim the TV table, while my mom and I sit at the dining table.
We eat while watching a variety show with tons of comedians. Nagisa’s on it too, putting on her TV persona, which sparks some lively chatter. After dinner, we clean up together, then head to my room, where Akari and Murai-san start playing a fighting game. Nagisa and I watch. I’m too drained from earlier to join, and Nagisa’s not that into games anyway.
The two of them sit on the sofa, while Nagisa, naturally, plops down next to me on the bed. Maybe it’s my imagination, but she feels closer than before. No, she is closer—close enough that a slight move could make our hands brush. I pretend not to notice and explain what’s happening on the screen. As Nagisa starts to get the rules and enjoy watching, I step out for a bit.
In the living room, I sit next to my mom, who’s watching TV on the sofa.
“What’s up?” she asks.
“Nothing, really.”
It’s a vague response, but she doesn’t press. “I’m going to perform in the play. The one Kitajo Yuya’s coming to see,” I say, avoiding “Dad” since Murai-san and Nagisa are in my room.
“What? You want me to come watch?”
“No, just letting you know.”
She smirks, knowing I wouldn’t ask that. “Well, I’m going anyway. It’s my son’s big moment.”
“Up to you, but… it’s not gonna be anything cool. I’ve never acted, and as long as Nagisa shines, that’s enough.”
“It’s your first time doing something like this, Yuto. That’s growth, isn’t it? That’s all I need to see. And I’m sure he feels the same,” she says, beckoning me closer with a gesture. I lean in, and she whispers, “You’ll be fine. Half of you is Kitajo Yuya’s blood.”
The son of a great actor isn’t guaranteed to be one too. Still, I take her words in. I don’t think I have acting talent, but when I decided to stand on stage with Nagisa, something inside me stirred.
◆
The next morning, Saturday. It’s about time to get up if I’m going to school, but it’s the weekend, so I lounge in bed, enjoying the lazy vibes. That was supposed to last past 9 a.m.
“Yuto, how long are you planning to sleep?” Nagisa’s voice cuts through my shallow, pleasant doze as she enters my room.
“Why are you here…?”
“It’s fine, isn’t it? Your mom, the homeowner, gave me permission.”
“The room’s owner didn’t, though.”
“The homeowner’s opinion takes priority!” she declares.
I don’t have any urgent reason to kick her out, and the large bag she’s carrying suggests she’s here for a purpose. I get up, quickly freshen up in the bathroom, and return with a guest cup and tea from my mom. Nagisa’s not sprawled on my bed like usual—she’s sitting at my desk, which is rare.
“What, here to study?” I ask, setting the drinks on the nightstand and approaching her. “I’m pretty good at teaching, you know,” I add, drawing from my experience tutoring Akari and Soma.
“Nope. I thought we should work on the script for the exam. I could write it all myself, but since you’re helping, it wouldn’t be fair to ignore your input.”
“Makes sense.”
With about a month until the exam, factoring in scriptwriting, practice time is tight. For an amateur like me, it’s probably not enough to get decent. Her coming over this early makes sense.
“Still, I don’t know anything about acting, so I don’t have any specific requests off the top of my head.”
“Figured. Well, for now…” Nagisa stares at the ceiling for a few seconds, then starts scribbling on loose-leaf paper from her bag. “Read this. I jotted down the general setting and stuff.”
I scan the paper. It details costumes, a medieval European setting, and the story framework set by the school. “The era and the main characters—a princess and a knight—are the same for everyone. It’s a love story too, but since it’s just us, we can’t afford to add rivals or extra characters. If it feels flat, we can tweak it,” she explains, helping me grasp the basics.
“We also can’t spare people for convenient characters like townsfolk to move the story along…”
“Can we fix that with script changes?” I ask.
“Hmm… honestly, I’m not sure, but I have two ideas.” She holds up two fingers, opening and closing them like scissors. “One is rewriting the script, like I said. The other is asking someone from the voice acting course to narrate the context.”
She folds her fingers as she explains but then makes a troubled face. “I’ll handle the script, but I’d need a voice acting acquaintance to ask for narration…”
“No one comes to mind,” I say, meeting her hopeful glance. I don’t know anyone like that.
She sighs, clearly in the same boat. “Let’s table that for now.”
“Yeah.”
I stare at the paper, picturing the exam day: a packed audience, judges scrutinizing every move, and my dad among them. Then a possibility hits me. A judge tied to the industry, me on stage, and my dad nearby… I hadn’t considered it while focused on performing, but could someone figure out my connection to Kitajo Yuya? If anyone gets suspicious, it could be bad.
“Hey, Nagisa, could I maybe hide my eyes? Like with a mask or something?” Covering my whole face would be too suspicious, but masking just my eyes could lower the risk.
“Embarrassed? After that bold face you made in my room?” she teases.
“That was… the heat of the moment…” My face warms at the memory. I’d rather she not bring it up.
“Hmm… just the eyes? Like a Venetian mask, the masquerade ball kind?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“Could work. A masked knight sounds cool, and for a duo, it’s good character flair.” I breathe a sigh of relief as she agrees. “Oh, I think I got one from a shoot before… Did I bring it when I moved?” she mutters, then dashes out, saying, “I’ll go check!”
“Close call…” I mutter to no one, collapsing onto my bed. If I hadn’t thought of that risk, it could’ve been disastrous—not just a family issue but potentially ruining Nagisa’s exam. As long as it’s not public, the risk is always there. I repeat that to myself, a reminder, when the front door opens again.
“Found it! Like this, right?” Nagisa returns, holding a mask—white with red accents, fox-like in design.
“Feels more Japanese than Western,” I comment.
“Hmm, maybe.” She approaches me, half-sitting on the bed, and holds the mask to my face. “Looks cool, so it’s fine, right?”
“…Yeah.”
Her innocent smile is, as always, a bit too carefree.
“Leave the narrator find to me,” I declared confidently to Nagisa before she left about an hour ago. She went home before noon to focus on the script. She’s thinking of asking a voice acting student, but anyone who can read a script decently and speak clearly to an audience without choking under pressure would do. I already know someone like that.
Her voice, clear and resonant, struck me as perfect for an audience the first time I heard it, complementing her sharp, refined appearance. I hesitate for an hour on the contact screen, staring at my dad’s face on her profile. Calling Aida-san, the first female classmate I exchanged contacts with, takes courage. I don’t call girls—except my mom, and with Akari, I can just walk a few steps to talk.
“…Alright!” No point overthinking. A message might be misread, and no reply would be a problem. If Aida-san can’t do it, I need to tell Nagisa ASAP. Blaming the urgency on her, I finally hit call. The phone rings once… twice… three times… My resolve weakens with each ring. Maybe I could pass it off as a misdial? Is a sudden call rude? My thoughts scatter as a click signals she’s picked up.
“Hello?”
“Sorry, it’s sudden, but are you free?”
“No plans, so it’s fine. What’s up? Like, a ‘let’s hang out’ invite?”
Her unexpected response throws me. “…No, not that…”
“Oh, sorry. I’ve never done this friend-call thing, so I’m a bit nervous…”
“No, my bad…”
“Don’t apologize. It makes me embarrassed for getting excited.”
She feels embarrassment? I thought she didn’t care what others think. “So, if it’s not hanging out, what’s the deal?”
I explain: I’m doing the exam with Nagisa, it’s just us two, we need a narrator for the script changes, and I’d like her to do it. I wait for her reply.
“Sure, no problem.”
The answer comes instantly. “Really? It’s a unique format, and with Nagisa, it’ll draw attention…”
“It’s fine. It’s a friend’s request, and I shared the stage with Minase-san at the entrance ceremony, so we’re kinda connected.”
Her casual agreement surprises me. She sounds like she’d do anything for a friend. “Also, unrelated, but…” Her voice lowers apologetically. “Could you maybe get Kitajo Yuya’s autograph?”
“Oh, right, you’re a fan.” I recall her excitement at the entrance over his visit. “You want to meet him and get it yourself?”
“No, I’m more the ‘admire from afar’ type. Could you get it for me? It’s fine if you can’t. I’ll do the narration anyway—it sounds fun.”
It’d be rude not to repay her for taking this on. If it’s a favor I can manage, I want to. I could probably make it happen… maybe. “I’ll try. Nagisa’s worked with him, so it should be doable.”
“Really?!” Her usually cool classroom voice jumps girlishly. Realizing she got carried away, she clears her throat and says, “Okay, please do,” before hanging up quickly.
I stare at the silent phone for a few seconds, then collapse onto my bed. “…Narrator secured…” I exhale, reaching for my phone to tell Nagisa, when I realize something. “…I don’t have Nagisa’s contact.”
It’s not a big deal since she’s just next door. I get up and head out.
“What’s up? Missed me already after we just parted?” Nagisa teases as she answers the door.
“Nope,” I deny instantly.
“…Can’t you take a joke? It’s about the vibe, you know, the vibe.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You could’ve said something like, ‘I… just had to see you…’ Then you wouldn’t have so few friends.”
“That’s not a good vibe, that’s just a sleazy guy. You into that type?”
“Nah, I hate them.”
“Then what…” I sigh, exasperated, and she opens the door wide.
“No idea why you’re here, but wanna come in?”
She’s too casual about inviting me into her place alone. “No, it’s quick. Just wanted to say we got a narrator.”
“…That’s it?”
“Yup.”
“You came all the way to say that?”
“…Is that bad?”
I thought it was urgent enough, but maybe it wasn’t worth a visit? As I second-guess myself, her lips curve into a sly grin. “So, you just wanted to see me, huh? Making up some excuse? In this digital age, you could’ve just texted.”
“We haven’t exchanged contacts.”
Her smirk vanishes. “Right… yeah, you’re right…”
“If it’s not a hassle, wanna exchange now?”
Her face lights up again. “Well, if you insist, I guess I’ll do it!”
Was she always this expressive? Her emotions are so vivid it’s almost suspicious. As we swap contacts, she asks, “So, who’s the narrator?”
“Aida Yume-san, from my class. You know her, right?” They shared the stage at the entrance ceremony, and Aida-san counts that as a conversation.
“Oh… that unique girl,” she says, carefully avoiding “weird.” Her calm, elegant image does crumble the moment she speaks.
“How’d you get her to agree?”
“Just called her.”
Her hand pauses as she’s about to scan my QR code. “…On your phone?”
“Yeah.”
“…So you have her contact.”
“Yeah, it just happened.”
“Hmm. I see. So I’m number two, huh? You never even hinted at exchanging with me.” She grumbles but finishes adding me. Her contact name reads “Nagisa,” with a teddy bear on her bed as the profile picture.
“Done. See ya!” The door slams shut, her mood clearly sour.
I glance at the unmistakably girly contact in my phone, my heart skipping a bit. A message from Nagisa arrives.
{Tell you when the script’s done.}
{Cool.}
I reply with a saluting bear sticker and head back home.
◆
That night, I’m trembling as I stare at the script Nagisa speed-wrote and delivered. It’s not the content—it’s a solid script, staying classic while making good use of the fox-masked knight. What shocks me is something else.
I’ve seen every show my dad, Kitajo Yuya, has been in—mostly because my mom made me, but plenty by choice too. One was a documentary about him, where a director said: “Kitajo-kun’s strength is his improvisation. He memorizes any script in a day, simulates it in his head, and delivers interpretations beyond the page. That’s his charm.”
I recall that bearded, dignified director as I reread the script. I close it and recite it in my head. The lines, positions, even the expressions Nagisa and I might make—it’s all vivid. I’m not great at memorizing. I study by repetition, carving things into my brain. I planned to do the same here. But…
“One take?” A dry laugh, mixed with shock and disbelief, echoes in the quiet room.
◆
Monday after the weekend, I head to acting practice after school, but the day’s anything but normal. Soma, ever quick on the uptake, already knows I’m in the exam and even swings by my advanced studies classroom during breaks. I expected some attention, and I’m not backing out now, but I’m surprised when a female classmate I’ve never talked to says, “I’m rooting for you…!” It’s just that, but still.
Lunchtime, I eat with Akari and Murai-san. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” Akari mumbles through a mouth full of bread, glaring at me.
“Swallow first…”
Gulp. “I mean, why didn’t you tell me beforehand?!”
“I thought Nagisa told you.”
“Ugh! That’s so careless! You’re supposed to tell your childhood friend first!”
“What rule is that? It’s only a two-day difference.”
“I wanted to know sooner! You won’t get popular if you don’t get that!” She huffs, stuffing more bread in her mouth.
Murai-san, soothing her, also looks slightly upset. “I’m not as vocal as Akari-chan, but I wish I’d known earlier too… After talking at your place, I thought Nagisa-san’s such a good person, and I wanted to be relieved for her sooner…”
She’s right. Murai-san was worried about Nagisa’s exam team last week. Nagisa probably didn’t know either, and Murai-san might’ve spent the weekend anxious. “Sorry, I should’ve told you.”
“Exactly! As long as you get it!” Akari interjects, accepting my apology meant for Murai-san. She seems to understand, so I don’t correct Akari.
“Still, Aoi-kun, you’re the talk of the morning,” Murai-san says.
“When Minase Nagisa’s exam partner is some unknown advanced studies kid, people are bound to be curious,” I reply.
“But, Yuto, what happened?” Akari asks, swallowing her food and looking at me curiously. “Normally, you’d never do something like this.”
She’s right. The old me would’ve never chosen this. I can’t quite explain why. “Guess I’ve changed.”
“Got it. You’ve grown up,” she says.
“Grown up, yeah.” Taking a step I wouldn’t have before feels like growth.
“But if you ace the exam, that’d suck,” Akari says.
“Why?”
Success is the only good outcome. Failure just means I’d embarrass myself. “If you get popular, I can’t tease you about being unpopular anymore!”
“It won’t make me popular, and stop that teasing—it actually stings.”
“No way, it might! You could get tons of fans!”
“No way…” I start to deny, but then I recall the classmate’s encouragement this morning. “Actually, maybe. A girl in my class cheered me on today.”
“A girl?!” I nod, and Akari starts whispering with Murai-san, who’d been eating quietly. After their chat, Akari folds her hands like a CEO, elbows on the table, with a serious look. “Yuto, she’s definitely a fake fan.”
“…Huh?”
“She’s probably been into you for a while and used this to muster the courage to talk to you…”
“What? There’s nothing about me to be into.”
My childhood friend’s spouting nonsense with a straight face again. “There is! Your personality’s gloomy, but your face is decent.”
“…The first part’s pretty fatal, you know.”
“There are people who’d call your gloominess mysterious and charming!”
I sigh, half-exasperated, brushing off her weird logic. “Nice going, Yuto, you got a girlfriend!”
“Don’t need one, and it’s a misunderstanding.”
“Just ask her! If it’s a misunderstanding, you’ll lose your first fan, which’d be hilarious.”
“Ugh, you…” Her head’s clearly full of ways to mess with me.
After lunch, we head to Akari and Murai-san’s classroom as usual and part ways. As I turn to my classroom, Akari tugs my sleeve, lowering her voice so only I can hear. “I was joking in front of Hinata-chan, but are you sure? You’re performing in front of Kitajo Yuya.”
“I know. I talked it over with Mom. It just felt… right. Communicating with a dad I’ve never met through acting doesn’t sound bad.” He doesn’t seem like a bad guy either.
“Okay. If you say so, I trust you. But…” Akari tiptoes, placing a hand on my head with a shy smile. “If anything happens, tell your big sis!”
I can’t help but smile at my cute childhood friend. I pat her head gently, careful not to mess her hair. “My birthday’s before yours, you know.”
“Oh, right!” she laughs, and we pull our hands back. Satisfied, she heads into her classroom.
“You’re so kind, Akari,” I call after her.
“It’s what childhood friends do!” she replies, flashing an idol-like smile before disappearing. I return to my classroom for the rest of the day.
◆
“Let’s just say I came expecting it to be pretty rough, so I’m relieved. You’ve never acted, right?” Nagisa says.
“Not at all.”
It’s after dinner, and we’re at Nagisa’s place. We planned to rehearse at mine, but seeing my mom in my room with a penlight, we switched to hers. “The audience is huge, and your acting has to reach them all. Unlike TV, you don’t need to focus on cameras, so it’s a bit easier. Just focus on making your movements big,” she instructs, setting up her phone on a tripod.
“Filming this?”
“Yup. It helps to teach with visuals, but…” She presses record with a mischievous grin. “First, you need to see how bad your acting is.”
“…Go easy on me, okay?”
Imagining her mocking my performance makes my cheeks twitch. She laughs, satisfied, then steps closer and lightly pats my back. “Don’t look so nervous. Everyone’s basically just reading the script at first, so relax!”
“Even you?”
“I had talent from the start,” she boasts.
“As expected from a pro actress.”
“Keep praising me.” She puffs out her chest smugly. I give a wry smile as we take our positions, mindful of the camera.
Nagisa starts the first line, and we follow the script. “Hmm, typical beginner vibe. I was worried you’d be hopelessly bad, but you’re not awful. With hard work until the performance, you might be decent enough to show people,” she says, stopping the camera after we finish.
I projected my voice, moved my limbs, and shifted my gaze as imagined, but doing it for real feels different. I was also blown away by Nagisa’s skill. Her live acting, unfiltered by a camera, is incredible.
“You’re really amazing,” I say.
“Well, duh,” she hums proudly, lacking the intensity she had during the performance. It’s like she’s a different person.
“I could give advice now, but let’s watch the video.” She detaches the phone and moves to the sofa in front of the TV. “Come on, you can’t see from there. Over here.”
She pats the space next to her. I sit, but sharing a small phone screen means we’re close—too close. The gentle scent of her soap, not perfume, tickles my nose despite the late hour.
“Hey, are you watching?” Her words snap me out of it.
“…Yeah.”
I wasn’t focused. “What, wanted to hold hands? Thinking about the other day?” she teases, smirking up at me, making my body heat up.
“Just play it already…”
“Okay, okay.” I try to steer us back on track, but her lingering grin suggests she’s seen through me. She rewinds the video, and we watch.
“…You’re good,” I mutter, captivated by her acting. Seeing it live versus on-screen is different. Objectively, I realize she’s been adjusting to me—matching my rushed tempo in exchanges, subtly fixing my sloppy positioning. And another thing: my performance doesn’t match my mental image at all. I wasn’t considering the audience’s perspective, only my own.
I’ve watched my dad, Kitajo Yuya, my whole life. His expressions, gaze, habits—I’ll just mimic those. “Can we go again?”
Nagisa smiles and sets the phone back on the tripod. I focus not just on my perspective but the audience’s. I copy Dad’s expressions and movements I’ve seen countless times.
When we finish the script, I exhale heavily. I hadn’t realized how exhausting it is to perform with the audience in mind. My lack of exercise might not help either. I grab a water bottle from the table and chug. Nagisa’s staring at me.
“What? Don’t we need to stop the camera?”
She doesn’t move to stop it. “What did you just do? While watching the video?”
“Tweaked what bothered me. How was it?”
Her trembling voice and wide eyes look like she’s seen something unbelievable. “…This must be how producers feel when they find raw talent.” A grin spreads across her face, brimming with excitement. “In the industry, I’ve seen all kinds of talent—acting, comedy, art, academics. But this… this is the first time I’ve gotten chills.”
Her face isn’t that of a TV actress but of a performer chasing skill. “Let’s do it again from the top.”
It’s two hours later when I finally escape her intense practice session and return home…
Post a Comment