On the morning of the exam, a Sunday, I open the curtains to find not a sparkling sun but a gloomy sky shrouded in clouds. The weather lady on TV, pointing at the forecast as she does every morning, indicates it’ll clear up by the afternoon. I glance at it while eating breakfast, then get ready as usual. Dressed in my uniform, I slip the fox mask entrusted to me by Nagisa into my school bag.
“I’ll be there to watch, so do your best,” Mom says from the bathroom, her voice hitting my back as I put on my shoes at the entrance.
“Just so you know, I don’t think you should casually go up to Dad.”
“I get it. If I talk to him, it’ll just be as a fan, so it’s fine,” she replies lightly, but her words only deepen the unease in my heart. I let out a small sigh to suppress it and reach for the door.
“I’m off.”
Stepping outside, the cloudy sky I saw from my window greets me again. At the same moment, I hear the sound of the neighboring door opening.
“Oh, morning.”
“Morning.”
Surprised we stepped out at the exact same time, Nagisa and I exchange greetings. After she locks her door, she falls in step beside me.
“Shall we go?”
We walk the usual route to school, chatting as always. The small talk gradually eases my tension.
“Definitely fewer people,” Nagisa says, walking slightly ahead and looking around as we pass through the school gate. The path beyond is noticeably emptier, and the visitor parking lot we pass is only sparsely filled.
“Ugh, so boring… We’ve got like four hours to kill, right?” she says.
“I’m grateful for it. Gives me time to mentally prepare.”
“Huh? You need that?” Nagisa spins around, her eyes filled with genuine curiosity.
“I’m a regular guy. I’m not used to this.”
“Maybe today’s the day you graduate from being a regular guy. A judge might scout you or something,” she teases.
“No way… The exam’s for performing arts students, so I’m not even being judged.”
“You think? I totally believe it could happen,” she says confidently.
“Honored to be recognized by the great Nagisa-sama,” I reply.
“Very well, I am pleased,” she says theatrically, nodding with satisfaction.
“But seriously…” Her tone shifts, a sly grin spreading across her face. “It’s surprising. You always act so cool, but you get nervous?”
“Of course I do. I’m human.”
“Hmm, let’s see about that. I’ll check for myself.”
She stops walking toward the school building and approaches me. I stop too, half-exasperated, wondering what she’s up to. Suddenly, she throws herself into my chest.
“…What are you doing?” I ask, hiding my fluster to avoid giving her teasing material. Her arms are firmly wrapped around my back, trapping me.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m checking if you’re nervous,” she says, closing her eyes and pressing her ear to my chest. Even though it’s Sunday and there aren’t many people, there are still students around. Their gazes, combined with Nagisa’s scent, slowly make my heart race.
“Is it okay for a working actress to hug a guy like this in public?”
“It’s not like I’m forbidden from dating, and this is just teasing. Besides…” She pulls away after hearing my quickening heartbeat, a satisfied smile on her face. “I’m just a regular high school girl right now!”
◆
The classroom usually used for lectures has been turned into a waiting room for exam participants. Morning and afternoon groups are split, with morning performers required to check in at 8:30 a.m. With about twenty minutes until roll call, the designated classrooms are already fairly crowded.
“Well, morning,” Aida-san greets us as we enter our assigned waiting room, drawing the attention of several people already inside.
“Morning, Aida-san,” Nagisa replies brightly, taking a seat next to her at her usual spot by the window in the front row. I sit behind Aida-san, my usual school seat, and catch my breath. Hanging my school bag on the desk’s hook, I glance at the two of them. Nagisa lets out a big sigh and slumps onto the desk.
“Ugh, four hours of waiting from now…” she groans.
“Well, we’re the last group in the morning session,” Aida-san says.
“…So boring,” Nagisa complains, her expression sour as she responds to Aida-san, who’s skimming the script.
“Can’t you just read the script to pass the time?” I suggest, pulling mine from my bag and offering it to Nagisa, who seems unfazed that today’s the exam.
She waves her left hand dismissively, refusing it. “I’m the type who relaxes and doesn’t think about the performance until an hour before.”
“Interesting,” I say. It must suit her to avoid overpreparing to maximize her performance. Years of acting since her child star days have taught her how to bring out her best. I decide to mimic her, closing my script and tucking it back into my bag.
“Well, it’s something I picked up from Yuya-san,” she adds.
“…”
Aida-san quietly closes her script and sets it on the desk. She really loves my dad, huh.
“Thinking about Yuya-san hearing my voice is suddenly making me nervous…” Aida-san says, placing a hand on her chest and taking a deep breath, her usual cool expression betraying no hint of tension.
“Hey, Nagisa, don’t make her nervous,” I say.
“What? My fault?” she retorts.
As we banter, the classroom door is knocked on, and a woman in a suit enters. The chatter in the room stops, leaving a quiet space.
“I’ll take roll now. After this, move to the event hall’s waiting room thirty minutes before your performance,” she says curtly, calling out the group leaders’ names to confirm attendance. After the brisk roll call, she leaves, but the tension lingers. For most performing arts students, this exam could be life-changing. Nagisa, Aida-san, and I are the odd ones out.
The silence stretches for dozens of seconds, and just as I’m wondering when to speak, the back door bursts open.
“There you are!”
The tense silence is shattered—no, obliterated—by my ever-carefree, silly childhood friend.
“Geez, Yuto! You could’ve told me where the waiting room was!” Akari says, slightly out of breath as she approaches, plopping into the seat next to me. “I looked everywhere!”
“Hinata-chan told you properly, but this childhood friend…” she says, exhaling theatrically and giving me an exasperated look.
“Where’s Murai-san’s classroom?” I cut in, steering the conversation away from her complaints. Her grumpy expression flips instantly as she taps her chin, thinking.
“Uh… next to the next to the next… or was it one more over?”
She ponders for a few seconds before shrugging. “Whatever!”
“Dream-chan, Nagisa, take care of Yuto,” she says, dangling her hands under the desk while resting her head on it in a surreal, proto-dogez. Nagisa chuckles and agrees, while Aida-san straightens up and responds seriously.
“Oh! Hinata-chan’s exam starts at ten, so I gotta go!”
Akari, who just sat down, jumps up again, even though the clock’s barely nearing nine.
“You’ve got time,” I say.
“I want the front row!” she calls back, already heading for the event hall and disappearing from the classroom.
“She’s a whirlwind…” I mutter.
◆
That was about an hour ago. We passed the time playing rock-paper-scissors until Aida-san, apparently bored out of her mind, went for a walk around the school about thirty minutes ago. It’s now past ten, and with roughly two hours left, Nagisa and I are completely out of things to do.
“Yuto… tell me something interesting,” she whines.
“You think I’m the type to handle that kind of request?”
“Hmm… probably not…”
She slumps onto the desk, kicking her legs in the air, sending me a resigned look.
“Come on, let’s talk about something.”
“Like what?”
“Uh… last night’s dinner?”
“Hamburgers. You ate with us, remember?”
Since Nagisa and Mom exchanged contacts, she’s been joining us for dinner more often. Mom says, “Living alone must be tough, so we gotta look out for her. The old neighbors helped you out a lot too, right?” But her expression suggests she’s just enjoying doting on a different kind of girl from Akari.
“Oh, tell your mom I want hamburgers again. They were so good,” Nagisa says.
“You said that a bunch last night.”
“Just in case. Just in case.”
I picture her standing next to Mom last night, washing dishes and repeatedly requesting hamburgers. Mom didn’t seem to mind, so we’ll probably have them again soon.
“Got it, I’ll tell her,” I say, knowing it’ll happen regardless. Nagisa’s kicking legs speed up noticeably, and she starts humming softly. Just then, Aida-san returns.
“I always take the same route, but the more I walk, the more charm this school has,” she says, sitting slowly with a satisfied look, as if she’s accomplished something.
“So, what now?” she asks, pulling a deck of cards from her pocket—wherever she got them—and shuffling with a sly grin, dealing them out.
◆
“Cards are tough, huh,” Aida-san says. Apparently, she’s only played cards a few times with family and, bluntly put, is terrible. We tried Old Maid, Daifugo, Speed, and more, but realized Memory was the only game where she stood a chance. By then, time had passed, and we were the only group left in the classroom.
“Alright! Let’s do it,” Nagisa says, suddenly standing, apparently bored of cards. She starts moving chairs no one’s using.
“…What are you doing?” I ask.
“It’s fine. We’ll put them back before we leave.”
She diligently arranges five chairs in the open space at the front of the classroom.
“…?”
Aida-san, idly shuffling her cards, watches Nagisa curiously.
“What are you—”
I start to ask, but Nagisa thrusts her palm at me, cutting me off. With a smug expression, she kicks off her indoor shoes and lies across the chairs like a bed.
“Instant bed,” she declares.
“Don’t fall,” I warn.
She must be so bored she doesn’t care anymore. She reminds me of Akari in elementary school, who did something similar, fell, and cried for minutes despite no serious injury.
“I’ll spend the next thirty minutes like this,” she says. With an hour and a half until the exam, she plans to nap until her one-hour prep mark.
“…Another walk?” Aida-san muses, glancing at the clock, hinting at a second campus stroll.
“Another one?” I ask, surprised.
“It’s fine. I’ll be back thirty minutes before. Wanna come, Aoi-kun? A uniform date, maybe?”
Nagisa, who’d been relaxing on the chairs, flips over and shoots me a glare laced with anger. Is she wary I might make a move on Aida-san? Her eyes carry that kind of pressure, though I have neither the intent nor the guts.
“I’ll pass… Also, wouldn’t a uniform date just be a regular date if it’s on campus?”
“Oh? Is that so?”
“Probably.”
“I see… I’d like to try a uniform date sometime,” Aida-san says, leaving the room.
She didn’t say she wanted to do it with me, yet Nagisa’s suspicion intensifies. I’m pretty sure Aida-san’s just intrigued by the phrase itself.
A few minutes pass in silence. Despite trying to relax and not think about the exam, I unconsciously rehearse the script in my head, as I’ve been doing lately. Habits are scary.
“Hey, Yuto~”
Nagisa shifts from facing away to a position where I can see her face.
“These chairs are hard. My body hurts.”
“They’re optimized for sitting, not lying.”
“If only I had a pillow…”
She tries using her school bag as one but quickly looks unsatisfied.
“Whatever…”
Sighing, she sits on one of the chairs. “What now? Aida-san probably won’t be back for thirty minutes.”
“Probably.”
From our practice time, I’ve learned Aida-san might as well be the origin of the word “freedom.” She’s the kind of person who’d inspire the term.
“Do something, Yuto.”
“Like what? We’ve only got cards.”
I glance at the card box Aida-san left on the desk.
“Cards are meh…”
With no real ideas to kill time and the warmth of sunlight streaming through the window as the forecast predicted, a yawn escapes me.
“What? Sleepy, Yuto?”
“A little.”
I answer honestly, and Nagisa stands with a determined look.
“Use it.”
“Nah, you said it’s hard.”
She just concluded it’s not good for relaxing.
“It’s fine. I’ve got a pillow.”
She sits where her head was, patting her thighs.
“Here you go.”
Her eyes glint with a hint of expectation, her tone teasing.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“What? Don’t you love thighs?”
I try to dodge, but somehow that conversation leaked.
“How do you know that?”
“I heard from that Yamada person. Said if you’re tired, I should offer a lap pillow.”
I mentally vow to confront that guy next time and make sure he never speaks of it again, though I respect his guts for saying that to a working actress he just met.
“You don’t have to believe him.”
“So it’s not true? You don’t like thighs?”
“…It’s not not true.”
“Then why not use it?”
She pats her thighs, shooting me a confirming glance.
“…Aida-san might come back.”
“You know she won’t, Yuto.”
My excuse crumbles instantly. I could come up with others, but I stop searching for words and stand in front of her.
“Here you go~”
She smiles gently, locking eyes with me from below.
“Pardon me…”
I avoid her gaze and rest my head on her thighs. Shame and surprise hit first—the rational thought of what I’m doing in an empty classroom versus the soft sensation of her thighs blowing it away. There’s no way I can look at her face.
I turn outward, staring at some random doodle on the back blackboard, trying not to think too much, but…
“There, there~”
She strokes my head slowly, cooing like she’s soothing a child. Her unexpected action throws me off, making it impossible to focus on the doodle.
“Thanks for doing the exam with me,” she says, feigning calm, but her voice betrays a hint of embarrassment.
“You don’t have to do this…”
Realizing she’s not entirely comfortable either stirs a bit of guilt.
“I wanted to,” she says, her voice trembling slightly with shame.
“So…”
Her hand covers my eyes, enveloping me in warmth.
“Don’t look at my face… okay?”
◆
Five minutes into the lap pillow, I’m still not used to it, but Nagisa seems to have regained her composure. Realizing I’m not fighting back—or can’t—she gets cocky, cooing, “So cute~” in a babying tone while stroking my head.
I don’t feel annoyed—honestly, it’s kind of nice. My body heats up as I let her teasing wash over me.
“I’ll do anything you want right now, Yuto,” she says, her sultry, breathy voice grazing my ear.
“You’re getting too carried away, Nagisa…”
My rationality, melting under her warm breath, tries to rein her in, but she takes it as a surrender, her lips curling further.
“For poor Yuto, who never gets talked to by girls…”
I hear her take a deep breath near my ear.
“Should I say ‘I like you’?”
Her sweet words make my body jolt. Delighted by my reaction, she’s unstoppable now.
“So… what’ll it be? For your experience, I’m thinking of giving you some special service…”
Heat surges inside me like I’ve got a fever, my head feeling steamy.
“If you don’t say anything, I won’t say it. Three… two… one…”
“Hmm, twice in a short time gets old,” Aida-san says, muttering to herself with a wistful expression as she opens the door.
The world flips, and I’m slammed back to reality—and the floor. Regret and back pain hit hard.
…No wonder Akari cried for minutes.
“No! It’s not—!”
Nagisa jumps up, her face bright red. “We just got caught up in a weird vibe!” she yells, flustered.
Recalling the moment, I lie on the floor, assaulted by regret, shame, and awkwardness. Aida-san, clueless about what’s happening, stands there.
The waiting room is pure chaos.
◆
The awkward air between Nagisa and me lingers as we arrive at the event hall, the exam venue. Our physical distance is obvious enough for anyone to notice, and I wonder if Aida-san’s silence is out of consideration or obliviousness.
As we head to the performers’ waiting room, as directed by the receptionist, I distract myself from earlier by indulging in pointless thoughts. Then, a familiar face appears down the hall.
“Oh, Aoi-kun and company,” Murai-san says, noticing us with a cute-colored towel around her neck, fresh from her exam.
“Heading home, Murai-san?”
“Yup, perfect timing.”
She greets Nagisa behind me and gives a slight bow to Aida-san, likely meeting her for the first time, then speaks softly so only I can hear.
“…Something happen?”
“…A lot.”
I’d rather not dwell on it.
“How was your exam?” I ask, redirecting.
“‘How was it’…”
My forced topic change would work on Akari, but Murai-san looks concerned, sensing I don’t want to be pressed. “Well…” she murmurs, gazing upward as if recalling her exam. “The crowd was huge. Like, three times more intense than I expected from the stage.”
“With Kitajo Yuya here, there’s probably a lot of people here for him,” I say.
“Exactly. You might want to brace yourself to avoid getting nervous,” she says, her eyes filled with worry for me, a first-time performer.
“Thanks. I’ll do my best.”
She nods slightly, greets Nagisa and Aida-san, and heads for the exit.
Watching her go, we resume our awkward trek to the waiting room. Once there, we’re quickly ushered to separate rooms for men and women. I can’t see what the girls are doing, but I’m sat in a salon-like chair by a busy-looking woman who applies makeup. Since I’ll wear a mask, she skips my eyes, and her serious expression keeps me from speaking.
I’m swiftly dressed in my costume and sent back to the waiting room. The staff must have been at this all day, operating at peak efficiency like a well-oiled machine. Marveling at their professionalism, I return to find Aida-san skimming her script as usual. Our eyes meet.
“Looks good,” she says.
“Thanks… Where’s Nagisa?”
“I ducked out since I’m not performing. She’s probably still getting ready.”
I thought they’d return together, but Aida-san managed to speak up in that atmosphere. If I were her, I’d probably be narrating backstage, perfectly made up.
Impressed, I sit carefully to avoid dirtying my costume. Just then, the door opens.
A dazzling costume.
I’ve seen Nagisa in it before, but today, professional makeup elevates it. It’d catch anyone’s eye—male or female.
…Or it should have.
Both Aida-san and I are staring past her.
“Kitajo… Yuya-san?”
Aida-san’s trembling voice, mixed with shock and joy, makes me realize I’ve been holding my breath.
“Was gonna say hi to Minase-chan and ran into her right outside. Perfect timing,” he says.
I’m at a loss for words, my mind drifting to how his casual vibe matches the behind-the-scenes show I saw.
“Hi, I’m Kitajo Yuya,” my actual father says, stating the obvious as he takes an empty seat and chats with Nagisa.
Unable to handle her idol in front of her, Aida-san hands me a pen and paper, says, “Please get his autograph,” and hurries out, passing Kitajo Yuya.
My gaze flicks between the paper and my father talking with Nagisa, unsure how to broach the subject. When I asked Aida-san to narrate, she requested his autograph, but I planned to go through Nagisa.
…But.
“I get nervous too, you know?” Nagisa says to him, glancing at me before quickly looking away, repeating the action several times. She’s clearly still hung up on the classroom incident, and I’m not confident I can communicate with her normally.
I’m more awkward than she is, having given in to that lap pillow temptation, and the regret makes it hard to speak up. If I don’t ask because I couldn’t bring myself to, I’d let Aida-san down. I’m the one who said I could probably get it, and I can’t miss this chance because of me.
I exhale quietly so they don’t hear.
“Um! Could I get your autograph…?”
I hold out the paper and pen with a slight delay. If this were a father-son conversation, it’d score a zero. But to someone like Nagisa, who knows nothing, it probably just looks like a nervous regular guy talking to a famous actor… or so I think.
“Sure, no problem!”
Whether it’s because a fan asked for an autograph or because his son spoke to him for the first time, Dad’s expression—gleeful either way—makes my heart skip as he takes the paper. Nagisa, who’d been chatting with him, follows his gaze to me, but our eyes don’t quite meet.
“Uh, to Aoi Yuto-kun… that okay?”
My name slipping so naturally from his mouth makes my heart jump again, but it’s not strange when I think about it. As an exam judge, Kitajo Yuya would know the performers’ names, especially since I’m teamed with his acquaintance, Nagisa.
“Oh, it’s for the girl who just left. Her name’s Aida Yume,” I say.
“Then… to Yume-chan, maybe? The kanji’s the one for dreams you see while sleeping, right?”
I nod, and he writes the autograph with practiced ease, finishing in seconds.
“What about you? Don’t want one?”
He flashes a textbook smile, like one you’d see in a messaging app sticker.
“Uh…”
Normally, I’d want it. As a fan of the actor Kitajo Yuya, I’d love his autograph. But I came here to meet Kitajo Yuya the father, not the actor, so I didn’t bring paper. After a moment’s hesitation, I pull out the script from my school bag. It’s not pristine—creased from use during exam prep—but not noticeably dirty.
He doesn’t mind, happily signing it.
[To Yuto]
The gentle hiragana feels like his quiet way of showing love. Memories of days spent with Mom flood my mind. I don’t have bad or painful memories, yet something warm stirs deep inside. For the first time, I feel like I vaguely understand this “father” I’d only known as a concept or word.
“Well, I’ll head back. I’d get in trouble if they found me hanging out here,” he says jokingly, making me chuckle softly.
Satisfied, Kitajo Yuya looks at me. “I’m looking forward to your performance,” he says, leaving the waiting room.
I linger on the script’s signature for a few seconds before carefully tucking it into my bag to avoid tearing. How should I tell Mom about this later? Despite needing to move soon, my mind’s elsewhere.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice.
“Hey…”
Nagisa, staring intently at her phone, murmurs in a serious tone. Has she moved on from the lap pillow thing? For the exam’s sake, I’d like us to return to our usual vibe, though she’s the type to compartmentalize performance.
“What?” I reply, consciously keeping my tone calm.
“Look at this.”
She shoves her phone at me, showing an old photo of Kitajo Yuya… from his idol days, just before I was born, I think.
“So what?”
My heart’s pounding loudly, but I force myself to stay composed.
“Don’t you think it looks like you?”
“Who?”
“You.”
To feign disinterest, I lean back in my chair and stretch. “Hmm… I wouldn’t know, but Aida-san said so too, so maybe. Who knows?”
“I thought so too when I first saw it,” she says.
“Cool. Flattering,” I say, hoping the conversation ends.
It doesn’t.
“When I was a child actor, I worked with Yuya-san. I played his daughter,” she says.
“I think Mom mentioned that,” I say.
Not “think.” I’ve watched every drama and movie Dad’s been in. I realized the child actor in that drama was Nagisa only after we met.
“Back then, I thought I’d never surpass him. His kind, fatherly gaze, the way he secretly gave me candy when I got scolded by staff—it felt like a dad doting on his daughter…”
Her gaze, nostalgic yet fixed on me, won’t let go.
“I’ve been in this industry for years. I pride myself on knowing when someone’s acting or genuine, more than most.”
Her hand, holding the phone, trembles slightly as she lowers it.
“Why…”
Her words start to shake.
“…Why is that same gaze, that same genuine attitude from back then… directed at you?”
I’m speechless.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She’s figured it out. She’s arrived at the truth—that the “talented kid” Yuya-san mentioned, the one who’s haunted and troubled her, might be me.
Even now, my mind scrambles for a denial, searching for the perfect way to defuse this. Seeing this, Nagisa’s expression grows sadder.
“Got the autograph?”
Aida-san returns at the worst—or best—moment, sensing something’s off and glancing between us suspiciously.
“…Something happen?”
Nagisa, holding back tears, weakly shakes her head. “…No, nothing. Let’s go.”
She slips past Aida-san and leaves the waiting room. Aida-san watches her retreating back with concern.
“…Is she okay?”
She shifts her gaze to me, but I can’t even nod.
“What am I doing…”
Regret overwhelms me.
◆
Nagisa’s POV
I learned on a quiz show once that after anger arises, people start regaining calm in about six seconds.
“~~~”
Rushing out of the waiting room without considering Yuto’s feelings, the minute it takes to reach backstage is more than enough to fill my heart with regret.
“Um… Minase-san? You okay?”
A teacher I’ve seen in class a few times notices me crouching at the backstage entrance and calls out with concern.
“Just a bit nervous. I’m fine,” I say.
“Really? Even you get nervous? You’ll do great!”
The teacher, known for kindness among performing arts students, flashes an encouraging smile before hurrying off to speak with other staff. Amid the exam prep chaos, they took the time to check on me.
“…Oh.”
Grateful and determined to honor their encouragement, I refocus on the exam. The entrance door opens, and Yuto and Aida-san step in.
“…Sorry,” Yuto says, averting his gaze guiltily after briefly meeting mine.
“Why are you apologizing?”
I should apologize, but my reply comes out curt. If I were as cute as Akari, maybe I could’ve been more honest.
“…Sorry,” he says again, his face screaming it’s all his fault.
If I thought about it, I’d understand why he couldn’t tell me. As his acting senior, I should’ve read his intentions and created an environment for him to focus on the stage.
It’s all… my fault…
“Both of you,” Aida-san says, stepping between us as dark thoughts threaten to overwhelm me. Her voice, pleading and prayer-like, grabs our hands. “Do your best… okay?”
She hurries off to the busy staff.
“…The mask. You need to put it on,” I say, mustering courage from Aida-san’s genuine concern. Yuto, still holding the mask, seems to have forgotten and hurriedly puts it on.
But in his rush, the knot’s looser than usual.
“Geez…”
I reach to retie it, but a staff member’s call to take our positions stops me. I watch Yuto’s back as he hurries to his spot, a slight unease lingering as the exam begins.
◆
The buzzer signals the curtain’s rise. Applause greets us. As the curtain fully lifts, a spotlight hits me.
“Ugh, so boring! Another day alone here?”
The scene opens with my character, an impudent, tomboyish princess confined to the castle grounds due to her status, shouting in her room. Yuto’s knight enters next.
Honestly, I worried the earlier incident might affect his performance.
“As expected from what His Majesty told me…”
As Yuto delivers his line and another spotlight joins mine, a strange tension ripples through the audience and judges’ seats. It’s a mix of expectation and excitement, a feeling I recognize.
“Quite the spirited princess.”
Despite the stiff knight’s costume, his relaxed demeanor, soft tone, and confident smile shift the impression entirely. His complete mastery of his presence and how to present himself reminds me inevitably of Kitajo Yuya in the judges’ seat.
Aida-san’s steady narration, maintaining our practiced quality, calms my slight excitement as the story progresses, and our characters’ relationship evolves.
“Your attitude’s annoying, but if I’m with you, I can go to town, right?”
“Of course. With me, there’s no danger.”
Yuya-san usually reins in his acting to avoid overshadowing others, but Yuto, new to the stage, goes full throttle without such considerations.
…This is kind of fun.
Though the exam centers on me, a guy with barely a month of acting experience is stealing the spotlight. My lips curl upward. This must be what a rival feels like—someone you don’t want to lose to.
“If something scary happens, close your eyes and hide behind me.”
For some reason, every time Yuto speaks, voices—mostly female—rise from the audience.
“You’re so irritating!”
My line, laced with more emotion than the character calls for, echoes through the hall as our characters head to town. All that’s left is the scene where the princess, having explored the outside world, talks with the knight about the future by a fountain.
We sit side by side on a bench, our hands, which had brushed together, now deliberately entwined as we watch the bustling crowd up close, a contrast to her usual view from the castle.
“The world’s full of things I didn’t know,” I say.
The exam’s almost over.
“You can keep learning about it all,” Yuto says, maintaining a presence as big as—or bigger than—mine, delivering his final line.
Yuya-san, grinning in the judges’ seat, was right. A talented kid. If they’re not in performing arts, they’d never be found.
“No need to tell me that! Guard me well tomorrow too!”
“Then how about I protect you forever?”
It should’ve ended with Aida-san’s narration after my line, but Yuto throws in an ad-lib—the kind that, given today’s audience reaction, will get the biggest cheer. Aida-san, catching on, waits for my response.
But at that moment, the mask hiding Yuto’s face from the judges and audience slips off. Whether it was a stray hand or the loose knot, it falls like a divine prank, and Yuto freezes.
“If you want to protect me, I’ll let you—as long as you want. Forever, okay?”
Having anticipated this possibility, I return an ad-lib, catching the falling mask mid-air and pulling Yuto’s stunned face close. Now, no one off-stage can see his face behind the mask.
All that’s left is to set up Aida-san’s narration with a clean finish. Easy. Love story endings are predictable.
Staring at the frozen Yuto behind the mask, I whisper too softly for the mic or his ears to catch:
“Let me protect you now… okay?”
◆
Yuto’s POV
The buzzer for the curtain’s descent sounds the moment I realize my mask fell, coinciding with Nagisa’s face drawing near.
“Idiot… you tied it too loose…”
Amid cheers and applause, the curtain drops, blocking the audience’s view. Nagisa’s face slowly pulls away from the bench. Seeing the fox mask in her right hand, I realize she shielded me from the audience’s gaze while maintaining the story’s performance.
“Let’s go. We’ll be in the way here,” she says.
Looking around, I see staff starting to clear the exam props. Nagisa stands from the bench, greeting them as she heads backstage.
Watching her retreating back, I touch my lips, confirming what happened. Something definitely brushed them. Something soft.
Nagisa’s face, closer than ever before. The soft sensation on my lips. The answer they point to makes my body heat up instinctively.
“You okay…?”
A staff member, eyeing me suspiciously as I freeze on the bench, snaps me back to reality. I bow lightly and hurry off-stage, only to be caught by the makeup lady from earlier, who seems calmer now that the morning session’s done. After returning the costume, I head back to the waiting room and lock eyes with Nagisa, who finished before me.
“…Good work,” I say, my words stilted as I think of both the Dad issue and the kiss.
“…Yeah,” she replies curtly, her gaze deliberately shifting away, likely thinking the same.
I sit diagonally across from her, idly glancing at the wall clock.
“…”
“…”
Neither of us speaks, the ticking of the clock the only sound in the room. If only Aida-san would come back to ease this awkwardness…
Hoping for her swift return, I reach for a water bottle in my bag to distract from the silence.
“Hey,” Nagisa says, stopping me despite not being thirsty.
“About earlier…”
Her eyes, filled with unease, meet mine cautiously. But a question pops into my head.
“Uh… which thing?”
“Yuya-san, obviously,” she says as if it’s a given, but her averted gaze and slightly high-pitched voice suggest she’s also thinking about the kiss.
“Well… sorry. Really. It’s not that I didn’t trust you,” I say, apologizing.
I kept quiet about being the answer to Yuya-san’s words that influenced her school choice, revealing it at the worst possible time—right before the exam. Her anger’s justified, and I wouldn’t blame her for never speaking to me again.
“No! I’m the one who should apologize…”
Contrary to my thoughts, Nagisa’s eyes dart guiltily. “If I’d thought about it, I’d know you couldn’t say it. Messing up the vibe before the performance was the worst, and I was just…”
She trails off, embarrassed, her gaze wandering around me before she slumps onto the desk.
“…Ugh! How do I even say it…”
Her feet tap the floor audibly.
As I hesitate over what to say to her, seemingly more troubled than me, the waiting room door is knocked.
“…”
Aida-san peeks cautiously through the crack, assessing the room.
“Uh… welcome back?” I say, unsure of the right words.
Glancing at Nagisa, who’s peeking through her arms at the door, I wonder if we should drop this or tell Aida-san. We brushed it off when she suspected something before, and revealing it might shatter her image of Kitajo Yuya.
“Still fighting…?”
Aida-san, half-hidden behind the door, asks tentatively. If my upsetting Nagisa made her hesitant to return, I feel bad.
I shake my head.
“Really? But Minase-san’s crying…”
“I’m not!”
Nagisa bolts up, insisting she’s not crying. Aida-san, unfazed, looks relieved.
“So… I kept thinking about what happened earlier…”
Still half-behind the door, she hesitates, then opens it fully with resolve. “I figured I had to ask you two, and… he’s here.”
Following her gaze, I see Kitajo Yuya with an apologetic expression. He enters with Aida-san and sits beside me, slightly awkward.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything…”
His guilty glances between Nagisa and me suggest he overheard our talk about him being found out.
“Including the exam, mind deciding if we can talk about it here?”
He’s asking if it’s okay to tell Aida-san. His eyes stay on me as he speaks vaguely.
Aida-san, sitting across, stiffens with tension, her gaze darting among us.
“I… want to talk. As friends,” I say, turning to Dad, my tone still formal.
“I think Minase-chan knows, but Aoi Yuto and I are father and son. Blood-related,” Dad says lightly, nodding slightly at my words.
At that moment, Aida-san’s water bottle hits the floor with a thud.
“S-Sorry…!”
As she reaches for it, she bangs her head on the desk.
“Ow!”
The loud thud hints at the pain.
Whether amused by her obvious fluster or trying to ease the interruption, Dad chuckles softly.
“The tension between you two that Yume-chan noticed is probably my fault,” he says, bowing his head with a “Sorry.”
Nagisa, who’d been silently watching, jumps up. “No…! It’s my fault…!”
Dad lifts his head, meets her eyes, and shakes his head. “I get why friends with teenage kids struggle with them now. Meddling doesn’t help. Really.”
Scratching his cheek, he smiles wryly. “I was called here for my acting experience, but my dad experience is sorely lacking.”
“I’m sorry… If I hadn’t freaked out, this wouldn’t have happened…” Nagisa says, shoulders slumping.
Dad chuckles lightly. “No, it’s my fault for not resisting the urge to meet Yuto. I planned to retire when he was born, so I could’ve talked anytime.”
Mid-sentence, he glances at me, raising a hand hesitantly. After a moment, he places it on my head.
I realize he’s nervous. Kitajo Yuya, who handles any scene with ease, is nervous about patting a high school boy’s head.
I can’t help but laugh.
Nagisa and Aida-san look at me curiously, while Dad averts his eyes, embarrassed.
“Well, maybe it’s not a bad time to go public…”
“Please don’t. I don’t want the spotlight, and… I still want to see my cool dad on TV,” I say, the word “Dad” slipping out naturally. He scratches his head, bashful.
“If my only son says so, I guess I have to.”
Chuckling, he glances at the wall clock and stands. “I should get back. And…”
At the door, he turns to me. “I’m always up for a father-son collab.”
He leaves with words that sound half-joking, half-serious—but to me, they feel serious.
A strange silence fills the waiting room after he’s gone. Both are probably gauging when to speak.
“I’d prefer if you kept me and Dad a secret…” I say, breaking the silence to confirm something important.
“I’m fine with that,” Nagisa says without hesitation, her gaze shifting to Aida-san.
“I don’t mind… It’s a heavy secret, though…” Aida-san mutters, rubbing her stomach as if in pain, making me feel a bit guilty.
◆
That night, after seeing off Aida-san and Murai-san from an impromptu “exam well done” party at my house—sprung on me without warning—Nagisa and Akari, with no curfew, linger in my room as usual, each doing their own thing.
“…”
“Akari? It’s starting,” I say.
“…Oh, sorry.”
We start an online match, but Akari’s distracted, holding the controller absentmindedly. This isn’t new—she was spacey during the party, enough for Murai-san to worry.
“…Nagisa, something up?”
“N-Nothing!”
She’s been glancing at me instead of reading the manga she grabbed from my shelf, stuck on the same page for thirty minutes. Must be some scene.
“After the exam, when the curtain fell, people in the front row were talking…” Akari says, setting her controller down and folding her knees, staring at the game’s defeat screen where her cat character lies down. “At the end… did you… kiss?”
The room goes quiet, save for the game’s defeat BGM. At the edge of my vision, Nagisa drops her manga onto her stomach.
“D-Did we… maybe?” she says, cheeks slightly red, glancing at me.
“I don’t know, but… I felt something touch my lips… so, yeah,” I say.
“Then… probably,” Nagisa says, fixing her gaze on the digital clock after dropping the manga. “…But!” she continues. “It was a mistake! I meant to stop short! It wasn’t on purpose!”
“I know. I’m grateful for it,” I say calmly, genuinely thankful. It was an accident caused by her covering my mistake. I’m the cause.
Her pouty, annoyed expression as she glares at my calm response suggests she’s irked. “It was just acting. A stage kiss is just staging. It’s not a personal thing. Don’t get the wrong idea, thinking you’re special.”
“I won’t,” I say.
“Forget it!”
She huffs cutely, throwing a pillow at me and turning away.
“Seriously… forget it…”
Muttering again, she touches her lips with her free hand, cheeks red, as if confirming the sensation.
Seeing her like that makes forgetting impossible.
“…I’m going home,” Akari says suddenly, standing and grabbing her phone, her only belonging, to leave.
“Wait! Me too!”
Whether escaping the room’s weird vibe or avoiding being alone with me, Nagisa hurries after her, leaving her phone on my bed.
“Nagisa,” I say, grabbing her hand as she rushes out.
Misinterpreting it as me trying to be alone with her, she blushes, her eyes a mix of shame and panic. “W-Wait, you don’t have to rush, I haven’t showered, and you don’t have to forget, just let it slide today…”
“I’m not doing anything… Your phone. You forgot it,” I say, placing it in her hand.
She looks deflated but says, “Thanks…”
Chasing her to the entrance might spark another misunderstanding, so I let her go. Voices from the hall suggest she and Akari ran into Mom, who must’ve stepped out at the same time. The conversation’s brief, and the front door opens within a minute.
“…”
In the quiet room, I recall Nagisa touching her lips. With it comes the exam’s thrill, the panic of my worst mistake, and the softness of her lips right after.
“…Gotta forget it.”
Thinking of her like that feels wrong.
Muttering to myself, I tidy the manga left on the bed and reach for the controller to clean up the game when the door opens.
“Is something up with Akari-chan?” Mom asks, stepping in with a worried look.
“Dunno… She’s been like that for a while, and she didn’t seem to want me asking, so I didn’t.”
“Hmm… She drank tea instead of orange juice, so it must be serious…”
Mom, gauging the situation with her odd criteria, leaves with a concerned expression.
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