Chapter 147

With the sports festival over, the only remaining big event was the school festival. While the rest of the school was beginning preparations, our class was mostly done. Around the time we started hearing about the other classes’ haunted mansions and themed cafés, we’d just wrapped up our independent film. At last, it was time for a preview screening. “I-it’s finally here…” Fushimi gulped beside me. Fushimi was my childhood friend. Not only was she the star of our movie, but she was also the one who originally suggested we submit a short film. Someone closed the curtains, and the classroom went dark. I noticed her shapely face contort in anxiety. She was the star actress and the project’s planner—if no one liked it, she was the one they’d hold accountable. “I’m sure it’ll be good, right?” she said. “I don’t know…” I wasn’t very confident, either. The film I’d made on my own had ended up winning a prize, thanks to Fushimi’s star power, but that wasn’t enough to make me believe this one would go over well, too. “C’mon, you’re supposed to say ‘of course!’” Fushimi slapped my back. “What can I say? I did what I could, but whether people like it or not isn’t up to me.” “I mean, you’re right, but still…” Fushimi pouted and held on to my sleeve. She was awfully nervous. “Oh, what’s the big deal?” Himeji said easily from my other side. “It’s a short film made by students for their high school festival. Of course it’s not going to be good.” Ai Himejima was my other childhood friend and a former minor idol. Currently, she was focusing her efforts on musical stage plays. I also happened to work at her talent agency. She was a pretty girl, though her beauty was of a different sort than Fushimi’s. That said, her charm was held back by the cockiness that came from her career experience. “No one’s expecting that much,” she concluded. “Hey now,” I began. But Fushimi, her eyes narrowed, bit back first. “You don’t have any friends, do you, Ai?” “What? I do, too.” Himeji retorted, clearly angry. You realize you’re the one in the wrong here, right, Himeji? “I simply meant to say you don’t need to set the bar so high,” she continued. “In any case, I’m sure it won’t be boring, considering I’m on-screen.” “Where does that confidence of yours come from…?” I said. “I wish you’d share even ten percent of it with me,” added Fushimi. Meanwhile, Waka was readying the projector. She already had the video file, so it was only a matter of playing it back on her laptop. The whole classroom was restless. It seemed everyone was thinking of their own scenes. The room was full of chatter about the filming and self-deprecating jokes about being forgettable background characters. Just as Fushimi initially proposed, everyone had gotten a turn to be on camera. It wasn’t just the two of us on edge. What about Torigoe? I turned around casually and saw her with a stern look on her face. She was as stiff as a military commander, but with her hands held together in prayer. Looks like she’s nervous, too. Torigoe was the film’s screenwriter. She’d come up with the story and all the lines. She used to be just a lunchtime friend I didn’t speak to much, but now she was one of the few classmates I could be myself around. She was also a close friend of Fushimi’s. The projector began to display the laptop’s screen, and Waka clicked on a folder on the desktop. “Is it this file, Takamori?” she asked. “Yes, that’s the one.” “All right. It’s showtime!” The class went quiet in an instant, and the click of the computer’s mouse sounded strangely loud. The intro began to play. I’d seen it countless times by now. Fushimi’s character was in love with a boy who didn’t show up in the story. Himeji was her rival. Though I’d already watched the film many times, it still surprised me how different Himeji’s acting was between the start and the end of the film. At first, her delivery was stiff and monotonous. But once she auditioned for the musical and began studying and practicing over the summer, she’d gradually worked her way up to a decent level. She almost seemed like a different actor by the end of the film. “Nnnh!!” Himeji’s face had gone completely red. It was only natural that she would feel embarrassed. I had no idea how good she was now, but it was true that she’d been quite bad in the beginning. “Stay strong, Ai,” said Fushimi, already joking. “Don’t fan the flames,” I said, cutting her off. Fushimi smirked. She didn’t mince her words when it came to Himeji, and the same was true in reverse. There were a few chuckles during scenes where background characters appeared and said their one line. But other than that, everyone watched the film seriously. After thirty minutes and some change, Waka clapped, and everyone else followed suit. “So that’s it,” said Waka casually as she put away the projector at the front of the classroom. “What did you think?” Fushimi, Himeji, and I shook with nerves. “Pretty cool, I think,” someone said. This got the rest of the class started. “Yeah, it’s better than I expected.” “Short and sweet.” “Hina’s acting was great!” I glanced at Fushimi and saw her beaming. Himeji, however, frowned at the lack of mention of her own name. She seemed dissatisfied. A few more people gave their impressions, and most of them were good. “What did you think, miss?” I asked Waka after everyone else finished. “I was moved to see everyone come together as one. It seems like all of you did your part and cooperated well.” I wasn’t asking for your thoughts as our teacher… But fine. We spent the rest of our time in class discussing shifts for the day of the festival and how we’d go about setting up the classroom as a theater. “Takayan, Takayan, that was awesome!” Deguchi, my only male friend in class, grabbed his stuff and got ready to head home, then came over to my desk. “Thanks,” I said. “It seems like everyone liked it more than I expected. I’m glad.” “All of us read the screenplay, so we knew how it would go, but I was honestly impressed to see how it came together.” “Don’t lay on the praise too thick. You’re embarrassing me.” “But that’s an award-winning director for ya!” Deguchi whistled and poked my shoulder. “Everyone around my seat felt the same,” said Torigoe, joining us. “Since everyone helped with the filming, they all feel like it’s their baby.” I guess that means no one can judge it objectively, huh? The first person I showed the film to was my little sister, Mana. “Mana said, ‘It’s a story about young love, but it’s a little different from the usual, huh?’ I think your unique style must have shown through in a good way, Torigoe.” “I wonder.” Torigoe looked away shyly. I’d focused on doing what I wanted for my independent film, but the school festival film was mainly Torigoe’s. Mana seemed to have caught on to the difference. “I’m just happy everyone seemed to like it,” said Fushimi. “I’m glad I suggested making a film.” Fushimi, who our classmates had showered with praise, appeared suitably satisfied, but the same was clearly not true of Himeji. “Ryou. You think I’m cute…right?” she asked. “Where is this coming from?” I replied. “Why didn’t anyone mention how cute I was?” “Don’t ask me.” “I think it’s a director’s job to make the protagonist and the supporting actors shine.” “Everyone was probably too distracted by your lifeless acting to notice how you looked. And considering how you are, I bet they didn’t want to say anything.” Himeji’s face twisted in pain as I went for the jugular. “B-but…I’m good now,” she said. “Yes, you’re good now. But you weren’t back then.” “I demand a reshoot.” “It’s too late.” “You are cute, Himeji,” said Torigoe, cutting in to answer the other girl’s original question. “Shizuka…!” Himeji turned to her as if she’d found her savior. “It’s really cute how, even though you’ve got loads of confidence and it seems like you’d be able to do anything, you’re a super-bad actor. It’s kind of charming.” “Take that back! I’m not bad. Not anymore.” Now even Torigoe was trash-talking Himeji. …The two of them have become pretty close, huh? “Hey, let’s throw a party to celebrate!” Deguchi suggested. All of us agreed, and when he made the suggestion in the group chat for the film, a lot of people reacted right away. The chat progressed, and possible ideas were whittled down until we eventually landed on a group karaoke session over the weekend. “Can you go, Ai?” he asked. “Yes, I don’t have any appointments that day.” “Good. I wish everyone could make it.” Some people had club activities or part-time jobs and would have to leave early or arrive late, but at least half of the class was able to go. “Karaoke…” All emotion vanished from Torigoe’s face. She looked at me, her eyes glassy. “I know. I’m the same…,” I replied. That said, karaoke was the best option for such a big group. If we all went to a restaurant together, the resulting noise would be a nuisance to the other diners. “Do I have to sing?” “Torigoe, it doesn’t matter if you’re bad. Just put your soul into it,” Deguchi said, trying to cheer her up. I knew what he was getting at. No one would think any less of Torigoe even if she was a bad singer. “Do I have to sing?” I asked. “Most definitely,” Deguchi replied. “Why?” “You’re the director. If you sing, everyone will get fired up. Probably.” “I doubt anyone would care.” I thought back to the time I went to karaoke with Fushimi and a few others. Would I pick a bad song and get laughed at behind my back? “Despite what you think, Ryou, you’re a pretty decent singer,” Himeji said. “Yeah. You’re just shy,” Fushimi added. I remembered Himeji’s casual praise the one time we’d gone to karaoke together. “Two pretty girls have given you their approval. You’ll be fine. And if you’re still anxious…why don’t we sing a duet?” Deguchi pointed at himself with his thumb, an exceedingly hammy expression on his face. I could immediately tell he was joking. “No, thank you. That’d be even worse.” I turned him down with a smile. “…” Torigoe’s eyes darted between me and Deguchi. Her gaze was intense. “Torigoe,” I said, “may I ask what’s going through your mind right now?” “Huh? N-nothing.” Liar. “Just that, hey, you two are pretty good friends, huh?” She looked at me as if to say, You get it, right? Of course I don’t get it, Torigoe. I’m not into BL, okay? “Ai, Ai! Let’s make this a contest!” said Fushimi. “You’d challenge me? To a singing competition? Laughable!” Himeji puffed out her chest theatrically. “Very well. I’ll show you the difference between an ignorant frog stuck in a well and a killer whale swimming freely in the deep blue sea.” Fushimi sounded like she wanted a casual match, while Himeji was out for blood. Those two never change, huh? With that, we wrapped up the party planning session and got ready to head home. “Hiina, I have library duty today,” said Torigoe. “Oh yeah?” Fushimi replied. “I guess I’ll come keep you company.” “Thanks.” Torigoe had mentioned before that she found library duty boring. But she’d also said it didn’t really matter since it gave her more time to read. She was probably between novels. She and Fushimi followed Himeji and me about halfway down the hallway before they split off and headed for the school library. “I shall see you home,” Himeji said. “No, I shall see you home,” I said. “Not like it matters. Our houses are practically right next to each other.” Himeji smirked. “Who do you think you are, Ryou?” “Listen to yourself. You’d have more friends if you stopped talking like that.” Torigoe was right—Himeji was a pretty girl with one huge failing. Though it suited her, in a way. Perhaps it was part of her charm. “Like what?” “Forget it.” I got my sneakers out of the shoe locker in the entrance hall, put them on, and waited for Himeji to do the same. But when she moved to put on her shoes, she stumbled. I grabbed her arm and helped support her. “…What are you…?” She looked up at me, cheeks red. Our eyes met, and I recalled how she’d kissed me the other day. But I was jolted back to reality by the voices of other students behind us and quickly let her go. “Nothing.” Later, as we made our way to the train station, a thought came to me. “Himeji, did you know Fushimi’s mom was an actress?” “Yeah. Ms. Ashihara, right? I always knew. But as a kid, I didn’t think much more of it than ‘Wow, Hina’s mom is on TV.’” So she’d known all this time. “Why ask about that, all of a sudden?” she asked. “I just found out recently. I was shocked.” “Do you remember anything about her? About Ms. Ashihara…about Hina’s mom.” Do I remember anything about her? ………? I tried thinking back, but I couldn’t recall her mother’s face. “My mom says we met,” I said, “but I don’t remember her at all.” “I see.” “I have this impression she’s scary, though. I don’t remember if she scolded me once, or if I saw her scolding Fushimi or what.” “Scary, huh?” Himeji nodded like a detective questioning a witness. “Yeah. You often hear people complain about celebrities being awful in real life, right?” “Indeed. I can think of many such cases.” “Maybe Fushimi’s mom was like that.” “I wonder. I don’t really have a particular impression of her.” As we spoke, we reached the train station and returned home. That Saturday, we arrived at the karaoke place to celebrate the completion of our short film. Fushimi, Himeji, Torigoe, and Mana came along with me, and we met up with Deguchi and around ten or so other guys and girls who formed the core of the class. As the evening progressed, our number would go up and down as more people showed up and others left. “A wrap party, huh? Man, you’re such grown-ups,” Mana said. She’d been excited ever since I invited her. “It’s common sense to hold a gathering like this at the end of a big job,” Himeji said proudly. “Wow.” Mana sounded impressed. “It’s been a while since either of us went to karaoke, huh, Ryou?” Fushimi said. “Huh?” I replied, confused for a moment. “Oh, I went one more time after that.” “You did? With whom?” With Himeji. I didn’t want to say that, though, because I’d told Fushimi we’d go again together, but wound up going with Himeji instead. It felt like I’d broken my promise. “He went with me, actually,” Himeji responded. “Oh… I see.” Fushimi shot me a cold, dead-eyed glance. “Uh, erm… Yeah,” I said weakly. I couldn’t deny it. I felt so awkward, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong. Oh, that’s right. “You see, we were trying to take shelter from the rain, and the only place nearby was a karaoke parlor,” I said hurriedly, excusing myself. “And since Himeji’s scared of thunder, the soundproof room was perfect.” “So you went into a private room and flirted.” “Why would you think that?!” “I showed Ryou all of myself in that room,” Himeji said. “Don’t give people the wrong idea,” I shot back. “You just sang your go-to song, complete with choreography.” Fushimi narrowed her eyes in disgust. “You’re such a perv, Ryou…” “How?!” I tried turning the conversation to Torigoe, who’d been quiet up to this point. “Torigoe, do you like karaoke?” “When I do go, I usually go alone. This is the first time I’ll be at a place like this with so many people.” “It’s been a while since I came with such a huge group, too!” said Mana. “Let’s sing together, Shizu.” “As you wish, ManaMana.” “Yaaay!” Mana was so cheery, she seemed like a totally different person. “I got us a room, guys! Let’s gooo!” Deguchi turned and called out to us, then followed a clerk away from the lobby. We were shown to a large room upstairs, meant for about twenty people. It had a bigger screen than those in other rooms I’d been to, and even had a little stage up front. Torigoe immediately went for the maracas and began shaking them. Noticing my glance, she said, “When you go with a big group, you need at least one person on maracas, right?” “I’m no expert, but I don’t think that’s a thing.” “Oh, okay.” I had never seen anyone use them. But maybe it depended on the kind of people you went with. Since Torigoe always came by herself, she seemed like a fish out of water. She had no idea what was normal. Soon, everyone had taken a seat wherever they pleased, and the karaoke session got underway. Two girls sang a trendy pop song everyone knew, while Torigoe, sitting beside me, shook her maracas in sync. “So this is what a wrap party is like,” I mumbled to no one in particular. “The ones I’ve been to are usually a little fancier,” Himeji replied. “Okay, miss professional celebrity.” Torigoe heard us in between verses and joined the conversation. “I never took an active role in the school festival, so I always ignored party invitations.” I was the same. “You’ve led a pretty boring school life, haven’t you, Shizuka?” said Himeji. “No need to say it out loud. I know.” I got the feeling Himeji had stopped holding herself back around Torigoe. They must have gotten a lot closer. “Ai, don’t forget. We’re having a competition here,” Fushimi declared, grabbing one of the mics. Himeji sighed and grabbed the other. “Very well. Though we already know who will lose.” Everyone got fired up as the transfer student and former idol faced off against the school’s current idol. Fushimi grabbed the portable touch screen and turned on the karaoke machine’s score-keeping function. Then she sang the same song she had sung once before. “What should I sing?” said Mana. “Bubby, what do you want me to sing?” “Just pick whatever you want,” I replied. “‘Auld Lang Syne’?” “This isn’t choir practice… You’re gonna freak everyone out.” “What about Schubert’s ‘Erlkönig’?” “You here for karaoke or opera?” Mana grumbled as she glared at the tablet. I looked at Himeji. She had a stern expression. “…Looks like I can’t afford to hold back,” she muttered. I knew Fushimi was good, but if Himeji, who was more or less a professional, felt a legitimate challenge, she must be even better than I’d thought. I got a text from Torigoe, who was sitting two seats away. Hiina’s good. So Torigoe didn’t know. Yeah, I found out the other day, I texted back. Oh no. What should I sing? I suggest keeping to yourself until someone tries to make you sing. You’re a genius. While I was texting, Mana elbowed me in the side. “Keep off your phone, Bubby.” “Oh, I was just…” “It’s rude. Look at Hina. She’s disappointed because you’re not listening to her song.” No way… I turned to look, and she was staring at me blankly, just as Mana had said. She’d seemed so cheerful just a moment ago. I immediately put away my phone and began shaking the maracas Mana handed me. A glow returned to Fushimi’s face, like a wilted flower bursting back into bloom. Well, that was simple. I guess this is the power of the maracas. When her song came to an end, applause rang out. “Hina, you’re so talented!” “You’re the cutest, Fushimi!” “You really can do anything!” Fushimi blushed under our classmates’ praise. The karaoke machine gave her a score of 95. “Oh, I forgot to say,” Deguchi called out. “Since there’s so many of us, I got another room next door. If anyone gets overwhelmed, you’re welcome to go over there.” “It is time to put this amateurish frog in her place…!” Himeji tightened her grip on her mic and marched to the stage. “Oh, wait, Himeji…”