Chapter 150

The wrap party came to a successful close. Everyone looked pumped when I sang, and there were no awkward silences. I really appreciated that, even if they were just being polite. I’d been worried they would all be wordlessly looking at their phones. Fushimi, Himeji, and Torigoe each sang a couple songs. I found it curious how the girls looked cuter than usual when singing. The following Monday, I was on my way to school with Fushimi and Himeji, when the latter began grumbling about her brutal rehearsals and how much of a nag the director was. At first, I thought she was trying to brag in front of Fushimi, but it turned out that wasn’t the case. “That sounds rough,” Fushimi said. “I don’t mind the singing,” said Himeji, “I just don’t really get what the director is trying to do at times…” She seemed genuinely bothered by it. I had witnessed the relationship dynamics at the rehearsal hall firsthand, and I began to worry the older girls’ trash talk might extend beyond simply critiquing Himeji’s acting. “It’s going to feel great when I blow that baldy’s socks off with my acting.” But whatever the issue, Himeji still sounded like herself, and that relieved me. “That attitude of yours might cause problems,” said Fushimi, “but it’s one of your strengths, too.” “It sure is,” I agreed. We began to see more and more students around as we got closer to school. A lot of them exchanged greetings with Fushimi and Himeji, but one girl didn’t stop there and walked right up to Fushimi. She was short and in her third year. “Fushimi, can I talk to you?” “Umm, yes?” Fushimi replied, seeming confused. “Your class is putting on a film for the festival, right? Are the preparations keeping you busy?” “Not right now. The film is complete and there’s not much to do.” “Sorry I’m asking this out of nowhere, but, well, I’m the president of the drama club. My name’s Yoshimoto.” I knew about the drama club. They put on plays every year for the school festival. “We perform every year for the school festival,” Yoshimoto continued, “and I was wondering if you’d be interested in taking on a role in our play?” “M-me?” Fushimi pointed at herself. She looked surprised, but I could see her eyes beginning to sparkle. “I heard you’re taking acting classes.” “Oh. Yes, I am.” The stiffness in her face began to melt away as she realized where the conversation was going. Himeji made a show of clearing her throat a few times, but Yoshimoto ignored her. Give up already. She’s not here for you. “I also heard you starred in an award-winning short film?” “Yes, yes I did.” I could sense the pride rushing to Fushimi’s head. Yoshimoto explained that a club member had been hospitalized and they needed someone to take over for them, but no one in the club could handle the role. That was where Fushimi came in. “The school festival play is always the last show of the year for our club, and we want to make it one to remember.” “Yes. I’ll help you.” Fushimi answered immediately without a hint of hesitation. “Huh? But I haven’t even told you about the part or—” “I’ll do it.” A fire burned in Fushimi’s eyes—a mix of confidence and a desire to help out those in need. You’re unnerving her, Fushimi. “Um, really? Are you sure your own class doesn’t need you? There will be rehearsals, and it will probably eat up a lot of your time…” “That’s no problem. I can do this.” Fushimi had zero intention of giving up. She always liked helping people, and I figured she’d made her decision the moment Yoshimoto asked for a favor. “Th-thank you!” Yoshimoto said. “Okay, then we’ll discuss the details after school!” She said good-bye and left with a smile on her face. “Good for you, Fushimi,” I said. “Yeah!” In contrast to Fushimi’s smile, Himeji heaved a big sigh. “To go for you when I’m right here…,” she said. “That girl made the wrong choice.” Wow, no humility whatsoever! “Even if you agreed to do it,” said Fushimi, “you’d act like a total diva and cause them a lot of hassle.” “No, I wouldn’t.” “Would you even have time to rehearse?” “No. So I would have turned them down.” “What exactly is your problem, then?” If she was just going to turn them down, why act so bitter over not being asked? “A performer always appreciates being offered work even if they have to say no.” “You’re exhausting.” It seemed Yoshimoto had a good eye, after all. “I kept taking my lessons even while we were filming Ryou’s short,” said Fushimi. “So I really want to do something like this to test out my abilities.” Not long ago, I might have felt crushed by the sight of Fushimi’s smile as she spoke earnestly about her aspirations. “I wonder what the part is,” I mused. But now, I was able to offer her my sincere support. “It’s been a while since I’ve been onstage. I can’t wait!” I thought back to the DVDs neatly organized in Fushimi’s room. I’d only seen the spines and didn’t recognize most of the titles, so I’d tried looking some of them up. Whether by chance or design, Satomi Ashihara appeared in about half of them. For one reason or another, Fushimi must have been paying attention to her mother’s career. Maybe she looked up to her, in a way. “I hope it’s a good part,” I said. “Yeah!” There were still three weeks until the school festival. I was sure Fushimi could do it. …Later that same day, during lunch, Yoshimoto came to get Fushimi, and the two of them headed off together. Apparently, they were going to use the break to go over the contents of the play and Fushimi’s role. Torigoe seemed curious about what was going on, so as we made our way to the physics room, I told her what had happened that morning. “Oh, I see,” she said. “I keep forgetting that Hiina is like our school’s idol.” “Himeji was with us, and she was fuming that the girl from the drama club didn’t give her so much as a second glance.” Torigoe giggled. “I can just picture it.” “Everyone knows Himeji as the pretty transfer student, but she’s been keeping her past as an idol secret, so I don’t know what she expected. Of course, there’s also the matter of her personality…” “No, no, I’m sure she picked Fushimi because she was in your award-winning short film.” “That thing?” “Yup. No-name actors who star in popular films or TV shows often wind up with a lot more work. It happens all the time.” Come to think of it, I could name a few such celebrities. “I think that’s what’s happening with Hiina.” If true, that would be great. Although the review I’d gotten had implied Fushimi was a big reason I’d won in the first place. I thought back to her smile that morning. I knew how she’d cried after failing that audition. How that pig had asked her to use her body to get into his agency. How restless she’d been at seeing her rival succeed. I’d seen her struggles up close. A role in a school play was small, perhaps. But it was huge for her. For the first time, a stranger wanted her to act for them. Torigoe and I arrived at the physics room, sat in our usual spots, and began eating. “Do you know how many people are in the drama club?” I asked. Her answer was immediate. “About ten or so. Losing one would make a pretty big difference.” I had no idea how many people were needed backstage, but I imagined they didn’t have the numbers for someone to take on the extra role. “I wonder what it’s about,” I said. “Just ask Hiina later.” “Right.” Torigoe giggled softly. “What’s up?” “If you’re that curious, why don’t you go watch them?” “No, no. I’d only get in the way.” It felt as if Torigoe could read my mind, even the unconscious parts of it, and that embarrassed me. “By the way, I also figured out what I want to do,” she said. “Oh, really?” I tried to keep my tone casual. I was curious, but I didn’t want to seem overeager. “After watching you make that short film on your own, even while you were busy with other stuff… This is gonna sound lame, but it really inspired me.” “That’s not lame… So, what do you wanna do?” “Uh… Wow, now that you’re asking me in so many words, I’m starting to feel self-conscious.” “You’re the one who brought it up.” I chuckled. “I mean, I think I finally get why Hiina wanted to hide her dream of becoming an actress from you.” I understood what she was saying. What was it that made this kind of thing so intimidating? I wouldn’t laugh no matter what she wanted to do, and I was sure Torigoe knew that. And yet saying it still wasn’t easy. Maybe it was because most of what we did was the same—we wore the same uniforms, came to the same school, took the same classes—and this was the one thing where we differed. Fushimi’s acting and my video editing, which had blossomed into a desire to make films, each reflected our personalities. Talking about it felt like bringing our inner selves to the surface. “I’ll cheer you on no matter what it is you wanna do,” I said, “and I’ll pray for your success.” “…I wanna be a porn actress.” “Wha—?” I lifted my head up from my lunch box and looked at Torigoe. …………What? Just now… What was that? The moment our eyes met, she held her sides and laughed out loud. “Your eyes turned into dots.” “Are you s-serious?” She did say my film had inspired her… And well…I guess the two fields are related… “No, I’m kidding.” “O-oh… O-of course you are. You really got me there.” Torigoe laughed out loud, unusual for her. “As for the real thing I wanna do, I’m not sure yet whether I can manage it. If I succeed, I’ll tell you, okay?” “Yeah. All right.” So in the end, she wasn’t going to tell me. At the very least, knowing her, I was sure she wouldn’t do anything crazy. “Back to Hiina. I wonder what her part will be? I hope it’s like a tree or something. That’d be funny.” “It would be, but c’mon.” I doubted it would be anything like that. We kept chatting, forgetting about the time until the bell rang. “Let’s hurry,” I said, “or we won’t make it to fifth period.” I was about to leave the physics room when Torigoe pulled on my arm. “…Torigoe?” She loosened her grip little by little, until she was only pinching my sleeve. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Umm.” She glanced timidly at me, and her cheeks turned rosy. Then she dropped her gaze and wiggled her toes. “Would you consider playing hooky with me?” “Huh?” “I heard from Hiina…that you did it with her, before.” She had to mean the time Fushimi and I got off the train at that unfamiliar station and went to the beach. After a moment she continued, “Ahh… Actually, scratch that. Sorry. I was just having fun talking to you and blurted that out.” She tried to smooth things over with a smile and hurried past me. “Torigoe,” I said. She stopped at the sound of my voice, but she didn’t turn around. “I’d be happy to play hooky with you.” Fushimi would grumble about it later, but I wasn’t a model student to begin with. “Moron.” She turned around, and I saw a troubled smile on her face. “You can’t be late to class, Prez,” she said and sped away. Most of our classmates were in their seats by the time we arrived, and a few turned to look at us, thinking we were the teacher. Once they recognized us, however, they went right back to chatting. Fushimi was in her seat staring intently at what appeared to be a screenplay. She didn’t realize we were back. “So what’s the part?” I asked. “Oh, Ryou,” she said. “Hi. It’s an original play, and the part is pretty big.” “Oh good!” said Torigoe. “Sounds like you won’t have to do some weird two-bit part.” “Duh. They wouldn’t need to ask for help if it was just some background character.” Torigoe was joking, but it seemed we’d had nothing to worry about. Fushimi said the drama club had done an original story last year, too. I’d never gone to see them, so I had no idea. “The screenplay makes it sound pretty entertaining,” said Fushimi. “Now I’m curious,” I said. “Sorry, but no spoilers allowed.” I frowned, and Fushimi giggled. “I’ll be going to the drama club after school today and reading through the script, so you can head home without me.” “Okay.” Fushimi looked extremely serious—her face as she read the script was practically burning with motivation. “Then I shall accompany you home. Be grateful,” announced Himeji arrogantly. Later, on the way home, I muttered, “Fushimi’s really into it, huh?” “Her earnestness is her strength,” Himeji replied. “Though it also makes her easier to break.” This remark showed how well Himeji knew the other girl—as expected from a childhood friend. “I simply pray the drama club isn’t left wishing they’d asked me instead,” she added, smirking. She must have been picturing just such a scenario. “It sounds like she’ll be playing the secondary heroine. Personally, I think she’s better suited to that kind of role than you are.” “Are you saying I couldn’t do it?” Himeji furrowed her brow. “No. I just meant that when filming you, I noticed you have a sort of glow. I think you’d have a hard time playing second fiddle.” “Y-you think so…?!” Her lips curved into a smile. “I think you would be a better choice if they were looking for the main role.” Back when Himeji was chosen for the musical, I’d felt bad for Fushimi. After all, she was good at singing and dancing, too. But as I continued filming the school festival short, I came to understand the glow Himeji had on-screen. Mr. Matsuda told me later that they’d also prioritized Himeji’s preexisting résumé, though, and I did think that was unfair. “You have your own strengths, Himeji,” I said. Just like Fushimi has hers. “Wh-what’s this all of a sudden? Why are you trying to butter me up, you fool?” Embarrassed and happy, she started slapping me gently. “I can’t believe you’re so weak to praise, despite that huge ego of yours,” I muttered. Himeji, meanwhile, put on a triumphant smile and turned in the opposite direction from her house. “Let’s go get pancakes,” she declared. “My treat!” … “Himeji…I’m starting to worry about your professional future.” “Huh? Why?” “Well, you’re…a little too easy to please.” “Wh-what?!” “I didn’t say any of that because I was hoping you’d treat me to pancakes…” “I know. I just thought…I’d see if I could get some more out of you.” She suddenly turned meek, which, unfortunately for me, only made her seem cuter. “You never give empty flattery. I know that. So to hear you say that stuff about me…” Himeji closed her mouth without finishing her sentence. After a moment I said, “Then I suppose I shall accompany you for pancakes. Be grateful.” I smiled and signaled her to keep walking. “What a smug brat you are.” “I learned from the best.” “I won’t pay for anything over one thousand yen.” “Wow, that’s double what I’d imagined.” “On what planet can you get pancakes for five hundred yen?” Himeji cheerily led me away in search of some place where we could get pancakes. “By the way, this is a date,” she announced. It is? I wondered if it looked that way to those around us. Moments later, she added, “I know it’s my fault, but now that I’ve said that, I’m starting to tense up…” Way to shoot yourself in the foot, Himeji. We entered a trendy-looking café full of high school girls from the surrounding area. And when they saw us, a bunch of them started talking. “Look, she brought a man.” “I’m so jealous…” “Is she here to show off?” “I want a BF, too!” Himeji kept quiet while they showed us to our table. We sat across from each other, and she covered her smile. “You’re not actually my boyfriend, though,” she muttered. She kept from looking at me as she played with her hair. Her loafers, however, were practically glued to my sneakers. After a while, she got used to the other girls’ gazes and returned to her usual self. The girl from planet Praise-Hungry made me list thirty of her most appealing traits. Though it might be more accurate to say she squeezed them out of me. “It seems like you really care for me, Ryou.” I returned her smirk with a wry smile. “You made me say all that.” “You wouldn’t have come up with that many if you didn’t already think they were true.” Himeji rested her chin on her hands, jolly to the end. She gave me no chance to argue. “Well, I wouldn’t make a stop on the way home like this with someone I disliked.” “Oh? I—I see………” Himeji looked down and seemed to shrink in on herself. “Hey…,” she said. “I heard that, at this school, they have couples volunteer for the closing dance at the festival.” “Oh, that. Yeah.” It was an unofficial event run by the student executive committee every year. It was kind of a tradition, so they’d probably do it this year, too. But since it was unofficial, anyone who didn’t want to participate could just go home, as I had done the year before. “Do you have a partner for that, Ryou?” she asked. “Umm, how was it?” I looked away from the driver’s seat where Mr. Matsuda sat and toward the side-view mirror. I was too scared to face his reaction. His luxury sedan ran smoothly and quietly as it decelerated. I looked ahead and saw the light turn red. Mr. Matsuda had said he wanted to see the completed school festival film, so I’d sent him the file. “What perspective do you want me to give you, Ry?” “What do you mean?” I met his eyes through the gap in his fancy sunglasses. “Do you want the perspective of a regular audience member, the perspective of a professional, or my own personal perspective?” “The least harsh one.” He giggled before lightly pressing down on the gas pedal once again. “Boooring.” Boring’s fine. I’m not mentally strong enough to ask for someone’s opinion when I know it’s going to be scathing. Lately, I’d been doing less desk work at the office; instead, Mr. Matsuda was taking me with him to shoots and the like. We were currently on the way to the studio to watch another idol group from our agency film a music video. I asked whether an amateur like me should even be there, and Mr. Matsuda told me to look at it as an educational field trip. I was getting paid for it, too, for which I was exceedingly grateful. We arrived and entered a different room than we had last time. A few people greeted Mr. Matsuda upon seeing him. Although he was idiosyncratic, for lack of a better word, Mr. Matsuda was a master of communication. Not only could he keep a conversation running smoothly no matter who he was talking to, but he could also bring it to a close at the perfect time. He remembered everyone’s name and face, and even their background. I was constantly taken aback by just how amazing he was. We walked down a hallway and passed several greenrooms. They shot TV shows and movies here, too, and plates with names I didn’t recognize were hung beside each door. So far, there were no actors or idols I could brag about seeing in the flesh. But then I saw the name beside the door at the end of the hallway: SATOMI ASHIHARA. “Hmm?” Hmmmm?? I did a double take. Then a triple take. Satomi Ashihara… “What’s wrong, Ry? Let’s go.” “Huh? Oh yeah.” I followed Mr. Matsuda away, but my mind was stuck on that nameplate. Fushimi’s mother, Satomi Ashihara. She’d divorced Fushimi’s father almost immediately and had barely met her daughter since. My mom said the neighbors hadn’t thought well of her. Apparently, her reputation as a mother was the exact opposite of her renown as an actress. As I’d told Himeji the other day, I also had a negative impression of her, though I wasn’t sure why. I don’t have to drop by and say hi, right? I doubt she even remembers some random kid Fushimi was friends with. We opened the studio’s door and went inside. They were already preparing for the shoot. The director ran up to Mr. Matsuda, and they began talking about the props and how to evoke the proper mood. All the while, behind-the-scenes staff were carrying out their tasks. This was a real, professional workplace. I had no idea what Mr. Matsuda wanted out of the music video, but there were a lot of retakes, and he had a lot of comments for the stars. Eventually it was time for a break, and Mr. Matsuda handed me a hundred-yen coin and told me to go get something to drink. I left the room and headed to the paper cup drink dispenser I’d seen on the way in. As I did so, I noticed a woman heading to the same machine from farther down the hallway. Our eyes met. The last time I’d seen her was on a TV drama, but I knew right away it was Satomi Ashihara. She must have been in her forties, but she somehow looked like a young woman in her late twenties. Was it her makeup? My mom didn’t look that young even with makeup, though. Maybe it had something to do with her features. …Like mother, like daughter, huh? She looked like Fushimi. Or should I say Fushimi looked like her? She arrived at the machine first and inserted a coin. She glanced at me; maybe I was staring too hard. “U-um, are you Ms. Ashihara?” I asked. The simple question already had me sweating. It felt like I’d just gone into the faculty room at school knowing I was about to be yelled at. “Yes?” I thought she’d be more taken aback by some random boy trying to talk to her, but she wasn’t. Instead, her face seemed to cloud over, and she hesitated a moment before pasting on a fake smile. “I’m Hina Fushimi’s childhood friend,” I said. “My name is Ryou Takamori.” “Oh, so I was right. I was just thinking it might be you.” Her fake smile vanished, replaced by a soft, nostalgic glint in her eyes. “You recognized me…?” “Yes. After all, you look just like Shinra… Like your father.” Oh right. She was childhood friends with my dad. She was extremely charming, and it wasn’t just her looks. She was gracious, mild, and gentle. And even though she never raised her voice, her every word came out clear and crisp. Perhaps that was just part of being a professional actor. Surely she must have been even more charming before she divorced, so why had I found her so scary? She asked how I was doing, why I was at the studio, if I was still friends with Fushimi, and so on and so forth. Then she pointed at the vending machine. “Want a drink?” she asked. “Oh, no need. I was already handed money for it.” “Please. Let me.” I gave in, and she bought me juice. “Have you seen a picture of your dad when he was young?” she asked. “You really look just like him.” “That much?” I said, then realized this was a perfect opportunity to ask the question on my mind. “By the way, did you know Hina is taking acting lessons?” “Of course. I talk to her father on occasion, and he told me.” It was only a guess on my part, but I figured Fushimi had watched her mother’s films as a way of getting to know her. “I told him he should talk her out of it, but it sounds like he wants to support her.” She sighed. “The industry isn’t the dreamlike paradise they paint it as. I have no idea how or why she ended up doing such a thing.” How could she say that? Over the past few months, Fushimi had learned firsthand how ruthless the industry was. And yet not only had she continued taking lessons, she’d practically leaped at the chance to help out the drama club. She would’ve given up long ago if the harsh reality of show business was enough to make her quit. But she was still trying hard to move forward and doing her best. “You should try telling her to quit, too,” Ms. Ashihara continued. “Maybe she’d listen to you.” How could I? And why would I want to? I nearly said as much out loud. I had to focus to keep my mouth shut. “There are lots of things in the world that it would be better to give up on,” she said. She didn’t sound like a mother worried about her daughter. Instead, her words sounded like the cold opinion of a third party, far removed from the situation at hand. I forcefully steered the conversation back to what I’d wanted to discuss. “We’ll be showing a short film we made at the school festival, with Hina in the main role. She’ll also be participating in a play. She’s rehearsing hard for it.” “I see.” It sounded like she didn’t care at all. “Please go see her,” I said, looking straight into her eyes as she tried to look away. “Do you still like her?” I felt my face flush at her question, which only made me more embarrassed. “No—it’s not that—really—I mean—” I spoke quickly, and my words blurred together. She looked taken aback, before putting on a smile. “Hee-hee. You’re pretty cute.” “No, really. Seriously.” Why am I trying so hard to deny it? Why not just say “no” and move on? “Anyway, as I was saying… If you have the time…could you please go see her?” I told her the date, and she glanced down at her expensive-looking watch. “I’m busy, I can’t. And I’m sure she doesn’t want to see me.” She turned around, paper cup in hand, and started to walk away. “I’ve never heard her say she resents her mother!” I called after her. Without showing the slightest reaction, she continued back the way she’d come and disappeared. I gulped down my juice and threw the cup away before returning to the studio. Once there, I gave Mr. Matsuda his one hundred yen back. He was sitting on a chair beside the main camera, drinking canned coffee. “You can have this back,” I said. “Why? You didn’t get a drink?” “I ran into Satomi Ashihara at the machine, and she paid for me.” “Oh right. The girl’s here today.” “The girl?” “That’s what I call her. We’ve known each other for more than ten years, you see.” Mr. Matsuda sure had acquaintances in the most unexpected places. Apparently, they met during a shoot back when he was working as a model. The fact that he’d been a model was news to me, and I wound up more surprised by that. “So she just treated a random boy to a drink? She must’ve been in a good mood.” “I know her, actually.” I gave him the rundown. “…Oh, so she’s Fushimi’s mom. I knew she had a kid, but she never talked about it.” “I see. About that, Fushimi’s been working hard rehearsing for a play to be performed at the school festival. I think it’s because of Ms. Ashihara that she wants to be an actress.” “And?” “Could you ask Ms. Ashihara to come to the school festival? If she’s free, that is.” Mr. Matsuda cackled. “No way.” “Wha…? Why?” “Sticking your nose into other families’ business never ends well. I told you she never talked to me about her daughter. I doubt she’d start now just because I asked.” He has a point. “You shouldn’t meddle in other people’s affairs. But I understand you care a lot about Fushimi.” “No, no. We aren’t talking about that.” “Yes, of course,” he said, brushing aside my objections. “If Fushimi explicitly wants her mother to come see her, then I might agree to help.” I guess I have been making a lot of assumptions. I hadn’t asked Fushimi about her mother directly. As I’d told Ms. Ashihara, I’d never heard Fushimi speak badly of her… But what did she really think? Fushimi’s not the type to hide how she feels, so I’m sure she would have said something by now if she really hated her mother… “Satomi’s really pretty, right?” said Mr. Matsuda, interrupting my thoughts. “Well, yes. Celebrities are really something else.” “So you’re into cougars, eh, Ry?” “Why would you think that?!” And anyway, if she looked like a twenty-something, did she even count as a cougar? That said, I was a little scared of how charmed I’d been when she said, “Hee-hee. You’re pretty cute.” “She’s even your friend’s mother. A dream situation for all MILF enjoyers.” “Please stop talking like I’m into MILFs and cougars. I never said that.” Mr. Matsuda laughed maniacally between sips of coffee. After that, I secured his promise that he would help if Fushimi truly wanted Ms. Ashihara to come see her perform. “I’ll try,” he said, “but I can’t do anything if she’s busy that day, okay?” “I understand.” If Ms. Ashihara wanted to see her daughter perform, the school festival play wouldn’t be her last chance. She would have plenty more opportunities in the future. “So, what do you plan to do after high school, Ry?” “Excuse me?” I froze. Mr. Matsuda and I had serious discussions sometimes, but he’d never asked me that before. “I guess I’ll go to college…” I had promised Fushimi we’d go to the same school, though I had no idea which one that would be, or what I’d be studying. “Since you’ve continued helping us out even after summer break, I was thinking you might as well join us.” Then, under his breath, he whispered, “But college would be the best option, of course.” Apparently, he hadn’t been as serious as I’d thought. The midmorning shoot continued well into the evening, after which Mr. Matsuda took me home. After seeing off the luxury sedan (which stuck out like a sore thumb in my neighborhood), I called Fushimi on the phone. “What’s up?” she asked. “Do you have time to talk right now?” “Hmm? Sure.” She was at home. I told her where I’d gone for work that day, and the conversation naturally led to how I’d met Ms. Ashihara. “…I see.” When I heard the tension in her voice, I realized this wasn’t a good topic to discuss over the phone. I said I’d come over and hung up. A few minutes later, I rang her doorbell, and she popped her head out a window. “Come in,” she said. I waved at her and entered. Just in case, I knocked before barging into her room. She gave me the okay, and I opened the door. “Picking up where we left off…” I went over everything that had happened that day. I explained how I’d run into Ms. Ashihara, and that she knew Fushimi wanted to be an actress, and that Mr. Matsuda was friends with her. “I’ve never asked you about your mom, so I was wondering what you think of her.” According to Fushimi, she and her mother had rarely even met, so I figured it wasn’t as simple as liking or disliking her. “Is it because of her that you want to be an actress?” Fushimi quietly hugged a cushion for a moment, then nodded slightly. “I told you I wanted to become an actress after I saw my first play, and that’s true. But my mother is also part of the reason.” “Let’s have her come see the short film and the play,” I suggested. She shook her head. “No, no. Really, there’s no need. I’m sure she’s busy, and seeing an amateur’s acting would only be painful for her…” Fushimi buried her face in the cushion, as if trying to run away from the subject. “You don’t know that,” I said. “I do!” “Why? Did she say that to you?” Fushimi kept her face against the cushion and began shaking her head. Then you don’t know what she’d think of your acting. “The reviewers liked you in the short. I think you should be more confident.” Fushimi flinched at the memory. “Why are you so intent on showing her my acting?” It was an obvious question. Her relationship with her mother had nothing to do with me. “I just thought you would want to show your skills to someone you consider special, no matter what they might think afterward.” When her father came to parents’ day in elementary school, Fushimi would always raise her hand at every question, flustering even her teachers. That was just the kind of girl she was. I’d known this about her forever. She wasn’t the type to hide—she tackled things head-on and wasn’t afraid to show her stuff. And that was why it felt strange to me that she was being so timid now. “…I barely remember my mom, and my grandma never had anything good to say about her. So I’m a little scared.” I listened in silence as she continued. “I never talked about my mom partly because I have no memory of her. That, and because everyone had such a bad impression of her. I was afraid you’d feel the same… But she’s really amazing.” “I know. She’s so pretty.” Fushimi chuckled; that clearly wasn’t what she’d meant. “That, too, but I was talking about her acting.” She said she started watching her mother’s films out of curiosity. She’d wanted to know what she was like, and little by little, she began to admire her work. She spoke fervently and without pause, as though talking about her favorite movie. It really was just as I’d thought. No matter what others said, and even if she didn’t have any memory of her, Fushimi was proud to be Ms. Ashihara’s daughter. “She’s a talented actress first, and my mom second, so I’d feel bad taking up her time just to show her my acting…” It was rare to hear Fushimi say something so negative. But this just proved how sensitive a topic it was for her. “I can say with confidence that my short film and the one we made for the school festival are good enough to show to other people. And I think your acting is a big reason for that.” Fushimi finally looked up. “But I’m not even good enough to pass auditions. You’re just biased because you’re my friend.” She looked deep into my eyes and waited for me to reply. “Even if I’m biased, other people have praised your acting and stage presence.” I wondered just how similar childhood friends could be. Even though we’d been estranged for a while, it seemed we still thought the same way. She was talking just like I had before shooting the school festival short. “That’s just because your movie was well planned and I happened to fit the role… I’m happy about the positive reception, but I’m sure you would’ve won that prize even without me.” “That’s not true.” Even with some experience, and despite the praise of our friends and those around us, we feared the judgment of others and turned gloomy and pessimistic. She reminded me of how I’d been not too long ago, and I found myself wanting to do for her what she’d done for me back then. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m here to back you up.” Fushimi’s face scrunched up, and tears began to form in her eyes. They rolled down her cheeks like shooting stars. “You sound really cool and all, but that won’t work.” “I was able to make those films thanks to your support. I wouldn’t be going to the studio with Mr. Matsuda if it weren’t for you.” Fushimi wiped at her tears, but they wouldn’t stop. I sat by her side, and she wrapped her arms around me gently. I patted her head as she continued to sob. “I—I want Mom to be proud of me just like I am of her…” She’d set up a hurdle for herself, and now she was afraid she wouldn’t make it over. I knew how that felt. But hurdles like this couldn’t be judged from a distance. You had to run up to them before you could tell how tall they really were. There were a lot of things like that in life, as I knew well from experience. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” I said. “And if there is, you can ask her. She is a pro, after all. She could probably teach you a thing or two.” Fushimi looked up at me, and I grinned. “Let’s show her how awesome you are,” I said. “…If she thinks I’m terrible, will you console me?” She looked up at me uneasily, and I smiled back at her. “I doubt it’ll come to that. But if it does, I’ll do whatever it takes to cheer you up.” “It’s a promise, then. I’ll do my best to impress her.” Fushimi steeled herself. “Though I guess we don’t know if she’ll even show up yet.” “Ryou… Could you try not to rain on my parade?” “Oops.” I apologized, and Fushimi giggled.