“NONOKA and Miyu did eventually become the best of friends, much like real sisters,” Shizuki said.
We were in her room. She’d just finished recounting that tragic episode from Nonoka’s past. Her leisurely figure sitting across from the coffee table was…blurry, for lack of a better word.
“Heavens, Mio, are you crying?” she asked me. “Just what about that story was worth crying over?”
Despite her apparent exasperation with me, she still handed me a handkerchief. Dabbing away the tears, I tried my best to convey my feelings. “I didn’t know she had such a tragic past.”
“What? I told you her parents died in an accident, didn’t I?”
“You did, but… Wait. I thought you said she lived with her relatives?”
“She did. She stayed at the orphanage for about a month before her relatives came to pick her up.”
“They… They picked up Miyu too, right?”
“No? The two were separated.”
“Whaaat?!” I exclaimed at the top of my lungs. After that heart-wrenching episode, nothing more came of it than a brief month together?!
“It’s all right. It’s not as if they never talked to each other again. They write to each other regularly. They’re still close to this day.”
“That’s not all right at all! If anyone even tried to tear me away from my sister, I’d never forgive them!”
Shizuki raised an eyebrow. “Is this your way of telling me you resent me for separating you from Shizuku?”
A strangled whimper escaped my throat. “N-No… I feel nothing but utmost gratitude and respect for the woman who extended a helping hand to someone in need…”
Her mouth flattened into a dry smile. “You needn’t tiptoe around me. I’m well aware of what I did.”
I thought I’d been making an ironic joke, but Shizuki seemed to take it rather seriously. I tried to clarify but was cut off. “Yes. The two are close, but Miyu is sick.”
“What?!” I slammed both hands down on the coffee table and jutted myself forward, my face just stopping short of Shizuki’s nose. A little sister sick was a tale too close for comfort!
“Relax. It’s not uncurable or anything.”
“Really?”
“She just needs a simple operation to correct the issue.”
“That’s a relief…”
If Miyu had been in a similar situation to Shizuku, I wasn’t sure how I would’ve reacted. If Nonoka had been in a similar situation to me, I wasn’t sure how I would’ve reacted. But thankfully, that wasn’t the case. I calmed down and reseated myself.
“Now that I think about it, Shizuku’s sick, Ruri too, and now Nonoka’s little sister as well?”
“That is, um…” Shizuki seemed unwilling to continue her train of thought.
“What?” I prodded.
“Remember how I told you this world is based on an otome game?”
“Yes? But I don’t see how that is relevant.”
“You see, the thing about writing an interesting script is that there are only so many ways one can go about it. A common approach is to layer multiple storylines that share a common theme.”
“You mean repeating the same story beat over and over again?”
“Essentially, yes. People cannot emotionally connect with something they find unfamiliar. The flip side of that is if they do encounter something that resonates with their own experiences, the emotional connection can be profound. As an example of that, how did you react to hearing about Miyu’s illness just now?”
“That’s… That’s true,” I admitted quietly, falling into reflection.
Why had I leaned in so intensely just then, hands pressed against the table? If it had been some random person’s sickness, I doubt I’d have blinked. Maybe a slight twinge of sympathy for an acquaintance, but nothing more. My reaction was intense because I could see myself in Nonoka’s shoes. I can empathize with her because I am going through something similar.
“I see your point in personal experience being crucial to creating an emotional response, but what do you mean by ‘layering’ these stories?” I asked.
“How do you create that personal connection when there isn’t one? In the absence of a pertinent real-life experience to draw from, you can create that experience through the story.”
“In other words, cultivate a sort of pseudo-personal connection by way of the narrative?”
“That’s it. Of course, the risk is that you might overuse a story beat and wear it out. Though…”
“Though?”
Shizuki let out a chuckle. “Given how long trends tend to last in video games and manga, I’d say that isn’t much of a concern.”
I looked at her, my eyes widening as the realization dawned on me. “Ohhh, so that pseudo-connection cultivated in one story can carry over to another and so on.” Thinking on it, even the game that this world was based on incorporated the ubiquitous villainess in its story. However, a discrepancy stood out to me. “But Shizuku and I aren’t characters that show up in the game, are we?”
To which, Shizuki shot down my “Shizuku being sick might not have been a coincidence” theory in an instant. “Mio. How many people are sick at any given time on this planet, do you think?”
A lot, I suppose.
“As I was saying,” she resumed, “Miyu just needs to have that surgery and she’ll be as good as new. She currently lacks the courage to. Thus, the next arc of Nonoka’s story is her doing everything in her power to give Miyu the push she needs.”
“Doing all she can to save her sister—that sounds a lot like me.”
“It does, doesn’t it? The two eventually exchange a promise: If Nonoka’s class is the overall victor at the upcoming school Sports Day, Miyu will have the surgery.”
“But Nonoka can’t win the entire event by herself,” I murmured, “she needs her class for that. Which means…” Nonoka must garner the support of her class—my class. The class that teems with Corporate Legacy students—pompous, self-important Corporate Legacy students…
“Indeed. The Corporate Legacy students—especially the ladies—do not assign any importance to the school’s Sports Day. To quote one of them, it’s nothing more than a dreadful chore they must suffer through.”
“I…don’t like where this is going.”
Shizuki seemed to be making subtle yet overt references toward a single female member of the Corporate Legacy student body, but quickly assuaged my concerns: “Relax, Mio. The villainess is little more than a background character in the Sports Day arc. She grumbles, of course, about the sweat, dirt, and effort, but after a bit of pointed provocation from Ruki and the others, she tries just as hard as any other. You needn’t even sabotage Nonoka this time. You can try as hard as you want so long as you pretend to be uninterested.”
“I see!” I exclaimed, suddenly excited. It was a tiny shame that I couldn’t overtly support Nonoka’s efforts, but it was leaps and bounds better than antagonizing her for them.
I remember feeling relief in that moment, comforted by the idea that the villainess I was playing wasn’t as heartless a character as I’d thought. To be honest, I wasn’t sure why I’d thought this. Perhaps I was so glad to not play such a comic book villain for once, so eager to be faced with a task that seemed manageable for once that I’d forgotten one crucial detail:
Since when has anything ever gone according to plan since I started this whole thing?