Harajuku’s eyes opened wide. Her gaze was filled with respect and awe, and I felt myself shrink.
The surrounding female students began to squeal and gossip among themselves. This was the boy they’d all heard about? Their eyes were fixed on me with curiosity.
“Ah, no, the one who was scouted was my little sister.”
“Yes, I understand that, but being allowed to attend this school without a performing arts talent… That’s impressive! That either means Shiika’s talent really is so very impressive, or it could mean that you yourself have something very special about you!”
“Oh, ha-ha…”
What could I do but laugh it off? What a thing to suggest. A baseless thing. Letting it slide didn’t feel great, though.
“Well, at any rate, it sounds like you’ve created an interesting team there.”
Now that the general mood was in our favor, Shibuya continued with the negotiations.
“The dance video for the final exam. We’d like you to design and make the costumes…”
“Whoa,” the crowd gasped.
Azusa Harajuku and Erio Shibuya. The two top stars of their respective departments… Them teaming up… It was tantalizing news.
“I see, so that’s what’s up…”
Harajuku tapped her cheek, nodding.
But then, she furrowed her brow, deep in thought.
“Ah, this is difficult. It’s a very attractive proposal, of course. There’s just one problem…”
“A problem?”
“Do you know a student named Ryan Sengoku?”
“Er… Uh, yes, of course. Wait, you mean…?”
“Yes. His group has also asked me to provide outfits.”
Hey, hey, was she serious?
The Sengoku camp must have approached Harajuku with the same idea as us. And they’d beat us to the punch. Ah, I really was useless.
“We haven’t talked face-to-face yet, but he seems to be friends with a girl in the Fashion Department. Kind of a friend-of-a-friend situation.”
“Darn it! Networking, of course!” I shouted.
One of the most unreasonable parts of the entertainment world.
The advantages of being a cool guy who can get along with a lot of girls… No, don’t cry. Darn it.
“I mean, today. During lunch, they’re going to come here.”
Harajuku spoke as if she’d just remembered this arrangement.
“Hey, you’re Azusa Harajuku, right?”
A wild sort of voice filled the heavily female-populated room with male pheromones.
A large, muscular guy stood there. He must have been well over five nine, but his build made him look even bigger. He wore a jet-black jacket in some shiny fabric, his broad chest seeming like it was about to burst out of it.
His hair was cut short, giving him an energetic vibe. His features were well-defined, and he had a dignified face, implying a strength of will.
“Ryan Sengoku…!” Shibuya muttered the man’s name.
I’d seen videos and streams of him, of course, but the real Sengoku looked many times bigger in person than on a phone screen.
“Hmm? I thought there were some odd mismatches in this classroom… Music Department students, are they?”
“Just inconvenient timing, I guess. Besides, it hasn’t been officially decided yet that I’ll provide the costumes.”
“Ha, I see. Well, you should have these two leave. You don’t want to go getting mixed up with riffraff. Think how that will degrade your status as a designer.”
Oh, yikes.
The moment I heard Sengoku’s intimidating words, I had a bad feeling…and slowly looked to my side.
“…”
As expected, Shibuya was trembling with silent rage.
“Hey, none of that. There’s no need to get belligerent…,” I said.
“Riffraff?! You’ve got to be joking, you… You darn delinquent!”
I was too laaaaaate!
I was a hair too late to keep Shibuya from blowing up, and now she was doing that dinosaur roar that only a diva can produce.
Sengoku was two heads taller than her, but that didn’t scare her as she charged right at him.
“Oh, pipe down, you crazy, screeching woman. There was no lie in what I said, now, was there?”
“Don’t underestimate us. You can’t beat our numbers, you know. We’re headed right to the top of the Music Department! You’d better recognize!”
“Numbers? Have you no shame, Erio Shibuya? Aren’t you embarrassed to be crowing over mere numbers? And you call yourself an artiste?”
“Guh…”
Shibuya seemed to be at a loss for words.
Seeing her reaction, Sengoku grinned.
“You’ve entrenched yourself in the mindset of this shitty, numbers-obsessed school. How pathetic. Artists are supposed to express themselves. They must inspire themselves and their peers. Numbers? Mere popularity? I care nothing about that. I care nothing for the opinions of those who can’t appreciate true art. Right, Harajuku? Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, that’s right… It’s true that you need numbers to survive the examination…but you can’t forget what it is you truly need: your soul.”
This ain’t good, I thought.
Sengoku and Harajuku were totally on the same page here.
Viewed from the outside of the conversation…Shibuya’s inferiority was plain to see.
At this rate, Harajuku might end up favoring Sengoku.
Talking about his obsession with art, all the while wearing the face of a rebel, a delinquent… Quite a contrast.
I’d thought it’d be an easy enough victory if I just left everything to Shibuya, but now that she was getting herself all steamed up, I knew I couldn’t just let her run loose.
“Um, Harajuku? As a designer…that means you want to show off the best possible designs, right?”
Harajuku gave me a natural-seeming smile just as I entered the conversation for the first time.
“I don’t really have a particular idea of who I want to work with, or in what department. I just want to team up with someone who fits my vibe and who can benefit me. Someone who can complement my work.”
“Well, that’s not something that can be determined just by the superficial humanity of this place… Or at least, that’s how I see it. What do you think?”
“Hmm, you’re right. I guess it’ll ultimately come down to the type of stream, the kind of dance that will be uploaded…”
“How long will it take to make your decision?”
“Hmm… Maybe a week or so.”
“Then one week from now…how about having the two teams—Team Shibuya and Team Sengoku—make their case to you again?”
“Hmm. Yes, that would make it easier for me to decide.”
“…So then. Shibuya, Sengoku.”
I turned to the pair, who were shooting daggers at each other with their eyes.
“Fighting here will solve nothing. That’s not how she’s going to make her decision. We should all withdraw and wait for her to make her decision by herself.”
“Gakuto…” Shibuya said.
“It’s okay. We have a week, and we have both you and Shiika on our team. If Harajuku thinks we’re the real deal, she’ll choose us for sure.”
I went for baseless confidence. The truth is, though, I just wanted out of this situation. And I wasn’t above using some cheap words to get there.
Facing off against Sengoku with the look of a rabid dog, Shibuya retracted her fangs, though she did so with reluctance.
“All right. But there’s no way I’m letting this guy beat me.”
“Huh. You’re just stalling for time, but the result will be the same either way. There’s no way my team’s gonna lose.”
Sengoku’s words oozed confidence. His gaze shifted from Shibuya to me, and he brought his bulk closer. His giant hand gripped my shoulder. I could feel my shoulder bones shrieking in protest against his formidable strength.
Sengoku brought his face close enough for me to see the vein on his forehead, and he spoke in a low, intimidating voice that only I could hear.
“It looks like you’re doing well with Ryuzetsuran on your side, but it doesn’t matter.”
“…”
“She doesn’t have soul. She’s a prim girl who managed to impress the masses, but her dancing won’t light any kind of fire in someone like Azusa Harajuku.”
He was like a beast claiming its territory. Intimidation tactics, using both physical and mental force to get the other person to surrender. It was something I’ve never been able to do, and it brought back bad memories from my junior high school days.
But things are different from then.
I never wanted to be the target of this kind of thing, but since I am now anyway, I’ll handle it. I girded my loins and clenched my fists.
Still meeting Sengoku’s sharp glare, I spat the following words (only I didn’t actually spit, of course):
“Your breath stinks. Get out of my face.”
“Huh? You jerk… You wanna fight?”
“Yeah, you’re pissing me off. Guys like you…only understand aggression. Talking about art but resorting to violence. You wanna throw down? Rock and roll. Right, Harajuku?”
“Guh!” Sengoku looked like he’d just been slapped.
He was staring at Azusa Harajuku, who was watching all this with a very calm expression.
At this very moment, she was deciding who was the right partner to entrust her work to.
If there was to be a fight in the Fashion Department classroom, well… She certainly wouldn’t be able to provide costuming for those responsible going forward.
No doubt realizing this, Sengoku clucked his tongue loudly and pulled away from me.
“I know what you look like now. Watch your back.”
“Good. I thrive on the attention of haters.”
I responded to Sengoku’s threat with some spicy words of my own.
For a moment, he looked utterly dumbfounded.
“…Shit!”
Then, with that final curse, he stomped angrily out of the classroom.
“Oh, I’m so annoyed! What the hell is that guy’s problem?!”
“Are you still talking about that? Anyway, we got the first step out of the way, so what else really matters?”
On the way back to the Music Department classroom, Shibuya exploded with anger as we walked along the hallway. She was so loud she actually shook the windows. I wondered how many decibels she was at.
This continued in our own classroom, with me trying to placate an irate Shibuya.
“Ah, the main character returns.”
Komae was the first to notice us.
Shiika and Akiba looked up then. The three of them seemed to have been chatting about nothing in particular at their usual seats. Shiika had her chin resting on the desk, and Akiba was fiddling with her phone, looking bored.
Shibuya and I sat, and Akiba put down her phone and leaned forward.
“What’s the result? Will the collaboration with Azusa Harajuku be going ahead?”
“I estimate our chances are fifty-fifty,” I said.
“Huh? What are you on about?”
“Ah, it’s a long story… Hmm? What is it, Shiika?”
Just as I was about to begin explaining, Shiika stood up and approached me.
Then she plonked herself down on my lap.
“Recharging.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Recently. Too much. Battery about to run out.”
“I know! I’m on the verge of a total breakdown myself!”
I was feeling battered and rattled, too, after my foray into the foreign country of the Fashion Department and that tense exchange.
The weight of Shiika, my cute and adorable little sister, had a soothing effect on my fractured mind.
“Oh, gah. As siblings, you two are WAY too close.”
Shibuya rolled her eyes at us, but she said it in a friendly, jokey tone with mild tolerance in her eyes.