“I don’t have any cushions,” Aina told him, “so sit wherever you want.”
“O-Okay...” Kai sat down, and the grassy smell of tatami blended in with Aina’s usual sweet aroma (though that was a given, considering this was her room) and wafted into his nose.
“Uhhhm...” Aina opened her drawer to retrieve a tripod stand for her smartphone. As she was about to set her phone onto it, she froze. “Hm?”
“...Is there something wrong?” he asked.
“No, I usually stand my phone up for this, but I forgot I don’t have to do that since you’re here today,” she explained. “Here.”
“Uh, what?” The smartphone Kai accepted had been paused in the middle of an anime. He recognized the show as being a recent hit about a group of high schoolers who were trapped in a wish-granting mirror. He recognized the UI, as well; she was using a subscription streaming service.
“What are you doing?” Growing impatient, Aina’s hand stretched into view and tapped the screen. Of course, that caused the anime to play, and the characters’ voices echoed throughout the room.
“Uhh...”
“Pay attention,” she urged. She watched the screen intently until the scene ended, at which point she tapped the screen again. “Alright!”
Suddenly, Aina shot back up to her feet and took a step away, twirling back to face Kai on the tips of her toes. Her smug grin was clearly designed to provoke, but—drip, a single droplet rippled out to overwrite her expression in an instant. Kai held his breath. He felt that even the sound of a gulp would get in her way, so he silenced himself entirely. His hands were frozen and he didn’t so much as dare to blink as he watched her.
“‘I prayed within that mirror.’” A beautiful sound reverberated amidst the silence, and Kai realized all at once that the sound had come from Aina; that the sound was a line of dialogue; and that the line belonged to the heroine from the scene they had just watched.
The memories of the anime were rapidly replaced with Aina’s voice, but it wasn’t just her voice, either. Every fiber of her being, from her emotive expressions to the tips of her fingers, played a part in her sublime performance. Kai had never seen her work as a child actress, and it had felt wrong to watch an online recording behind her back. He had never paid much attention to anyone’s acting skills before, so he knew his opinion was uninformed... but after seeing it with his own eyes?
Without a doubt, she’s worthy of being called a genius. In fact, Kai was so moved that he had forgotten that he was in a desolate six-tatami-mat room.
“‘I know it’s only a reflection—a fake... Can’t you let me have this one, real wish?’”
Kai felt his soul tug away from his body. If this were a manga, he felt, then he was sure his soul would be slinking out of his mouth; her act was that enchanting.
“Hey,” Aina cut her own portrayal off abruptly, and that was the cue for the magic to end. That had been the last line in the scene they watched. “I practice... or more like, compete like this all the time... How was it?”
Kai could tell she wasn’t testing him. She was serious—perhaps even darkly so—and her gaze and tone of voice clearly conveyed that message.
“That... That was amazing. That was amazing! Honestly!” Kai didn’t have time to pick and choose his words. If there was any risk of this state of wonder passing him by as he embellished his compliments, then he wanted to go ahead and lay his sentiments out while they were still raw.
It was amazing. It was amazing. Her voice, her expressions, her mannerisms—her performance was emphatic down to the tips of her fingers. There was a real possibility that Kai was simply impressed due to his untrained eye. But there was no greater truth than the fact that his heart had been touched, here and now.
“...You know,” Aina began tightly. She had seemed quite happy at Kai’s first outburst, but her mood soured more and more as he pointed out her acting. “I want to be a voice actress.” Her pale hand had balled up into a fist, and was shaking ever so slightly. “You keep talking about my expressions and mannerisms... but I don’t need any of those! When I asked you, ‘How was it?’ I was asking if my voice was better than the voice actress in the anime!”
After a beat of silence, Aina herself seemed to regret having raised her voice. “Sorry,” she apologized into the corner of the room.
“...Why does it have to be voice acting?” Kai wanted to know, because Yozakura Aina was extraordinarily beautiful. Her presence alone would steal people’s gazes. She didn’t need to lift a muscle to exert her pressure, and mere eye contact with her was enough to send a heart into overdrive.
Kai was glad they didn’t share a classroom, because he was sure the boys in her class couldn’t help but unconsciously steal glances her way all day long. She was like a vampire in a fantasy novel, capable of magically charming anyone in her path; a person like that was capable of such bewitching acting.
It wasn’t as though Kai wanted to devalue voice-based work. He himself was a great fan of games and anime. He couldn’t count the number of times he had been moved, saddened, cheered up, and brought to tears by the skilled voice actors behind the scenes.
But all that having been said, she had so much talent that he had to ask, Why?
Aina approached him with a tip-tap in her step and lunged at him, her face a razor’s edge away from his. With the casual annoyance of someone tossing away her trash, she asked, “I’m beautiful, aren’t I?
“I don’t need an answer. I know. I know... better than anyone else. But you see,” she continued, her right hand creeping up to grab Kai by the collar. They were close enough for their hair to be touching when she finally whispered, “I hate that ‘beauty’ more than anything in the world.” Her heart screamed those quiet words into his ear.
“It’s readyyy!” her grandmother’s call echoed obtusely.
“...Lunch is ready.” Aina’s grip loosened and the slim fingers around his neck slid away. “Forget it,” she muttered quietly, and, like a cat, slipped out of the room alone.