3

“Attention, all—the show is about to begin. Class 1-B proudly presents Romeo and Juliet and the Return of the Prisoner King of Azkabum!”

At the sound of the echoing buzzer and announcement, a hush fell over the performance space. The lights dimmed, and the curtain concealing the stage began to rise silently. The darkness and quiet lingered just long enough to get the audience excited before the stage lights slammed on. Class 1-B’s play had begun.

“Ahh, what a bracing morning! The sun has awoken from its slumber and now brings light to my beautiful kingdom of Gondur!”

Garbed in an ornate prince costume, Neito Monoma projected his opening lines from a castle balcony. Hearing their cue, Nirengeki Shoda and Yosetsu Awase stepped through a facsimile of a door and appeared behind Monoma.

“Prince Romeo, exposing yourself to the elements in such light garb is just begging to catch cold,” said Shoda.

“And when that happens, it’ll be us, your retainers, who’ll be feeling the king’s wrath,” added Awase.

Monoma glanced toward the pair, who wore simple shirts and pants befitting their roles as humble retainers.

“My dear Froyo and Samwize. Ha ha ha, worry not about my father and his temper. I will always be here to protect you, so you really needn’t scold. Our deep friendship surpasses all notion of class and station, does it not? Why, we three bosom buddies snuck down to a tavern of ill repute for some fun last night!”

“But, Prince Romeo!” said Shoda. “If word of your escapades reaches the wrong ears, our very necks could be on the line!”

“You wanted to see how the lower classes live and, well, you very nearly coerced us into guiding you to town!” said Awase.

“Then we are accomplices. Not merely friends, but partners in crime whose fates are tied to one another. Ha ha ha ha!” said Monoma, his booming laugh earning a few smiles from the audience.

Hidden in the wings off stage left, stage director Juzo Honenuki observed the reaction and sighed in relief.

“Great. Let’s keep this up …”

The stage director was responsible for everything surrounding the production. As the one with the most critical behind-the-scenes role, the director had to comprehend every last detail of the play, be aware of each moving cog, and maintain a composed mind-set at all times. Though Romeo and Juliet and the Return of the Prisoner King of Azkabum was fundamentally a vehicle for Monoma, its script and planning had been put together by the entire class. Without both the onstage cast and the offstage crew, there would be no play.

Deeper in the wings, the narrow space was filled with additional set pieces, props, and costumes. Watching the stage were the crew members as well as performers waiting for their moment to step out of the shadows.

“But, well, this prince is supposed to be a decent guy, right? That’s how we wrote it, and that’s how he’s playing it, but when I see Monoma out there, I can’t help but think that this character’s totally a dirty rotten schemer. Maybe cuz I know him in real life?” said Sen Kaibara, the director’s assistant.

“Too true,” agreed Kosei Tsuburaba, a stagehand.

“So he ain’t holding anything back? Nothing wrong with that!” boomed Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu at his usual unreasonable volume, despite an earlier warning about backstage etiquette.

“Quiet, Tetsutetsu!” shot back everyone in unison.

“Sorry ‘bout that!” said Tetsutetsu just as loudly. He clapped his hands over his own mouth.

“Why don’t you wear your mask until it’s time to go out there?” suggested Honenuki, hoping that Tetsutetsu might be more inclined to use an indoor voice if his face were covered. The latter was playing the part of Romeo’s fated foil, Count Paris, and wasn’t due onstage for quite a while.

“No need, dude … What kind of man can’t keep quiet when he’s told, huh …?” said Tetsutetsu in his loudest possible whisper.

“Please?” begged Honenuki.

Kinoko Komori—who could have easily been mistaken for an actress given her frilly costume and gaudy makeup—gave a bemused laugh.

“Monoma sure was born for the limelight!”

Prop master Shihai Kuroiro stared at Komori from within the darkness of the wing. Instead of speaking up, he clutched an ancient-looking piece of paper and whispered to himself, “Perpetual darkness is my limelight …”

If ever there were someone who fed on attention and shone all the brighter for it, it was Monoma, which is why it raised his hackles whenever class A made headlines without even trying. They were always stealing the proverbial show, and that was something Monoma wouldn’t stand for, given his love for his own class B. Glory seekers like Monoma tended to stand tall and unashamed, always performing instinctual mental calculations about how to win over their audience through moving words and stirring actions. In this sense, it was no wonder that Monoma seemed so in his element on the stage.

“Now then, I shall greet my father this morning,” said Monoma as he walked off stage left.

“Great start out there,” said Honenuki.

“I suppose,” said Monoma with a grin before turning to watch Shoda and Awase, whose characters had stayed behind to chat about Romeo.

“Our prince has got some wrinkles to iron out, hasn’t he?” said Shoda, as Froyo. “And to think, they’re about to send out that royal notice declaring him the official successor to the throne of Gondur!”

“The common folk do feel a kinship with him, what with him being so down to earth, but ruling over the whole kingdom? Sounds like a bit too much, at his age …” said Awase, as Samwize.

“It’s a good thing our king is still in good health, I say. In the meantime, he can keep raising Romeo to be a good and decent ruler, so when the time comes …” added Shoda.

From the wings, Monoma watched the pair perform and gave a satisfied nod, as if he were the director himself.

“Good, good. Nirengeki’s got the worrywart act nice and polished, and Awase’s got down pat that aura of being perpetually flustered,” he said.

Honenuki found himself thinking that Shoda’s and Awase’s true natures were proving useful to their roles (more so than Monoma’s characteristic belligerence toward class A), though he kept this to himself.

Monoma now gave a loud gasp from off stage, portraying Romeo’s shock upon learning of the king’s disappearance.

“Heh heh, here’s the king’s letter,” said Kuroiro, handing Monoma the prop.

“Thanks.”

After a quick glance to confirm that Monoma had the letter in hand, Honenuki turned back to the stage and gave his lead actor a timed cue.

“Father? Oh, Father!” shouted Monoma before bursting back onto the stage with a measured leap.

“Dreadful news … My father … has vanished!”

From stage right, Manga Fukidashi triggered a startling “BAM” sound effect, prompting the three actors to freeze in place. As the one working sound design, it was his job to produce sound effects that accompanied the characters’ emotional states and to start and stop the background music with perfect timing.

Director Honenuki had given Fukidashi the cue, and he now told his sound man “Good work” over the wireless comms.

“Would be easier if I could just use my Quirk, but whatever,” replied Fukidashi, not actually sounding all that resentful. His Quirk was “Comic,” and it allowed him to materialize onomatopoeia in physical form. Of course, an entire play’s worth of corporeal sound effects would quickly fill up the stage, so that idea had been scrapped.

“Narration time,” said Honenuki, rolling his eyes at Fukidashi’s grumbling.

“You got it,” said Fukidashi, flipping the switch that fired up Monoma’s prerecorded narration track.

“The disappearance of the king of Gondur came like a bolt from the blue.”

“Now, Kamakiri,” said Honenuki over the comms.

“Right, right,” said Togaru Kamakiri, who was working the lights from the wings off stage right, near Fukidashi. The stage lights shut off, and eerie music accompanied Monoma’s narration within the darkness.

“With their king gone, the people of Gondur became gripped with unease, and in the capital …”

“We’ve got forty seconds, people,” said Honenuki to cast and crew.

The three actors dashed off stage left for a rapid costume change, as their characters were about to begin a journey. “Over here, Monoma!” said Komori, and she and others with free hands helped the actors make the quick switch.

Meanwhile, Tsuburaba led the effort to replace the castle set with a forest, assisted by Yui Kodai’s “Size,” Ibara Shiozaki’s “Vines,” and Pony Tsunotori’s “Horn Cannon.” The three girls would be appearing onstage sooner or later, but their Quirks were especially useful for swapping the massive set pieces in the meantime. Honenuki supervised all the work with a stopwatch in hand, periodically updating his classmates on the remaining time. Without a doubt, teamwork was key to this production.

“Ten seconds, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three … Annnd, lights.”

The lights popped back on to reveal a forest, and in the wings, the scene-change crew celebrated their successful operation with silent thumbs-ups. On Honenuki’s cue, Monoma staggered onto the stage.

“Without their king, the people of Gondur suffered. Fearing the complete destruction of his once-beautiful kingdom, Prince Romeo set out in search of his father …”

Just as the narration finished, Monoma reached center stage and collapsed with an anguished cry.

“Where oh where has the king gone …? The father I know and love would never abandon his people, his son, his kingdom! If some foul specter or demon has possessed him, it is my duty to slay this evil and return the king to his throne! Ahh, what tragedy … Or is it comedy? That I, a princeling who neglected his training in the ways of both blade and force must now leave the kingdom for the first time and slay a demon! If only I had studied more under the kingdom’s greatest force user, Master Obee-Wun … Indeed, before cursing the tragic nature of my present fate, I would do well to slap my past self for his indolence!”

As Monoma chewed the scenery, the audience found itself more and more captivated by his performance.

As the plot would have it, Romeo would leave in search of the king; encounter his destined love, Juliet; do some growing as a person; battle his fated enemy, Count Paris; learn a shocking truth; and become a fine monarch in his own right. The character names all sounded awfully familiar, but Monoma had insisted that any resemblance to existing intellectual properties was entirely coincidental. It was a hodgepodge of a story, filled with adventure, drama, romance, and revenge, all stewed together into a tasty tale. Itsuka Kendo’s participation in the festival’s beauty pageant had kept her from joining the play, but she and Reiko Yanagi (her pageant attendant) had watched the dress rehearsal and been moved by the stirring plot. If it could have that effect on those who knew Monoma’s off-kilter personality all too well, then surely it would resonate with an audience that was none the wiser. Yes, class B was aiming to put on a production that would earn a standing ovation and then some.

“If that’s how you’re feeling, then come on back to Gondur with us!” said Awase, as Samwize, as he and Shoda dashed onto the stage in pursuit of Monoma’s Romeo.

“Froyo! Samwize! Why are you here?”

“Master Obee-Wun’s out there looking for his majesty as well,” said Shoda, as Froyo. “We bumped into him, and he asked us to pass you a message.”

“That’s right—he says, ‘Beware Count Paris.’ You got any idea who that might be, Prince Romeo?” said Awase.

“Count Paris … I met the man at a banquet once, but …why would Master Obee-Wun give me such a warning …?” said Monoma, seeming lost.

“Also,” said Shoda, pulling a golden ring from his pocket, “he wants you to have this—the legendary ring passed down through the royal family for generations …”

“Said something about that ring protecting those of the royal bloodline … Sorta like a guardian talisman, we’re thinking?” suggested Awase.

Monoma shook his head.

“I …never knew about such a ring,” he said, looking perplexed.

“We’re told it’s given to princes when they ascend the throne,” said Shoda.

“Why, this precious ring is beautiful enough to bewitch my very soul …” said Monoma, taking the ring in hand and lifting it high, telling the audience it was sure to be a key plot point going forward.

Shiozaki watched from the wings, clasped her hands in prayer, and began muttering, “I am the spirit of the ring … I am the spirit of the ring …” She wasn’t due onstage just yet, but she felt the need to psych herself up for the role.

“Relaaax, you’ll be great,” said Kaibara, trying to soothe his stressed classmate. “You already come off as pretty darn spiritual in everyday life, Shiozaki.”

“Thank you, but I am not concerned with the appearance of the character so much as her psychology … Should this spirit have a merciful heart befitting a servant of the Lord, or be more of a nature sprite, prone to whimsy?”

Behind Shiozaki, Tsunotori and Jurota Shishida were changing into furry, beast-like costumes.

“You will do very good in this role, I think. The three of us practiced a lot!” said Tsunotori.

“Remember all those early mornings, Shiozaki?” added Shishida. “When you went into the woods and prayed to the spirits of nature? And how the two of us ran around the woods all free and wild, to get into the mind-set of the hippogriffs who serve the ring spirit?”

“Oh? That explains the rumors about the weird growls coming from the woods,” said Tsuburaba, who’d been listening.

“People heard us, really?” said Shishida.

“We are very sorry about that!” said Tsunotori.

“Stand by for you-know-what,” said Honenuki, turning around to the group.

“Ohh, the big surprise!” said Tsunotori.

“I am reluctant to startle these good people who have done us the honor of attending our performance …” said Shiozaki.

“A good shocker is part of what makes a show, a show,” insisted Shishida, as he and Tsunotori led the less-than-enthusiastic Shiozaki behind the set. Setsuna Tokage, Kuroiro, Tsuburaba, and Hiryu Rin took deep, excited breaths and followed them out.

“Make it happen, guys,” said Honenuki.

“I’ll prove I’m worthy of the dragon kanji in my name,” said Rin with a grin before disappearing down the passageway.

“Bring down the house, dudes …” cheered Tetsutetsu in that same whisper-shout.

After seeing his stagehands off, Honenuki turned to Kodai, who was receiving finishing touches on her makeup from Komori.

“You’re almost up, Kodai.”

“Mhm,” replied Kodai.

“Our leading lady looks ready for action!” said Tetsutetsu.

“Ooh, totally …” added Kojiro Bondo.

Hearing the boys’ compliments, Komori (the costumer and makeup artist) puffed out her chest and gave a haughty chuckle. Kodai’s simple one-piece dress accentuated her refined features, and though her typical lack of expressiveness stood out, it would lend her character an air of mystery. In fact, she’d been chosen for the role for just that reason; any emoting she did do would be all the more striking. Kodai was the type who could draw attention even without putting on a big show, so they hadn’t written too many lines into the script for the taciturn girl.

“Ahh, this hunger pains me so …” moaned Monoma, as Romeo. “Meat … I must sate the carnivore within … I cannot take another step otherwise …”

“But, my prince, there’re rumors of monsters in these woods … We won’t be finding any ordinary rabbits for dinner, I reckon,” said Awase.

“Wait just a second … Here we are!” said Shoda. “I stashed away some jerky in my bag, just for emergencies!”

“Give it here, friend! Your prince commands you!”

“Sheesh … Some prince you’re turning out to be!”

“Silence! Prince or not, would you deny a starving man a meal?”

“Why, I never thought I’d see you turn your blade on us, Romeo!”

“You were grumbling earlier about how you’re not fit to be a prince, so c’mon, then … We’ll cross swords as equals, and the winner will claim the jerky as his prize!”

“Rahhh!”

And thus did a desperate sword fight unfold upon the stage, pitting friend against friends in a life-or-death struggle. On the surface, it revealed how raw, ugly hunger can transform a person, and yet the sublime scene posed questions about the very dignity of man. Sound effects and flashes of light accompanied the clashing blades, and the audience watched with bated breath. The prince lost the battle in the end, but his friends shared the jerky anyway, leading to tears and renewed comradery.

“Oh … What exquisite morsels of dried meat … Even the delicacies of Gondur—grilled spring breeze robin and rare gator hangnail steak—cannot compare! Friends, won’t you forgive me for my foolishness?” said Monoma.

“We won’t,” replied Shoda.

“Huh?”

“Not unless you swear to be a great king in your own right.”

“Ah, of course—I swear, here and now, that as king of Gondur, I will ensure that our people will never again know hunger, nor misfortune!”

Seeing the young prince set his eyes upon a bright future, the audience burst into a round of applause. Shoda noticed the smug grin rising on Monoma’s face and did some quick ad-libbing to move things along.

“Come, my prince! The journey continues!” he said, tugging Monoma’s arm to lead him down the faux forest path.

“Are you trying to ruin my big moment?” hissed Monoma, turning his back to the audience for a moment.

“You’ve got the audience squarely on your side,” whispered back Shoda. “But that won’t last if they see the prince smirking and soaking up the glory.”

“Nice improvising, Nirengeki,” said Awase, also whispering.

Monoma looked ready to resist for a second, but he turned his frown around and said, “Well, now it’s time for our fair Juliet’s debut.”

An instant later, Kodai, as Juliet, emerged atop a massive, craggy boulder.

“Somebody, help me!” she cried, just as an enormous dragon popped out behind her. Screams rose from the audience when it barreled forward to the first row of seating, illuminated by just enough stage lights to seem terrifyingly real.

“I’ve got you!” shouted Monoma as Kodai leaped from the crag into his waiting arms.

“Dragon!” screamed Shoda.

“Time to run!” said Awase. “This way!” he added, as the two retainers helped Monoma and Kodai to their feet.

Just as the actors started to run, the lights blacked out, and when they flashed on again, the dragon was flying across the performance space. Before the audience could stop screaming, the lights flickered again, and this time the dragon was soaring from the back of the room. Then, directly above the audience. Shiozaki and the others with Quirks suited to manipulating the dragon puppet kept repositioning it in time with the brief blackouts, and with each pass, some of the scales from Rin’s Quirk scattered down from above, further upping the realism.

The unceasing cries were a blend of wonder and excitement that earned a satisfied nod from Honenuki behind the scenes. He was glad that the audience found the whole thing delightful, but it was his job to keep the show moving along. The relatively pleased stage director spoke into his wireless mic, giving the next cue.

“Lightning in six, five, four, three …”

The stage lighting simulated a flashing thunderbolt, and the dragon’s roars seemed to fade into the distance. The drip-drop sound of water falling echoed through-out the now-silent auditorium, and a dim spotlight shone upon one corner of the stage, highlighting Romeo and Juliet, who had gotten separated from Froyo and Samwize during the chase.

“Thank you for saving me,” said Kodai.

“Your thanks are unnecessary … My name is Romeo. Tell me, maiden, why was that dragon after you to begin with?” said Monoma.

A pause. Kodai said nothing.

“You do not wish to say? Very well. But if nothing else, tell me your name.”

“Juliet.”

“I rejoice upon hearing it, for now I am no longer ignorant of the name given to this world’s most beautiful creature …”

Watching the pair stare into each other’s eyes, Tetsutetsu couldn’t hold back.

“That’s our Monoma … Managing that embarrassing, sappy line with a straight face …”

“I love a good romance!” said Komori, blushing something fierce, just as the dragon-wrangling crew crept back into the wings. Meanwhile, onstage, Monoma’s Romeo came to a sudden realization.

“Juliet …? Why, you couldn’t be Princess Juliet of the Kingdom of Rowhan, longtime enemy to my fair Gondur …? Please, Juliet, say it is not so …?”

Kodai nodded curtly, and Monoma’s shock was accompanied by a bit of tragic background music and a sharp spotlight that tracked him as he staggered to center stage.

“Juliet … Oh, Juliet, Juliet … Wherefore art thou Juliet! Have the gods no mercy in their hearts, to make the rival princess my first love? I curse you, foul gods! Do you delight in rending my heart to shreds? Damnable gods! Would you see all the lovers of this world thrown into hell? Go on, burn the very notion of love to cinders! Ha ha ha ha ha! Ahh ha ha ha!”

The audience gulped, startled by Monoma’s ghastly monologue.

“Monoma was born to play these sorts of tragic, flawed characters, yeah?” said an impressed Tokage.

“Tragic, flawed characters? Well yeah—cuz he’s already one of those to start with,” quipped Rin, as Monoma’s mad peal of laughter brought a chill over the room.

Kodai stood slowly, gripped Monoma’s hand, and stared at him.

“No. It mustn’t burn,” she said.

These words seemed to quell the boy’s raging heart, and the audience was smitten.

“Indeed I was ignorant, but I know now there are no gods in this world—only angels …” he said, almost reverent. Monoma continued, now whispering softly to Kodai.

“Your eyes are as glimmering treasures, concealed eons prior within the dark pool of a cave. Your cold beauty shines as does lapis lazuli, poised to steal my heart! Your raven hair, smooth as silk … Why, I find myself fearing it may meld into the darkness that envelops us and vanish from this earthly plane. Your ivory cheek invites my caressing hand, though I suspect I may then never have use of that hand again …”

Kodai stared wordlessly.

“No, I understand. It would not do to have my hand stuck fast to your cheek for the rest of our days … And yet, I wish that you could know how my heart now throbs! Would that I could pluck it from my chest, such that you might hear its cries and know as I do that we are each other’s destiny! I would lay down my very life if doing so could prove my love for you, Juliet! You may be the princess of the people I call enemy, but now, I would …”

The ring fell from Monoma’s pocket at that moment, and he gasped.

“Ah! But I am sworn to another quest! I must track down the king! How can I possibly choose? Wait. I deceive myself in speaking of choice, when there is in fact no cause to set either duty aside! Juliet, though I may seem to you a road-weary wanderer, I shall be a fine king someday, and I vow upon all that is good to mend the relations between our lands. Yes, we shall be husband and wife, leading our people into an era of peace and prosperity! Won’t you be my future queen …?”

After an unbearably long pause, Kodai nodded.

“My precious one … My love for you, I swear upon this ring …” said Monoma, embracing Kodai.

Spellbound sighs rose from the girls in the audience, while the jealous boys grumbled. In the wings, Komori and Tsunotori went, “Aww,” while Kaibara glanced at Kodai’s expression and gave a wry smile.

“Would it kill Kodai to look a little more enthusiastic about this development?” he said.

“Hey, Yui’s doing her best out there,” said Tokage, in Kodai’s defense.

Still watching the stage and without turning around, Honenuki spoke.

“No, it’s fine. Her blank expression will make the audience think she’s a girl grappling with internal conflict, just like Monoma suggested.”

All eyes in the room were on Kodai and her lack of emotion. Yes, Monoma was more than willing to sacrifice the limelight for a moment if it meant making his beloved class B’s production a success. Despite his questionable personality, he had gotten into U.A. High, which was proof enough of his talent and dedication.

Shoda and Awase ran up to the pair, reuniting the group at last, but the dazed look on Romeo’s face put their characters ill at ease.

“Just about time for me to make some trouble …” said Tetsutetsu, donning a cloak and stepping toward Honenuki. “This lovey-dovey moment is about to get wrecked!”

“Make the audience hate your guts, man!” said Kaibara.

The other backstage boys cheered on Tetsutetsu too, and on Honenuki’s cue, he dashed out onto the stage, snatched up Kodai like a sudden gale, took a deep breath, and began to shout.

“I’ll be taking back what’s mine now!”

The audience was dumbfounded by the appearance of the unknown character now yelling in their faces, and so were Tetsutetsu’s classmates in the wings. Honenuki planted his face in his palm and shook his head. This character’s debut scene was meant to be silent and ominous, but Tetsutetsu’s frustration over having to keep his voice down the whole time had finally boiled over and been unleashed.

“Who is this, now? Prince Romeo of Gondur?” he roared.

“It’s you, Count Paris! But why? How …? Give me back my Juliet!” shot back Monoma, before turning his back to the audience and switching to a furious whisper.

“What’re you supposed to be? You sound like the local shopkeeper who’s caught a kid shoplifting! Dial it back!”

Taking the criticism to heart, Tetsutetsu made an expression that seemed to say “Oh, crap!” and then switched to the grimmest face he could muster.

“We will meet again …” he said as quietly as he’d been in the wings, having overcorrected.

Murmurs of “Huh? What’d he say?” rose from the audience, and Tetsutetsu’s classmates offstage all hung their heads. Honenuki calmly glanced up at the catwalk above the stage and gave the waiting Shishida a cue. With Kodai under one arm, Tetsutetsu used his other hand to grab a dangling rope all but invisible to the audience. As he rose into the air, Monoma shouted, “We’ll meet again? What on earth does that mean …? Nooo, Juliet!”

“Sorry, guys …” said a gloomy Tetsutetsu, back in the wings.

“Don’t sweat it!”

“You’ll get the volume right next time!”

Onstage, Romeo—who wanted to pursue Juliet—was at odds with Froyo and Samwize, who thought that searching for the king took precedent.

“Did Master Obee-Wun ever speak of her? And why would Count Paris kidnap fair Juliet …? No, this is no time for arguing—I must rescue her!”

“We know how you feel, Prince Romeo!” said Shoda. “But as our prince, your main duty is to find his majesty the king.”

“You know how I feel? How could you know! I may be a prince, but first and foremost I am a man! One who can ill abandon the woman he loves! Once Juliet is back by my side, our quest will resume … I do not ask you to understand, no … Farewell! I must walk this path alone!”

With that, Monoma dashed off stage right, and the retainers cried “Prince Romeo!” in unison. Shoda then heard a strange commotion from stage left, but he quickly regained his focus.

“Thus did Prince Romeo chase after his beloved Juliet …” came Monoma’s narration.

Shoda and Awase ran off stage left and breathed satisfied sighs of relief, knowing that their characters wouldn’t show up again until the climax of the show.

“This is unusable …” said a flustered Honenuki. The two actors moved toward the chattering backstage group to find out what had happened. Kuroiro held a white clod of something or other with silver fragments poking out here and there.

“What’s that?” asked Awase.

“It’s what’s left of one of our prop swords …” explained Kaibara.

An upcoming scene would feature space warrior Rei (played by Tokage) and her spacetrooper (played by Rin), who were supposed to be wielding saber blades. When one of the swords had broken backstage, Bondo had offered to use his “Cemedine” Quirk to repair it, but a sudden sneeze on his part had ended up discharging more glue than planned. When Tetsutetsu had rushed over to help, he’d gotten tripped up by a gluey glob on the floor, had activated his “Steel” Quirk on instinct, and had fallen directly onto the already broken sword, crushing it further. The others had done their best to repair it, but the former sword now resembled an avant-garde sculpture. If Bakugo, Kirishima, or Kaminari had been present, they might’ve been reminded of Shiketsu High’s Seiji Shishikura, whose odd Quirk could turn people into misshapen meatballs. Unlike Shishikura’s meatballs, though, this ball of glue and silver would never be whole again, and they had no replacement on hand.

“What now?” said Tokage in a panic. “Can we manage without it …?”

“The saber battle has to happen. We’ll just find something that can substitute for the sword,” said the ever-composed Honenuki.

“You got it,” said Kaibara, racing off with Kuroiro.

There were spare swords attached to Shoda’s and Awase’s hips, but everyone was too flustered to notice. They could hardly be blamed, as this was class B’s first stage production.

“Juliet …? Wherefore hast thou been kidnapped, my Juliet?”

Just as Monoma was starting to wonder why Tokage and Rin hadn’t shown up on cue, he caught a glimpse of Honenuki in the wings, making a gesture that implied, “Vamp, and buy us some time.”

What could’ve happened back there …? Well, I’ll do what I can.

“Oh, Juliet …” said Monoma, ad-libbing. “Merely speaking your name fills me with the strength to go on. I’ve eaten nary a thing for three days and nights, but your name alone sates my hunger … My love for you nourishes and gives me life. I’ve no need for the many culinary specialties of Gondur, such as sugared potahto-potato with tomato-tomahto jelly, or apeeling river banana wraps, or shorthorn beef with sauce from between a goblin’s teeth, or stewed weasel served on an easel, or softshell turtle stuffed in giant tortoise turducken, or japing jaguar cutlets over jasmine rice, or the horns of one-and-a-half long-eared giraffes, or lion tail deep-fried in mane grease, or cookies shaped like a baby elephant’s kneecaps, or midnight pasta with inky splats from a black-hearted bat, or even sluggish, short-lived werebunny soup. Yes, love alone is enough for me …”

Did that buy them enough time?

Another gesture from Honenuki, apologetically begging for a few more moments.

Without so much as a hint that he was going off script, Monoma continued with the ad-libbing.

“My Juliet, your Kingdom of Rowhan prefers seafood, yes? Your large subterranean lake delivers all manner of aquatic delicacies to your plate, such as crusty crustacean corn cakes, which they say leave the lucky diner grinning for days on end. Why, just imagining such a dish brings a smile to my weary face. Have you ever partaken, Juliet? We ought to share those crusty cakes and enjoy a lifetime of smiles … Ah, Rowhan is also known for the tuna triple-down, yes? Three helpings of white rice, sandwiched between three whole fish, said to extend one’s life for three years if eaten in utter solitude over the course of three days. A dish I would feed my father, if given the chance …”

Hmm? Gosh, finally … What took them so long?

Monoma caught the “okay” gesture from Honenuki and went over the next scene in his mind.

So Tokage and Rin are about to show up as the spacefaring survivors of the Rebellious Alliance …

As Romeo, he looked up and gasped.

“W-what manner of craft is that?” he screamed.

A metallic humming sound accompanied a UFO in the process of crash-landing. Monoma’s Romeo approached in trepidation, and the spaceship door burst open to reveal Tokage and Rin.

“Are you okay, Rei?” asked Rin, dressed like a space soldier.

Tokage, as Rei, said “Yeah …” but flinched at the sight of Monoma. “Damn … This scout beat us here! How far will the Star Empire go to mess with us …?”

“Die, imperial dog!” shouted Rin.

“Wait! I haven’t the faintest idea who you are,” shot back Monoma.

They were coming up on another sword fight—a key scene that would show how much Prince Romeo had grown since his stunning loss at the Battle of Jerky. This was a fight they’d rehearsed over and over, and the final product was sure to show the fruits of their efforts.

“Shut your mouth!” said Tokage. “Long live space democracy!”

Tokage comes at me first, then Rin with an immediate follow-up. I dodge them both by a hair’s breadth and … Hmm?

Monoma spotted the weapons that Tokage and Rin had pulled from behind their backs with gusto.

“Why baseball bats?” he said, forgetting he was onstage for a moment.

Surely enough, they were wielding a pair of metal baseball bats as if they were swords. The audience members close enough to see had some confused comments as well, which helped Monoma snap back into character. He spotted another gesture from Honenuki—a combination of “Sorry” and “Go on, go on.” Apparently, Kuroiro and Kaibara had borrowed the replacement weapons from a class that was running batting cages during the festival.

“One of the swords broke. We had no choice!” hissed Tokage.

“We just gotta make do,” whispered Rin.

“No choice, I suppose!” replied Monoma, bracing himself and shifting into a battle stance.

As the trio traded blows, Monoma pretended to be beaten back.

“What fearsome blades, unlike any known to these lands! Are these the renowned saber blades?”

The bat-wielding duo might’ve come off like a couple of downtown street punks, but Monoma’s quick, improvised exposition transformed them back into members of the Rebellious Alliance, equipped with high-tech swords that just happened to resemble earthly baseball bats. Off on stage right, Fukidashi ramped up the action-packed sound effects, and Kamakiri did his best to dazzle the audience with flashing lights.

“I think the audience bought it,” said Honenuki. The rest of the panicked backstage crew felt some of the tension leave the air.

“Thank God for Monoma …” said Kaibara.

“Monoma … We should have a midnight banquet in honor of your courage,” added Kuroiro, though neither boy would’ve uttered these words of appreciation to Monoma’s face.

To the classmates in the wings, the sword fight onstage started to take on an air of desperation, but for the audience, this only translated as fierce intensity.

“Kuroiro, do you happen to know where the ring is?” asked Shiozaki.

“Huh? The big one? It should be right over here,” said Kuroiro, walking to a table covered in props. Failing to find the ring in question, he said, “I swear it was just here …” Honenuki and the others noticed and asked what was wrong.

“The ring we’re about to use—I left it on this table, but now it’s gone …” explained Kuroiro.

Shiozaki’s scene was coming up (with her as the spirit of the ring), and they had prepared a scaled-up version of Monoma’s golden ring, big enough for the audience to see. It was nearly time, but nobody could find it. Unbeknownst to them, during the earlier commotion over the broken sword, the ring had fallen from the table and rolled between the floorboards down into a storage room. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t find it until cleanup, long after the play had ended.

“Oh dear. The Lord has presented us with a trial to overcome,” said Shiozaki, hands clasped in fervent prayer. Even Shishida and Tsunotori were looking anxious.

“Ugh, not again! What’s our move this time?” said Kaibara, glancing at Honenuki. The director thought for a moment before speaking.

“We’ll need to find a replacement. Or make one …”

There was no time to run off to other stalls or events.

“Right. So, we need something round, with a hole in the middle!” said Kaibara, frantically looking around. Just as the others joined the search, Tetsutetsu said, “How about this …?”

He held up a dimpled, tube-shaped, lightly grilled snack made of processed fish paste. Tetsutetsu had packed this piece of chikuwa that morning in case he got hungry during the production.

“That’ll do,” said Kuroiro, grabbing the chikuwa and chopping off a slice with his box cutter.

“See?”

The others nodded in agreement.

“Wait, I’ve got some gold eyeshadow,” said Komori.

“Oh … Thanks,” said Kuroiro, taking the makeup and brushing it onto the slice of fish paste until it resembled an actual ring, albeit one with personality and a bit of an odor.

“This is really gonna work!” said Kaibara, giving Shiozaki a thumbs-up. But as she received the replacement ring from Kuroiro, Shiozaki looked as if she’d just been sentenced to death by crucifixion.

“Now I suppose I am the spirit of the processed fish snack …”

Her pale expression seemed to ask how to get in the chikuwa mind-set, so Tsunotori and Shishida stepped in with some advice.

“Maybe you are in very much pain, from being box cutted? Or from the grilling process?” suggested Tsunotori.

“Or maybe you’re the spirit of the fish that died to make this chikuwa?” offered Shishida.

Shiozaki looked even more aghast now, so Honenuki calmly intervened.

“It’s not really chikuwa. Just a ring that sort of resembles chikuwa.”

Back on the stage, the sword fight had ended, and Romeo was hashing out the misunderstanding with the pair from the Rebellious Alliance.

“I believe with all my heart that you people will liberate the galaxy far, far, far away! Perhaps my own kingdom will achieve space travel one day? On that occasion, Rei, I hope you will come when Gondur calls for aid!” said Monoma’s Romeo.

“Of course, Romeo. We’ll fight to bring everlasting peace to the galaxy!” said Tokage, as Rei.

“We’d better blast off, Rei,” said Rin, as the spacetrooper.

“You’ll survive this,” said Tokage. “Until we meet again.”

“It is a promise, then. And on that day, I shall treat you to another of Gondur’s specialties—steamed tanuki undercarriage hot pot!”

Tokage followed Rin back into the UFO and waved back to Monoma.

“Ha ha ha, you bet. I’d love to meet this Juliet of yours, too … Oh, by the way—we spotted something during our crash landing.”

“Oh? What was it?”

“An ominous castle, just a bit north from here. It looked like a creepy man was arguing with a girl about something …”

“I daresay you caught sight of Count Paris and my Juliet …”

“Rei! No time to lose!” said Rin.

“On that note, Romeo, may the force be within you,” said Tokage as the door closed and the UFO rose up and out of sight. Monoma ambled toward center stage and began his next monologue.

“So Juliet awaits me to the north … But who is this Count Paris, really? He claimed that she belonged to him, so I suppose she ran from him to begin with? Was she betrothed to him, I wonder …? No! Juliet promised me her hand in marriage! Her heart lies with me! That said, it would be no great surprise to learn that she had been offered to some other royal, to strengthen ties with a foreign kingdom. Is Paris in fact a king, and Juliet’s future bridegroom? How terrible that would be! What am I to do, should that prove to be the case?”

As the lovestruck Romeo writhed in anguish and collapsed in despair, a beam of light shot down from above.

“Romeo … Romeo …” echoed Shiozaki’s voice.

“Who calls to me?” said Monoma with a start.

“Romeo … I rest inside your pocket …”

Before Monoma could take the ring fully from his pocket, the stage lights flashed and temporarily blinded the audience. In that moment, the golden chikuwa descended from above on a string, so that it would seem to be floating once the audience’s eyes adjusted to the light.

As the spirit of the ring, Shiozaki came riding in atop her hippogriffs (Tsunotori and Shishida), whose roars added to the divine mystique of the scene and earned a “Whoaaa” from the audience. But Monoma sniffed the air, realized the stench was coming from the prop ring, and furrowed his brow.

“I am definitely not the spirit of the chikuwa … Rather, the spirit of that original ring. No matter what anyone tells you.”

The awkward ad-libbing from Shiozaki cleared up the mystery for Monoma.

Why chikuwa?

Monoma twitched, employing all of his willpower to keep from quipping back loudly. Instead, he pretended to be shocked by the appearance of the ring spirit.

“The spirit of the ring, you say …?”

“Listen well, Romeo … I am always with you … and when your heart desires it, I will come to your aid … And one last time: I am not the spirit of the chikuwa …”

With that reminder, the hippogriffs roared again and bore the spirit of the ring up and out of sight. Audience members began to question “Why chikuwa?” too, but Monoma acted fast to distract them.

“What providence! That was very clearly the spirit of the ring … The very ring passed down through my royal family for generations!”

He gasped.

“I mustn’t dillydally—Juliet awaits me!” he said, gazing at an imagined horizon with a look of determination. The audience had been placated, and the crew in the wings breathed yet another sigh of relief. Shiozaki, Tsunotori, and Shishida were also glad to be done with their big scene.

“That guy sure can get it done …” said Tetsutetsu with a mouth half-full of chikuwa—a little snack before his next scene. The show was nearing its climax, and the excitement backstage was palpable. In the coming minutes, Count Paris would slay Master Obee-Wun and declare himself Romeo’s father before their final showdown outside Paris’s castle.

“Lights are down soon, people,” said Honeuki. “Stand by for the final set change.”

Everyone was poised and ready to go.

“Six, five, four, three … All right, we’ve got fifty seconds to do this.”

Honenuki’s new countdown began, and they sprang into action. Monoma pitched in too, and as he did, he asked Kaibara to clarify a few things.

“Why the baseball bats and chikuwa?”

“Things happen. I’ll explain once the show’s done.”

“Fine. Oh, one thing—about that chikuwa used for the ring …”

But they had less than ten seconds left, so Kaibara snapped back, “I said later, man. Good luck,” before running offstage again.

“But the smell …” said Monoma, cut off by the stage lights that forced him to transform back into Romeo.

“I’ve arrived at last … Surely this is the castle Rei espied from the air …?” muttered Monoma, gazing up at a facsimile of an eerie stone castle. With this last set change completed, the backstage crew members were already in a celebratory mood, along with the actors who’d finished their final scenes. Despite this, Honenuki maintained his composure and prepared to give his final cues.

“We’ve still got the midair battle. Stand by, everyone,” he said, prompting the crew to scurry off to their posts.

“Counting on you guys …” muttered an uncharacteristically nervous Tetsutetsu in an unusually low voice.

“It went fine during rehearsal, so don’t worry,” said Honenuki. “Get out there and give it your all, but not quite at max volume, okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” added Kodai with a reassuring nod.

“Yeah, I’ll nail it just right this time …” said Tetsutetsu, nodding back.

On Honenuki’s cue, Tetsutetsu strode out onto the stage. Remembering Monoma’s tips during rehearsal, he paused just long enough to draw the audience in before speaking in a low, gravelly tone.

“What’s this? An uninvited guest who still shows up late? You kept me waiting, Prince Romeo.”

Great. That’s perfect.

Monoma gave a small smile and a nod at Tetsutetsu’s performance before slipping back into his own role.

“I should have known you were the ‘creepy man,’ Count Paris! Where is Juliet?”

“I’m free to do whatever I so choose with my property, boy …”

“You refuse to release her …? Then I will reclaim my love by force! Arrrgh!”

Monoma lunged at Tetsutetsu, but a swift kick from the villainous Count Paris sent brave Romeo tumbling backward.

“This man is no slouch!” said Monoma, putting on his best shocked face.

“Stand back, Romeo—I shall engage this one in battle,” came a voice from behind.

“It’s you … Master Obee-Wun!”

Obee-Wun (played by Bondo) had shown up on the scene with Froyo and Samwize in tow.

“Obee-Wun appeared before us during our search for the king,” explained Shoda. “There’s something you really need to know, Prince Romeo!”

“Romeo,” said Bondo, “you’ve always been negligent of your studies of the force, and none would call you an exemplary apprentice, but you’ve been something of a grandson to me since the day you were born … That is why I must be the one to defeat Paris …”

“Yours is a face I’ve not seen in ages, Obee-Wun … But you will not be rejoicing at this little reunion when I send you to your doom,” said Tetsutetsu. His sharp glare and composed voice gave him a larger-than-life presence. Backstage, the rest of the class was impressed by the performances.

“Our little Tetsutetsu is really doing it!” said Tsuburaba, nodding wildly.

“What’re you, his mother?” quipped Kaibara.

In the face of Tetsutetsu’s overwhelmingly villainous aura, the audience hung on every word with bated breath.

“This man is a phantom, once imprisoned in Azkabum … A specter no longer fit for this world …” said Bondo.

In the wings, Kuroiro shuddered at this dark and broody line from Obee-Wun.

“The infamous prison, Azkabum? What crime did Paris commit to find himself there?” shouted Monoma.

“It was in Azkabum that I left this mortal coil and was reborn. Brought back to do what I must,” said Tetsutetsu.

“Not another foul word from those wicked lips, phantom … Hahh!”

Bondo charged at Tetsutetsu, and his force attack sent the latter flying backward.

“You powers have not grown weak, old man,” said Tetsutetsu as he floated into the air.

“Master Obee-Wun!” shouted Monoma.

“Leave this fight to me, you three …” said Bondo, who also began to rise.

The midair force battle that ensued was made possible by Tsunotori’s “Horn Cannon,” Tokage’s “Lizard Tail Splitter,” and Rin’s “Scales,” which supported the two battler’s bodies so they could clash in the space above the stage. As they traded force blows, Bondo and Tetsutetsu shifted their fight to the open part of the auditorium, directly over the audience. Kaibara set off firecrackers he’d attached to the walls in advance, adding to the spectacle and keeping the audience’s eyes glued to the midair scene. The fighters paused, and Tetsutetsu’s cold stare and chilling words silenced the riled audience.

“Obee-Wun, you may not have changed, but I certainly have … The power I have attained is like none you’ve ever held!”

Tetsutetsu’s Paris then dealt a finishing blow to Bondo’s Obee-Wun, who crashed onto the stage.

“Master Obee-Wun!” cried Monoma, running to the fallen warrior.

“But how …?” questioned Shoda. “He’s the mightiest in all of Gondur …”

“Romeo … You mustn’t let that man near our kingdom … Listen well … You must be the one to ascend the throne …” said Bondo. He gave one last shudder and was still.

“No … No, Obee-Wun … I had so much yet to learn from you …” said Monoma, weeping and cradling his fallen master.

“Prince Romeo … No, just Romeo …” said Tetsutetsu, approaching slowly.

“Romeo!” shouted Shoda and Awase, causing Monoma to spin around and gasp.

“Juliet!” he cried, spotting Kodai on the castle’s terrace. Behind her, the roaring dragon perched on the castle tower and glared at the Gondurian trio. Romeo dried his eyes and stood, prepared to face Count Paris at last.

“My name is Romeo! Now hear me, Count Paris, phantom of Azkabum! I shall be taking back my Juliet!”

Tetsutetsu’s face transformed, making Paris look almost regretful.

“But, Romeo … What Obee-Wun told you about your father … That he was the king of Gondur … That was a lie.”

Tetsutetsu paused and flung back his costume’s hood.

“I am your father!”

“Nooooo!” cried Monoma. Violent flashes of light and crashing sound effects accompanied the scream, representing the turmoil in Romeo’s heart. The audience was also dumbfounded by this third act twist.

“Now, call me Daddy!”

“Nooo! That’s impossible! You, my father? It cannot be! Besides which, my father yet lives! He departed from our kingdom, but I now search for him!”

“Is that the lie Obee-Wun fed you? No, your true father is …”

“I’ll have no more of your falsehoods! Juliet, I am here for you!” shouted Monoma, charging at Tetsutetsu with blade in hand.

“Wait. Tetsutetsu’s acting funny,” said Kaibara, over in the wings. Count Paris was supposed to dodge Romeo’s attack gracefully, but Tetsutetsu seemed to be clutching his stomach in pain. Monoma took notice and flinched backward.

“He’s looking green around the gills … Is he sick?” wondered Honenuki with a note of concern in his voice.

“Ack, maybe it was this?” said a panicked Tokage, offering the plastic wrapper from the chikuwa and pointing to a long-since-passed expiration date. The backstage crew whipped their heads back toward Tetsutetsu, who was now practically writhing in pain. Monoma had tried to tell them about the awful stench earlier, but he’d gone ignored.

“Ugh! Why didn’t that idiot check the date, shroom!” said Komori, halfway between concerned and furious. While Kuroiro attempted to soothe her, Honenuki fell deep into thought.

“In any case,” he said calmly, “we need to get Tetsutetsu off the stage. The show can’t continue like this.”

The crew glanced back at Tetsutetsu and raised no objections. But how to go about it?

“How can we move on from this scene without Tetsutetsu? That’s the question … Monoma could carry it alone, maybe … But Tetsutetsu might be out for good, depending. In that case, we might have to …”

Going off script and ending the show with some ad-libbing seemed like the inevitable solution, but even that was easier said than done. With this weighty decision before them, the members of class B stared at each other, feeling lost.

“Instead of limping to the finish line with some half-assed improvisation, we could always just end the show right here?” suggested Rin, but Honenuki shook his head.

“The show must go on. Once the curtain rises, it cannot fall until the fat lady sings. The audience out there came today to see what we put together, so we owe them that much, at least. Our pride is on the line.”

The others looked impressed by Honenuki’s valiant take on showmanship.

“At least, that’s what it says in the book on being a stage director,” he added.

“Working off a cheat sheet, huh!” cackled Tsuburaba. Cheating or not, Honenuki was determined to keep his cast and crew’s eyes on the prize.

“Think about how hard we worked, leading up to today. Personally, I don’t want our show cut off unceremoniously before the end.”

Ever since deciding to put on a theatrical production, class B had labored in the hours after school, on their days off, and during every free minute, all for this single performance. It meant a lot to them, and in that moment, Rin decided to speak on behalf of the group.

“All right. To the very end, then.”

Class B was determined to make it work, and it was up to Honenuki to come up with a plan in far too little time.

“First, we need to get Tetsutetsu off the stage. That means distracting the audience for a second.”

Monoma had gotten over his initial shock at Tetsutetsu’s sickly state and was attempting to work it into the flow of the scene.

“What now? Do you cower at the sight of my blade, Count Paris?”

Shoda and Awase were still dumbstruck; all they knew was that Tetsutetsu wouldn’t be doing any more acting at the moment. Monoma glimpsed Honenuki off stage left, and just as he got the gist of the plan, lightning flashed, thunder roared, and the dragon took flight over the audience. While the crowd was busy screaming, one of Tsunotori’s floating horns caught Tetsutetsu by his cloak and ferried him offstage. Within seconds, Kaibara was dashing out from stage left wearing that very same cloak.

“I’m filling in. Maybe until the very end, depending on how Tetsutetsu’s feeling,” whispered Kaibara stiffly, unable to hide his nerves over being chosen as an impromptu understudy. He was closest in height to Tetsutetsu, and he had memorized the entire script.

“Will you be okay?” asked a concerned Shoda.

“Oh, sure. Not like my heart’s about to leap outta my throat,” said Kaibara through gritted teeth.

“If it does, I’ll pick it up and shove it right back in,” said Monoma. “This is the climax of the entire show, so it’s do or die. Be sure to make it good and dramatic, yes? It’s time for class B to prove its mettle.”

Between flashes of the stage lights, Monoma turned toward Honenuki and nodded. The director nodded back and signaled for the crew to end the dragon’s flight.

“Your pet dragon must realize its master’s time is up, Count Paris! Now, I will have satisfaction!” said Monoma as he charged.

“L-listen to me, Romeo …” said Kaibara, managing to dodge.

“No, you’ve said enough!”

Kaibara’s voice trembled a bit, but his draped hood and Monoma’s seamless performance kept the audience from realizing there’d been a switch. Tsuburaba and Rin had escorted poor Tetsutetsu to the bathroom, but everyone else backstage was watching intently. Sensing Kaibara’s nerves, Tsunotori and Shiozaki prayed for him.

“Fight, fight, Kaibara!”

“The Lord presents us with trials so that we may grow!”

Perhaps their prayers were heard, because Kaibara managed to hold it together in the meantime.

There wasn’t much script left to get through. The dragon—enraged over its master’s predicament—would attack Romeo, but Count Paris would take the hit instead, protecting his son. Then, the villain would go on to confess his sins and admit that he was in fact the king of another kingdom altogether before naming Romeo as his true heir. As king of two kingdoms, Romeo would vow to uphold peace, and he and Juliet would enjoy their fairy-tale ending.

On cue, the dragon charged at Romeo from behind the castle, and an already heavily wounded Paris cried “Watch out!” and dove between them.

“Count Paris, why would you …?”

“What father wouldn’t shield his son from the evils of this world …?”

Kaibara was looking especially nervous about his upcoming monologue, so Monoma whispered, “I can feed you lines if you forget them.” Kaibara nodded and started to speak.

“Long ago … I fell down a wicked path …”

Kaibara struggled to remember the lines and faltered here and there, but the audience mistook this for a masterful portrayal of a man on the verge of death. They learned of the unfortunate events that plagued this villain’s life, his regrets, and his penitence, which elicited at least a bit of weepy sniffling from them. Seeing this, a proud look arose on Monoma’s face, which Shoda and Awase quickly concealed by shifting their bodies. At one point, they noticed that Tetsutetsu had returned to the wings.

“Sorry, guys, but I’m good now!” he said to the rest of the class, with a much healthier look about him than a few minutes prior.

The others scolded him for worrying them but were plainly relieved.

“Yup, just had to get that bad fish outta my system, whatever it took. But how’s Kaibara doing?”

“He’s got the audience by their heartstrings!” said Tsuburaba.

“Whoa, nice!” said Tetsutetsu, glancing at Honenuki. “So I guess we’ll let Kaibara finish it …?”

“No. If you’re good to go, I’d rather it be your face they see when Paris dies.”

Thinking that another use of the dragon as a distraction would seem shoehorned, Honenuki consulted the script.

“I’ve got it—instead of having our ring spirit descend from the catwalk, we’ll have her come in from the back of the auditorium. That’s when Tetsutetsu and Kaibara will swap places.”

“In order to distract the audience again, I suppose?” said Shiozaki.

“We can do it!” added Tsunotori.

Satisfied with Honenuki’s suggestion, Shiozaki and her would-be hippogriffs left for the rear of the auditorium. Honenuki tried to gesture to Kaibara about the swap, but the latter was too caught up in his monologue to notice. Fortunately, Monoma glimpsed the gesture and realized what it meant. When to make the swap, though? The monologue was about to end with Paris naming Romeo as his successor, so Monoma correctly guessed that the switch had to be timed with the next appearance of the ring spirit.

“Tetsutetsu is switching back in,” he whispered hastily during a pause in Kaibara’s lines.

At this, Kaibara swiveled his gaze toward stage left, spotted a cheery Tetsutetsu waving, and suddenly lost focus.

“Keep going, Kaibara. ‘The one to inherit my kingdom will be …’” prompted Monoma, since Kaibara’s instant relief seemed to have made him lose his place. He regained focus and—eager to finish his tenure as understudy—blurted out his final line.

“The one to inherit my kingdom will be … Juliet!”

“Huh?” said Monoma, a little louder than he meant to. The audience also seemed confused by the twist this late in the show.

Kaibara knew he’d really stepped in it, and the color drained from his face. A number of the crew members offstage went pale too. The mistake was simple enough, but it had drastic implications for the plot.

“What now, Honenuki?” asked Tsuburaba.

“We still have to make the swap!”

It was now or never, so Honenuki gave his signal. On cue, Shiozaki emerged in the middle of the auditorium with Tsunotori and Shishida roaring and growling at her side. While the audience was distracted, Tetsutetsu dashed onto the stage, and Kaibara said “So sorry!” as he scampered off.

“Oh, Romeo …” said Shiozaki, as the spirit of the ring. “The power that resides within you must be used to achieve peace …”

All eyes were on Shiozaki and her divine presence, so the desperate actors onstage and the equally panicked crew backstage took the opportunity to figure out their next move.

Can we play it off as a joke? No, why would Paris crack a joke during his dramatic death scene … Ugh, what do we do?

Monoma didn’t have long to think, because the crowd started murmuring in excitement. He realized they were staring at Kodai, who had descended from the castle’s terrace and was now walking toward him.

“J-Juliet …?”

Kodai walked right past the stunned Monoma and grabbed the sword sheathed at Shoda’s waist. Not a soul in the room could have anticipated what she would say when she turned and pointed the blade at Monoma.

“I challenge you to battle, for the right to the throne.”

“Huhh?”

Seeing everyone so desperate, Kodai had been inspired to improvise.

“Why, Yui, why?” said Tokage, off stage left.

“A duel? What the heck?” said Tsuburaba. But the offstage crew couldn’t run out to assist in any way; the cast was on its own—a fact that Tetsutetsu was painfully aware of.

“Th-the truth is, you two are half-siblings! I named Juliet my heir, but if she, um, seeks to win her throne in combat, so be it. The winner will inherit the crown and, like, rule in my stead!”

“Huhh?” gasped Monoma, indignant that their carefully crafted plot had been totally upended. But Kodai shifted into a battle stance, showing no signs of backing down. Off to the side, Awase and Shoda realized they had to follow the story where Kodai had taken it.

“It’s looking like Juliet means business! You’ve gotta stand up and fight, prince!” said Awase.

“The future of Gondur rests on your shoulders!” said Shoda.

“Very well. We will duel, sister.”

“Indeed, brother …”

Forced into impromptu battle, Monoma picked up his sword and pointed it at Kodai.

Honenuki and the crew stood by in the wings, knowing they might have to leap into action at any moment to accommodate the improvisation.

The sword fight began, and it was anyone’s guess how it would end.

What now? Should I win? Purposely lose …? More importantly, how do we bring this whole thing to a conclusion?

Monoma’s train of thought was cut off, since Kodai’s swordplay quickly had him cornered. He bumped up against the castle, rocking the dragon puppet off-balance and sending it toppling down toward Kodai.

“Nooo!”

He dove forward to shield her, and the direct hit knocked him out like one of Kendo’s chops. All eyes were now on Kodai, wondering what she’d do next. Standing over the unconscious Monoma, she lifted her blade, turned, and brought it down across the dragon’s neck. Fukidashi and Kamakiri were ready to provide some dramatic sound and light effects, in time with the action.

“My brother is avenged.”

Though Kodai’s face remained expressionless, her voice was tinged with rage and grief. Or so it seemed? Human emotions are important tools for coexisting with one another, so despite Kodai’s blank face, monotone voice, and incomprehensible actions, human nature forced all those bearing witness to perceive the emotions that must be running through the character’s head, effectively mobilizing their imaginations to fill in the gaps of the inexplicable. The audience saw what they wanted to see, and the rest of the class backstage was equally impressed.

“So Romeo sacrificed himself for her, and then she slayed the dragon that slayed him, shroom!”

“Even though she challenged him to a duel, she still loved her brother that much!”

“Still that blank Kodai face, but her voice, her eyes … They told the tale!”

“That girl’s a regular thespian … A star is born!”

“I think we’ve just witnessed Yui’s true awakening out there!”

The class found themselves relating to the characters they’d read about in comics about the world of theater that they’d been passing around ever since they’d decided to put on a play. Meanwhile, Kodai walked to center stage and surveyed the crowd.

“I vow to build a kingdom. Not my father’s, not my brother’s, but a new kingdom. One founded on the ideals of peace and hope!” she said.

At this valiant declaration, Tetsutetsu forgot that his character was meant to have died.

“Rock on, Juliet!” he cried.

“You have my sword!” said Awase, as Samwize.

“And my … sword, too! Literally!” said Shoda, as Froyo.

With that, Kodai raised the blade into the air.

“We will march into the future, together.”

Seeing the birth of this new, gallant queen, the stunned audience began to clap, and the applause turned into a full-blown standing ovation accompanied by a flood of cheers.

The stage takes on a life of its own, and when a passionate—albeit slapdash—production meets an audience ready and willing to embrace the fantastic, the result is an explosion of inexplicable excitement and emotion.

Still struggling to overcome his sheer shock, Honenuki managed to press the button to bring the curtain down. The instant the fringe hit the floor, the members in the wings burst out onto the stage.

“That was nuts, Yui! But you pulled it off!”

“I had no clue how that was gonna end …”

“Is Monoma alive over there?”

As his classmates were congratulating each other and breathing sighs of relief, Monoma’s eyes popped open and he immediately asked, “What happened?”

“Well, after you got knocked out …” started Honenuki.

The applause continued on the other side of the curtain, and upon hearing the whole story, Monoma said, “All’s well that ends well, I suppose,” with one of his usual coy grins.

“You’re right about that,” said Honenuki, sighing.

The others clapped their director on the back and congratulated him on a job well done, which earned them a strained smile.

“But we’ve got one last job,” he said. “The curtain call.”

Thankfully, the standing ovation hadn’t ended, and the members of class B could still feel the waves of energy emanating from the thunderous applause. It had been an exhausting experience, but the response was inspiring enough to make them consider putting on another stage production someday.

Smiles were plastered on the faces of both cast and crew as the curtain rose one last time.