Chapter 2: Yozakura Aina

They split paths with Akane at Yuzawa. There was a bullet train station there, so she had no need to go out to Niigata on her return to Tokyo.

The drawing ceremony for Summit to decide their opponent was to be held in Tokyo, so they would follow on that same train soon enough, but now was not yet the time for that. There was still something they needed to do before then.

They saw Akane off at the station and returned to the rendezvous point for the travel company they were with to catch the bus home. Nanaka and Eru sat beside one another, and Kai and Aya sat behind them.

Once the bus began moving, Kai leaned his head over the seats in front of him and called for Nanaka and Eru’s attention. “Um, I know we’ll all be tired from today, but let’s have a meeting tomorrow.”

“Bleeghhh,” Aya let out a lazy groan beside him. “I’m feeling all sting-y with sunburn over here. I don’t wanna move tomorrow.”

“I told you so...” Nanaka scolded. “It’s because you didn’t put on sunscreen properly.”

“It’s your own fault, fool.” Eru was less sympathetic.

“It’s not,” Aya objected. “Nana-sen’s hands when she was putting the sunscreen on were kinda lewd.”

“Th-They were not! ...Right?!” Nanaka swung the conversation to Kai.

“Well... I didn’t see you put it on her, so...” He didn’t know whether that was the case or not.

“Anyway!” Nanaka advanced the conversation by force. “I was thinking that we needed to meet, too, so I’m on board! This is our first development competition, after all! We probably have a lot we need to prepare, right?”

“It’s more of...” Kai searched for the right words. “The preparation before the preparation, I guess?”

“Before?” Nanaka asked, quizzically tilting her head.

Aya’s lack of enthusiasm surged up from the bottom of her heart and her head drooped sadly. “It’s my least favorite part... We’re frontloading, aren’t we?”

“That’s right,” Kai affirmed.

“Ughhh. I hate this whole be-there-early and do-it-in-advance mentality,” she whined. “Isn’t it stupid? If the meeting starts at 10:00, then it should be fine if I’m there at 10:00. If the deadline is the fifth, then it should be fine if I’m done by the fifth. When people talk about margin this and buffer that, all I can think is, shut up.”

“I might have nodded along at some point during your rant if you hadn’t overslept and been ten minutes late to our meetup this morning,” Kai pointed out.

“But look, it worked out, didn’t it?”

“It worked out because I built a time buffer into our scheduled meeting time.”

“I like people who tell gentle lies,” Aya claimed flatteringly.

“I think I like people who aren’t late all the time,” he replied.

“La, la, caaan’t heeeaaar youuu!”

Kai was glad that he’d chosen to have everyone gather fifteen minutes before the bus took off, and now he internally resolved to give Aya early deadlines for their club schedule going forward. That was his plan: the fact that there were people like her was the reason that planners made schedules that looked like they were barely cutting it on the surface, but actually had time to spare.

He’d pressure her by saying, “There’s only three days until the deadline,” but internally, he’d know they had a week left. Then he’d press on with, “How’s the progress?” while wearing a smile on his face.

That had been a hard process for Kai until he’d gotten used to it. The planner was in charge of supervising progress more often than not, so it was common for them to be in charge of talking to the members on-site and controlling the rate of progression. However, in the end, the work was being done by other people, so there was a limit to what they could actually control. If telling someone to work faster made them do so, he wouldn’t have any issues in the first place.

As a result, the strategy for those whose norm was to be late was to give them a compressed schedule from step one. Aya had called it a ‘gentle lie,’ but a lie was a lie. Honestly, even now Kai didn’t like the way he was getting used to lying through a smile.

“...Kai-kun?” Nanaka called out.

“Oh. Ahem,” he cleared his throat and realigned his train of thought. “Getting back on topic, Nanaka-san... do you think you could play both soccer and baseball at the same time?”

“No way,” Nanaka answered without any hesitation, as would anyone. If there existed a person capable of dribbling a soccer ball at the batter’s box while hitting a home run, they would be well beyond the levels of a human being.

“Okay, then do you think you can both manage and develop a game at the same time?”

“...Oh.” Nanaka’s eyes widened as she figured out what he was saying.

“Right. If we go to Summit, we’ll be concentrating on development, so...” Kai trailed off.

“...So, we won’t be able to implement our planned management fixes,” Nanaka finished for him.

“Exactly,” he agreed. “We can get out of our routine competition if we formally accept the invitation to Summit, but our normal day-to-day management is a separate issue.”

“And that’s why you said the preparation before the preparation,” she concluded.

The Meikun Social Game Club’s game, Miracle Stage—also known as MiSt—hadn’t quite shot up the rankings, but it did have more users than before owing to the buzz generated from their joint venture with Tsukigase. They might not have been in a position to implement a large scale event, but they still needed to keep up with their regular support for the game.

For example, they could ready a set of events that changed weekly or daily (which were often called ‘daily quests’ and generally offered materials to strengthen units), and that was the bare minimum that they absolutely had to prepare.

Whether the management staff was participating in Summit or not had nothing to do with the users, and leaving a message like, “We’re going to Summit so no updates for a while,” would have been incredibly rude to their players.

“—Respect, foremost. Listen, Shiraseki: a social game that no one plays is akin to one that doesn’t exist at all. That’s why, above all else, we must not forget to be respectful to our users. But don’t misunderstand—we must not lick their boots, because we are equals. Both management and userbase must coexist. Without one or the other, a social game ceases to exist.”

Kai had learned that lesson from Akane around the time that he first joined the club. He was deeply blessed to have received so many key words of wisdom that he could look back on whenever he lost his way.

“First, I think we need to build our plans for this month’s management decisions as fast as possible,” he explained.

“Umm... oh, right,” Nanaka pondered. “The drawing ceremony for Summit is next week, after all.”

“Aw, man,” Aya moaned. “If we had as many people as Tsukigase does, we coulda split the work up.”

“Well there’s nothing we can do about that...” Kai agreed with a sigh.

Just as Aya said, Tsukigase could probably have held down the fort even if they’d lost a good chunk of their members to Summit. Earlier, when Kai had mentioned the baseball and soccer analogy, they would have been able to make it work if they’d had more than the necessary eleven soccer players and nine baseball players.

For the four current members of Meikun’s social game club, it was a situation they weren’t even allowed to dream of.

“Okay,” Nanaka said, pumping up her fist to draw everyone’s attention. “Let’s meet up tomorrow morning! 9:00 AM at the clubroom!”

“Waaaaaaahhh!”

“Looks like Ah-chan can come,” Nanaka noted. “How about you, Eru?”

“I don’t mind, dear.”

“Great. Oh, and Kai-kun, does that work for you?”

“Yep, that’s fine.”

“Alriiight!” she cheered. “Here comes the warm-up before Summit! Let’s go!”

◇

“Isn’t it whack that Nana-sen’s not here after saying all that?!” Aya demanded.

“Shut your mouth,” Eru snapped back. “Unlike you, Nanaka let us know that she’d be late.”

“I wasn’t asking you, you Nana-sen-lover! Senpai, isn’t this whack? Are you gonna let her be late just because she said she would?!”

“She sent us a message, so I think it’s fine?” Kai ventured.

“Argh! I forgot you’re a Nana-sen-lover, too!” Aya griped. “I don’t have any allies!”

“...It’s not about being your ally or whatever,” he explained. “Aya, if you happened to not feel well or something, all you would need to do is let us know.”

Kai decided to skip straight past the whole ‘Nana-sen-lover’ bit. Aya had a habit of confusing everyone by complicating the situation and weaseling away, so she frequently used that kind of language to try and bait them.

The basics of dealing with these sorts was to ignore them. Unfortunately for Kai, he was used to interacting with this personality type from dealing with his sister (whose ability to annoy was three levels beyond Aya’s), so letting this slide didn’t even tickle.

“Fine, then,” Aya muttered. “I’m sleeping in tomorrow.”

“That’s not happening,” he told her flatly.

“But I told you ahead of time!!!” Aya moaned pitifully.

Kai simply looked down at his phone to check the time. It was already thirty minutes past their scheduled start. In their LIME group chat, Nanaka had written, “A teacher called me over so I’ll be a bit late,” followed shortly by, “Wait just a bit longer! Big announcement incoming!” alongside a stamp of a shocked seal drawn in a lazy cartoon style.

“...Wouldn’t it be funny if we got disbanded again?” Aya joked.

“It wouldn’t be funny, and besides... her texts seem cheerful, so I don’t think that’s it,” Kai replied.

“I wonder. Mmkay, since we don’t have anything else to do, you wanna have a little contest, senpai?”

“Rolling the gacha and comparing rarities isn’t exactly what you call a contest,” he pointed out.

Sick of waiting, Eru put on her headphones and started scratching away at the tablet in front of her usual computer. Though she undeniably had communication issues, Kai felt like he could learn a thing or two from the way in which she never wasted a second.

Even on the bus ride home yesterday, when they’d all been chatting together at first, Eru had pulled out a small croquis notebook and begun sketching as the conversation died down.

“Sigh, I’m booored,” said Aya, who was melting like a raw egg in a frying pan. “Oh, I got rainbows.” She was flicking at her phone with her right hand while staring at gacha animations. Then she howled, “Ohhhhhhhhh?! ...Aww.” It looked like her pull was a bust. As an aside, her pose remained lazily sprawled out from start to finish.

Yep, thought Kai to himself. No matter what kind of overwhelming skill set she has, I shouldn’t be learning from her. Instead, he opened his laptop with a sigh, figuring that he ought to work on whatever he could. The moment he’d had that thought, though, he heard the light tap tap tap sound of footsteps from the hallway, and the door opened with great momentum to reveal Nanaka, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“Sorry for the wait!” she told them.

“Oh, Nana-sen, you’re here—wait.” Aya froze with her mouth wide open.

Kai felt the same way. He had also tried to greet Nanaka, but the words got caught before he could speak. That was how strong her presence was.

“Whozzat?” Aya wanted to know.

“I’m glad you asked!” Nanaka declared with gravity. “Here we have a second-year student, just like me and Kai-kun: Yozakura Aina-chan! What’s more, she’s a new member of our club!”

So that’s why Nanaka got called over by the teachers in the middle of summer break, Kai mused. However, his further thoughts were paralyzed the instant that Aina walked into the room.

To be absolutely sincere, she was stunningly beautiful. She gave off nearly the same impression as the plaster statue of a goddess left in the fine arts room.

The girl introduced as Yozakura Aina carried herself with polished mannerisms befitting of her first impression, and yet strangely had a soft air of approachability akin to that of a flower. She wore a pink hoodie over her summer blouse, which swayed softly as she walked. Her black hair was as fine as silk, and it was plain to see that she took ample care of it. That didn’t mean it was overdone, however, and it still had a touch of homeliness as it floated down from her head.

“Nice to meet you!” As Aina gave them a small bow, her black hair flowed elegantly down. Despite being taller than Nanaka, her head was a smidgeon smaller, and her large eyes were supported by a nicely shaped nose. She flashed Kai a soft smile when his eyes met hers, and that was enough to make him gulp. “My name’s Aina,” she sang out, “let’s get along! ♪”

“Hoo boy,” Aya blurted, “what’s up with this 2D-looking beauty? Are you one of Nana-sen’s friends who happened to have been an elf in their previous life? Or maybe you’re an android or something?”

“Geez, I’m not an elf or an android!” Aina said, while laughing lightly. “Both of my parents are Japanese. Sorry I couldn’t live up to your expectations, um... and your name is...?”

“First-year, Oushima Aya. I’m the social game club’s programmer.”

“Whaaat?! You’re a programmer?! That’s so cool!” Aina gushed. “I wouldn’t have guessed, with how small and cute you are! I wish I had a cute little sister like you, Aya-chan!”

“It’s not like my looks have anything to do with programming, though,” Aya pointed out. “If we were sisters, I’d make you roll the gacha with me every day, you know?”

“Oh, is that BeauSt? Look, look, I got lucky and rolled the newest character!” Aina pulled out and displayed her own phone from her hoodie pocket in response to the phone screen Aya thrust her way.

“Wow, you got a plain addition off rate-up in a death pot gacha,” Aya said admiringly. “Not bad.”

“Right?” said Aina. “I wonder if that’s enough to win your trust?”

“Welp, I don’t really change how I act no matter who I’m with, so let’s get along.”

“Yup, let’s! ♪” Aina responded with a smile and playfully began messing with Aya’s twintails.

BeauSt’s official name was Beautiful Story, and it was an RPG social game developed by the Tokyo-based Kongouin Academy Social Game Club. They were a school with absurd amounts of funding, and all the social games under their management had ludicrous amounts of spending in the graphics department. From illustrations to 3D modeling, they prided themselves on their peerless visual design.

However, good things were not cheap—or so went their policy—and their gacha system was brutal. If one were to add a new character into a social game, most would offer a time-limited rate-up to boost the odds of that character appearing. Furthermore, they’d create a separate banner from their usual gachas tailored solely for that character. Generally speaking, all social games followed a similar format, so if you had played one game with a gacha, you would know the standard of what to expect.

Kongouin Academy was anything but standard. The ‘plain addition off rate-up in a death pot gacha’ phrase that Aya had muttered sounded like an ancient curse, but the ‘plain addition’ part meant that the character was simply added to the existing pool of gacha characters and the ‘off rate-up’ part meant that their odds of appearing were the same as every other character of their rarity.

Lastly, these sorts of vicious gacha systems where you couldn’t guess what would come out next were called ‘death pots.’ On this point, there was some variance; some people reserved the word for when characters and equipment were mixed together, and others used it when new characters were mixed together with old, powercrept characters, so there wasn’t a clear consensus per se—

His internal rambling was cut off by a dignified greeting.

“Um, and you are...?” After having conversed with Aya for a time, Aina now turned toward Kai. One step, two steps, three steps forward, and she was right in front of him. Her hair swayed when she came to a stop, and the pleasant smell of a spring sun emanated from it.

“Oh, uh, hi...!” he said. “I’m Shiraseki Kai, a second-year just like you. I also joined this club recently—” so I hope we can get along, is how he would have finished if he had been given the time.

“You’re the Shiraseki Kai?!” Betraying the energy in her voice, Aina gently caught Kai’s right hand up in both of her own as though she were drawing water from a fountain. The sensation of her slender fingers (which were so thin he was worried they’d snap) and a vague warmth traveled up his arm, paralyzing everything from his hand to his heart.

“U-Um...?” Kai tried to escape, but despite her grip being somewhat tender, he couldn’t pull his hand free.

“That’s amazing!” Aina continued, and then began pumping his hand up and down. It felt like she was directly shaking his heart.

Kai felt like his gaze was being sucked into hers as she looked up at him from slightly below eye-level. “Um, it’s just that!” she began. “You’re the one being praised on the Social Game Link, right?”

“That cannot be attributed to me,” he insisted. “That was the result of—”

“Still! It’s true that they were praising you, isn’t it? If so,” said Aina, gripping his hand tightly and drawing his averted eyes back to her before concluding, “you have to puff up your chest with pride. Especially if it’s something you achieved with the help of others... right?”

“That... might be true, yes,” Kai cautiously agreed. If he truly considered it an accomplishment, then he should be proud of it; that made sense. Otherwise, it would mean he wasn’t proud of his fellow club members, who’d walked the path alongside him.

That simply wasn’t true. Thus, if he considered it a feat that they had all achieved together—and if he considered it to be important—he needed to be proud of his work, just as Aina said. And then, he should make the point that he didn’t do it alone after that.

“But,” said Aina, smiling gently, “I don’t think anyone would blame you for boasting... I wouldn’t have guessed you to be so modest. Kai-kun, you’re a good guy. You know... I like people like you. ♪”

“Uh, I, um, uh... Th-Thank you,” Kai finally managed to reply. The sudden fast ball of the word ‘like’ had stabbed into his brain, and that was all the response he could muster.

“Oh, sorry!” Aina apologized. “I didn’t mean to hold your hand for this long... I was just so happy to get to meet you, Kai-kun. I’m sure you didn’t like holding hands with someone like me...”

“No. Th-That’s not... true,” he stammered.

“Really? I’m so relieved... Oh, since we’re both second-years, it’s okay for me to call you Kai-kun, right? You can call me Aina, too! And no need to be so polite. ♪”

As she stared straight at him, Kai couldn’t get any words out and settled for a simple nod, to which Aina responded with a full-fledged smile.

“U-Ummm!” Before Aina could say anything, Nanaka wedged her way into the conversation and gestured toward Eru with her arm. “The one drawing over there is Kuroba Eru! She’s a second-year like us, and—”

“I know,” said Aina, cutting her off.

Was it Kai’s imagination? When Aina heard the name ‘Kuroba Eru’ and made her reply, her eyes had a cold tinge that hadn’t been even remotely present until just then. She left a lingering sweet smell in her wake as she walked past Kai, and he lost sight of her eyes.

Eru couldn’t hear anything past the music playing through her headphones as she single-mindedly moved her pen across the tablet, so Aina quietly tapped her on the shoulder.

Eru’s expression was typically full of emotion whenever she finished an illustration, but that was about the only time that was true. Her almond eyes were most often seen quietly and sharply staring off at something. But now, as she slowly turned back to look at Aina, those same eyes instantly donned a piercing glare. She violently tore her headphones off her ears and back to her neck, shot up, and got up into Aina’s face, as though she was a thug picking a fight.

“...Why are you here?” Eru demanded to know.

“Um, long time no see,” said Aina. “You see, I kinda joined this club. Let’s get—”

“My word, don’t fuck with me!!!” Eru’s right hand shot up in the heat of passion, and she shoved Aina’s shoulder with all her might.

“Aieee!” Aina screamed, launched backward by the blow like a sakura flower being carried off by a powerful gust of wind.

Kai caught her fall before he was even aware of having done so. Aina was shaking in his arms and muttered, “K-Kai-kun,” while begging for help with her eyes. She entrusted her weight to him and latched onto his shoulder, after which she proceeded to make distance with Eru by hiding behind his back.

The way things turned out, Kai was basically shielding Aina from Eru. He didn’t even know what was going on.

“Oh dear, are you already wrapping yourself around that bitch’s finger?!” Eru demanded scornfully. “Both of your eyeballs must be rotting out of their sockets! I can’t believe how much of a moron you are!”

“H-Hey!” Nanaka interjected. “Eru?! Calm down...!” She hurried to hold Eru back by the shoulders, trying to pacify her.

“Is it true that she joined the club, dear?”

“W-Well, yeah,” Nanaka replied.

“We ought to cancel her membership immediately,” Eru opined. “She’s no better than the vermin who gather in the local fields. All this thing will do is bring misfortune.”

“S-So mean...!” Aina wailed. Kai couldn’t see her as she said that, but he could tell from the trembling hands on his back that she was in distress.

Kai didn’t understand their circumstances. He didn’t understand at all, but... “Don’t you think that’s going too far?” he asked Eru.

“...Huh? I don’t want to hear the opinion of someone so easily led around by the nose as you!” Eru replied defensively.

“Eru.” Nanaka’s voice served to dilute the color of Eru’s rage by a small margin. “I think that was a little too far, too... Did something happen between you two in middle school?”

“I...” It was a rare sight to see Eru look around in desperation, as she was doing now. She eventually turned away and ended with, “...can’t say.”

“...What about you, Aina-chan?” Nanaka inquired.

“I....” Kai could hear the hoarseness in the voice behind him. “I said ‘long time no see’ because we were in the same club in middle school... That’s all I said.”

“...I see.” Nanaka put her hand on her chin and contemplated the situation. “...Eru? Aina-chan’s club registration form already went through, so it’d be pretty hard to undo it... and, well? I think it’s a good thing to have more members for times like when we’re participating in Summit... So, I think... if you won’t explain your reasoning to me, I can’t support you here.”

“...” Eru said nothing, but the pen she was gripping made an unpleasant cracking sound.

“That’s why, later, you can tell me—”

“Fine,” Eru said coldly. Her voice was like ice, completely devoid of all the heat she’d had earlier. “You should do as you wish, dear. However, I don’t want to speak to her, and I don’t want to hear her voice. I will sit here and draw by myself. If you have something you need me to do, then I’ll do it.”

“E-Eru! Th-That’s not...!” Nanaka tried to stop her, but Eru shook her off and re-equipped her headphones before drawing away at her tablet.

“...Honestly, she hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Huh?” Kai whirled around because he’d heard someone mutter in a completely novel tone of voice, but all he found was Aina, who hadn’t changed one bit.

She asked him, “Kai-kun, is there something wrong?”

◇

Afterwards, they had begun discussing the work they needed to complete before Summit, but the situation had not been pretty. Eru had drowned herself in her artwork without a peep. Nanaka would ask her a question over LIME and Eru would send her a direct message containing her reply. It had been a horrible sight to see. How bad could it have been, you ask? Well...

“Okay, basically the only thing on the planners’ end is to update the master data,” Kai summarized.

“And I need to fix up the time period for limited quests,” Aya continued.

“Can I go ahead and add the Excel columns on my end?” he asked.

“Oh, no, I already did that,” the programmer replied. “Just input your data into the ones I made.”

“...That was fast,” Kai said in admiration. He added, “Oh, don’t worry, Nanaka-san. I’ll explain this to you later.”

“R-Right!” Nanaka replied.

“All that’s left... is the schedule for the illustrations we’ll be using as our reward.”

“Ah, give me a minute! Um............ Eru said it’s fine!” It wasn’t as if Nanaka had sat in deep thought during her pause. Rather, she had been waiting for Eru’s confirmation over LIME.

Eru’s attitude failed to improve for the entire day, and she quickly returned home by herself when it was time to leave. Meanwhile, the other four members of the social game club exited the school gate and walked the path home bathed in the scarlet sunset. Kai and Nanaka walked beside one another, and in front of them Aya and Aina were merrily chatting away. Even in the evening, the summer breeze was uncomfortably warm, and Kai’s summer uniform clung to his skin.

“What a predicament...” Kai observed.

To which Nanaka nodded along, musing aloud, “I wonder what’s going on...”

Of course, the predicament to which they were referring was the tension between Eru and Aina.

“I don’t think... there’s anything about Aina-san that’d make her instantly snap like that,” Kai said slowly.

“I get what you mean,” Nanaka agreed. “Aina-chan’s cute.”

“N-No, that’s not what I meant...!”

“Oh, um! Sorry!” Nanaka frantically waved her hands. “That’s not what I meant, either. It’s just, even as a girl, she’s almost too cute.”

“............Th—”

“......‘Th’?”

“......N-Never mind... It’s nothing.” Kai had tried to say, ‘That’s not true.’ There was a part of him that wanted to let it out, and he had already begun speaking, but ultimately he couldn’t keep his foot on the gas long enough for the words to come out.

It was true that Aina was cute. Not only that, she was strikingly beautiful, as well. With her mix of cuteness and beauty—and this was something Aya had initially pointed out—Kai wouldn’t have batted an eye had anyone told him she was from a 2D universe. That, or from a movie or a glittering runway. She was closer to being an exquisite doll than a 2D character, so perhaps that was more fitting.

If Aina appeared within a film at the movie theater, Kai wouldn’t find anything amiss. In fact, he thought that the spotlight would fit her quite well.

But all that was its own topic.

Walking beside him, Nanaka was also extremely cute. Though, he couldn’t say that to her face, of course. Instead, he said, “Nanaka-san, you went to the same middle school as those two, right?”

“Yup,” she agreed. “But I was in a different club from Eru in middle school.”

“I guess you wouldn’t know anything, then.”

“That’s... right... Back then, Eru was just... so blinding.”

“Are... are you talking about illustrations?” he guessed.

Nanaka’s tiny nod of affirmation caused her long shadow to stir significantly. “By the time we were in middle school, I was way worse than Eru when it came to drawing. I thought to myself... maybe this is what talent is.

“And so... I ran away, I think,” she went on. “I made the excuse that we should study different styles of art, so we joined different clubs: I went to the Fine Arts Club, and Eru went to the Manga Research Society. I think those two only ever met at their club, so I think something must have happened there.

“...It’s strange to think that Aina-san was in a manga research society,” Kai mused.

“That’s true. Maybe she likes manga?”

“Who knows... I haven’t talked to her enough to know what she likes and doesn’t like.”

“Alright, I’ll try asking Eru about all this tomorrow before our club meets... But I don’t think she’ll tell me what happened,” Nanaka admitted.

“...Really?”

She nodded slowly. “From the looks of it.”

If Nanaka couldn’t get an answer, then Kai had no hopes of even hazarding a guess. Of course, it wasn’t like Eru would open a tightly closed gate with cheers and ceremony just because he knocked. And if he asked Aya to try her hand, she’d probably vandalize the gate and call it a day. Alternatively, there was the possibility that Aya’d blow the gate open and force her way in, but then she would be locked into hostilities with Eru; that was not a solution.

Nanaka couldn’t provide royal hospitality or anything, but the odds of her getting an audience was at least higher than zero. It wouldn’t be an easy task, but Kai knew that leaving Eru to Nanaka was the best course of action.

“I’m counting on you to talk to Kuroba-san... Oh, and, Nanaka-san,” Kai said, stopping in his tracks. Nanaka came to a halt herself, and turned back to face him. Reflecting the fiery sunset, her sandy blonde hair had a crimson shine as it fluttered about. He finally declared, “‘—Do not submit yourself to inadequacy.’”

Shocked by his words, Nanaka rapidly blinked in confusion.

“Like saying you don’t have any talent,” Kai clarified. “It’s easy to look for an excuse like, ‘I’m just not good enough.’ If you accept that, even once, the excuses begin to pile on: ‘I have no talent, so there’s no point in trying. So, I won’t try. So, so, so...’ The inferiority will overflow, and ‘There wasn’t anything I could have done’ becomes insurance as you do nothing. Unable to do anything, you will be caught in a vicious yet half-hearted cycle... is what Akane-san used to say to me all the time when she scolded me to not spoil myself... Now, I think she’s completely right.”

“Akane-san really is strong.” Nanaka said. “And so are you, Kai-kun.”

“You’re the same way, Nanaka-san... The reason I came to believe these words is because I saw your room.” The innumerable pages of illustrations that flooded her room were proof that Nanaka had kept crawling forward when she was on the brink of being crushed. Thinking back, Kai remembered that there was no small number of drawings that were proper studies with a classically artistic approach.

Nanaka had said she had run away. But seeing her try and take all the things she came across and make them her own, Kai simply could not agree... And again, the same thought returned to him: it was harder to not like someone who tried their hardest, as she did.

“Umm? Are you two having a moment here?” Kai turned to see Aina tilting her head at them. Behind her, Aya had her hands behind her head and was smirking like she was a front row spectator.

“Ah, s-sorry!” Nanaka apologized. “Kai-kun and I were just talking for a while!”

“...Are you two dating?” Aina asked.

Pft! Kai nearly did a spit-take at her brazen question. “N-No,” he denied, “we’re not!”

Aina took one look at Kai and then another at Nanaka to confirm his statement, and said, “Oh,” to herself. Then she picked up with, “I was talking to Aya-chan just now and I realized something: I never talked about what I wanted to do at this club!”

“Oh, now that you mention it...” Kai had been so distracted by Eru’s attitude and Summit pre-preparations that he had completely forgotten.

“Aye-aye’s gonna put a new weapon in our arsenal,” claimed Aya, whose nickname for Aina appeared to be ‘Aye-aye.’ She sounded like she’d be off napping and eating bamboo leaves.

Aina rummaged through the backpack on her shoulders and pulled out a book. “What do you think this is?” she quizzed. The bound paper was about a B5 size, but it wasn’t that thick and had no cover.

From the top of the book, Kai could see a handful of tags sticking out on pages that Aina had flagged. “...Is that a script?” he asked.

“Correct!” Aina displayed the booklet by lifting it up next to her face and accompanied that motion with a perfectly timed wink. “Fledgling voice actress Yozakura Aina is in your care. ♪”