The day after the storage incident, after school finally became play-rehearsal time. Costumes and props weren’t ready and we were in the classroom, so today was a light read-through.
The cast — me as Snow White, Reona as the Prince, Shirogane-san as the Witch, several Dwarves — read through the script start to finish.
“Looking at this run-through, frankly everyone except Reona-chan is very obviously reading off the script, the script-illusion is too strong.”
We’d each been practicing at home, but the assessment from our director — class committee head and actual drama-club member Shiraishi Mina-san — was not enthusiastic.
Shiraishi-san is in the drama club. Of course a first-pass read-through looked rough. And today was day one — none of this was unexpected.
“Why is Reona the only one who’s good at this? I practiced too.”
“Hmm, talent?”
“Your smug face is annoying me.”
Reona and Shirogane-san were having that conversation. Despite the pre-summer wallet incident, their relationship hadn’t soured.
For context, on the last day before summer break, Shirogane-san had apologized to me, so the issue was resolved — no residual.
In fact, in a class where most people would not interact with me, Shirogane-san was one of the few who did. Probably driven by guilt-management, but still.
“Now that I see where we are — I’m going to crack the whip from here on out. Brace yourselves.”
Shiraishi-san looked like a quiet bookish type — glasses, light demeanor — and was, surprisingly, intensely fired up.
Several breaks later, today’s practice wrapped. As the lead, I had received the most coaching. Drained. On the way to the shoe lockers with Reona, she was wearing a displeased face.
“Ryouya-kun, you were enchanted by Mina-chan earlier, weren’t you?”
“Based on what?”
“You held eye contact with Mina-chan for over five seconds.”
She had invented a metric. She had interpreted me looking at her face while she gave feedback as enchantment.
“Five seconds is very short.”
“For me it’s three seconds.”
“That would render every social interaction a romantic affair.”
“Right, that’s the concern. Ryouya-kun is easy pickings, after all.”
That I am easy pickings is true, but what was the concern, exactly?
“What exactly are you worried about?”
“There’s a study that says eight seconds of mutual eye contact triggers love. I’m telling you out of concern — I don’t want to watch you fall into a doomed crush.”
“You are framing this entirely on the premise I get rejected. Maybe my hypothetical crush would work out.”
“Oh — Ryouya-kun, do you have a crush you want to work out?”
“Riona and I want details, please.”
Riona — out of nowhere — was clamping down on my shoulder with a grip that bit. I scrambled.
“N-no, that was hypothetical, there’s no specific person.”
“Oh, just hypothetical.”
“Don’t startle me like that.”
The grip released — saved.
I’d been generating these slips with concerning frequency. I needed to stop talking, basically.
“Anyway, Ryouya-kun’s hypothetical crush succeeding is near-impossible.”
“Of the 3.5 billion women on Earth, exactly two would date Ryouya.”
“3.5 billion to two is effectively zero, you realize.”
The verbal sniper-fire was nonstop. The two number — what was the source? I asked. They wouldn’t say, only that I’d find out someday.