Chapter 13
"D-don’t worry, it’ll be fine! With just five minutes a day of lessons from the genius child actress Nana-chan—even while you’re lying down—Kotori-san will become a first-class actress too!"
"R-really…!?"
With a big smile and a thumbs-up, I looked over at Kotori-san, who had been crying with her head down, and she lifted her face in surprise.
"Just kidding, of course…"
The moment I said that, all three of them did a comical pratfall. They really have great chemistry.
"Acting just takes a few little tricks. Once you learn them, you’ll improve dramatically."
"Um… I don’t have to, you know… disappear or anything, right…?"
"Of course not! That was just another joke. It was actually all CG—computer graphics. A normal human disappearing? That’s impossible."
When I laughed and said, "Honestly," Kotori-san nodded in relief, saying, "Right, there’s no way normal people can vanish like that…" Sure, someone not-so-normal like Shindō-sensei could probably pull it off, but let’s just keep quiet about that.
"Do you really think… even I could get better at acting?"
"Absolutely, no problem at all! Just leave it to the genius child actress Nana-chan!"
I grinned confidently as I took Kotori-san’s hand. She gave me a weak but grateful smile in return. Since she had been crying just moments before, it came out as a tearful laugh.
Yeah, a girl smiling always looks much better than a girl crying.
…But now what do I do?
That claim about "just a few tricks to drastically improve" was total bluff. I only said it to coax her into taking lessons, but if it were really that easy, no one would ever struggle. The truth is, steady practice and experience are what matter.
Sure, some people are born naturals who can act without much training, but they’re rare.
And besides, I’d gone and called myself a "genius child actress" to encourage Kotori-san, but once I cooled down, I nearly crumpled over from embarrassment. I mean, it’s one thing for the media to call me that, but self-proclaiming it? That’s like a middle-aged guy calling himself a "great detective." Totally uncool.
Still, when you’re learning, it’s a lot more reassuring to be taught by someone who exudes confidence than by someone who looks insecure.
And what Kotori-san needs most of all… is confidence.
So, I’ll play the fool, the clown, if that’s what it takes to give her confidence.
…That’s all it is, so could you please stop staring at me with that warm, smug smile, Shinozaki-san?
"It’s fine. Nana really is a genius child actress."
"Why does it not sound like a compliment when you say it? Just my imagination?"
"It’s just your imagination, genius child actress."
Grr… I have a feeling they’re going to tease me with this for a while.
Guided by the other party’s manager, we moved into a lesson room about the size of a classroom. One wall was covered entirely with mirrors, while the opposite wall was glass, so the lesson could be watched from outside.
Through that glass, a group of girls—probably other idols—started gathering and watching. It must have been soundproofed, since we couldn’t hear them at all, but they were clearly enjoying themselves. I kind of felt like a panda on display at the zoo.
"Sorry, word got out that Nana-chan was coming. If they’re bothering you, I’ll tell them to leave."
"No, it’s fine. It’s just like during real filming. Let’s carry on like this."
Momiji-san apologized with an uneasy look, but honestly, real shoots are far more distracting—there’s the director, the staff, the camera crew, lighting crew, sound crew… not to mention the crowds of bystanders if we film out in public. Getting used to being watched is actually good practice.
Well, idols who do live shows should already be used to performing in front of crowds anyway.
Today, besides Kotori-san, I’d be teaching Momiji-san and Izumi-san. Just three students. Apparently, more people wanted in, but Shinozaki-san decided to keep it to Kotori-san’s unit members only, to avoid things getting too chaotic.
Even then, since the focus is on Kotori-san, the other two might end up just watching most of the time.
"Before we start, let’s confirm something. Kotori-san, have you cleared the original "Ore no Na wa"?"
"Yes, I’ve cleared it three times."
Wow, that’s impressive. It’s a massive visual novel, almost a hundred hours if you play it properly. Even I only managed one playthrough, and I would never have finished if the handheld version hadn’t come out. I just squeezed it in between shoots. The full voice acting really drags out the playtime. Sure, you can skip the voices, but I couldn’t bring myself to.
"Excellent. Then your understanding of the work won’t be an issue."
That’s the good thing about adaptations—you can rely on the original.
For originals, it can be chaos depending on the director. Sometimes they film with almost no script or dialogue, just a rough outline, improvising lines on set. Crazy, right? And yet those movies can end up masterpieces that even win awards. The world’s a strange place.
"Alright then, the next step is understanding your role. The heroine of "Ore no Na wa" is…"
As I went over the heroine’s profile—
"Um… I don’t really understand what ‘tsundere’ means…"
Kotori-san asked timidly. The heroine’s defining trait in "Ore no Na wa" is being tsundere. But "what is tsundere" is practically a religious war, with people fiercely divided over the definition.
Some say a tsundere is cold and prickly at first, but becomes lovey-dovey once she falls in love. Others argue it’s someone who’s harsh in public but sweet in private.
"See, Kotori, someone like Izumi is what we call ‘tsundere.’"
"Excuse me!?"
As I was mulling over how to explain it, Momiji-san threw her arm around Izumi-san with a smug look, and the newly branded "tsundere" instantly shouted her protest.
"She usually acts all cold, and remember how intense she was when we first met? Saying stuff like ‘Don’t drag me down’? But really, she’s always looking out for us, kind of awkward about it, but she’s a good girl."
"W-wha—what are you saying!?"
"Even though she’s a huge Nana-chan fan, she still rushed in to help Kotori, which freaked me out a bit… but that just shows how much she cares about her team—mngh!"
Momiji-san’s words were cut off when Izumi-san clapped both hands over her mouth, her face blazing red as she shouted "Waa! Waa!" in a desperate attempt to drown her out. She was covering both Momiji’s mouth and nose, though… was that safe?
"So, yeah. If you imagine Izumi-san, it’s easier to get the picture."
"I see… Oh, and there were some words that kept popping up, like ‘Sangatsu’ and ‘Guuchiku,’ but I don’t really understand them…"
"Ah, those are internet slang. If I remember right, one means ‘thank you,’ and the other refers to a really cruel person."
The heroine sometimes uses online slang, but honestly, I only have a rough sense of what it means myself.
"‘Sangatsu’ comes from ‘Thank you, Guts,’ and the other one is short for ‘a bastard so cruel you can’t even make a sound of protest.’ They were both slang that got popular on a baseball live commentary board."
At some point the tables had turned—Momiji-san had Izumi-san in an armlock while casually providing commentary. Izumi-san was letting out noises no girl should ever make from the pain.
I told Momiji-san, "That’s enough," and with a sly grin, she let go—then launched into a full explanation of the slang from the live boards.
"…So yeah, most of it’s baseball-related."
"Wow, that’s really useful-ngō."
"Kotori-san, I really don’t recommend using that kind of net slang in daily conversation. It just makes you sound painfully awkward."
As soon as Momiji-san’s lecture ended, Kotori-san suddenly tried out one of the phrases herself. It had the same painful vibe as a middle schooler proudly dropping their first internet slang, or some geek loudly saying ‘sessha’ on the train.
"Eh!? I just thought maybe I should really get into character…"
"Understanding the role and becoming the role is important, but if you live like that every day for the sake of a part, it can take a toll on your mental health. So be careful."
That’s what I’d read in a book recently.
Although, I’ve always thrown myself fully into my roles in daily life, and I’ve turned out fine.
Well, except when I was three and decided to live as a girl—back then I felt my old ‘ossan-ness’ draining away alarmingly fast. But since I’ve basically been acting nonstop ever since, maybe I built up some resistance.
Now that I think about it, when I once made Taiga practice living as his role every day, he became super emotionally unstable. Guess that explains it.
"When it comes to acting, there are two approaches: ‘adjust yourself to fit the role,’ or ‘adjust the role to fit yourself.’ But in this case, Kotori-san really has to adjust herself to the role. The personalities are just too different."
‘Adjusting the role to fit yourself’ is more like what that idol famous for ‘Chotto, mate yo’ (Wait a minute) does. The roles are tailored to the actor, so they can just act naturally. Sounds easy—but even that takes skill.
In Kotori-san’s case, the reason she struggled with acting in some scenes was probably because she was thrown into a role totally different from her own personality, right from the start.
She apparently got the part because her looks matched the heroine’s image, but since she’s really a straightforward, good-natured girl, suddenly demanding she play a tsundere was bound to come off awkward.
And sure enough, that’s exactly how it turned out.
"It’s been really hard to get into character… no matter how many times I tried, I just kept getting scolded and asked for retakes…"
"Don’t worry, I came prepared with a secret weapon this time! Ta-daa!"
She made a little sound effect with her mouth as she pulled two DVDs out of her pouch and held them up high.
"One has a collection of scenes from famous movies throughout history with characters acting all tsundere-like, and the other is me performing based on the storyboard for the upcoming third act."
"““Ohhh~~!””"
"But, we’re not using them today."
"““Ehh~~!?””"
All three of them had great reactions—maybe they’d been trained by variety shows.
"You’ll be using these as study material after today’s lesson. By the way, it was Shinozaki-san who stayed up all night collecting those scenes from the movies. Come on, let’s give her a hand!"
Clap clap clap. The three girls applauded, and Shinozaki-san pushed up her glasses with her middle finger, looking embarrassed but pleased. By then, it seemed the equipment setup had finished.
"Today I’ll show you a demonstration. Just copy exactly what I do. We’ll record it on video, and then you’ll review it."
There were two forty-inch TVs, plus a tripod-mounted video camera connected to a laptop on the long table. The footage could be played back instantly on the TVs.
The reason for having two TVs was so you could compare them side by side.
For the record, the TVs had been provided by Iroha Gorokuya Pro, but the video camera and laptop were my personal gear. Unless it was a model that could sync with my laptop, it wasn’t practical to use.
"Um, the last instructor told me, ‘Don’t copy anyone else—make your acting original’…"
"Ah, you don’t need to worry about originality at the start. That’s something you experiment with after you’ve improved. The fastest way to improve is imitation. It’s just like drawing—you get better faster if you start with sketches and copies."
Stage-acting instructors are often more artistic types. They’ll tell you not to imitate others and to find your own acting style—but that’s tough for beginners. On top of that, a lot of them don’t bother recording your performance, so you’re stuck practicing without even knowing how you actually look.
But to imitate acting, you need to be able to watch yourself objectively. And the best way to do that is to record it and play it back.
Then, if you always compare yourself to a reference video and keep running trial and error while checking the differences, you can start pulling off convincing performances in a short time.
After that, it’s up to talent, steady lessons, and building experience on stage.
"So with that said, I’ll show you an example first, and then you’ll copy it and act it out."
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