Chapter 3

The next morning, after a solid sleep, all my fatigue had vanished. As expected of an elementary schooler—astonishing recovery power. Back in the day, no matter how much I slept, the tiredness lingered. Getting old is rough.

After that, I ran lightly on the treadmill for about twenty minutes, then took a shower to wash off the sweat. When I entered the living room, breakfast was already laid out: toast, scrambled eggs, and a soup loaded with vegetables—the perfect Western-style breakfast. Other days, it alternates with a Japanese spread of rice, miso soup, and grilled fish. Since Dad prefers Western food and I prefer Japanese, we rotate between the two styles.

After finishing that delicious breakfast, Mom gave me a lecture and made me promise not to take on extra work carelessly and end up overworked. Apparently, Shinozaki-san had also sent word, so I was ordered to go straight home today without lessons or extracurriculars.

Guess I’ll just have to relax for once. But honestly, if I’m not doing something, I get so restless my hands start shaking. Am I a workaholic or something?

"Esteemed spectators, though some of you may already know me, I go by the name of Oyakata, and from Edo I have traveled twenty ri up the road..."

After stretching, I began reciting "Uirō-uri." It’s a long speech from a kabuki play, originally, but I was taught it in child-actor lessons as the perfect practice for articulation and voice projection. Apparently, not only actors but also announcers and aspiring voice actors use it. I’ve been doing it for over seven years now, so I’ve memorized the whole thing and can rattle it off without stumbling.

I glanced over at Mom and saw her looking exasperated, but since she didn’t say anything, I guess I was safe. It’s part of my routine, after all.

"Essha, oyataka tomousuwa, ni-ni-ni... niryuuri? Kamigata..."

The one trying to copy me was my five-year-old little brother, Kazuki. Holding an old script upside down, he pretended to read along, which was ridiculously adorable to watch.

"Kazu-kun, you’re getting better at saying it! Amazing!"

"Ehehe, I love you, Onee-chan."

"Onee-chan loves you too, Kazu-kun!"

Gah! Too cute!! I must protect this smile.

If one day he ends up working at some exploitative company and wants to quit, I’ll support him. I’ve even been saving money separately for that very reason. Sitting him on my lap and rubbing my cheek against his soft hair, I breathed in that gentle, comforting scent unique to small children.

He takes after Mom, with such delicate features that if you dressed him up in frilly clothes, people would mistake him for a girl. Actually, I once put him in my old hand-me-downs and—oh no. He was way too cute, it was dangerous. Now that he’s five, he’s starting to dislike it, so I’ve been refraining lately.

It’s such a shame I only get to spend time with him in the mornings. By the time I come home, he’s always asleep. Maybe this afternoon, I’ll play with him nonstop.

Just as I was thoroughly soaking in my little brother’s presence, it was time to leave for school. The academy was within walking distance from our apartment, but Dad dropped me off on his way to work. We walked side by side, holding hands. I suggested maybe we should stop, since it was getting embarrassing, but when I said that, he made a face like it was the end of the world. I couldn’t bring myself to push it further.

I suppose if Kazuki ever refused to hold my hand, I’d make the same face. Still, I’m not a daddy’s girl, so I really wish he’d show some restraint. When I grow older, I’m not going to say things like “Don’t use the bath after Dad” or “Don’t wash my clothes with his.”

"Nanami, you’ve been pushing yourself too hard lately. Mom’s worried, you know."

"I know. She already scolded me this morning."

"Well, Dad’s worried too. It’s fine to work hard at what you want to do, but you’re still a kid. Don’t overdo it."

Saying that, he placed his large hand gently on my head. He rubbed it around, messing up my carefully set hair. I wanted him to stop, but those rough, warm hands didn’t feel bad at all.

To put it mildly, Dad is a gorilla. He’s just shy of 190 cm (6 feet 3 inches), with the build of a wrestler. He’s a handsome gorilla, the kind who really suits bananas. According to Mom, he used to be a lean, muscular type who was popular back in the day, but after marriage, he started gaining weight and evolved into a gorilla.

That said, he’s not fat. He still trains, so it’s more like a layer of fat armor wrapped around solid muscle—a salaryman gorilla.

On the other hand, Mom is petite, below average in height, and slim enough that you’d never think she was the mother of two kids. She’s Dad’s childhood friend and the same age as him, but when they walk side by side, they look more like father and daughter. Or worse, it could be mistaken for something shady, like an enjo-kōsai scene.

While chatting with Dad about recent events, we arrived at the school gates and parted ways. The main gate of Sakuranagi Academy’s elementary division, where I transferred just a year ago, carried a sense of history and dignity. In front of it spread a broad rotary, where polished black luxury cars pulled up to let out boys and girls in elegant, expensive uniforms. They greeted one another with cheerful "Good day"s as they strolled inside.

"Good day"… I’d only ever seen that in manga or dramas. Well, I once played an ojou-sama role in a drama, so I can fake it, but… the world here is so different from public elementary school. I still can’t quite get used to it and feel out of place.

"Good morning, Nanami-chan."

"Ah, good morning, Sayuri-chan."

As I trudged toward the main entrance, a girl stepping out of yet another luxury car greeted me. She was the very picture of a refined young lady: Rokushoin Sayuri-chan. She’s my classmate, the granddaughter of the sponsor who recommended me for transfer to Sakuranagi Academy.

She’s also my only friend here—and she kindly greets me with a casual "good morning," matching the way a commoner like me talks. To say she’s an angel would be an understatement.

"So you were able to come to school today."

"Yeah, filming finally settled down a bit."

"Wasn’t it the shoot for My Name Is? Is that one finished already?"

"Ah, no, not that one yet. I had another one-off drama role come up… the schedules overlapped, so it got really busy."

Holding hands, we spoke in hushed tones so no one else could hear. At this school, I keep my child-actor identity as “Hanasaki Nana” a secret. Only Sayuri-chan and a handful of others among the students know. Among the faculty, just my homeroom teacher, the principal, and the vice principal. Since my absences for filming pile up, and because any entertainment work requires permission, I have to keep it all under wraps.

Publicly, I pass it off as being “frail and often sick.”

The reason I keep it hidden is because, at my previous school, once everyone knew I was a child actor, my private life got so chaotic that I couldn’t live normally anymore.

So when I transferred here, I decided to hide it—disguising myself with a wig and thick-rimmed glasses to look plain. At first glance, I come across as an introverted kid who isn’t good with people. It’s been over a year since I started attending this school, and still no one’s noticed.

Speaking of which, a lot of child actors use their real names for work, but Shinozaki-san advised me to use a stage name instead. Back when I was still unknown, I thought it was kind of embarrassing, but choosing one turned out to be absolutely the right move. If I’d waited until my real name was widely known, it would’ve been too late to change. I can never repay Shinozaki-san for that.

"Did your manager get mad at you again?"

"Yeah… I got scolded for taking jobs without permission."

Chatting with Sayuri-chan, I walked into the classroom. Since our seats were next to each other, we sat down side by side by the window. About half the class was already there, with friends gathered in small groups, chatting quietly. Unlike in public schools, nobody was running around noisily—the atmosphere was calm. The tuition is expensive, but thanks to that I can enjoy a peaceful school life. I’m glad I transferred.

Well, technically I could’ve attended for free as a scholarship student. Sakuranagi Academy puts a lot of emphasis on cultural and artistic fields, and children with talent or achievements in those areas can get their tuition waived.

For example, the ballet, kabuki, and music students include pianist hopefuls, while in shogi and go there are kids who’ve already made it into the Shōreikai or the insei leagues and are building strong records. They’re almost guaranteed to go pro, and not just as pros, but as top-class players. I’ve even heard that some students in the middle division are already professional.

Honestly, it’s just scouting kids early by throwing money around.

As for me, if I took the scholarship, I wouldn’t be able to hide that I’m working as Hanasaki Nana. As wasteful as the money situation is, I had no choice but to refuse—it’s the price of keeping my peace.

While I was talking with Sayuri-chan, a chorus of excited squeals came from outside. Looking out toward the main gate, I spotted a handsome boy arriving at school, surrounded by girls.

Kuroya Hiroto. He’s a member of COLORFUL, an idol group made up entirely of elementary school kids. He used to be a child actor too—one I often worked with—pulling off acrobatic action scenes like they were nothing. Now he’s a scholarship student here, with his tuition fully covered.

He’s ridiculously athletic, great at sports, skilled at dancing, and even a good singer. Even though he switched over to being an idol, he still aims to be an actor, so he’s as active as ever in dramas and movies. Apparently, going into idols boosts exposure more than sticking solely to acting. So unfair.

I was glaring at him, thinking "explode, handsome boy," when our eyes met. Noticing me, Hiroto beamed and waved enthusiastically. I quickly ducked down, pretending to pick up a dropped eraser.

…That guy. I told him to pretend not to know me at school, but he still doesn’t get it.

Looks like I’ll have to “remind” him again.

"What’d you call me here for—ugh!?"

The moment Hiroto stepped into the science prep room, where I’d summoned him by email, I drove a palm strike straight into his solar plexus. After checking that no other students had followed him, I locked the door. Now we could talk properly. Not that I had much choice—he’s always surrounded by fans.

"Wh-why’d you hit me…?"

"Because you’re a dumb mutt who won’t learn. I already asked you not to talk to me at school, remember?"

"I didn’t talk to you—I only waved…"

Without a word, I grabbed his hand, spun around, twisted his arm into a joint lock, and pushed him facedown onto the floor, sitting on his back.

Even though that strike earlier should’ve caught him off guard, he’d absorbed the impact by instinctively leaping back. He’s not trained in martial arts, yet his reflexes are broken. Still, once you’ve got a joint lock in, it doesn’t matter.

"It hurts! I give! I give!!"

"I told you already—I’m keeping the fact that I’m Hanasaki Nana a secret. Which means you and I are strangers at this school. I’ve asked you over and over, haven’t I?"

Since his loud tapping on the floor was annoying, I released his arm and loosened the hold. But I stayed perched on his back to show this was still punishment.

"You don’t have to go that far… I mean, we’re classmates now, right? Can’t we just say we’re friends?"

He pouted and muttered his complaint. In the past, he’d obey anything I said without question. Now he’s gotten rebellious—what is this, a teenage phase?

We first worked together about four years ago in a film, and since then we’d often been paired up. Hiroto’s action scenes were incredible, but his acting was wooden—so bad the director would scold him until he cried. I couldn’t stand watching anymore, so I coached him a bit, enough to keep him from getting yelled at. From then on, he started clinging to me excessively.

Well, back then he was still little and adorable, so I doted on him like a kid brother.

"Hiro, there’s no way I can talk to you at school."

"Why not!?"

"Because you’re always surrounded by girls. There’s no opening to get close. And even if I did, just being seen as close to you would make me a target of jealousy."

On top of his nationwide official fan club, Hiroto also has a “school fan club”—basically a secret society. Its members span from elementary through university, since the academy runs all the way through. If word ever got out that I was close to him, my school life would be finished.

The girls around him aren’t just squealing fangirls either—their positions depend on complicated factors like family power and wealth. Get careless, and I’d be utterly destroyed. Terrifying.

Even after I carefully explained all that, Hiroto just said—

"…Don’t care."

—and turned away with a sulky face. Where did the obedient Hiroto go? When he’s surrounded by girls, he smiles graciously and handles it more maturely than most adult men, but with me, he turns into a sulky kid. Why? I’m not your mom.

"Since we don’t get to work together as much anymore, I thought now that we go to the same school, we could hang out. But then you tell me not to talk to you…"

"That’s because you switched to being an idol, Hiro. That’s why we don’t work together anymore."

"…?"

He tilted his head, clearly not understanding.

Isn’t it common sense that idols can’t be involved in romance scandals? Of course their agencies would stop them from frequently co-starring with a specific member of the opposite sex.

Back when neither of us were idols and we were just kids, people thought it was cute and harmless. But now? No way. It would turn into tabloid garbage like “Precocious Child Stars in Budding Romance Scandal?!”—with sensationalist headlines, made-up stories, and endless TV chatter.

He should’ve already been warned by his agency and manager, but… well, he’s still only a fourth-grade boy, even if he acts mature sometimes. Romance isn’t on his radar.

As for me and Hiroto—we’re the same age, in the same line of work, but I used to be a middle-aged man. So, when it came to Hiroto, I always treated him like an uncle spoiling his nephew, guiding and taming him. Maybe suddenly pushing him away was too harsh.

"…Sigh. Okay, fine. As long as you can act like a stranger normally, I guess we can talk sometimes—but only when no one else is around, like today."

"Really!?"

"But only if you don’t wave, don’t try to talk to me, nothing. Got it?"

"…Fine."

He nodded, though reluctantly. The problem is, no matter how many times I spell it out like this, he always forgets and tries to talk to me at school. I can never let my guard down.

Even after I let Hiroto go, I stayed behind to kill time. "You’re not coming back with me?" he’d asked, proving once again he hadn’t fully understood. If we walked back together and someone saw us, it’d be over. I had to explain it again—with an iron claw hold to drive the point home. Pain leaves a better memory.

Alone in the prep room, I sat on a desk, swinging my legs as I waited for the bell. Then, from the back closet where the cleaning supplies were stored—clatter.

Huh? Poltergeist?

Strange. I thought the room was empty, so I let my guard down. But there was definitely a human presence inside that closet.

I crept closer, but the door wouldn’t open—it was locked. Still, it was the kind that only locked from the outside, so when I pushed the lever down, it opened.

Peeking inside, I half-expected some horror cliché like, “There’s nobody inside.” But no—there was.

A girl.

She wore black-rimmed glasses like mine, with her hair in braids. Sitting on the floor, she looked up at me with a frightened expression.

"…How long have you been in here?"

"U-um, I didn’t hear anything, I didn’t see anything, so please forgive me…"

Her tearful, trembling reaction was like that of someone facing an attacker. After witnessing me disciplining Hiroto physically, it was honestly a reasonable response.

But that wasn’t what I wanted to know. I’d checked the science lab schedule, confirmed it wasn’t used in the morning, and then called Hiroto here right after second period. Which meant this girl had been stuck in the supply closet for at least an hour.

And since it locked from the outside, someone must have shut her in.

…This was clearly bullying.

"Are you okay? Should I call a teacher?"

"N-no, I-I’m fine! It’s just… I-I need the bath…room…"

I offered her a reassuring smile and held out my hand, but before she could take it, a dark patch spread beneath her. She must’ve been holding it in all that time. Her face crumpled with despair, and then she began sobbing.

"I-I… I’m s-sorry…"

"It’s okay. Let’s go to the infirmary."

I gently coaxed her to her feet, just as the bell rang. With the next class starting in a few minutes, it’d be better to wait until everyone was in their classrooms before heading out—less chance of running into other students.

That meant cleaning this up first, before anyone noticed.

I told her as much, then quickly set about wiping up. Luckily, this was the science prep room, with a sink and everything, so it wasn’t too hard.

Once the final bell rang, I took her hand and led her toward the infirmary.