Chapter 78: Pretty Girl, Troubled Over Her Theater Role

The new week began, putting us in the second week of September. During homeroom after school, we were supposed to decide what kind of play we would perform.

Ideas ranged from movie-based adaptations to classic fairy tales. But if we chose a movie, anyone who didn’t know the film wouldn’t understand the story, so even if someone wanted to dramatize it, it was difficult to get everyone on board.

On the other hand, performing a fairy tale felt too childish for high schoolers, and that childish atmosphere was hard to shake—so nothing was getting decided.

I barely watched movies, so whenever the conversation drifted in that direction, I couldn’t follow at all. As for fairy tales or classics, I knew them, but I didn’t have any real passion for performing them. I felt a little guilty, considering I was the one who originally suggested we do a play, yet here I was with zero ideas. Since I had nothing useful to offer, all I could do was stay quiet.

While everyone debated back and forth, I ended up aimlessly staring out the classroom window at the sky.

I knew the posture wasn’t proper, but I rested my elbow on the desk and gazed upward. The weather was great today too.

"That’s why Snow White would work just fine."

"Yeah, because you just want to kiss Ayumi-chan."

My name suddenly popped up and I jerked in shock, losing balance on my elbow.

Why me!?

When I looked around, the entire class was staring at me. I hadn’t said a single word, yet I felt that awful sensation of “I did something wrong somehow.” My body temperature shot up instantly.

"I see. Some plays do have pretty intense love scenes."

"Never thought of that."

"Totally slipped my mind."

Classmates nodded in agreement—boys and girls alike—then all stared right at me. Their eyes sparkled with some kind of expectation.

Even if you look at me like that, I seriously have no idea what I’m supposed to do! I’m not heroine material! I can barely talk in front of people—how am I supposed to act on a stage!?

"But we still haven’t decided on the story."

"True…"

Everyone fell silent, looking down and thinking. The cultural festival committee members at the podium looked troubled. Sakurako-chan, who had been writing suggestions on the board, looked… bored. Ah—she yawned.

"In that case, why not just create an original story?"

A sudden voice stirred the class.

The one who stood up was a sharp-featured boy with black-framed glasses—Mita-kun. I didn’t know what club he belonged to, but judging by his delicate build and the vibe of the guys he hung out with, I figured he must be in some kind of cultural club.

He glanced at me, then continued speaking.

"If we’re doing a play for the cultural festival anyway, we could make one from scratch. We still have two months."

An entirely original production… I definitely couldn’t write a story, but maybe someone could?

The class seemed broadly positive—more or less welcoming to the idea of creating an original play. But then the next issue arose: Who would write it? That quickly became the new source of argument.

Meanwhile, Mita-kun wore a smug grin.

"Heh heh heh, everyone. I’ll write it! I’m the one who suggested it, after all."

The class buzzed even louder. A few heckles flew—"You can actually write one?"

"Calm yourselves. I’m in the Literature Club. I can handle a script or two."

The class erupted again.

Even though being in the Literature Club didn’t automatically mean you could write a stage script, he had a strange aura of credibility. And honestly, since everyone was thinking “I can’t write one, I hope someone else does it,” no one had any reason to oppose someone volunteering.

"If we make Sakura-san the heroine and write the script to bring out her charm, everyone would be satisfied, right?"

Mita-kun addressed the class. Everyone nodded.

Wait—hold up, hold up!!

"Wh-Why am I the heroine!? I can’t talk in front of people at all!"

"Ayumi-chan, if you want to take first place in the Miss Contest, you need to shine in the class performance!"

Moeka-chan stared at me with sparkling, hopeful eyes.

I—I mean, I can’t deny that, but you don’t have to make me the main character! Just make me a background tree or part of the crowd!

"That’s right, Ayumi-chan. And the student council president is definitely going to be your rival in the Miss Contest. Her personality is… you know, but she’s won two years in a row."

"No way!"

"Figured. She does look amazing."

"Even if the inside is awful, guys fall for the outside—that’s just how men are…"

Sakurako-chan’s comment made the class tense with worry.

Meanwhile, I was just thinking, “Oh yeah… I haven’t heard about the student council president in a while.”

Her personality is a problem, but in terms of looks, she’s on par with Yoshino-san. If she enters, I doubt I could win in the first place.

Noticing my defeated aura, Sakurako-chan continued.

"But the president’s personality is so bad she’s practically a lesbian at this point, so she’s popular with the girls but not with the boys. That’s our opening!"

Even if she’s only popular with the girls, that’s still practically half the entire school… Where exactly are we supposed to “exploit an opening” in that?

Meanwhile, unlike the student council president, I don’t do anything that stands out. Throughout the first semester, I just stayed quietly in the Cooking Club, and the only major thing I did was the sports festival. But that was four months ago—no one’s memory lasts that long.

Still, despite my doubts, my classmates were nodding earnestly.

Even if this really is about competing in the Miss Contest, isn’t it unfair to hand out the main role without a proper discussion? I’m sure there are people who genuinely want to try acting in the play.

"Um… don’t you all want to act too? I think someone who truly wants the role should have it, not someone like me…"

I looked around at the girls in class.

An indescribable, awkward air settled over the room. But… I wasn’t wrong, right?

Then, one girl suddenly stood up.

"Sakura-san. It’s true, I’d like to try acting in a play. But more importantly, it’s our duty to admire you! We want to see cute Sakura-san as the heroine! And even if you’re the heroine, we can still be in the play!"

Voices of agreement rose from the other girls.

It was much better than being disliked, and being called cute by other girls made me happy… but they were definitely overhyping me.

"Sakura-chan, so please… try your best and be our heroine?"

I never expected a girl to ask me that so sincerely. This class has plenty of girls who are far more proactive than someone like me, who lacks initiative. I really thought someone else would volunteer.

So much for my “If someone else wants the role, I’ll let them take it” strategy…

Is it really okay to settle it like this?

It’s not that I don’t want to participate in the play. I’d like to stand on stage—even if it’s just as a tree. …Well, part of that is because I’m too clumsy to be useful backstage, which is honestly kind of pathetic.

But leading role, right from the start—that’s too much.

I can’t imagine myself performing on stage. A heroine who can’t even speak properly? That would ruin the whole play. And if I practiced with everyone for two months only to mess everything up in the end… the thought scared me enough to hesitate.

"I… I want a little time to think about it…"

"Ayumi-chan, I’m sorry we pushed our feelings onto you. We don’t want to force you into anything you hate."

Moeka-chan gently reassured me. Everyone else nodded in agreement.

It didn’t seem like they intended to force me. But they were all hoping for me, and I couldn’t just say no without thinking seriously about it.

Do they really want the Miss Contest class gift voucher that badly…?

Because of my answer, all decisions about casting were postponed for today’s homeroom.

If we’re starting from the script, two months will fly by. It might not even be enough. I couldn’t keep delaying my answer forever—I’d have to think it through and tell everyone tomorrow.

It would’ve been nice if they wrote the script first, then chose roles that fit the story… but things had already snowballed too far. No point complaining now.

After homeroom ended, I headed to the clubroom like always.

The usual members walked with me toward the clubroom.

"Hey, Moeka-chan, Sakurako-chan. Do you think someone like me could actually act?"

I asked the two of them as we walked.

Honestly, it’s not that I don’t want to be in the play. I’d love to breathe the air of the stage, even as a background tree. …Although, to be fair, a big part of it is that I’m too clumsy for backstage work—kind of a miserable reason.

I think everyone carries a desire to be reborn or to try being a different version of themselves. In my case, I was literally reborn, but even now, I still want to discover a new me.

It’s just… I’m scared. I’m afraid of failing. I’m afraid of standing on a big stage, something completely outside anything I’ve ever experienced.

"I think you can do it, Ayumi-chan."

Moeka-chan nodded at Sakurako-chan’s words.

"What are you basing that on? I only ever move when someone tells me to. I have no initiative, I’m timid, and I get nervous right away… I just can’t imagine things going well."

"Ayumi-chan, Ayumi-chan. It’s okay! We’ll help you! And besides, the way you are now, I really think you could do it."

"The way I am… now?"

"Yeah! You’re totally different from when you first enrolled. Sure, you still blush right away—and it’s cute—but I think you’re showing your true self a lot more than before."

"Is that really true…?"

I tried to reflect on the “me” up until now, but I honestly couldn’t tell. Still, if Moeka-chan and the others, who are always around me, say so… maybe it’s true.

"And you’re not supposed to be aiming for perfection anyway, right? As long as you enjoy it, that’s what matters."

Ryoji, who’d been walking behind us, slipped into the conversation.

Enjoying it, huh…? I’d gotten so caught up in worrying about messing up that I never even thought about the fun of acting in a play at all.

"And if you are shy, then this might be your chance to do something about it."

Togo chimed in right after Ryoji.

If I could throw myself into the performance, maybe I really could overcome a little of my weakness.

But still… it’s scary.

"Ayumi, I’ll practice with you properly, and if you feel anxious, I’ll listen to you complain or whatever you need. It’s not every day you get to stand on a stage. It’d be a waste not to take the chance—so why not give it a try?"

"Ryoji…"

Just like he said, opportunities like this don’t come often. There are plenty of people who go their whole lives without ever acting on a stage even once. Even in our class, only a handful will end up with roles.

And among them, everyone is insisting I take the heroine role. It feels a little undeserved… but I want to answer their expectations. And like Ryoji said—it really might be a chance.

"Okay… maybe I’ll give it a try."

"Really!?"

I nodded to a very surprised Sakurako-chan.

"Yes! I’ve gotta email the whole class!"

Whoa, too fast! She’s already typing—wait, she sent it!? This must be the legendary input speed of a high school girl!

"Yay! I’ll message Aika! We’re totally going to put our whole hearts into making Ayumi-chan’s costume together!"

Huh? When did we start talking about costumes? I don’t remember any conversation about that at all.

Actually—can Aika-chan really make costumes!? My only memory of her is almost getting stripped when we visited Moeka-chan’s house!

"Hey, Togawa. I’m gonna do some training—want to join me?"

"Yeah… tomorrow we’ll probably be fighting for a role on equal footing with the heroine. Blood will be spilled."

No no no, Togo, Ryoji—you’re both acting weird! And even if you start training now, it won’t make a difference by tomorrow!

Maybe… I shouldn’t have said I’d join the play. Seeing how my wonderfully chaotic friends were acting, a tiny feeling of regret flickered inside me.