Chapter 16 – “Whose Words Are These, Really?”

“Line!” Kenta shouted for the tenth time.

“You don’t have any lines in this scene,” Daiki sighed.

“Oh. Then what am I doing here?”

“No one knows!” someone shouted from the back.

Mr. Kumagai clapped his hands together like he was conducting an orchestra of slightly confused ducks. “Focus, everyone! Our Cultural Festival is only two weeks away! If the drama club sees this, I’ll never hear the end of it!”

Rehearsals had officially begun.

The desks were pushed aside. Half the class was arguing over costumes, the other half was arguing over whether Kenta should be allowed to do his own stunts. (He shouldn’t.)

In the middle of it all stood me, The prince Yuuji, reluctant and slightly terrified.

And beside me?

Airi.

In costume.

She wore a long black coat over her uniform, her hair tied up in a messy bun, and a fake dagger in her boot. She looked like an assassin. A stylish one. One who probably charged extra.

“You’re staring,” she said.

“You’re very… convincing,” I admitted.

She smirked. “Maybe I’m not acting.”

That didn’t help.

Scene Three was the most rehearsed part so far.

The prince (me) was injured. The villainess (Airi) finds him in the woods and, instead of finishing him off, helps him escape.

It was also the scene with… that line.

“You’re the only one who sees me, even when I wear my scariest mask.”

Every time she said it, I forgot my next line.

Every. Single. Time.

“Yuuji,” Airi said, waving a hand in front of my face. “Line.”

“Right. Uh— 'Then show me your real face. Even if it scares me.' ”

She stared at me.

“Too dramatic,” she said, poking my forehead with her script. “You’re not a knight. You’re a tired guy who got stabbed in the leg.”

I sighed. “Method acting only gets me so far, okay?”

Daiki chuckled from the side. “You two fight so naturally. It’s almost like you wanted to rehearse that part the most.”

We both looked away at the same time.

Again.

During break, I sat by the window and pretended to study my lines.

I wasn’t.

I was thinking about her.

About how this entire story every line, every bit felt like Usagi was whispering through the lines.

And Airi, Delivered it so naturally. Not stiff or confused. Like she understood.

Not just the script.

But Usagi.

Across the room, Airi sat cross legged on top of a desk, flipping through the script again. Her expression wasn’t her usal smug or annoyed. It was quiet, Focused even.

She was mouthing the lines under her breath.

“Did she ask you to play the villainess?” I asked.

Airi looked over, not surprised by the question.

“She didn’t ask,” she said. “She just… wrote it that way.”

“You didn’t change it?”

“I was going to.” Airi closed the script softly. “But I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

She leaned back on her hands, staring at the ceiling.

“…Because I think she wanted me to say these words.”

I didn’t say anything. I just watched her for a while.

She looked… softer than usual.

Not vulnerable exactly, but less guarded.

Like she was carrying something precious.

When rehearsal started again, everything was louder.

Kenta tripped over the prop sword and knocked over the backdrop. Mika screamed even though it wasn’t her cue. Mr. Kumagai recited Shakespeare in the corner to calm down.

Meanwhile, Airi stood in the middle of the chaos, completely still.

She opened the script, held it at her side, and walked to her mark.

Then, she spoke.

Her voice was clear.

Her timing perfect.

But it wasn’t just “good acting.”

It felt real.

Like she was speaking from her own heart.

Even if the words weren’t hers originally.

Even if they belonged to someone else.

After rehearsal, I stayed behind to help clean up.

Airi stayed near the chalkboard, arms crossed, She didn’t look tired just thoughtful.

I walked over and picked up a few loose pages.

“…You didn’t mess up,” she said.

“You didn’t either.”

She hesitated.

“She likes when you say your lines slowly,” Airi said.

“…Huh?”

“She wrote that on the sides, Said it makes your voice sound more honest.”

My chest tightened a little.

“She really thought this through, huh?”

Airi nodded.

“She even added extra pauses in my monologues because she thought I talk too fast when I get defensive.”

I chuckled. “She’s not wrong.”

Airi looked down at her script, Her fingers brushed the page.

“She writes like she’s reaching for something.”

“…Like what?”

Airi shook her head. “I don’t know. But I want to help her reach it.”

Then, without another word, she handed me a folded piece of paper. Not sealed. Not decorated.

Just plain notebook paper.

“She wanted me to give you this if the line hit you.”

I opened it later, after she left.

“You heard it, right?
Even if it came from her voice, not mine.
That was still me.
I wonder if you’d still smile at me if I said it again tomorrow.”

There was no name at the bottom.

But I knew it was Usagi.

And I knew Airi had read it too.

Most of the class had already left. Only a few remained Daiki, Kenta, Mika, and unfortunately, me.

Mr. Kumagai had gone off somewhere, possibly to cry into his handkerchief about our “lack of theatrical commitment.”

I was stacking chairs when Kenta burst back into the room holding two fake roses.

“Yuuji! Catch!”

“Wha—”

He tossed one at my face. I caught it, Barely.

“Time for practice!” Kenta declared. “Final scene! The prince confesses!”

“What final scene?! That’s not even in the script!”

“It is now! Go!” he shouted, pointing dramatically to the front of the classroom.

Before I could throw the rose back at his head, Mika clapped her hands. “Ooh! A bonus scene! I love improv!”

“Traitor,” I whispered.

Airi walked back in, holding a water bottle, and paused when she saw me standing there holding a rose like a confused florist.

“…What now?” she asked.

“Apparently,” I muttered, “I’m confessing.”

“To who?”

“You, I think.”

Daiki leaned over from the back. “Don’t mess this up. Some of us are taking notes.”

“I hate all of you,” I said calmly.

But they were already arranging the desks like a stage.

Mika clapped. “Okay! Lights, camera and fake romance!”

Kenta made swooshing sound effects and threw a scarf over Airi’s shoulders.

“Seriously?” she said, deadpan.

“Action!” he shouted.

I stood there with the rose in my hand, facing Airi like a terrified Disney extra.

“…Airi,” I began flatly.

“Tanaka kun,” she replied in an overly dramatic tone.

“I uh…” I glanced at my “audience.” Daiki gave a thumbs up. Mika was crying. Kenta had a camera.

“Don’t laugh,” I said under my breath.

“I’m not,” Airi smirked. “I’m blushing.”

She was absolutely not.

But I kept going. “I know we’ve fought… a lot, Mostly because you keep trying to stab me with rubber daggers.”

She tilted her head. “Go on.”

“But… somewhere between your constant insults and the time you threw a textbook at me, I realized something.”

I held out the fake rose.

“I think you’re kind of… maybe… the worst. But also…”

A pause.

“…the worst person I might actually like.”

A moment of silence.

Then Airi took the rose.

And,
Snorted.

“Was that a confession or a resignation letter?”

The others burst out laughing. Even Mika, who was genuinely crying five seconds ago.

I sank to my knees. “I’m never trusting any of you again.”

“Encore! Encore!” Kenta shouted, now wearing the cape.

“End scene!” Daiki called out. “Cut! Wrap! That’s a masterpiece!”

Airi tossed the rose at my head.

And even though I was mildly humiliated…

…I saw her smile as she turned away.

Not the smug one.

A real one.