Chapter 30: The Trinity of Trouble

My mom is vibrating.

"Aoi-chan! Hurry! We are going to be late!"

"Late for what?" I grunt, shoving a piece of toast into my mouth. "It's Saturday. My one day to sleep."

"The concert, silly!" she beams, holding up two tickets. "Hiroto Suzume! My company gets free backstage passes! It's the event of the season!"

Hiroto Suzume.

The actor.

The singer.

The guy whose face is plastered on every bus in Tokyo.

He's okay, I guess. If you like overly-dramatic, cheesy pop songs.

(I secretly love his new drama. But I will take that to my grave.)

"Mom... I..."

"Please, Aoi-chan! It's so rare I get a night off! And you get to see how my industry works! It will be fun!"

The look on her face.

She's genuinely excited.

I sigh.

"Fine. But I'm not wearing a dress."

"Yay!"

Fast-forward two hours.

I am backstage.

It is chaos.

People are running. Shouting. Wearing headsets.

It's hot. It smells like sweat and hairspray.

"Okay, Aoi-chan, I have to go check the lighting cues!" my mom yells over the noise. "Stay right here! Do not move! Do not touch anything! And please, do not talk to anyone!"

She knows me so well.

She runs off.

I lean against a wall.

I put in my earbuds.

I just want peace.

"NO! NO! NO! IT'S WRONG!"

A shriek.

So much for peace.

I pull out an earbud.

A man is yelling.

"The stitching! It's all wrong! It's pulling! I cannot go on like this!"

It's Hiroto Suzume.

He is in his full stage outfit.

It's... a lot.

Leather pants. Sparkles. Feathers?

And he is holding his pants.

"Suzume-san, please!" a terrified-looking woman with a headset begs. "We don't have time! We don't have a backup!"

"I told you! The fabric is too cheap! It RIPPED!" Hiroto wails. "My entire career! Ruined! By a seam!"

He is so dramatic.

This is hilarious.

I watch him pace.

He sees me.

He stops.

His panicked, dramatic eyes lock onto mine.

"You!" he points at me.

I point at myself. Confused.

"Yes, you! The girl with the dead-inside eyes! You know how to sew!"

"I... what?"

"You look competent!" he insists, grabbing my arm.

He drags me into his dressing room.

"FIX IT!" he orders, pointing at a massive rip right on the... back.

"You want me... to sew your pants?" I ask, deadpan.

"YES! Please! My angel! My savior! Save me!" he begs, clasping his hands.

He is actually crying.

Big, sparkly, actor tears.

I sigh.

My grandma taught me kendo. And sewing.

(She said a woman needs to know how to 'fix things' and 'break things'.)

"Fine," I grunt. "But you have to hold still."

"Anything! Anything!"

So.

This is my Saturday.

I am on my knees.

In Hiroto Suzume's dressing room.

Sewing the crotch of his sparkly leather pants.

While he is still wearing them.

He is humming.

His own song.

"You're good at that," he observes. "So fast. So precise. Like a surgeon."

"It's just a running stitch," I mutter. "Don't move."

"You're so serious!" he chuckles. "I love it! It's so 'tsundere'!"

I pull the thread too tight.

"OW!" he yips.

"Hold. Still."

"Okay! Okay!"

I tie it off. I snip the thread.

"Done."

I stand up.

He twists. He lunges. He squats.

"It HOLDS!" he shouts, triumphantly.

He grabs my face.

Both hands.

"You saved me, my dark angel!"

He kisses my cheek.

A loud, dramatic 'MWAH'!

I freeze.

Nobody touches me.

Ever.

"HIROTO! YOU'RE ON!" someone yells.

"SHOWTIME!" he roars.

He winks at me.

"I owe you one, Angel!"

And he runs out.

I stand there.

Frozen.

My cheek tingles.

What. Just. Happened.

Bzzzt.

My phone.

It's Daiki.

DaikiJerk: "Yo. I'm at the concert. Front row. This Hiroto guy is a clown. Why are you not at the arcade?"

Bzzzt.

My phone.

It's Fuji.

FujiJerk: "Isuzu-san. I hope you are enjoying your evening. I am also in attendance. My family sponsors this venue. Let me know if you require better seating."

I look at my phone.

I look at the stage.

They are both here.

And I am backstage.

With a 'kiss mark' from the main event.

This...

This is bad.

This is so, so bad.

This is 'Operation: Sabotage' Level: APOCALYPSE.

My peaceful life...

It's over.