After finishing our final stage checks, the members of Class 2-B moved to the side of the gymnasium. We sat in a row of folding chairs along the wall, waiting for the previous class to finish their performance.
I settled into my seat, far too conscious of the unfamiliar weight and flow of the dress's skirt, and stared toward the stage.
The gymnasium went dark.
Then, the stage lights and the spotlights from the second-floor balcony flared to life, illuminating the performers.
The first act was Class 1-A. Their play was Rashomon.
(It’s finally... started.)
In the time remaining before our turn, I didn't feel like I was even alive. Watching a play from the sidelines like this only made the pressure mount.
(I’d tried to convince myself that my nerves had settled, but...)
When it was someone else’s performance, thirty minutes passed in the blink of an eye.
As the play reached its climax, a member of the executive committee signaled for our class to move into the wings. While Yuria, our Prince, and Miyama, our Dwarf, remained unnervingly composed, I didn’t have a shred of their confidence. I checked my lines again and again.
Tucked away in a corner of the wings, the lead actor—and resident loner—muttered his lines like a rhythmic prayer.
"Sigh... My confidence is just evaporating."
(I bet Shinji felt exactly like this before he had to board the Eva.)
Just as Shinji had been forced into a skin-tight suit to pilot a giant robot he never wanted to touch, I had been forced into a costume I didn't want to wear for a lead role I never wanted to play. For all intents and purposes, I was basically Shinji.
"Hehe. You’re really nervous, aren't you, Ryouta-kun?"
Before I knew it, Kuroki was there, leaning in to peer into my face.
Rui Kuroki... the root of all evil.
She had the ethereal beauty of Rei Ayanami, but her personality was pure Gendo.
"What’s wrong?" she asked.
"N-nothing. More importantly... if I mess up out there, you'd better not tease me about it later."
"Do I really seem like the kind of person who would ruthlessly mock someone's failure?"
"Well... the real Kuroki is calculating and has a nasty streak."
"Oh, stop! I don't have a nasty personality. I'm just a perfectionist."
I knew she was a perfectionist, but she had a habit of letting her personality turn sour whenever that perfection was at stake.
"I think you’ll find that once it starts, it’ll be over before you know it," she said. "Are you really that anxious?"
"Of course I am! Who do you think you're talking to?"
I was a gloomy, loner otaku boy locked onto the perpetual-virgin route!
"Really? The Ryouta-kun I know has a lot more backbone than this."
"Wha—! M-me?"
"Well, you're a boy who can talk normally to me, Yuria, and even Airi, aren't you?"
When she put it like that... maybe I did have some nerve. But that was mostly because I’d accidentally stumbled upon all of their secrets. Not that I could ever tell her that.
"Still not feeling confident? Well, how about this: if the first performance is a success, I’ll give you a real kiss before the second one this afternoon."
"Wh...?"
K-Kuroki... a real kiss?
"D-don't be stupid! Teasing a virgin otaku like me at a time like this is—"
"Okay, Class 2-B. Please get into position."
A girl from the executive committee whispered the command to us.
"I-is it time already? Hey, listen, Kuroki—"
"Hehe. What I said just now was a lie. I just thought it might distract you."
"Wh-what the hell..."
In the end, she had kept playing with me right up until the very last second. But it was true that, thanks to her teasing, I felt just a little bit better. Just a tiny bit.
"...U-um. Thanks, Kuroki."
"You're welcome."
When I offered my sincere thanks, she accepted it with surprising grace. Good grief, she always knew how to keep me off-balance.
The previous play ended, and while the stage was being cleared, I stepped out.
(I've come this far... I just have to do it.)
With a surge of borrowed courage, I turned boldly toward the audience... and then I froze.
"Excuse me, miss. The shutter button is over here."
"Ah, right, right."
Sitting side-by-side in the very front row were a familiar maid outfit and my Shitty Older Sister.
(T-Tanaka and my sister...!?)
My Shitty Older Sister had her camera ready, and Tanaka, still in her maid cafe uniform, was holding a fan that read: "Ryouta! Give me fan service!"
(Those two!)
The second this play was over, I was going to kill them both.
"Once upon a time—in a castle in a certain kingdom, there lived a beautiful princess with skin as white as snow, known as Snow White—"