White Melody, Azure Promise ~ Our Secret After-School Lessons ~
Shirahama Mashiro, a rookie actress who just landed the heroine role in the popular hero show 'Hero Chronicle,' has a major problem. She's perfect at action and dancing, but her acting keeps getting called 'robotic and wooden.'
Her agency assigns her a personal acting coach: Aoyagi Ren, a senior actor known for his cold demeanor and exceptional skill. His training is relentless. Every day after school, Mashiro is forced to repeat emotional scenes over and over. When she admits she can't act 'in
White Melody, Azure Promise ~ Our Secret After-School Lessons ~ - Robot Heroine, Stands Up
The end of summer. The hallway of Studio Xenon was wrapped in a chill that seeped into the skin.
The air conditioning was cranked up so high, it was like the heat outside was a lie. Shirahama Mashiro walked along, rubbing her arms. Her fingertips were numb with tension.
*(It's okay. It's going to be okay.)*
She told herself that.
But her heart was pounding. Loud enough to be annoying.
Today was her first script-reading test.
*Hero Chronicle* — a tokusatsu hero show that aired every Sunday morning. A new series, wildly popular with kids, and she had won the role of the heroine. Out of roughly 3,200 auditions, Mashiro had seized the part.
Her agency was Stella Promotion. A talent agency in Minato Ward's Aoyama district. They managed around 120 talents. Famous for putting effort into developing young performers, especially strong in tokusatsu and drama.
But the rules for their talents were strict. Not quite a total ban on romance, but even going out alone with someone of the opposite sex required prior notification. Something called the Personal Conduct Clause, apparently.
Mashiro had only just joined, so she didn't know the details.
She stood before the heavy door of Studio B.
Voices were already audible from inside.
"...Okay."
Taking a small breath, Mashiro opened the door.
The studio was larger than she'd expected. The ceiling was high, and large mirrors were set into the walls. A long table sat in the middle of the room, with several staff members seated around it, scripts in hand.
And then, at the very back.
Short hair streaked with white. Still bearing the marks of bedhead, without his usual cap. His bloodshot eyes glinted sharply. Tsukishima Gou, the director of *Hero Chronicle*.
" Oh, you're here. Shirahama. Let's get started right away."
A low, gravelly voice.
Mashiro gave a small nod. Her voice wouldn't come out.
" You've got the script memorized, right? Alright, we'll start from the climax scene on page three. The scene where you confess to Chrono Brave. Your scene partner — well, it's not the real shoot, so a staff member will do it. Here we go."
Mashiro opened her script. The edges of the pages were already soft with sweat. It was a scene she had read over and over, countless times.
She had it all in her head.
It was okay.
She told herself that.
"Begin!"
Director Tsukishima's voice rang out.
Mashiro raised her face. The young staff member acting as her partner nodded with a serious expression.
She took a deep breath.
And then, she spoke.
" Chrono Brave, I love you. If you weren't... if you weren't here, I... I'd be lost."
The studio fell utterly silent.
— *Huh?*
Mashiro didn't understand it herself.
She had said the lines properly. Just as she'd practiced. She'd repeated them over and over that morning, on the train, constantly. And yet.
Why?
Why was everyone so quiet?
"...Pfft."
Someone let out a small snicker.
It was a young man from the lighting staff. He had his hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking. The female staff member next to him had her face down, stifling a laugh.
*(Why are they laughing?)*
Mashiro's body went rigid.
What was so funny? She'd said the lines correctly.
"You bastards—"
Director Tsukishima's low voice cut the laughter off instantly.
The director slowly stood up. His face was bright red.
" No good! Completely useless! You've got some nerve thinking you could be a heroine with that!"
His voice echoed throughout the studio.
Mashiro's shoulders jumped.
" What the hell is that monotone delivery, like you're reading 'Merry Christmas' off a card! Are you a robot?! Put some emotion into it! Emotion! You love him, right? Chrono Brave! It's a scene where you convey your love to a hero who fights with his life on the line! So why does your voice sound like you're reading the instruction manual for a copier?!"
The shouted words rang shrilly deep in her ears.
Mashiro clenched her fists tightly. Her nails dug into her palms.
It hurt.
But, more than that.
Deep in her chest, a coldness spread, as if she couldn't feel anything at all.
" ...That's enough. We're done for today. Shirahama, starting tomorrow, take this seriously. If you stay like this, I'm cutting you from the role."
The director let out a huge sigh and left the room.
Left behind, Mashiro couldn't move.
The staff members filed out, glancing furtively at her. The young man who had laughed earlier scratched his head awkwardly but passed by without a word.
— *Cut from the role.*
Only those words spun around and around in her head.
Clutching the script, Mashiro stood rooted to the spot.
In the corner of the now-empty studio, Mashiro was curled up in a small ball.
She sat on the cold floor, hugging her knees.
Before she knew it, tears were spilling from her eyes.
" ...Why?"
Her voice trembled.
" I... I practiced so much. Over and over, I did it."
She couldn't do it right.
It was always like this.
From a young age, Mashiro had faced her mother's Spartan training regimen.
— 6:00 in the morning.
Woken up while it was still dark outside for ballet lessons. Even when the tips of her toes were bloody, her mother wouldn't allow her to stop.
— After school.
Sent to action classes, where she learned backflips and wire work. Her body picked it up quickly. She liked moving her body.
— 10:00 at night.
Script reading. In front of her mother, the same lines a hundred times. If she made even the slightest mistake, she had to start over.
Her mother was a former stage actress.
She entrusted her own dreams to Mashiro.
"You will fulfill my dream."
That was her catchphrase.
There was never any time to play with friends. Even when invited to a classmate's birthday party, her mother refused. After school was always lessons. Weekends were lessons too.
Before she knew it, she was alone.
Only the stuffed animals in her room multiplied.
They were substitutes for friends. Now, she had over fifty of them.
"...I have to tell Mom."
Mashiro looked at her phone.
On the screen, the word *'Mom'*.
Two missed calls.
But she didn't have the courage to answer.
*(What am I supposed to say? The director called me a robot. I might get cut from the role.)*
There was no way she could say that.
She shoved the phone into her bag.
Mashiro clutched the script to her chest.
" ...Why can't I do it?"
Her tears stained the cover of the script.
Outside the studio window, the wind of the late summer blew.
That night.
Director Tsukishima was puffing on a cigarette in a corner of the empty Studio B.
The door opened with a sound, and a tall man entered.
A man with a cool aura, his slightly long black hair casually swept back. 182 centimeters tall. His cool, single-lidded dark eyes were utterly unreadable, giving no hint of what he was thinking.
Aoyagi Ren.
An actor with seven years of experience, affiliated with Stella Promotion. A man of proven skill who had won awards for leading roles in late-night dramas.
But, now.
He had a somewhat special contract with the agency.
An Exclusive Romantic Lead Contract.
An arrangement where, in exchange for the agency giving priority for romantic lead roles in dramas and movies to a future star candidate, all romance in their private life was forbidden. If a scandal occurred, the contract would be immediately terminated with a 30-million-yen penalty. In the industry, they called it the *'Crown in Chains'*.
Ren was one of three people who had signed that contract.
Without a single change in expression, he stood silently before the director.
" Oh, you came. I've been waiting."
The director placed a tablet on the desk.
On the screen was footage of a young girl.
" Take a look. This is today's test."
He pressed play.
On the screen, Mashiro, looking like she was about to cry, delivered her lines in a complete monotone.
Ren stared at it, expressionless.
" ...That's the worst."
He said it curtly.
" Right? But look at this."
The director played another video. This time, it was the action test from the audition.
The Mashiro on screen moved with a sharpness that made her seem like a different person. A landing from a backflip. Perfectly steady. A flowing series of continuous backflips. Swinging a weapon around. Everything was flawless.
Ren narrowed his eyes just slightly.
" ...Her body is incredible."
" Exactly! That girl's action is the real deal. A soul dwells in her body. But her heart is empty. She's a monotone robot. However — I was convinced at that audition. That gap is going to transform her."
The director stared intently into Ren's eyes.
" You're the only one. Melt that girl's ice with your acting, Ren."
And then, he bowed his head deeply.
A 48-year-old veteran director, to a 23-year-old young actor.
Ren kept his gaze fixed on the video.
On the screen, after executing a perfect backflip, Mashiro stood for a moment with an unguarded expression. The depths of her eyes were, how to put it.
— *Empty.*
Like her mind was somewhere else entirely.
*(...There's something going on with her, I guess.)*
Ren thought.
" ...Understood."
He answered shortly.
" You'll do it!"
" I'll do what I can. Don't expect too much."
Saying only that, Ren left the studio.
Watching Ren's back as he left, the director chuckled quietly.
" ...I knew it. You're the only one."
That night, Mashiro swayed on the train, heading toward her home in Suginami.
The car was nearly empty. The city lights outside the window streamed past.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
She looked at the screen.
*'Mom'*
Again.
Mashiro bit her lip and ignored the call.
*(I'm sorry, Mom. I just... can't right now.)*
She couldn't stop trembling.
She arrived home and passed through the pitch-dark living room. Her mother seemed to already be asleep.
She went into her own room and closed the door. Collapsing onto her bed, a bear stuffed animal entered her vision.
"Yukimi."
A pure white rabbit plushie. The very first friend she had bought for herself, back in elementary school.
Mashiro hugged Yukimi tightly.
" ...Today, the director yelled at me. Called me a robot. I really am no good, am I?"
Her voice shook.
" What can I do... to put real feeling into it? What even is... love?"
Outside the window, a small firework went off. In the distant sky, it crackled with light. A lonely sound, signaling the end of summer.
Still clutching the stuffed animal, Mashiro curled up on her bed.
Inside the room, fifty plushies stared silently at her.
The next morning.
The hallway of Studio Xenon was just as cold as the day before.
Mashiro walked as if dragging her heavy feet.
*(What am I going to say to the director today?)*
She had barely slept. Faint dark circles had formed under her eyes.
The moment she turned a corner in the hallway, Mashiro stopped in her tracks.
Because a tall man was leaning against the wall.
His black hair was swept back, and his arms were crossed. Expressionless, he stared down at Mashiro.
— *Who is this person?*
Mashiro's heart gave a heavy thump.
She felt like she'd seen him before. Probably from the same agency.
" You're Shirahama Mashiro, right?"
A low voice. Completely devoid of emotion.
" ...Y-yes."
" I'm Aoyagi Ren. By order of the director, starting today, I'll be your acting tutor."
— *What?*
Mashiro blinked in surprise.
Ren continued, looking bored.
" Come to Studio B after school. Listen, if you run—"
He took a step closer.
He was tall. He stared down into Mashiro's eyes, forcing her to look up. Those cool, single-lidded eyes glinted with a strange coldness.
" I'll have you cut from your role."
— *What?*
Mashiro gasped.
Her body froze.
*(Cut from... what did he just say?)*
" Got it?"
His tone brooked no argument.
Mashiro could only manage a small nod.
" ...Yes."
Her voice was hoarse.
Saying only that, Ren turned his back and started walking away.
Mashiro just stared at his cold, retreating back.
Something stung sharply deep in her chest.
*(
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