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 ~ - The love lessons begin.
The hallway of Studio Zenon was cold again today.
It wasn't that the air conditioning was too strong. The air itself seemed to absorb the presence of someone far away, leaving only a quiet clarity.
Walking the same path as yesterday, Shirahama Mashiro felt a trembling that was different from yesterday.
(A scary person—)
In her mind, Aoyagi Ren's cold eyes flickered.
*"If you run, I'll have you removed from the role."*
Those words seemed to remain inside her body like tiny particles of ice.
(But, I have to go.)
She clenched her fist tightly.
What was she supposed to say to her mother?
She could never, ever say that the director called her a robot.
Even though she'd beaten 3,200 people in the audition, even though nothing had even started yet.
(I don't want to lose.)
Before she reached Studio B, Mashiro was stopped.
"Shirahama Mashiro-san. May I have a moment?"
She turned around.
Standing there was a woman in a crisp suit, her black hair tied back in a single bunch.
Bangs cut straight across above her eyebrows. Narrow, sharp eyes. A stopwatch around her neck, an in-ear headset.
In her hands, a schedule book stuffed full of color-coded clear files.
She was the very picture of the word "meticulous" made human.
"...Ah, yes."
Kojima Natsuki—the person assigned as Mashiro's manager from the agency just last week.
They hadn't really spoken properly yet.
"This way."
Kojima led Mashiro to a small waiting room.
A windowless room, about four and a half tatami mats in size. Old movie posters were stuck on the walls.
Kojima placed her schedule book on the table and offered Mashiro a chair.
"I'll be direct. Starting today, you will strictly adhere to the agency's rules."
Kojima's voice was flat, as if reading from a textbook.
But her eyes alone were strangely serious, and Mashiro straightened her back.
"Stella Promotion has something called the Personal Conduct Clause. You're aware of it, yes?"
Mashiro gave a small nod.
She had heard of it. Agency rules that managed the behavior of affiliated talents.
"Going out alone with a member of the opposite sex. Eating alone with them. All of these require prior notification."
Kojima took a single sheet of paper from her file.
It was densely packed with fine print.
"Doing so without permission results in a written apology. In malicious cases, a three-month suspension of activities. And—"
Kojima's finger traced the very bottom of the paper.
"Termination of contract."
Mashiro's throat made a gulping sound.
"...Yes."
Her voice grew small.
(It's that strict...)
Kojima stared intently at Mashiro.
Her eyes weren't just cold.
They held a more complex, clouded color.
"You are still young. And you have tremendous talent."
Kojima's voice dropped just slightly lower.
"That's precisely why I don't want you to ruin your future with some petty scandal."
—She was wrong.
This wasn't coldness.
Kojima was gripping her own notebook tightly.
Her knuckles were white.
(This person is scared.)
Terrified of losing something.
"...It was five years ago now."
Kojima spoke while staring at the windowless wall.
"The first person I was in charge of was a 16-year-old actress. Like you, she'd been chosen for the heroine role in a tokusatsu show. She could sing, dance, do anything. But—"
Kojima blinked, just once.
"Before filming ended, a weekly magazine got a photo. It was just a meal with a co-star. But the article wrote 'Forbidden Secret Rendezvous.' That girl was removed from all her work. When she left the agency, she said to me: 'Why didn't you protect me?'"
The room fell utterly silent.
Mashiro couldn't say anything.
She unconsciously gripped her own upper arms tightly.
"...I'm sorry, that was a strange story to tell."
Kojima closed the file with a snap.
The shadow from earlier was already gone from her face.
"Please follow the rules. It's for your own sake."
"...Yes."
Kojima stood up and headed for the door.
But just before leaving, she turned around once.
"...Good luck with your lesson today."
That voice was much smaller than before, and—just a little, it sounded sad.
The silence pressed heavily on Mashiro's chest.
Rules. Scandals. Contract termination.
She hadn't even started anything yet.
And already, it felt like she was bound by so many chains.
(But, that person too, surely—)
Kojima probably still, even now, couldn't forgive herself for failing to protect that girl five years ago.
That's why she was so desperate.
Still gripping her own arms, Mashiro let out a small breath.
Afternoon.
The air in Studio B was even heavier than in the morning.
The long table and chairs were gone from the studio.
In their place were only a wall of mirrors and a cold floor.
Aoyagi Ren stood in the middle of the room.
His slightly long black hair was neatly swept back today.
He had rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, crossed his arms, and was waiting for Mashiro.
"You came."
When Mashiro entered the room, Ren moved only his gaze.
"...Yes. I look forward to working with you."
"Skip the greetings. Let's begin. Don't look at the script."
"Huh?"
"Reading the script won't change your acting. Today, we're only practicing emotion. Repeat the words I say out loud. Understood?"
Ren didn't smile at all.
He showed absolutely no sign of joking.
"First, 'Happy.' The feeling when you receive a present you've always wanted from your little sister."
Mashiro desperately tried to imagine it in her head.
A present. Something she wanted.
The action shoes her mother bought her when she was little—was she happy about those?
"...Happy."
Her voice echoed flatly.
In the mirror, she saw her own face.
Expressionless.
Ren didn't even sigh.
"Next. 'Sad.' When you lose something precious to you."
(Something precious—)
What came to mind were the stuffed animals overflowing in her room at home.
Especially the white rabbit, "Yukimi."
If she had to throw her away—
"...Sad."
It was the same as before.
The words just made the air tremble, reaching nowhere.
Ren's temple twitched, just barely.
"...'I love you.'"
Mashiro opened her mouth.
But no voice came out.
—I love you.
She had never said it.
Not to her mother.
Not to her stuffed animals.
Not to anyone, not even once.
"...I... lo-ve you."
The voice she squeezed out was a dry, rustling sound, like a dead leaf scraping the ground.
Ren stared down at Mashiro in silence for a few seconds.
"Wrong."
His low voice reflected off the mirrors.
"Right now, you're trying to 'reproduce' emotions. In your head, you're desperately assembling a 'sad face,' a 'happy voice.' Am I wrong?"
Mashiro's heart clenched tight.
He'd hit the mark.
"Emotions aren't something you think with your head. They're something that comes out of your body. There's nothing inside you, so of course nothing comes out."
—Nothing inside.
Those words slipped deep into her chest like a cold knife.
Before she could even think it hurt,
the back of her eyes began to swim and waver.
"...If I don't think, nothing comes out of me."
Her voice trembled.
Enough to surprise even herself.
"I've never played with friends. I have no memories of laughing with anyone. My mother's lessons are my everything—"
Tears fell, plip-plop, onto the floor.
Her reflection in the mirror looked messily distorted.
(Stop it, I can't cry.)
Crying here won't accomplish anything.
It'll just be a nuisance.
But the tears wouldn't stop.
Ren said nothing.
Only Mashiro's sobs were absorbed into the soundproofed studio.
"...I see. Take a break."
Saying just that, Ren quickly averted his eyes.
Almost as if he was a little afraid to see Mashiro crying.
His back as he left the studio was as straight as ever.
Mashiro stood rooted to the spot for a while.
The traces of her tears grew cold in the breeze from the air conditioning.
(Why did I cry?)
Because I was sad?
Because I was frustrated?
—I don't know.
Even though they're my own feelings, I can't put a name to them.
That, more than anything, was what frightened Mashiro.
The second floor of Studio Zenon. The vending machine corner was hushed and silent.
The white light of the fluorescent lamps illuminated the polished linoleum floor.
Mashiro stopped in front of the button for canned coffee.
(I want something warm.)
She took out her coin purse.
A light jingling sound.
But she didn't have 120 yen.
Two 10-yen coins and three 1-yen coins—nowhere near enough.
"...Ah."
As she stood there flustered, a long shadow stretched out from behind her.
Without a word, someone's hand dropped a 100-yen coin into the slot.
A satisfying click.
"Wha—"
Turning around, she saw Ren leaning against the wall.
In his hand, another can of coffee. Black.
"...Hurry up and press it."
"Ah, thank you very much."
Mashiro hurriedly pressed the button.
The can dropped down with a clunk.
When she picked it up, it was gently warm.
Silence fell, broken only by the low hum of the vending machine.
Still leaning against the wall, Ren took a sip of his coffee.
Mashiro wrapped both hands around her can too.
She felt like its warmth melted her anxiety, just a little.
"...Have you ever fallen in love with someone before?"
Ren said it quietly, still staring at the wall.
His voice was much calmer than during the lesson earlier.
He didn't sound angry or exasperated.
It had a ring to it, as if he simply truly wanted to know.
Mashiro froze.
—Have I ever fallen in love?
The can in her hands wobbled unsteadily.
"...I..."
Her voice wouldn't come out properly.
It felt like all her words were caught in the back of her throat.
"...I have no memories of playing with friends. Just my mother's lessons. It's always been like that."
She took a breath.
But the air wouldn't enter her lungs.
"I don't even know what 'love' is. So how am I supposed to act it—"
Again.
The back of her eyes grew hot.
Ren said nothing.
He just took another sip of his coffee.
After a long silence, Ren pushed himself off the wall.
"I understand."
Saying only that, he threw his empty can into the trash and headed back to the studio.
Left behind, Mashiro gripped her can tightly.
(What was that question just now?)
She didn't know.
She just felt that Ren's voice had been a little closer than before.
And for some reason, that terrified her.
When she returned to Studio B, Ren was already standing in the middle of the room.
At his feet, the script that had been on the table earlier was placed carelessly.
"...Um, the script?"
"It's no longer necessary. Starting tomorrow, we're changing locations."
Ren uncrossed his arms and walked straight towards Mashiro.
His 182-centimeter frame towered over her.
Mashiro instinctively took a step back.
"We'll do practical lessons. Not the kind of practice where you think with your head, like before."
"...Prac-tical...?"
Mashiro's voice cracked.
Ren stared intently into Mashiro's eyes.
His cool, single-lidded dark eyes reflected the studio lights, glinting faintly.
"I will play the role of your lover."
—What?
Her heart made a loud thump.
"We'll go on dates, hold hands, do everything that real lovers do. If we do that—the feeling of 'love' will soak into your body."
Mashiro's face instantly grew hot.
It was burning, all the way to the tips of her ears.
"S-Something like that...!"
There's no way I can—
She was about to say it.
But Ren's cold voice didn't allow it.
"If you can't, then quit the role. There are plenty of people who can replace you."
—Again.
Quit.
That word skewered Mashiro's body.
The audition of 3,200 people. Her mother's expectations.
The single chance the director had given her.
All of it, gone.
She bit her lip.
Her teeth broke the skin, and she tasted just a hint of blood.
"...I'll do it."
Mashiro said it with a trembling voice.
"I'll do it. I absolutely don't want to quit this role."
For just a moment, Ren's mouth relaxed.
It wasn't gentle enough to be called a smile.
But it was a little different from the coldness he'd shown until now.
"...Then be at the fountain plaza in front of
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