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 ~ - A Jealous Rain, a Soaking Wet Finale
An autumn wind swept through the open set of the Tamagawa Studios.
The sky hung high above, clouds racing swiftly across it.
Shirahama Mashiro steadied her breathing atop the rubble set.
The sensation of the backflips she'd been drilling until just moments ago still lingered along her spine.
*(My body moves. For now, that's enough.)*
She told herself that.
Her heart, though — that was another matter entirely.
Whenever she thought about her lessons with Ren-senpai, the center of her chest ached, crushed tight as if in a vise.
She'd finally come to understand, recently, that this pain was proof of her feelings. Proof of *love*.
But understanding it didn't mean she knew what to do about it.
"Hey, good work out there! Seriously, your action is amazing — I could watch it all day."
A bright voice rang out from close by.
She lifted her head.
Standing there was Sakurai Kaito.
His soft, light-brown mushroom cut swayed just slightly in the breeze.
His large, friendly double-lidded eyes gazed directly at Mashiro.
The deep dimple on his right cheek surfaced alongside his smile.
The lead actor of Hero Chronicle.
The young star playing Chrono Brave — currently the hottest up-and-comer in the industry.
"Ah... th-thank you very much."
Mashiro gave a small bow of her head.
Chewing his gum with a soft smack, Kaito walked right up beside her.
He stood close. Very close.
"Aoyagi-san's pretty tough, isn't he? With the acting coaching."
Mashiro's shoulders gave a tiny jolt.
"...No, that's not—"
"No, no, you don't have to hide it. That guy's terrifying. But honestly? I don't think that whole demon-coach thing is the only path for an actor."
Kaito's refreshing smile never faltered as he lowered his voice.
"Hey, how about just the two of us grab dinner sometime? I want to talk about character-building for the next episode. There are too many staff around here — we can't really talk properly."
Mashiro's mind went completely blank.
Dinner.
Just the two of them.
The text from that thick document Kojima-san had given her flickered and flashed inside her head.
*'Going out alone with a member of the opposite sex. Dining alone together. All of these require prior notification.'*
*'Contract termination.'*
*(I can't. I have to refuse.)*
She parted her lips.
But no voice came out.
"So, what do you think? It's nothing heavy. I know a great Italian place."
Kaito's smile was dazzling.
If she refused, he might look at her with disgust.
And the part about discussing the role — that might actually be true.
If her refusal ended up causing problems for the shoot—
"...O-okay."
Before she knew it, she'd given a small nod.
Kaito's face lit up instantly.
"Seriously!? Awesome! Alright, I'll message you about the date!"
With that, he walked away with a lightness that looked almost like a skip.
Mashiro stood rooted to the spot.
*(What do I do?)*
*(What do I do, what do I do?)*
The same words spun in endless circles inside her mind.
From a distance, Kojima Natsuki — arms full of costumes — watched the whole scene intently.
Unable to call out to Mashiro, she simply turned and hurried away from the studio.
---
The manager's office at Stella Promotion.
A small, windowless room.
Kojima Natsuki sat frozen before her desk.
The hand gripping her planner trembled faintly.
"...It's happening again. The same thing."
The scene from five years ago rose vividly in her mind.
That girl, sixteen years old.
Cast as a tokusatsu heroine — perfect at singing, perfect at dancing, with an adorable smile.
What the weekly magazine had photographed was nothing more than a meal with a co-star.
But the article had called it a *forbidden secret rendezvous*.
When that girl quit the agency, she'd said:
*"Why didn't you protect me?"*
Those words had been lodged deep in Kojima's ears ever since. They'd never left.
"It's the rules... These are the rules."
She muttered it over and over, as if trying to convince herself.
With trembling fingers, she opened her laptop and began typing a report to the compliance department.
That Mashiro had made plans to dine out with the lead actor.
With every character she typed, she felt like her chest might split open.
But her fingers wouldn't stop.
If she didn't use the agency's rules as a shield, she wouldn't be able to protect her talent. Not again.
"I'm so sorry, Mashiro-san..."
The keyboard blurred through her tears.
---
The next day.
The sky had been a leaden gray since morning.
By evening, a cold rain had begun hammering down on the parking lot of Studio Xenon.
Mashiro stood frozen in front of Studio B.
Ren-senpai had summoned her.
*(Does he already know? About the dinner.)*
Her stomach clenched tight.
With heavy steps, she made her way toward the parking lot.
The sound of rain lashing the asphalt surrounded her like a wall.
In a corner of the lot.
Beside a silver wagon, Aoyagi Ren stood.
He held a black umbrella, his back turned to her.
Mashiro had no umbrella.
Her hair and clothes were already soaked, cold water trickling down the nape of her neck.
"...Um, Ren-senpai."
At the sound of her voice, Ren slowly turned around.
The moment she saw his face, Mashiro's breath stopped.
Cold.
His eyes were colder than ice.
Different from his usual expressionless mask.
It was a face she had never once seen before.
Ren approached her without a word.
The umbrella covered Mashiro's head.
The sound of the rain suddenly grew distant.
But there was nowhere to run.
Ren's hand reached out.
The next instant, Mashiro's right arm was seized with brutal force.
"...That hurts!"
The grip was strong enough to make her bones creak.
"So. I hear you're going out to eat with Sakurai Kaito. Just the two of you."
Ren's voice was terribly quiet.
But that quietness made it all the more terrifying.
Cold fury seeped from the edges of every word.
"No... that was— he said it was about the role—"
"If it's about the role, you can do it here. There is absolutely no need for the two of you to go out and eat alone."
The grip on her arm tightened even further.
"What about the contract. What about the agency's rules. Do you think they have nothing to do with you? Do you think you can just drift along and everything will be fine?"
Ren's single-lidded black eyes pierced through her.
The usual cool light in them was gone.
What swirled there now was anger — and something else, something far more tangled and raw.
"I... I just... I couldn't say no..."
Her voice trembled.
More than the cold of the rain, Ren's words were cold — and terrifying.
"Yeah. That's how you always are. Drifting along. Unable to do anything unless someone else decides for you."
Mashiro noticed then — Ren's left hand was gripping his own left wrist, tight.
A habit of his.
When his emotions ran high, he did it without thinking.
*(He's furious. He's hurting.)*
But why?
Would a simple rule violation make him bare his emotions this rawly?
"The lessons are over. As of today."
Mashiro's heart slammed hard against her ribs.
"...What?"
"Didn't you hear me? I said the lessons end today. You don't need my guidance anymore. If you want to go, then go. Go anywhere you like, with whatever man you like."
Ren released her arm roughly.
The umbrella pulled away.
The cold rain pelted Mashiro's entire body without mercy.
Ren turned his back.
And began walking away through the rain.
"Wait... please wait, Ren-senpai! Why... why are you doing this!?"
Soaked to the bone, Mashiro screamed at his retreating back.
Ren stopped.
But he didn't turn around.
Only the sound of the rain stretched long between them.
His back seemed to tremble, just slightly.
His gripped left wrist — clenched even tighter than the hand holding the umbrella — was squeezed so hard the bones stood out in sharp relief.
"...I don't have the right to stand beside you."
It was a small voice, nearly swallowed by the rain.
She couldn't see his eyes.
But those words alone pierced Mashiro's chest with devastating clarity.
Ren said nothing more.
Slowly, he disappeared into the studio entrance.
---
Mashiro stood there, motionless.
The rain soaked her hair, her cheeks, her clothes — drenching everything.
Cold water seeped into her shoes.
*(Over.)*
*(My lessons... are over.)*
*(Everything is over.)*
Ren's words echoed and ricocheted inside her head.
*'Go anywhere you like, with whatever man you like.'*
No. That's wrong.
The one I love is—
"...Only Ren-senpai. It's only ever been him."
The tears spilled over.
They mingled with the rain, streaming down her cheeks.
The warmth of her tears was stolen away instantly by the cold rain.
She didn't even understand how things had come to this.
The only thing she knew for certain was that Ren had completely pulled away from her.
Mashiro sank to her knees on the spot.
The asphalt was cold. Hard.
Inside her pocket, her phone vibrated again and again.
She couldn't even bring herself to look at the screen.
In the distance, thunder rumbled.
The air trembled.
Mashiro stood up.
And then, unsteadily, she began walking toward the parking lot exit.
She had nowhere to go. Nowhere at all.
She walked out the studio gates.
From that night onward, Shirahama Mashiro no longer appeared at Studio Xenon.
---
The next morning.
Director Tsukishima Gou's roar echoed through the entire studio.
"She's missing!? What the hell does that mean!! She went home properly yesterday, didn't she!!"
The producer and manager bowed their heads, faces drained of all color.
"W-we're terribly sorry! She hasn't returned home either — we're currently trying to reach—"
"We're two weeks from the start of principal photography!! The lead heroine has vanished!? Are you shitting on tokusatsu!? Huh!?"
Tsukishima slammed the script down onto the desk.
The loud crack echoed off the studio walls.
Even in his fury, somewhere inside, he understood.
He'd cast Mashiro precisely because he believed that gap of hers would transform into something extraordinary.
*(And I knew full well that the relationship between those two was anything but ordinary.)*
He glanced briefly at Aoyagi Ren, who was leaning against the wall, head hung low.
Ren said nothing. He just kept gripping his own left wrist, tighter and tighter.
His usual cool mask had been stripped away completely.
What remained was simply a wounded man.
---
The city of Tokyo remains shrouded in cold autumn rain today.
No one has been able to find the girl who vanished, soaked to the skin.
How deep a fissure has opened in her heart?
There is no one yet who can know.
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