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 Soaking Wet Swing, and the Cat Watches the Rain
It was raining.
Outside the window, a pounding rain from a gray sky had been falling relentlessly for two days now.
Shirahama Mashiro sat huddled on the cold asphalt, her arms wrapped around her knees. A chill that seemed to freeze her to the very core wrapped mercilessly around her small body. She didn't even know how many hours she'd been here anymore.
Ren's words echoed in her head, over and over.
*"The lessons are over."*
That rainy parking lot. Those cold eyes. The umbrella pulling away.
Every time she remembered, a sharp pain squeezed deep in her chest. This hadn't been acting practice. I was seriously, about Ren-senpai—
*(I loved him.)*
Tears spilled over again. Mingling with the rain, they ran down her cheeks.
That was when it happened.
*Buzz, buzz, buzz.*
Inside the pocket of her soaked skirt, her smartphone was vibrating. Mashiro sluggishly lifted her head. She looked at the screen.
"Mom"
Her fingers froze, refusing to move.
The call ended quickly. In its place, a small icon appeared in the notification bar. Voicemail. A message from her mother, Shirahama Kyouka.
With trembling fingers, Mashiro pressed play.
*'—Hello, Mashiro?'*
The voice that came through the speaker was far calmer than she'd expected. The usual voice, the one that corrected mistakes during lessons, thin of emotion.
*'I saw it on the news. You ran away from the Hero Chronicle shoot, I hear.'*
Mashiro's breath stopped.
*'The director contacted me. Said you'd disappeared. You made me ashamed. I'd been bragging to the neighbors, to your tutors, that you were the heroine.'*
No. No, Mom. I just—
A voiceless scream stuck in the back of her throat.
*'If you're quitting acting, there's no need for you to come home. If you're going to bring further shame as a daughter of the Shirahama family, then disappear right now.'*
Those words, so terribly quiet, pierced Mashiro's chest like a sharp blade.
*'—Because there's no more money for you, you understand.'*
*Click.*
Only a lifeless electronic tone echoed, mingling with the sound of the rain.
Mashiro, the phone still pressed to her ear, couldn't move for a long moment.
*(I… am…)*
Her mind went completely blank.
Ever since she was little, meeting her mother's expectations had been her everything. Even difficult dance steps, even when she fell over and over and got covered in bruises, she'd worked hard because her mother would praise her. Time to play with friends, time to watch TV—she'd sacrificed all of it for lessons.
Because that was her reason for existing.
But now, that same mother had said it.
*"Disappear."*
—She doesn't need me anymore.
The person called me was just a doll for fulfilling my mother's dreams. And when it becomes useless, it gets thrown away.
That was all my existence had ever amounted to.
"…Heh."
A dry laugh escaped her lips.
Oh. So that's how it was.
What have I been living for?
The smartphone slipped from her wet hand. The screen cracked against the asphalt. But she didn't care anymore.
She stood up unsteadily.
The world looked blurred, dissolving into the rain.
Before she knew it, she was standing in front of a small park. A children's park in Nerima. A place not far from home, where she'd come just once with her mother when she was very small.
Because of the rain, no one was there.
Mashiro drifted over to the swings and placed her hands on the chains. The cold feel of the iron felt hot enough to burn.
And then, slowly, she sat down.
The swing creaked.
The rain beat mercilessly against her whole body. Her hair, her face, her clothes—all soaked through, the heat being stolen from the core of her body. But that coldness felt comforting now. It felt like it numbed the messy, tangled pain inside her chest.
—It's all over.
Mashiro began to swing, slowly. High, like when she was a child. Only the creaking of the chains echoed, lost in the sound of the rain.
No one is watching me.
No one needs me.
It felt as if she alone had been cut off from the world.
The same rain beat against the office windows, too.
Aoyagi Ren stood on his balcony, looking down at a small ball of fur.
A stray cat. A calico he'd been feeding ever since he moved into this apartment building. Today, too, getting soaked by the rain, it was silently eating the cat food he'd given it.
"…You'll get wet."
When Ren muttered this, the cat lifted its head for just a moment and meowed, "Meow."
The cold rain drummed countless rhythms against the balcony railing. Expressionless, Ren took a sip from the can of coffee in his hand. It was ice-cold and tasted awful, like muddy water.
Inside his head, a completely different sound was echoing.
—*Crack.*
The sound of thin ice breaking.
A memory from a winter sixteen years ago flashed back, carried on the scent of rain. That day, too, had a gray sky, just like today.
Ren, who had just entered high school, found a kitten in a park on his way home from school, frozen and unable to move in the middle of an icy pond. A tiny, abandoned kitten, the color of milk tea.
None of the adults around tried to help. "It's just a stray," they all said. "Leave it."
Without thinking, Ren had dashed out onto the ice.
The ice cracked and crunched under his feet. Freezing water seeped into his shoes. Even so, he reached the kitten and scooped up its trembling little body.
It was the first moment he'd ever felt a desire to "cherish" something of his own accord.
But his apartment didn't allow pets.
In the end, the kitten he'd desperately cared for over many days was taken in by a foster family in a distant town. Ren still remembered the words his mother had said to him as he cried and screamed.
*'The more you cherish something, the more it will slip through your fingers.'*
—She was right.
Ren clenched the coffee can. The aluminum crunched, denting inward.
*(Mashiro)*
Was it really a good thing that he was the first person she'd ever felt "love" for? No, that was wrong. It was *because* it was him that things turned out this way.
I broke her with my own hands.
That rainy day, mad with jealousy, I grabbed her arm, hurled my emotions at her—frightened her, hurt her, pushed her away. And now, she's vanished.
It's all the same as that kitten in the pond.
The things I want to cherish most slip right through my fingers.
*'You have no right to love anyone.'*
Deep in his heart, another version of himself whispered. That voice was quiet, cold, and yet it felt more correct than anything.
His smartphone vibrated in his pocket.
He looked at the screen.
"Kojima Natsuki"
For a moment, Ren considered ignoring the call. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now. But something nagged at him.
He pressed the call button.
"…What is it?"
*'…Ah, Aoyagi-san.'*
The voice that came through the phone was trembling, on the verge of vanishing. It wasn't the voice of the manager they called "Kojima the Demon."
*'…If you want to hear Mashiro-san's voice… please, come to my apartment.'*
Ren's eyes widened.
"What do you mean? What do you know—"
Cutting him off, Kojima forced out her voice.
*'Please…!'*
The call cut off abruptly.
For several seconds, Ren stood frozen on the rain-soaked balcony. He tossed the half-empty coffee can into the trash. The can landed with a dull thud.
He dashed out of the apartment building.
The manager's office at the agency was a mess, as if reflecting the inside of Kojima Natsuki's heart.
Papers were scattered everywhere, and cold coffee from a toppled mug was staining the floor. And in the center of it all, Kojima was sobbing like a child.
In her head, the same scene had been replaying hundreds of times already.
Five years ago. That girl with the cute smile, the one she couldn't protect.
*"Why didn't you protect me?"*
Those words from back then now stabbed into her chest with a different meaning.
*(This time, I'm the one who killed her.)*
Mashiro-san had been invited to dinner by the lead actor—that was all it was. And yet, bound by her own fear and the word "rules," I destroyed everything. Because of my report, Aoyagi-san hurt Mashiro-san, the lessons ended, and Mashiro-san disappeared.
It's all my fault.
*Bam!*
The door to the room was flung open with force.
Standing there was Aoyagi Ren, out of breath.
His black suit was drenched from the rain, and his usually casually swept-back bangs were plastered to his forehead. His eyes, having lost their usual blankness, wavered with a burning impatience and barely contained anger.
"What's the meaning of this, Kojima? Where is Mashiro?"
His voice was low, carrying an anger that seemed to make the wooden door tremble.
Kojima flinched at the sound, her body trembling as she lifted her tear-streaked face.
"A-Aoyagi-san…"
"You know something. Talk."
Ren took a step into the room.
That was when it happened.
Kojima practically tumbled out of her chair, kneeling at Ren's feet.
"I'm sorry…! I'm sorry, Aoyagi-san…!! It's all my fault…!!"
Her cry was a lament from the depths of her soul, echoing throughout the office.
"I'm the one who snitched to the agency…! I told myself it was because of the rules, that it was to protect Mashiro-san…! But it wasn't! I was just scared of hurting someone again, just like before…!!"
She continued to cry, pressing her forehead against the floor.
Her tears and sobs transformed the air in the room into something heavy and painful.
"I destroyed everything…! Mashiro-san's talent, Aoyagi-san's feelings, everything…! And yet, and yet I… I didn't know what to do…!"
Ren stood there, looking down at her as she crumbled before him.
Anger was there.
*This is your fault. If only you hadn't done something unnecessary.* The urge to scream that welled up in his throat.
But he bit his lip and suppressed it.
And then, slowly, he too knelt down on the spot.
Kojima's body jolted in surprise and fear.
He bowed his head before her.
"…No. I'm the one who should apologize."
Kojima's tears stopped for a moment.
"Your report was correct. You were just following the rules. I have no right to blame you for that. The one truly at fault… is me, for hurting her in a fit of emotion."
Ren's voice was quiet, as if the anger from moments ago had been a lie.
"I finally understand now. Trying to protect the contract, the rules, my own career—I was the one who let go of what was truly important with my own hands. …The one who was playing the part of a doll… was me."
He lifted his head.
"So, please. Kojima. Give me a chance to save Mashiro. …Please, tell me where she is."
His dark eyes no longer held anger, but a pleading look, as if he were on the verge of tears himself.
Through her tear-blurred vision, Kojima stared at Ren, who was bowing his head lower than her own.
*(Ah, this person is truly—)*
Inside her heart, her guilt towards her past self from five years ago and her empathy for Ren quietly mingled for the first time.
Trembling, Kojima opened her mouth.
"Mashiro-san once told me… that she loved the swings at a children's park nearby…"
"…Where?"
"In Nerima… a small park near my house. But, Aoyagi-san, that's really… it's a breach of contract already… right now, there are so many reporters outside…!"
Ren stood up.
"I don't care. …Everything else can come after."
Leaving those words behind, he grabbed one of the company car keys lying carelessly on the desk.
"Thank you for telling me, Kojima."
Saying only that, he ran back out into the rain.
Alone in the now quiet room, Kojima began to cry aloud again. But those tears were a little different from before, mixed with a small sense of relief and a faint hope.
Evening approached, and the downpour had lessened just a little.
Only the creaking of the swing chains in the children's park echoed rhythmically, mingling with the sound of the rain.
*Creak, creak.*
Mashiro no longer knew how long she'd been swinging.
She'd long since lost all feeling in her limbs. Her lips had turned purple, and her whole body trembled in small, violen
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