— — — — — —
"Don't worry. The script I write will be suitable for all ages."
But Suitable didn't mean recommended.
Ebina was clearly playing with wording there.
"I think Ebina's idea sounds great! Let her try writing the script first!"
Ah yes. The classic simp move.
Oikawa glanced at Tobe Kakeru with a complicated expression as he spoke up. "It'll be interesting to see on stage! I've read The Little Prince a bunch of times. No matter how it's adapted, it won't get too crazy."
"And we've still got half a month before the festival. If it doesn't work, we can always switch to something else!"
Technically true. But they had to lock in a plan now, or there wouldn't be enough time to rehearse anything.
Still, no one else spoke up.
In the end, Hayama reluctantly finalized Class 2-F's performance—for now—as The Little Prince musical.
With that settled, Oikawa let out a breath of relief, grabbed his bag, and headed for the Literature Club.
"Oikawa, did you hear? The second volume of Your Lie in April is coming out!"
The moment he stepped inside, Zaimokuza excitedly shared the news.
"Heard about it."
He'd done more than hear about it; he was the first to know.
"Isn't it weird, though? They're releasing it, but Dengeki Bunko isn't promoting it at all."
"Who knows." Oikawa brushed it off and changed the subject, steering the conversation toward games.
They'd hung out quite a bit over the summer. Mostly at Oikawa's place—gaming and reading light novels.
Zaimokuza preferred console games over PC. Said they felt more immersive.
Honestly, fair enough.
As they were in the middle of a lively discussion, Oikawa suddenly noticed something at the clubroom door.
Kawasaki Saki and Yukino Yukinoshita stood facing each other.
The air between them was tense, like fire and water refusing to mix.
The problem was... if Kawasaki was the goddess of winter, then Yukino was the goddess of ice and snow.
They were too similar, yet somehow clashed like fire and water. It was really strange.
"…Need something?"
Sensing the tension rising fast, Oikawa hurried over.
He first pulled Kawasaki into the room, then turned to Yukino with a polite smile.
Kawasaki lifted her chin slightly, shooting Yukino a sidelong glance before walking in and taking out her workbook.
Yukino's brow lifted slightly, a hint of irritation showing, though her voice stayed calm.
"The Literature Club needs to prepare a performance for the school festival. The proposal has to be submitted at the student council meeting this Friday."
"…Huh? Was that Shizuka-sensei's idea?"
Oikawa blinked, confused.
Earlier that day, Shizuka Hiratsuka had already told him that every club needed to contribute to the festival.
Each club had its own role. The Literature Club was supposed to come up with promotional slogans to post around campus—something catchy enough to make middle schoolers want to enroll at Sobu High.
That alone had been a headache.
And now they were supposed to perform too? That was just bullying.
"It has nothing to do with Shizuka-sensei," Yukino said flatly. "The student council drew lots. The Literature Club was selected."
"Drew lots? Why didn't I hear about this?"
She shot him a look. "Because you never attend the weekly student council meetings."
…Awkward.
Normally, club presidents were expected to attend those Friday meetings led by the student council.
Oikawa had gone once.
And it had been a complete waste of time.
He never went again.
If anyone asked, he simply didn't exist.
Honestly, this had to be some kind of retaliation.
Where there were people, there was politics.
"I've delivered the message," Yukino said, brushing her hair back. "Make sure you prepare a proposal and submit it on Friday."
With that, she turned and left.
"A performance…"
Zaimokuza's eyes lit up immediately.
"How about kabuki? I once saw an old master perform Kanjinchō in Tokyo. It was incredible!"
Instead of feeling pressured, Zaimokuza looked downright excited.
Oikawa couldn't figure this guy out.
How could someone switch so easily between being socially anxious and overly outgoing?
Kabuki was one of Japan's most iconic traditional performing arts, originally derived from Buddhist dance.
To put it simply… those clips you sometimes see online, where performers have their faces painted completely white.
"Yeah, no. Let it go."
"We've got less than half a month. There's no way we can pull off a proper kabuki performance in that time."
He crushed Zaimokuza's fantasy without mercy.
"Time's too tight. Our options are limited."
"Singing or playing instruments would be the easiest."
He looked at Kawasaki and Zaimokuza with a bit of hope.
"Either of you play anything?"
Both of them shook their heads.
As expected.
"…Can you sing, at least?"
He turned to Zaimokuza. Kawasaki wasn't even worth asking.
He still remembered her performance at Yui's birthday party.
Zaimokuza shook his head again.
Useless.
Oikawa silently labeled both of his club members.
Looks like he'd have to carry this himself.
"Alright… let me think. There's gotta be something we can do."
He racked his brain, digging through all the random bits and pieces he'd seen before.
Then—
something clicked.
A comedy skit.
One from the Key & Peele show…
Oikawa glanced at Kawasaki, hesitating. He didn't mind making a fool of himself, but she was a girl.
He shook his head and dropped the idea.
Kawasaki suddenly spoke up.
"You've got something in mind, don't you? Just say it."
Oikawa hesitated, then gave them a rough outline of the skit.
Zaimokuza seemed immediately interested.
"Oikawa, this actually sounds pretty fun. We should try it!"
Oikawa turned to Kawasaki.
She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "As long as I'm not the one getting hit, I'm fine with it."
Oikawa slowly shifted his gaze to Zaimokuza, who was still brimming with excitement.
Zaimokuza froze.
"…You're not seriously planning to make me the one getting hit, are you? I'm not the target in the skit, right?"
"What do you mean 'getting hit'? Target?" Oikawa said smoothly. "Yoshiteru Zaimokuza, your role is the core of the whole act. The soul of the performance."
"Without you, there wouldn't even be a skit—no me, no us. You should be proud of yourself."
Zaimokuza paused.
Then nodded thoughtfully.
…That actually sounded kind of convincing.
.
.
.