— — — — — —
Looking at the surreal concert, Yukino murmured softly, "So amazing."
It was the first time Oikawa had heard her openly praise someone.
Still, it really was impressive.
"I once wanted to be as capable as her," Yukino said quietly. "But I couldn't become a conductor. I could only end up as a drummer, someone who's conducted."
There was a hint of disappointment in her voice.
"Being a drummer is great too," Oikawa replied with an easy smile. "A conductor may be the star on stage, but in life, everyone's the main character."
"Try becoming a drummer people can't do without. You don't have to follow your sister's footsteps all the time."
"At least from where I'm standing, you're far better than your sister in your role as executive committee chair. And by a wide margin."
Yukino turned her head and looked at him for a long moment.
She seemed to say "thank you," but the audience's cheers and applause were too loud for Oikawa to hear clearly.
...
..
Backstage, the lights were dim.
The song out front gradually reached its climax. Up next was the Literature Club's performance.
Zaimokuza looked excited.
He wore a slightly undersized school uniform that Kawasaki had altered for him, which made him look faintly ridiculous.
He was the centerpiece of this performance, and seeing him remain composed under pressure made Oikawa feel oddly relieved.
Kawasaki, on the other hand, looked tense.
She kept taking deep breaths, her hands trembling.
"Nervous?" Oikawa asked quietly.
"My parents… and Taishi and Keika are all down there. I saw them earlier."
This was Kawasaki's first time performing in front of such a large crowd. She wanted to calm down, but couldn't.
"Don't worry. Just pretend no one's there."
Oikawa quietly took her hand.
Kawasaki froze. For some reason, she didn't even think to pull away. A blush spread across her cheeks instantly.
If the backstage area hadn't been so dark, someone probably would have noticed immediately.
"It's okay. I'm here," Oikawa said softly.
Hearing that, her heart settled at once.
Right.
He was here. What was she so nervous about?
"I'm not nervous anymore."
Feeling the warmth in his hand, Kawasaki felt an overwhelming sense of reassurance.
...
The singing from the stage gradually softened.
"Our turn."
"The Literature Club…"
Oikawa called out, and Kawasaki and Zaimokuza quickly responded.
"Let's take first place!!!"
Zaimokuza said excitedly.
Up until they stepped onstage, Oikawa had found it unbearably embarrassing. But now, somehow, it filled him with courage.
The three of them marched to center stage in step.
Oikawa had already written the skit of Key & Peele: Reverse Psychology. It was about a prisoner playing mind games with an easily manipulated guard assigned to watch him.
But he'd taken it a step further, adding Kawasaki as the prison warden, with Zaimokuza as the guard and himself as the criminal.
From the very first exchange, sparse laughter rose from the audience.
And as it went on, more laughter erupted. After all, the jokes were so simple and pretty funny that even kids got them.
"You tricked me."
"I can honestly say I wasn't trying to trick you."
"You weren't?"
"All I said was, you gotta let me out of here. There's no trick."
"So I do have to let you out of here?"
"...Yes?"
"Okay."
By the time the performance ended, no one bothered to clap—they were still laughing.
But everyone knew that laughter was the highest praise a comedy skit could earn.
...
..
After a while—
"Well, getting third place isn't bad. And even if you wanted to protest, there's nowhere to file it. The executive committee's already disbanded."
"But Oikawa—"
Inside the Literature Club room, Zaimokuza was loudly complaining about the judging panel. He felt it was deeply unfair that they had only received third prize.
"Oikawa, it's obviously unfair! What's so impressive about just singing? It can't compare to our performance, okay?"
"The audience laughed so much! A bunch of my classmates said our performance was the best."
He was genuinely upset.
And genuinely happy.
Receiving recognition, something rare in his life, made him savor the feeling.
"Oikawa, next time the school holds an event, should we perform again?"
"No... and goodbye."
Oikawa slung his bag over his shoulder like a voyager setting off for distant seas.
The festival had brought him plenty of fun, but it had also completely drained him.
Please, no next time.
As he stepped out of the clubroom, he saw Kawasaki holding Keika's hand.
Before Oikawa could speak, Keika ran over and hugged him, her soft voice sweet as she said, "Oikawa-niisan, thank you for the snacks you gave me last time. They were super, super delicious!"
"Oikawa-niisan, this is the tasty thing I promised I'd bring you!"
As she spoke, Keika pulled out a box of takoyaki from her pocket. But… why did the box look so familiar? Wait, isn't that Kawasaki's box?
Was this kid re-gifting something?
"It's not made by my sister! I made it myself!" Keika puffed up, clearly sensing his suspicion.
"Alright, alright. You made it."
"Let me see if it tastes good."
Oikawa gently patted her head, then opened the box.
Instantly, the smile vanished from his face.
There was a saying: when God closes one door, he opens another.
Apparently, the door God opened for Keika was social skills. The one he closed was cooking.
"Oikawa-niisan, why aren't you eating?"
"Well… I'm not hungry yet. I'll eat it when I get home."
Kawasaki was already laughing so hard she could barely stand.
If Keika's expression hadn't remained innocent the entire time, he might've suspected she was doing this on purpose.
...
..
Back home—
Though he felt a bit bad about wasting Keika's goodwill, Oikawa still threw the takoyaki away.
Then as he was about to order takeout, something suddenly crossed his mind.
He opened a light novel reader forum and checked for reactions to Love Metronome (Koisuru Metronome).
It had released today. It should've sold at least a few hundred copies, right?
But strangely, after browsing several forums, he couldn't find a single discussion thread about Love Metronome.
"Huh? Did it flop?"
Oikawa was baffled. The novel was definitely solid. How could it flop?
Was the promotion just too weak?
He thought it over. After all, Fujikawa Bunko was a small label, and Love Metronome had only won the Silver Prize. Poor marketing coverage wasn't impossible.
After a brief pause, Oikawa opened Twitter, typed out a post, and sent it.
.
.
.