Chapter Text
“Considering the offer Amber has tentatively received,” Mobu-senpai said with a sigh as he looked over the lists of student names for each year. “We need to start thinking about who will be capable of playing Takihime.”
He looked at Chui skeptically. “Unless you already have someone in mind.”
Chui stared back at him. What a ridiculous inquiry. Nobody in the second or third year classes could be Takihime, and the first year students were still untested. He hadn’t yet seen them in action; hadn’t bothered attending the overly structured Univeil auditions. With the exception of a rare few, he would prefer to see the new students on stage, truly in their element.
“No.”
Kamio-senpai took the list of incoming first years from Mobu-senpai. “The performance abroad… Tagane-sensei said that if it's approved, the play will have to be translated and performed in English as well as Japanese. It’s a challenge. Whoever plays Takihime will not only have to be a great actor, but have a firm grasp of English tone and nuance.”
Chui closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. The whole English aspect was annoying. There may be someone capable of playing Takihime among the new first years, but to have such a limitation could make it significantly harder to utilize them properly.
He was vaguely aware of Kamio-senpai continuing to speak. “What do you think, Mobu-kun? Are you interested?”
“Don’t even joke about that.”
Perhaps he could train more than one Takihime? Would that work? He considered the balance of the play. Hmm… With the right tweaks, it might be possible. And if neither of them was singularly good enough to be Takihime, they might at least be able to play off each other enough to harmonize against his overwhelming stage presence. It could at least be good enough to get them through the overseas production, if it ended up happening.
“What about Nakata-kun?” Kamio-senpai’s voice floated by him.
“Now I know you’re just saying things you think will get a rise out of Tanakamigi.”
Yes. Two Takihimes could work acceptably well. He would have to choose several of them to test during the newcomer’s performance.
He stood abruptly and strode toward the door, to the surprised cries of his upperclassmen.
“I think we should—Wait, Tanakamigi! Look, you pissed him off!”
“Tanakamigi-san! Where are you going?!”
“To cast the newcomer’s performance.” Obviously.
“What…? But we were just talking about—”
He didn’t have time for this. “Assemble the new students for consideration.”
One by one, Amber’s new first years stepped forward as their names were called. A small handful of them seemed promising. Most of them held little interest for Chui.
He watched in silence as Mobu-senpai read their names off the list and questioned them about their accomplishments. Some unique skills here and there. A smattering of professional or competitive experience for most. Many of them looked gradually more nervous or cowed, both when their own qualifications were read off, or when anyone else’s were.
Chui felt a slight sympathy for them in a sort of detached way. In a class as full of talent as Amber, it must be hard to feel that skills you had believed were exceptional are of any significance at all when standing in a crowd of similarly accomplished peers. They didn’t yet understand that accomplishments and accolades meant little. All that truly mattered was the capacity of your potential, and how completely you could fulfill it.
“Kamiya Utsuri.”
A short, slight boy with long purpleish hair and pale amber eyes stepped forward. Small, cute face. Delicate proportions. Obvious Jeanne. He seemed to be trembling slightly, either from nerves or excitement. Even though Mobu-senpai was the one speaking, the boy’s eyes were trained on Chui, gleaming with hope and awe. Coupled with the quivering, it gave him a certain sort of innocent charm.
Chui’s interest was piqued. A possible Takihime? He might have the potential.
Mobu-senpai summarized the list of qualities beside his name. “No professional singing experience, minor acting roles in a few professional productions… A number of competition awards and performance credits for ballet, contemporary, and acro dance, gymnastics, acrobatics, and… aerial silks?”
“Ah, yes!” Kamiya’s eyes snapped to Mobu-senpai. “It’s a kind of performance art where you hang from the ceiling on—”
“I know what it is,” Mobu-senpai replied coldly, staring severely at Kamiya. A few snickers rippled through the room, vultures eager to feast on humiliation that wasn’t their own.
Kamiya flushed and dropped his gaze. Hmm. Yes, quite charming. “I… Yes, of course. Please forgive me, senpai.”
“Where did you train?” Chui interrupted, breaking his silence. Most circus arts were not popular in Japan. It would have been difficult to find a studio that could teach it, and dangerous to try to learn it on his own.
The tittering in the room halted. All the eyes in the room swiveled to him, Kamiya’s the biggest and brightest of all.
Kamiya glowed with delight, his embarrassment from a moment before apparently forgotten in the wake of Chui’s question. “My family lived abroad for three years. It’s one of the skills I studied in the US.”
Mobu-senpai raised his eyebrows. “Your English must be quite good then.”
Kamiya bowed his head. “It’s acceptable.”
Mobu-senpai looked pointedly at Chui, who continued to stare intently at Kamiya. Mobu-senpai sighed and wrote something down on the paper beside Kamiya’s name. “Interesting. Moving forward, then.” His eyes flicked down the list. “Kobayashi Ryosuke.”
Chui turned his eyes to the next student, but not before he caught a glimpse of a secret, pleased smile on Kamiya Utsuri’s face.
“Momonashi Kakuto.”
A boy with a gentle smile stepped forward. He did so with unusual grace, yet there was something… off about it. Like a marionette with a couple strings that are slightly too long, unable to move in a way that feels quite natural. Nonetheless, there was beauty to it.
Hmm. Another potentially interesting direction to take Takihime.
Mobu-senpai looked over his list of accomplishments. “…Impressive. Trained in the Fushikaden as well as classical European style acting. Classically trained in opera singing, with credits in youth productions performed in both Italian and German. Competition awards for dance include ballet, ballroom, and others. And aside from all that, the top scoring student in the Univeil auditions.” He peered at the smiling boy. “I see you’ve also performed in some Shakespeare productions. How is your English?”
Momonashi inclined his head. “Quite satisfactory, I believe.”
Mobu-senpai wrote something down on the paper beside his name. “I’m sure you’ll be successful here in Amber.”
He glanced at Chui, who did not say anything. Mobu-senpai turned back to the line of students. “Alright, next is…”
Chui’s eyes snapped back to Momonashi Kakuto’s placid smile, and he wondered what expression he had just missed flickering over the younger boy’s face.
“Now that we’ve all been introduced,” Mobu-senpai said, after all the first years had been called. “Our class leader Tanakamigi will say a few words.”
All eyes in the room turned to Chui. He regarded them calmly. As usual, it was easier to address them as a crowd rather than one-on-one. Not unlike being onstage, really.
He inhaled slowly.
“Do you understand what you are?”
He watched as they glanced around at each other, perhaps wondering if this was a trick question. When he did not elaborate, one of them tentatively offered an answer.
“…Performers?”
He waited while the others began to toss out ideas.
“Actors?”
“Amber class!”
“…First years?”
“Entertainers?”
“The elite?”
“…Fodder.” Chui suspected that mutter was actually from Mobu-senpai.
“Winners?”
“Artists.”
“Artists,” Chui agreed. He remembered the speaker’s name—Momonashi Kakuto. The smiling one. “What we do is create art. That is the most important thing. The only thing. All of your awards and accolades and accomplishments from before you came here: These are nothing. You may throw them away.”
There was a ripple of discomfort through the room. Even Mobu-senpai looked at him with shock. He ignored it and continued. “In this room and on the stage: Only one thing matters for each. In this room, it is what you can learn. On the stage, it is what you can do. A gold award on your wall cannot tell you that. It only tells you the weakness of your competitors.”
A few of them nodded at that thoughtfully, beginning to be won over. He exhaled slowly, focused. “All of you have talent. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. That does not mean that all of you are capable of success. Some of you will inevitably leave prior to your graduation.”
The discomfort was back, this time more akin to fear than offense. They glanced nervously at each other, as they did not yet understand. But they would.
He closed his eyes. “Remember: You are here because you want to be.”
He paused to let that sink in a bit. “If you understand that, then you will understand that as long as you want to be here, you will be here. And if ever you want to stop, you may. I will welcome your departure. If you are not present, physically or mentally, when I expect you to be, then I will move on without you.”
He opened his eyes, surveying them. “With the omission of the truly exceptional, which none of you is likely to be—nobody is irreplaceable. If you want to quit, it’s better if you do. Do not waste time with illusions of obligation or privilege.”
His eyes narrowed to a squint. “You are also responsible for your own limits. I will not adjust my expectations for them and I will not save you from self-destruction. If you die on stage, then take responsibility to do it beautifully.”
Everyone in the room looked uncomfortable at that.
No, not quite everyone. Momonashi Kakuto was still smiling, which Chui was beginning to suspect may be his default expression. And Kamiya Utsuri looked completely enthralled, his eyes shining with delight.
Good.
“Kamiya-san.”
Kamiya looked up to see the smiling boy from earlier standing over him. He was still smiling. It was starting to get creepy.
Kamiya straightened and slung his bag over his shoulder. He gave the smiling boy a dismissive look. “Sorry. I don’t remember your name.” He turned to walk toward the door.
The smiling boy fell into step beside him. He sure didn’t know how to take a hint. “Momonashi Kakuto.”
“Uh huh. Why are you following me?”
“Tanakamigi-senpai singled you out.”
Despite himself, Kamiya couldn’t keep the smile from blossoming over his lips as they walked. “Yeah… Impressive, right? I mean, I’ve always thought I was destined for greatness, but knowing Tanakamigi-senpai has his eyes on me… I’m even more certain now. After all, he’s the reason I came to this school.”
Momonashi smiled, although he was already smiling. A smile on top of a smile. Kamiya tried to shake off the tingle of unease. “Most people are talking about Tachibana Tsuki when they say that.”
A flash of annoyance rippled through Kamiya. “Who?”
“He was Univeil’s treasure until he graduated two years ago. A student of Quartz.”
“Who cares about Quartz?” Kamiya snapped. “I heard that’s the no-talent class. Nothing that came out of Quartz could ever measure up to Tanakamigi-senpai.”
Smiles on smiles on smiles. “Tanakamigi-senpai must mean a lot to Kamiya-san.”
“You don’t have to be so formal. It makes all your smiling creepier.” Kamiya scowled. “And yeah. He’s my idol, as he should be everyone’s. He’s a genius.”
“Utsuri, then.”
A bit forward. Kamiya grimaced, unsure about being on given-name terms with this creepy guy.
“Tanakamigi-senpai is indeed a genius. Certainly the best thing that has ever happened to this school.”
…Alright, maybe he was an okay guy. Kamiya nodded. “Utsuri is fine. And yeah, he is.”
“Then you can call me Kakuto.”
“…Sure.” Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, having a friend, even if he was weird. Plenty of people thought Kamiya was weird at his previous schools, mostly because they couldn’t accept his exceptional talent.
But now he was with the elite, the most talented class in one of the most exclusive theatre schools in the country. Amber would be full of people of his caliber. Maybe it really would be possible to make friends here.
He smiled awkwardly at Kakuto, who smiled back, because of course he did. “…Are you getting lunch now?”
“If that’s what you’re doing, I will join you.”
“Alright. Let’s drop our bags off and I’ll meet you there.”
A few minutes later, Kamiya hummed happily to himself as he locked the door to his dorm room before heading to the Amber cafeteria with a spring in his step. This was going to be the best school year ever.