Tokyo Yandere Girlfriend

Chapter 24

In the classroom, Takahashi Mio was doing the thing she had done most often in her entire life: drifting off.

Her senses blurred. The teacher's voice on the podium slowly morphed into something else, a lullaby her mother used to hum when she was small.

Her eyelids slid shut without permission. Her head nodded in time with the teacher's hand gestures—quicker than a dragonfly skimming water—and the tip of her ballpoint smudged a small black cloud on the page.

Class was one vast, ritualistic lullaby.

For Mio, listening to a lecture had that kind of power. It was no mere recording; it was the cramped but relatively quiet air of the room, the teacher droning on in the same flat cadence, the inexplicable sense of safety—

Sleep crashed over her like a tide, impossible to resist...

Just as she was about to surrender, something long and hard jabbed her sharply in the side.

'—!'

In an instant it was as if lightning struck. Mio's eyes flew open, her slender spine snapping straight, the pen that had been slipping from her fingers clenched tight.

A soft snicker came from behind her.

Face reddening, Mio hurriedly fixed her gaze on the textbook and tried to follow the teacher's rhythm. Unfortunately, she had no idea when she'd drifted off again. She scanned the page, unable to decide which line her eyes should land on.

Sensing her panic, the bespectacled girl beside her tapped the lower-left corner of the page with her own pen.

Mio's eyes lit up. A quick glance at the PowerPoint and she began underlining the key points.

In truth, once you're an adult no one helps you for free; everyone is too busy with their own lives. Even close friends would rather watch you squirm—after all, a little embarrassment spices up an otherwise dull day.

The girl next to her, Nagata Nanase, was no exception. She wasn't being kind; Mio was paying her to keep watch. In fact, Nanase was more than a mere overseer—tutoring, quizzes, notes—she was practically a private tutor.

Price: one hundred thousand yen a month.

That was cheap for one-on-one lessons in Tokyo, where the going rate hovered around two thousand yen an hour, and Nanase wasn't limiting herself to a single subject. She'd only agreed because the sessions wouldn't take much of her time and the material overlapped with her own coursework.

After all, you get paid for what you do. Nanase thought that way, and so did Mio.

The lure of a million yen was simply too strong.

So Mio resolved to buckle down starting this week; she'd even turned down Haruno Reika's invitation to hang out. She had to complete the mission properly!

Besides, after paying Nanase she'd still have two hundred thousand yen left each month. If she kept at it, she could clear the loan by semester's end and stop living the lie of looking glamorous while secretly panicking over next month's payment.

She almost hoped Shiratori Seiya would hand her another assignment. That would let her wipe out the debt with ease and still have cash left for a lavish holiday—buy whatever she pleased...

As for the stardom Seiya kept talking about, the dream did sparkle, but for now it felt like a castle in the sky. Better to keep her feet on the ground, as he'd said.

Dong-dong-dong.

"All right, that's it for today. For homework—"

After several more nudges from Nanase's pen, the lecture finally let Mio off the hook.

"Are you still heading to the library to study?" Nanase asked, adjusting her black-rimmed glasses and stacking her books.

"Ah—yeah, but I need to hit the restroom first..."

"Okay. I'll go ahead and grab our usual spot."

"Got it."

Mio nodded, slung her tote over her shoulder, and was about to follow when a burst of exclamations erupted behind her.

"Eh?!"

"Friend A is retiring?!"

Mio's ears twitched; she stopped and turned.

"What Friend A?"

"The one who's been writing songs for Hojo Shione—he's quitting for good."

"Seriously? You're kidding."

"It's real. The official Twitter posted it, and both Shione and Friend A posted at the same time."

"Whoa..."

Hearing this, Mio's brow knitted. She couldn't pinpoint when it had started, but every time she heard the name Hojo Shione a prickle of irritation ran through her.

As Shiratori Seiya's current girlfriend, she felt as if someone kept stepping on her head.

It wasn't jealousy—Mio knew she didn't feel that deeply for Seiya. She was simply... annoyed.

Annoyed enough to rip down every Hojo Shione poster in her room, to list the matching handbag she'd just bought on a resale site, to stuff the unsellable accessories into a suitcase to gather dust...

If only she weren't Seiya's girlfriend.

The thought cropped up more and more lately. Then she could still like Shione, could listen to Seiya's far-fetched dreams without feeling crushed by pressure...

She wished she could rewind time and unsee that photograph from that night.

But even if she had, she would've found out eventually, wouldn't she? It felt as though invisible hands had twisted her into the space between the two of them.

She bit her lip, took a steadying breath, and opened her phone.

Whatever the case, she wanted to see what was going on.

Twitter loaded. Shione's agency, Shione herself, and Friend A had all posted announcements.

Shione and her company sounded official and polite.

Friend A's message was more interesting: "Running out of talent," "chasing a new dream," "the money's not enough but it'll do for the next goal," and so on.

Mio kept scrolling. Comments ran the gamut:

"What a shame. Their partnership was like a couple breaking up..."

"Only fools believe it's two people. It's obviously the studio hyping things—why else do the songs vary so wildly in style?"

"Yeah, Shione's got concerts coming up. Perfect timing for publicity!"

"They say Friend A left her two final songs..."

Arguments raged over whether Friend A was a studio front.

Mio's finger halted on one comment:

"Without Friend A's songs, will Hojo Shione still stay popular?"

Will she?

Replies flew: "Shione's vocals are unmatched—she'll thrive no matter what she sings." Others claimed, "Without good songs, even the best voice is wasted."

Mio narrowed her eyes, opened Shiratori Seiya's DM box on impulse, and typed:

"Did you hear that Friend A is retiring?"

...