Tokyo Yandere Girlfriend

Chapter 38

Dawn. Shiratori Seiya stood on the summit behind the school.

As his wooden sword cut through the clear sky, a soft chime sounded in his ear.

Ding.

[Romance Trainee's Acting Level has reached Apprentice.]

[Reward: one-million-yen + LV2 script purchase rights.]

[Next tier: ten-million-yen + LV3 script purchase rights.]

The bokken hung motionless for half a heartbeat; Seiya blinked, surprise flitting across his eyes.

Takahashi Mio was improving faster than he had expected.

Less than a week had passed since Hojo Suzune's birthday, barely two weeks since he had started "dating" Mio, and she had already hit Apprentice rank.

If he counted the days since he drew up her study plan, the speed was even more startling.

Back when he coached Hojo Shione, the climb had never been this steep.

Did different fields really progress at such different rates?

He couldn't help wondering.

Still, the hardest—and most crucial—part should have been the mental groundwork.

He had assumed it would take time, so he checked her progress every couple of days, half afraid she was slacking off.

Clearly, he had underestimated the lure of cold hard cash: Mio was giving it everything she had.

Seiya lowered his bokken, rubbed his chin, and walked over to a stone table. Fishing his phone from his jacket pocket, he texted Mio:

"I see you're free today. Take a break—I'll take you out."

The message hung unread for a minute. By the time he had packed the rest of his gear, a reply popped up.

"Eh? Where did that come from? I already promised someone I'd study at the library this afternoon..."

He stared at the screen, then typed back:

"Even hard workers need rest. You've been amazing lately."

"Oh."

In the classroom, Mio sat at her desk, staring at the small glowing screen. A warm current surged through her chest.

Determination is invisible.

You can swear to yourself, heart pounding, feeling strong enough to punch a hole in the universe, and no one else will ever know.

Even if you tell a friend with the gravest expression—

"I'm dead set on this. I'll do it or die trying."

—the replies are predictable:

"Huh? Why would you even try? That's impossible..."

"Ha! Another wild idea. Your odds are better than the lottery, at least."

"Really? Well, good luck."

Rare is the person who looks at you with shining eyes, more confident than you are, and says, "I believe in you—go for it, whatever happens, I've got your back."

That kind of cheer is comforting, but it usually springs from affection, not from actual faith in your effort.

Because she knew this, something always felt missing.

Yet right now, when her heart was worn out and no one could see the strain, the simple words "You've worked hard; take a breather" filled her with genuine joy.

Her thumb brushed the sentence on the screen. Mio's lips curved; her half-lidded eyes softened as warmth flooded her—ninety-nine degrees, maybe a hundred.

Jerk's actually kind of sweet...

She typed back:

"Could we not go out today?"

Seiya blinked at the reply.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just drained. Could we grab coffee at the new campus café instead?"

"What time?"

"Nine. I'll pack up my notes and head over..."

"Sure."

He slid the phone into his pocket, then noticed another notification banner:

[H University Kendo Club – Toyozawa Kiichi: Today at 9:30 a.m., C University Kendo Club arrives for joint practice. Please be on time. Matches will be decided by lottery...]

Seiya flicked the banner aside and locked the screen. He had planned to head over after his morning practice.

But Mio clearly took priority; skipping club wouldn't cost him any credits.

He packed his bokken, showered at home, and strolled toward the café.

8:40 a.m. Even the newly opened shop had just unlocked its doors. As Seiya pushed past the "Open" sign, only a handful of customers dotted the room.

He spotted her at once—Mio by the window, chin propped on her hand, sleepy eyes gazing outside.

A yawn escaped her.

Sunlight streamed through the glass, bathing her face; she looked like a pear blossom dipped in rouge—luminous, languid.

If he snapped a photo and compared it to one from a month ago, even she might not believe the change.

"Welcome—what can I get you—"

The barista's greeting was cut short when Mio's gaze snapped over. Her peach-blossom eyes sparkled; she lifted a hand and waved.

"Over here."

Her voice was soft, but unmistakably bright.

"You look happy today."

"Of course." Mio nodded, sliding the menu toward him. "I've been grinding nonstop—finally a day off!"

"Sounds like you're clocking in at a job."

"Not exactly, but close. Anyway, what made you suddenly say that?"

"Say what?"

Ahem.

Mio cleared her throat, scrunched her brows, and mimicked his serious tone:

"Even hard workers need rest. You've been amazing lately."

Two seconds of silence. Then, watching his face darken, she covered her mouth and laughed.

"Hahaha—spot-on, right?"

Seiya shot her a look.

"Starting to regret this. Maybe you need more pressure—special training tomorrow."

"Uh..."

Her smile froze. After a moment she asked, "Is there a bonus for early training?"

"Fail the training and I'll dock your pay."

Tch.

Mio clicked her tongue, a flicker of "this is tricky" crossing her brow.

Then her eyes softened, almost tender. She tilted her head, lips curving.

"Seiya... could you be a little nicer to me?"

The expression—so like Hojo Shione's—caught him off guard. He schooled his face and replied, voice flat:

"Don't even think about it."

"Special course fee—five hundred thousand yen, deducted."

Even though she was listening to him dock the money—and could see he was clearly annoyed—Takahashi Mio felt a surge of satisfaction, as if she'd hit some hidden target. If she had to put the feeling into words, it was better than finally relieving a week-long bout of constipation in one glorious rush.

But in the next heartbeat her face shifted to pure panic, red lips parting in a soft gasp.

"Eh?"

"Why? I practiced in front of the mirror for ages! I only met her once, and I copied her that closely. Instead of rewarding me, you're charging me?"

"I didn't zero your account—count yourself lucky."

Shiratori Seiya shot her a sidelong glance. "And if we're being honest, it wasn't that close."

"Hmm?"

Mio narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Seiya met her gaze, serious now. "An actor's first job is image and presence; technique comes second. The audience has to believe you are the character. If they don't, all the skill in the world is useless."

"You're beautiful, but you don't have Shione's aura. Even if your expressions were identical, it wouldn't work."

...

So you've already branded Shione into your heart, haven't you?

Mio pressed her forefinger until it hurt, then lifted her coffee for a slow sip. When she looked up, her smile was dazzling.

"Then when I was playing you just now, I couldn't pull off that cold-blooded vibe, could I?"

"If I were truly cold-blooded, you'd be flat broke by now."

Seiya rolled his eyes. "But you're on the right track. You've improved a lot. Still, changing your aura at will? That's a long road."

He'd already made his assessment: Mio could copy a character's surface expressions. Mastering presence would take her to Expert rank; slipping into any role would require Grandmaster.

"Oh." Mio nodded slowly, thoughtful. After a moment she tilted her head. "So how come you sound like you know more than I do? Don't tell me you're reading those theory books too?"

Seiya smiled, his gaze steady. "If I didn't study, how could I walk this path with you?"