Kono Monogatari O Kimi Ni Sasagu - Volume 1 Chapter 2.5

The truth is, Yuto knew that female club member.

Her name was Shoko Hikawa, a third-year and the vice president of the drama club. She was a talented actress who often played lead roles. Yuto remembered some of the productions and roles she had taken. It was said that her gentle yet reliable personality matched her roles well, resulting in excellent performances. He also knew about her family structure and her likes.

“Me too,” another club member spoke up. “While reading, I felt like I was Ren. I couldn’t imagine what it feels like to be a shinigami, but the idea of carrying the souls of the dead and Ren’s feelings for Hiyori just made sense to me.”

Yuji Togawa, another third-year. He often played lead roles as well. Despite his somewhat flashy personality, he was apparently better at portraying serious, quiet characters.

Other silent members also started mentioning the characters they felt most connected to, discussing why they found them so captivating.

Yuto thought highly of Kotoha.

The trick was simple once revealed.

That night during their plot meeting, Kotoha came prepared with “materials” detailing every actor in the drama club. That’s why Yuto knew the names and past roles of these members, and he could tailor characters to fit the actors—called “writing to type.”

This was Yuto’s first time doing “writing to type,” but considering the limited time the drama club had, creating characters that matched the actors was crucial. Indeed, the script Yuto wrote seemed to resonate especially with those for whom he had “written to type.” At least enough to make them step out of the room to cool their heads.

Realizing the importance of “writing to type” was thanks to Kotoha bringing those materials.

Yuto wondered how much time and effort she had invested in gathering that information. She must have interviewed many people—probably not just the actors and drama club members, but also classmates, maybe friends from other schools, and even family. She likely watched countless recordings of past plays repeatedly.

Her passion for becoming an editor was genuine, and she seemed to have the talent for it. Yuto had to acknowledge that.

“President, I want to do this play with this script.”

“Me too.”

When Shoko Hikawa and Yuji Togawa said that, the other actors nodded and looked at Watanabe. He quietly observed their resolve for a while.

“We don’t have much time for practice. We could stick with the current script.”

Some laughed lightly, while others glared seriously at Watanabe.

“President, don’t say things you don’t mean,” Shoko Hikawa said, exasperated. “After reading this, how can that be an option? Don’t underestimate us. We won’t compromise.”

“Exactly,” Yuji Togawa smirked. The others—actors, directors, costume designers, props managers, set builders, lighting techs, and sound operators—had the same determined expression.

Watanabe closed his eyes and remained silent.

He slowly opened them, stood up, and looked sharply at Yuto.

“I appreciate the effort, but this script has many issues.”

Yuto’s eyes widened at Watanabe’s harsh words.

The other members also looked shocked.

“The staging is elaborate and doesn’t fit our budget or schedule, and the content exceeds the time limit.”

Watanabe stated firmly, continuing to glare at Yuto.

A heavy silence filled the room.

The distant sound of cicadas was all that could be heard.

The air felt stagnant, stifling, as Watanabe began to speak again.

“But—on the flip side, those are the only issues.”

“…What?”

Yuto stood there, mouth agape.

“Those are the only reasons. I think you can fix them quickly.”

Watanabe exhaled and looked at Yuto with even more seriousness.

“Please. I want to do this play with this script. Let us do it.”

Yuto watched in astonishment as Watanabe bowed his head.

He had thought Watanabe didn’t trust or even liked him.

Seeing Watanabe bow was unbelievable.

But then he reconsidered.

Watanabe probably hadn’t trusted or liked Yuto—and maybe still didn’t. And Watanabe understood that Yuto sensed this. That’s why Watanabe bowed his head.

Looking around at the watching members, Yuto saw they understood their president’s character and were smiling wryly.

“Raise your head.”

“No, but—”

“I wrote this script for you all to perform. If it makes the play better, I’ll fix it as much as needed.”

“I see…” Watanabe slowly raised his face. “Well, um…”

Before he could finish, someone from the drama club spoke up.

“President, stop being so difficult!”

“What!?”

Watanabe turned to the voice.

“You should just say ‘Thank you, we appreciate it!'”

“Yeah, that’s right,” the other members cheered.

Watanabe struggled but then sighed heavily.

“Thank you… and, um, we appreciate it.”

“Yeah, same here.”

Yuto responded, unable to hold back a chuckle.

The members laughed too, and the room filled with lively voices.

Yuto sighed in relief and took out his smartphone.

He needed to inform that silly editor who had caught a cold at such an important time. But just as he was about to press the call button,

“Hey, Hiiragi-kun, right?”

A whisper only Yuto could hear—Shoko Hikawa stood in front of him.

She looked slightly troubled, her eyebrows furrowed.

“What is it?”

“Well… I wasn’t sure whether to tell you, but actually—”

***

“What are you doing…?”

“Don’t talk to me right now, I’m reading.”

In the air-conditioned infirmary, a female student on the bed kept her eyes on the stack of A4 papers. It was Kotoha Natsume, who was supposed to be bedridden with a cold—moreover, Yuto had ordered her to stay home.

Shoko, the vice president, had received a message from Kotoha when she left the club room after reading the script, asking her to bring the script secretly.

Apparently, Shoko and Kotoha had kept in touch via messages since Shoko had attended the meeting where Kotoha was asked by President Watanabe to review the play.

“It’s pointless. Natsume-san hasn’t stopped reading since I talked to her several times. Just wait,” the school nurse advised with a resigned look on her face.

“Alright then…”

Yuto sat on the chair next to the bed, waiting for Kotoha to finish reading. About ten minutes later, Kotoha finally looked up.

“Huh? Senpai, why are you here…?”

“I called out to you earlier.”

“What? Really!?”

Yuto sighed deeply.

“What are you doing? I told you to rest.”

“I am resting while reading in the infirmary.”

“Your eyes are wandering.”

Kotoha muttered, “Traitor… Shoko-chan.”

“Hikawa-san has nothing to do with this. Don’t trouble her.”

“But… I really wanted to read it…”