Minami Yuji’s scene wasn’t exactly simple to call simple, nor was it really all that difficult to call difficult.
It was the scene that came right on the heels of Kobayashi Takaki’s.
Because Ryouya had taught a lesson to the children who’d been bullying his little sister, those children’s parents had come knocking on the door.
To punish Ryouya and Junko, the stepmother had locked them inside a cramped, sealed-off closet.
It was simple in the sense that older-brother Ryouya didn’t actually have all that many lines in this particular scene.
But it was difficult in the sense that this scene called for quite a lot of facial close-ups and physical acting from older-brother Ryouya.
Which made it a scene that put a koyaku’s acting chops thoroughly to the test.
But Minami Yuji, up on stage, wasn’t thinking about any of that.
The moment a staff member finished reciting the cue line — ‘Brother, do we really have to leave?’ — in a perfectly flat, emotionless tone—
—Minami Yuji simply launched straight in.
No need for the kind of adjustments Kobayashi Takaki had needed.
No working-up of his own emotions, either.
By the time he opened his eyes—
—every emotion was already there, flowing as naturally as quicksilver across a floor.
‘Of course we do.’ His voice paused.
The Ryouya being played by Minami Yuji lowered his head.
And when he lifted it again—
—his big eyes were brimming with a gentle light, as though right beside him there really was a little sister pressing tightly against him, her body shrinking in on itself, fretting anxiously about what lay ahead.
‘…But I’m so scared.’ The previously expressionless staff member froze for a beat, then caught himself and continued feeding Minami Yuji his cues.
Except this time, that emotionless voice seemed to have gone unusually soft and slow.
‘Don’t be scared.
Big brother will stay with you the whole time, you hear me, Junko?’
Minami Yuji smiled.
It was a bright, sunlit smile.
And yet his body was trembling, ever so faintly.
Because in truth, Ryouya was scared too.
Just like his little sister, he was nothing more than a year old child himself.
He didn’t really understand whether the choice he’d made was the right one or the wrong one.
But the duty of being an older brother told him this much — he had no choice but to shoulder the responsibility of protecting his little sister.
And so, even with his body trembling, the smile on his face remained as gentle as ever.
‘But…
big brother…’ The Junko beside him softly lifted her face, that dainty little face heartbreakingly adorable, as though she still had something more she wanted to say.
Only to be cut off by a sudden, violent fit of coughing from Minami Yuji.
The night was deep.
Only a single thin sliver leaked from the closet.
Moonlight came pouring in from beyond that narrow crack.
The dust-blanketed closet, combined with the boy’s already malnourished state and his frail childlike lungs, kept him from being able to stop his light coughing.
But even so, the hand with which Ryouya was clutching his little sister’s never once loosened its grip.
Time, in that moment, seemed almost to have come to a halt.
Inside that cramped little closet.
Yuji and Junko closed their eyes.
She and He nestled tightly together…
As though each were nestling into the other’s tiny little world…
In that very moment, every single person fell silent.
Their eyes opened ever so slightly wider.
This was a spacious audition venue.
This was not that cramped, sealed-off, suffocating closet.
And yet, why was it…?
Their gazes…
Why was it that they simply could not tear their eyes off of that koyaku — the one whose name none of them had ever even heard before?
…
Yamashita Keiji, honestly, didn’t understand it.
That’s right.
He didn’t understand at all.
He had known full well, long beforehand, that the role had already been pre-decided.
He had known full well that even being one member of the production team’s iron triangle wouldn’t change that fact.
‘And yet…
why…?’
Yamashita Keiji removed his glasses.
At some point — he had no idea when — hot tears had welled up in his eyes.
Despite knowing all of that, how could he still be like this — moved to the absolute brink, beyond any further measure, by the acting of the koyaku in front of him?
No…
perhaps deep down, he had known the answer all along.
He lifted his head and looked at Minami Yuji.
Because the boy was pouring his entire heart and soul into bringing the very script he himself had written to life!
It was precisely to witness this sight — to see the characters from his own pen come vividly, vibrantly alive right in front of his eyes — that he had worked so hard to claw his way into this industry in the first place.
And more crucial than even that—
The acting of this koyaku named Minami Yuji standing before him seemed to be carrying something else as well.
A kind of fierce, vividly sharp emotion!
Through the script, through that very nearly flawless performance, it transmitted itself straight into the heart of Yamashita Keiji — its creator.
‘Pick me.’
That was what he was saying through his acting.
His eyes, his lips, every lift of his hand and every step of his foot—
—all of them seemed to be saying it.
His entire body, his entire soul, were expressing that one emotion with overwhelming intensity!
An emotion beyond intense!
An emotion beyond vivid!
‘Pick me!’
And yet—
Looking at that koyaku, radiant as a true star—
—Yamashita Keiji lowered his face in shame.
For the very first time, he felt guilt rise up toward a koyaku.
I’m sorry…
I’m sorry.
I can’t pick you.
…
Down in the audience.
Sakurajima Mai felt goosebumps rise across her entire body.
Her whole face frozen in stunned disbelief, she stared at the Minami Yuji up on the stage.
In this moment, she finally understood the meaning behind Minami Yuji’s line — ‘I’ll do my very best.’
Because at the very least, right now…
At this exact moment.
The boy standing on top of that audition stage—
Like a true star!
That blazing, blinding acting — as though he were trying to pour every last fragment of himself out into the performance — left even her, a koyaku hailed as a ‘genius,’ feeling somehow shabby and ashamed by comparison.
And that much could be seen plainly enough from the audition venue itself, which had now fallen into complete and utter silence.
Every single person watched, dead quiet, the Minami Yuji standing on the stage.
In this moment, every last one of them was a captive.
Captives belonging to Minami Yuji alone — captives of his acting!
‘This really is…’
Sakurajima Mai felt her throat go dry, too stunned to even know how to begin putting words to it.
But just then, a sound rose up suddenly beside her.
She turned her head reflexively, only to find — at some point she hadn’t noticed — the red-haired Arima Kana’s wine-red eyes brimming over with tears.
Crystalline, perfectly clear teardrops.
Right now, they were spilling, one after another, from the corners of her eyes without pause.
‘Kana-chan…
you…’ Sakurajima Mai felt a touch of confusion.
Why was Arima Kana crying?
Why was she wearing such a heartbroken expression?
Wasn’t she the one with a strong shot at landing the lead role?
But that question soon enough found its answer.
‘He really acts so well.’
Head tilted upward, tears spilling unstoppably from her eyes.
‘For acting this incredible — how much hardship must he have endured, how many times must he have practiced?’ she said.
Her usually babyish, cute voice had gone dry and hoarse, and she clutched tightly at the hem of her skirt.
Hearing those words, Sakurajima Mai went still, and a beat later, fell silent.
She lifted her head and looked at the Minami Yuji at the center of the stage.
Yes, that’s right…
He really does act so well…
She, an actor herself, could scarcely even bear to imagine it.
Acting of this caliber…
How many times would a script have to have been paged through?
How much blood, sweat, and effort would it have demanded?
And yet — why?
Why was it that someone who had worked this hard couldn’t even receive the reward he so rightly deserved?
Sakurajima Mai’s gaze on Arima Kana softened.
Up until now, her impression of Arima Kana had honestly been rather unremarkable — she’d thought of her as nothing more than a somewhat willful child.
But now…
At a moment like this, when everyone was busy being astonished by Minami Yuji’s acting—
—she alone was crying for the sake of Minami Yuji — for the acting that had captivated this entire room…
and even more so, was shedding tears for all the years of effort he had poured in, effort she felt was being so unfairly thrown away.
‘You really are such a kind, gentle child, aren’t you.’
In this moment, ten-year-old Sakurajima Mai fulfilled the duty of an elder.
She gently drew the inconsolably weeping Arima Kana into her embrace.
‘Cry all you need to.
But no matter how this ends up turning out…
in this moment…’
‘This stage — belongs to Yuji-kun.’
Watching that small little figure at the center of the audition stage.
Sakurajima Mai spoke those words, softly and quietly.