“Let's go, I'll take you to see Mingyue.”
Nuomi swallowed the last bite of the candy apple and wiped the sugar crumbs from the corner of its mouth with a paw. “The stage play is about to start, so she should be backstage getting ready. Come with me. I know a shortcut so we don't have to push through the crowd.”
Star-trail followed Nuomi as it squeezed through a gap beside the stall, skirted around the equipment room at the edge of the sports field, and headed through the alley behind the gymnasium.
Nuomi walked with its tails held high, the bell jingling softly with every step, occasionally turning back to make sure Star-trail was keeping up.
Star-trail followed silently, its silver-white figure almost transparent under the sunlight.
“We're here!” Nuomi lowered its voice, stopping in front of an inconspicuous door on the side of the gymnasium. A handwritten sign that read “Cast and Crew Only” was taped to the door, its corners curling slightly in the wind.
Nuomi pushed the door open with its front paw just enough for two small creatures to slip through. After squeezing inside, it didn't forget to use its tail to hold the door open for Star-trail to slide in as well.
The backstage corridor was narrow, lined with prop boxes and folding chairs on both sides. The air carried a faint scent of fabric mixed with hairspray.
Navigating the path with practiced ease, Nuomi slipped past several students touching up their makeup in front of mirrors, hugging the base of the wall as it slunk into the dressing room at the very end.
The dressing room door was half-open, with a printed cast list taped to it. The top line read: “Female Lead A—Shizuru Kirishima.”
Star-trail noticed the name. Hadn't she said she was just backstage staff?
How did she end up as the female lead?
Nuomi pushed the door open a crack with its tail. There was only one person inside.
Shizuru sat in front of the vanity mirror, already dressed in her costume—a white ancient Greek-style robe tied with a woven gold belt at the waist. Her long hair was styled in a loose braid draped over her shoulder, adorned with a laurel wreath headpiece.
She was staring down at a notebook spread across her lap, its pages covered in neat but tense annotations about stage blocking and movements.
In her left hand, she held a half-eaten bun, completely oblivious to the crumbs falling onto her skirt.
Nuomi poked its head out from under Shizuru's arm, its ears almost brushing Star-trail's chin.
It whispered in an extremely low voice, “She's memorizing her lines. She's gone over them so many times since this morning. Honestly, she's already memorized them by heart, but she's just terrified she'll forget.”
It pointed its tail at the notebook on Shizuru's lap. “Look, every single page is covered in markings. Even though she knows them backward and forward, she still spent ages practicing her expressions in front of the mirror at home last night, saying she wanted to give her absolute best to the audience. She also mentioned that someone very special might be in the audience, and if that person actually shows up, she absolutely cannot embarrass herself.”
“Mingyue, Mingyue! Look who I brought!” It hopped onto Shizuru's lap, pointing its tail toward the door.
Shizuru looked up, the bun in her hand freezing mid-air.
She saw Star-trail sitting quietly by the door.
“...Star-trail?” She instinctively nudged the notebook aside, placed the bun on the vanity table, wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, and patted the crumbs off her skirt.
“Nuomi said you were preparing for a stage play, so it told me to come take a look.” Star-trail walked in and sat down beside her vanity chair, looking up at her.
It was obvious she had been sitting here for quite a while; her fingers were slightly flushed from holding her pen for so long.
The lights from the vanity mirror shone on her face, highlighting a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead.
She remained silent for a long moment before speaking, her voice slightly dry.
“...I lied to her. I told Lightweaver that I was just helping out backstage. I didn't tell her that I'm the lead.” She spoke as if confessing some deeply embarrassing secret.
“At the time, I thought if I told her the truth, she might think it was too big of a deal, like she had to go out of her way to watch me perform... I was afraid she'd find it too bothersome and decide not to come.”
A leaf on her laurel wreath had tilted to one side, but she was completely unaware.
“But now, I'm even more afraid—what if she sits in the audience and realizes I lied to her? Will she think I'm dishonest? Will she think I tricked her into coming to watch me?”
She raised her eyes to look at Star-trail. Those eyes, usually so sharp and calm, were now filled with anxiety.
This... idiot. To get this worked up over such a trivial thing.
How is this even lying? She was clearly just too shy to say it.
If this counts as lying, then how many people has Qiluo Tian Gong lied to?
Seeing her blame herself so much over something so minor actually makes me feel a little guilty.
“It doesn't count. Since she promised to come, she wouldn't skip out just because you're the lead. She's coming to see you.”
“Really?” Shizuru looked up, a trace of moisture still clinging to her eyelashes.
“Really, really.”
It looked down at the notebook on her lap and gently nudged the page with its nose, leaving behind a small, faint speck of starlight.
“I've blessed your script. You won't forget your lines on stage.”
Shizuru looked down at the slowly dissipating starlight and gently touched the page with her finger. A bit of silver-white stardust clung to her fingertip, and she softly curled her hand into a fist, as if afraid the light might slip away.
“...You're much better at comforting people than Nuomi.” She reached out, scooped Star-trail up from her lap, and locked eyes with it for a moment.
“Huh?! Shizuru, you dummy!”
“I've been trying to comfort you this whole time! You were the one who said I was too noisy and kicked me out!”
Nuomi grumbled indignantly from the side.
Nuomi gently flicked the bell on its tail with a front paw, letting out a soft jingle.
“I know how to comfort people too,” it muttered softly, flicking the bell once more. “Yesterday, when Shizuru was memorizing her lines and almost cried, I even used my tail to fan her and poured her some water!”
Nuomi stood up on Shizuru's lap, its two tails swishing left and right in protest.
“But yesterday you spilled the water directly onto my script.”
Shizuru tapped Nuomi's nose with her fingertip, the tension finally leaving the corners of her mouth. “And then, in your panic, you tried to wipe the floor with your tail and knocked over the entire pen holder.”
“That's because the cup was too big! It wasn't my fault!”
Nuomi leaped from her lap, its two tails puffing up like cotton balls and its ears pinning back in annoyance. “Besides, didn't I help you pick up all the pens afterward?! Even though one rolled under the cabinet and I couldn't reach it, that pen was out of ink anyway!”
“That pen was brand new. I only bought it last week,” Shizuru said, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed.
Nuomi opened its mouth, its ears visibly drooping from straight up to halfway down, and the puffed-up fur on its tails slowly smoothed out.
It lowered its head, pawing at the bell on its tail, and mumbled softly, “Fine, I'll just pay you back... Deduct it from my snack budget...”
Seeing her Contract Spirit with its ears completely deflated, Shizuru finally couldn't help but burst into laughter.
She reached out, scooped Nuomi up, and gently rubbed its drooping head with her fingers.
“You don't have to pay me back. The pen really was out of ink. I was just teasing you.”
Nuomi snapped its head up, its ears popping straight back up.
It stared at Shizuru for a moment, then turned its head and buried its face in her palm.
Shizuru laughed even harder, her shoulders shaking so much she almost dislodged the laurel wreath from her head. She held the wreath in place with one hand while cradling Nuomi with the other, completely letting her guard down in a rare moment of vulnerability.
Star-trail sat to the side, watching the partners bicker.
This was how she looked when she was truly relaxed. That almost self-punishing perfectionism was something she probably only let slip in front of those she trusted completely.
Rate on N.U.
