It's Just an Act (1)

Last year, the drama club had more members, and Sumida was not yet the club president, just a member.

However, at times the noise from the students was overwhelming, causing me to come to the club room when no one was there.

I liked writing scripts or just reading or rehearsing alone. Even on days when there were no club activities, I would still go to the club room.

I enjoyed the scent and the peace of this room.

Sitting in my usual place, I would first immerse myself in reading another story, then try to embody its characters in my solo play with imaginary partners. How could I understand their perspectives? How could I accurately convey their emotions? What feelings live in the hearts of these characters?

Acting held a special place in my heart.

And so the day came when he entered the club room. Quietly, he turned the knob and stepped inside. He was a new member of the club. His name was Sato.

Why is he here?

I tried to keep my attention on reading, but found myself watching his every move. He set his bag aside, pulled out a tablet, and began to browse its contents. Then, seemingly unaware of my presence, he began to rehearse a scene. It was as if he didn't notice me; he didn't care if I was watching him or not.

Yet he was extraordinary. Wielding a prop sword, he portrayed a knight. His movements were confident, suggesting great experience. Without realizing it, I was mesmerized by his performance.

Although the scene lacked extensive dialogue, his choreography created the illusion of a fight with an invisible opponent. It was obvious that he had practiced these moves many times before.

Soon he stopped, silently gathered his things and left the room without saying a word to me.

It was a little strange, and I didn't know if he would come back the next time.

But the next time I went to the club room after class, I found him absorbed in rehearsing again.

Putting my backpack on the table, I took a seat and watched him perform.

Today, he was rehearsing a different scene, a romance scene.

He was bad. He was so good last time, why is he so bad today?

He seemed unfazed by my presence, as if he didn't notice my scrutiny.

I immediately noticed his mistakes. His acting seemed too contrived, forced, as if he didn't want to say the words he was saying. It all looked awkward and clumsy.

I hadn't planned to rehearse today. But when Sato finished and was about to leave, I stood up silently as if to signal him to wait.

I decided to act out one of my favorite romantic scenes. I closed my eyes for a moment to prepare and immerse myself in the role I had rehearsed countless times and began to act. I acted knowing he was watching.

Maybe it was my attempt to help him play romance scenes.

I hope I helped him a little.

When I turned around, I saw him looking at me, which took me by surprise. I hadn't expected to see his eyes, wide with wonder, fixed on me. Although unsure, I sensed a hint of admiration in his gaze. It made me feel a little self-conscious, but I raised my head proudly and sat back in my seat in silence.

"That was really cool...," he said.

I looked at him, a faint blush playing on his cheeks. He seemed lost in thought, his head bowed. Did he really like my performance that much? I smiled faintly.

"Thanks," I replied. "You know, you were cool last time too."

"But not today, huh?"

"Not really."

"So direct."

…We didn't rehearse every time we came here; instead, the next time, we just sat in silence, each reading something different.

Surprisingly, I wasn't disturbed by his presence. There was a serene calm in the silence that enveloped us, even though we didn't know each other.

At one point our gazes crossed almost accidentally, and I was confused for a moment. Wait, was he looking at me? Why?

I hastily averted my eyes, but curiosity got the better of me, and I glanced at him again. But his gaze had already shifted elsewhere. Maybe I was just imagining it.

As my gaze lingered on him, I noticed that his expression was quite calm and focused...

Suddenly, he stood up, put the tablet on the table, and walked out of the room.

Had my long stare bothered him? Is that why he left?

When he came back, I decided to ignore him, but then I heard him say, "Want some?"

I looked up to meet his perfectly calm and carefree eyes. He held out a bag of chips to me.

"Meh, I don't like that stuff."

"Really? Why not?"

"They're not healthy."

He paused, looking at the chip in his hand. "Well, now you've ruined the mood..." he said.

His comment, combined with the nonchalant expression on his face, was so amusing that I couldn't help but laugh. "Pfft. I didn't know you were so sensitive..."

It was a brief exchange of words, but inexplicably from that day on, we began to talk more often. We began to greet each other. We began to exchange jokes and comments in moments of silence.