The immediate aftermath of the presentation was a whirlwind of noise and motion. The moment the applause died down, the press surged forward, a tidal wave of microphones and cameras, but festival security and Ms. Kurosawa's staff formed a human wall, whisking Nami and me off the stage and into the relative safety of a backstage green room.
The moment the door closed, the chaos erupted.
"ONII-CHAN, YOU WERE AMAZING!" Ayumi shrieked, launching herself at me with the force of a small missile. She wrapped her arms and legs around me, screaming with pure, undiluted joy. "You totally crushed them! It was like, BAM! And then, WHOOSH! And then their faces were like, Whaaaat? It was the best thing I've ever seen!"
Hina was next, her eyes shining with tears of pride. She gently peeled Ayumi off me and pulled me into a hug that was both sisterly and something more. "I've never been so proud of you, Takeshi," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Her hug lingered a moment too long, a silent reminder of the confession that still hung, unresolved, between us.
Nami just stood beside me, a huge, radiant smile on her face. "We did it," she said, her eyes meeting mine. In that shared look, there was a perfect understanding of everything we had accomplished together. We didn't need words.
Ms. Kurosawa burst into the room, her face, for the first time since I'd met her, showing a crack in its professional veneer. She was beaming. "The internet is on fire! 'Starlight Cascade Plagiarism Scandal,' 'Dubois Exposed by Genius Engineer!' Reika's agency has gone completely silent! You didn't just win a competition, Kitamaki-kun, you just won the entire news cycle for the next month! This is PR gold!"
In the midst of this celebratory vortex, Izuwa, who had been watching silently from a corner, pushed off the wall and walked towards me. She waited for a lull in the noise, her gaze sharp and analytical.
"That wasn't just a presentation," she said, her voice low and direct, cutting through the celebratory buzz. "That was a public execution. A perfect checkmate. No wasted moves, no unnecessary drama. Just cold, irrefutable logic, delivered with maximum impact."
She took a step closer, her eyes locked on mine. "I told you before that I found your mind compelling. I was wrong. My analysis was incomplete." She paused, as if running a final diagnostic on her own feelings. "The data is now clear. I'm in love with your mind. And I've concluded that I'm in love with you."
It was the most Izuwa confession possible: a declaration of love delivered like the conclusion of a technical report. My brain, already overloaded from the presentation, the press, and Hina's lingering hug, felt like it was about to short-circuit. Another confession. That was two.
Before I could even formulate a single coherent thought, the door to the green room was thrown open with a dramatic bang.
Reika Amasawa stood framed in the doorway, her face a storm of conflicting emotions. Her bandmates hovered nervously behind her. She ignored my sisters, she ignored Ms. Kurosawa, she ignored everyone. Her fiery eyes were fixed solely on me. She strode across the room, her high heels clicking like gunshots on the concrete floor, and stopped directly in front of me.
The room fell silent. Everyone braced for an explosion, a confrontation, a screamed accusation.
Reika stared at me for a long, tense moment. Then, a slow, dangerous, and utterly unpredictable smile spread across her face.
"You magnificent bastard," she said, her voice a low, husky purr that was somehow more intimidating than a shout. "You didn't just beat me. You publicly humiliated me. You systematically dismantled my producer's career, made my group a global laughingstock, and you did it all while pretending to give a boring school presentation."
She leaned in close, so close I could feel the heat radiating from her. Her voice dropped to a whisper that was for my ears alone. "For my entire life, I've been surrounded by yes-men, by rivals I could crush, by producers I could manipulate. I have never, ever met anyone as terrifyingly, brilliantly, and infuriatingly cool as you."
She pulled back slightly, her eyes glittering with a strange, wild light. "I hate you more than I have ever hated anyone. And I think," she concluded, her smile widening into a predatory grin, "I am completely and utterly falling in love with you."
A collective gasp went through the room. Hina's hand flew to her mouth. Ayumi's jaw dropped. Izuwa's eyebrows shot up. Nami's eyes widened in disbelief.
I stood there, frozen in the center of the room, a human lightning rod for impossible emotions. In the space of twenty-four hours, I had received two direct confessions of love from my own sisters, and now a third, rage-fueled, borderline-psychotic one from my arch-rival. Ayumi's inevitable confession was still waiting in the wings, a ticking time bomb. And Nami, my partner, my friend, my island of sanity, was watching it all unfold with an expression I couldn't begin to decipher.
My quiet life wasn't just over. It had been replaced by a five-front romantic-comedy war. I was surrounded, outgunned, and completely, hopelessly, cornered.