So this is what it's like — teasing a beautiful girl, messing with someone cute and adorable… it's actually this much fun?!
Over a week. This one week! Do you have any idea how Yoshiiro Chiose has been getting through it?!
Back in the real world, she didn't have many friends. Every day was just part-time work, studying, and taking care of her little sister. The last simulation had lasted six years, but back then she'd just been a soft, squishy little kid.
Now things were completely different.
Over the week-plus she'd spent with Tomori, what had started as the occasional bit of light teasing had blossomed into an all-consuming urge to mess with her at every available opportunity.
It was genuinely hard to put into words! The main thing was that Tomori's reactions were just so incredibly, absolutely delicious — utterly addictive!
All it took was catching that sight again — Tomori's little face flushing red, eyes brimming with tears, gazing up at you with a pitiful, kitten-like whimper — and it hit like a shot of liquor straight to the head.
"!!!"
Wait — no. No no no!
Yoshiiro Chiose took a sharp step back, not even noticing the flask of demon-slayer's brew tumbling out of her shirt pocket.
"Hmm? What's wrong, Chitose?"
"Nothing, I just need to run to the bathroom real quick… Tomori, wait here and we'll clock out together, okay?"
"Okay!"
She brushed it off with a few throwaway words, then strolled toward the office's wooden door — opened it, closed it, confirmed the coast was clear, and bolted into the bathroom like a woman fleeing a disaster.
"Hoo— hoo—"
She cupped both hands under the tap, splashed cold water onto her face, and tried to drag herself back to earth.
"I… I've been acting so weird. I kept drinking so much I didn't even notice that I was starting to…"
The person in the mirror was NOT her! She, Yoshiiro Chiose, was just a high school girl! That mature, alluring villainess — that chaotic-evil drunk — that was NOT her!
"I was almost turning into the kind of horrible woman I hate…"
I… I can't… no wait, I can't NOT do this either.
After a moment's hesitation, Yoshiiro Chiose fished a stainless steel hip flask out from a crease in her soul, unscrewed the hinged cap, and poured several long swallows of high-proof baijiu down her throat.
"Sss… hoo—"
The color rushed back into Chiose's reflected face, and the unease that had flickered in those rosy eyes faded away.
In its place settled the calm, hazy composure she always wore.
"Well then… much better now."
If her sober self-awareness was going to get in the way of the plan, then until she'd built up the conviction to be a proper bad woman, she'd just let the alcohol lend a hand!
Yoshiiro Chiose straightened her shirt collar, hummed MCR's "Disenchanted" under her breath, and walked back toward the office.
...
STARY, we all love you.
"Next up on stage is…"
The yellow-haired big sister up there was the MC, and Yoshiiro Chiose had heard the legend of that woman.
Rumor had it: there was once a proprietress who brewed her own rare and exceptional liquors right in her basement — until the day she accidentally drank her own little sister straight into the hospital, after which she swore off brewing forever.
That proprietress was this very MC.
"What a shame. I'm genuinely super interested in those brews of hers—"
Chiose shared the rumor with Takamatsu Tomori. Tomori didn't react with any particular fanfare — she just tilted her head and said:
"Chitose… I spotted a rock by the grass at the entrance that looks exactly like a dinosaur's claw. Remind me to pick it up on the way out."
"Sure, sure — if I'm still coherent by then."
That evening in the performance hall, a green-haired guitarist took the stage for a solo set. Super metal, maybe? Whatever it was — it was absolutely sick!
"Tomori, whoosh! Look what I've got!"
Chiose had blended a cocktail from a mess of different liquors — unknown proof, dangerously unknown — and held it to Tomori's lips as naturally as breathing.
"I can't drink anymore, or I'll — mmph…"
Doesn't matter if you want to or not! Dummy! I mixed it specifically to get you drunk! Your refusal is completely useless!
Yoshiiro Chiose sat in the corner with Takamatsu Tomori bundled against her. Tomori was like a little goldfish — every time she hiccuped, tiny bubbles drifted out of her mouth, so cute it only made Chiose want to pour more drinks into her!
The get-Tomori-drunk operation had only reached the halfway mark when yet another band hit the stage, their EMO rock sweeping Chiose and Tomori's full attention away.
"Chitose! Is this MCR's… 'Disenchanted'?"
"It is. This is incredible — I'm so glad we came tonight."
For four minutes and fifty-five seconds of music, the rock smoothed away the restlessness in Chiose's chest, and not for a single second did her mind wander toward teasing Tomori.
This song is too good. Thank you, Mom, for bringing me into the world!
Huh? Wait —
I'm inside a simulation! I don't have a mom anymore!
Uuuuu… Mom, someday when I find the time, I'll have a baby with Tomori and name it after you! That way even if I'm the one giving birth to you, you'll still get to hear music!
"No no no, what on earth am I rambling about… that's terrifying."
Chiose lightly patted her own cheeks and let her gaze settle on Tomori's every small movement.
The longing in those garnet eyes burned brighter and more captivating than any girl's simple, earnest feelings could.
"Tomori? Are you jealous?"
"Jealous? Of — of what?" Takamatsu Tomori startled, the drowsy fog shaken clean out of her head.
"Tomori wants to go up there and perform too, doesn't she~ hehe…"
"I don't, I didn't, that is the one thing I could absolutely never in a million years do!"
"But I'm jealous. I really am."
"I… huh?"
"I want to perform on a stage. I want to be like the legends from MCR — use music to give more people the will to live, to spread… the true spirit of punk!"
"I… I couldn't, I'm not…"
"Come on, come on! Tomori! It'll absolutely be amazing!"
Chiose grabbed Tomori's wrist, but Tomori now couldn't bring herself to look directly into Chiose's eyes, blazing with enthusiasm.
It was the intermission between sets. No music, but the crowd's energy more than made up for it — everyone was talking and laughing, noisy and alive. No one noticed two girls who'd just clocked off work tucked away in the corner.
The haze of alcohol and the clamor of the crowd dragged all of Takamatsu Tomori's old, painful memories back to the surface.
In her teenage years, no one had ever healed the wounds inside her — so even now, grown, adult, employed, earning her own money, she was still haunted by the pain that had taken root in her back then.
In her mind, a blue-haired twin-tailed girl whose face had blurred with time delivered her verdict in a tone as cold and flat as ice:
[Tomori, you're the one who needs to practice most, aren't you!]
"I really can't… I'm sorry, Chitose! I need some air—"
Takamatsu Tomori slipped free of that gentle hand, pushed through the crowd, and disappeared into the performance hall.
"Huh? Hey! Don't run off so fast!"
Chiose had never seen Tomori like this before. This was the one place that had gone outside her [script].
"Still… it feels like if I play my cards right, this could reinforce my [storyline] even better."
Chiose drained her glass in one swallow and headed for the exit.
Lingering in the drink was a trace of Tomori's scent that wouldn't dissolve away, making it softer than before.
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