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494 – Taking Turns to Teach
🕑 Added 2025-09-03 15:00:17 +0000 UTCThe blush on the girl’s face spread like a drop of water rippling across a pond, leaving everyone present stirred in its wake.
As Nishimiya Shouko kept bowing and apologizing, the seniors quickly stepped in to smooth things over.
“It’s just because you didn’t drink enough water! You should’ve had a big cup after eating that dorayaki!”
Senbo Eina, nicknamed the “Water Princess,” laughed as she offered Shouko her enormous thermos.
Caught in the middle of everyone’s concern, Shouko’s face flushed even redder.
She tried to hide behind Kihara Saki, stealing a glance at Hojou Kyousuke, who was sitting by the wall.
He had rushed over so quickly that he hadn’t even changed out of his school uniform.
Now, leaning against the wall with his whole body relaxed, he looked like a satisfied cat that had just finished licking its fur—probably thanks to the dorayaki he’d waited half an hour in line to buy.
Uu… how did things end up like this?
Shouko’s heart sank as she sneaked looks at Kyousuke.
She had wanted to use this chance to show him how much she had improved… but instead, it had turned into a humiliating display of failure.
‘Aahhhh…’
She could almost hear her heart crying out.
Her round, babyish cheeks drooped in dismay, the redness slowly fading into gloom.
Of course, Kyousuke noticed immediately.
His senses were sharp—sharp enough that he’d notice even a stray cat staring at him from a tree.
And right now, his attention had been on Shouko the whole time.
Even though she was only peeking timidly from behind Saki’s shoulder, he caught sight of her instantly. And with that, he caught every flicker of her emotions too.
It didn’t take him long to guess what she was thinking.
After all, the only reason he’d rushed here was because he heard Shouko would be practicing voice acting with her seniors today.
Their eyes met.
Shouko’s wide eyes trembled like a startled fawn’s, but Kyousuke only grinned.
He didn’t say anything—just raised his right hand, giving her a silent thumbs-up.
Because he knew.
The girl before him was no longer the timid child who needed to cling to him for support.
All he needed to do now was open his eyes wide, focus, and properly witness the results of her hard work—then give her the loudest applause she deserved.
Shouko wanted to show him her progress. And he wanted nothing more than to see her shine.
In truth, this wasn’t his first time watching her practice.
Though Shouko usually chattered about voice acting at home while Kyousuke mostly listened quietly, he had secretly seen the practice recordings taken at her training center.
Every bit of progress she made, he knew.
From the days when she froze completely at the mic, unable to say a single word…
To when she could only spit out syllables like a broken voice assistant…
To when she began imitating other seiyuu’s voices in flat, emotionless readings…
And finally, to the moment she delivered a line so full of emotion it earned thunderous applause.
He had seen it all.
He could even name the works she practiced from and the classmates she outperformed.
That was why, watching her now with her spirits low, Kyousuke simply smiled and mouthed a silent “Do your best.” That was enough.
On the other side, the dejected girl hiding behind Saki’s shoulder saw his gesture.
That voiceless encouragement scattered the dark clouds in her chest like sunlight breaking through a storm.
‘Come on, Shouko! Don’t get nervous!’
‘Kyousuke-kun’s right there—shouldn’t his presence give you strength?’
‘Why are you faltering instead? Isn’t it supposed to be the opposite?!’
Her tiny fists clenched.
She fired question after question at herself.
‘Come on, Shouko! This is just practice! ‘
‘Just Neighbor, Neighbor, Neighbor! If you can’t even handle this, how are you ever going to help Kyousuke-kun with future projects?’
Her breathing grew stronger.
She straightening her back, she no longer peeked in secret but boldly met Kyousuke’s bright, dark eyes.
Then she raised her right hand too, mirroring his thumbs-up with all her might.
“…Heh. Guess I was overthinking it. Looks like Shouko doesn’t need my comfort after all. Her darling’s sitting right there—my words are nothing compared to one look from him.”
The teasing remark nearly made Shouko stumble again, just when she had gathered her resolve.
“Then why don’t you shut that mouth of yours with some water? You’ve got plenty. If you’re so jealous, just get yourself a boyfriend already,” Saki deadpanned, shoving Eina’s thermos into her mouth.
“Ridiculous! A mere Saki dares to insult me? Don’t you know boyfriends only get in the way of my hydration?” Eina bit viciously at the thermos cap, twisting it open with her teeth.
“Alright, enough,” the eldest of the group, Ayano Kitani, finally cut in with a chuckle. “Let’s start.”
Shouko swallowed nervously, eyes on the script.
The role was Nobue from the manga Neighbor, Neighbor, Neighbor.
Originally a high schooler, the anime studio had changed her into a 20-year-old junior college student to better match her behavior.
The first scene had this 20-year-old girl taking a selfie and pretending to be a 16-year-old student for her introduction.
But Nobue wasn’t blessed like Yukino Yukari, who could pass for twenty even at thirty.
Nobue’s face carried the weariness of daily cigarettes, giving her more of a forty-year-old vibe.
She was the kind of intimidating woman who’d walk into a maid café only to have the otaku customers demand she write “Die” in ketchup on their omelets.
Shouko had gone over all these notes carefully, studying the character.
In her mind, she chanted:
‘I am no longer a 16-year-old girl.’
‘I am a 20-year-old who steals her little sister’s allowance to buy cigarettes.’
‘I am not the gentle girl who cuddles Eriri while watching anime—'
‘I’m the bully sister who beats up her own sister and the neighbor’s little sister too.’
Once her heart was ready, she lifted her head and looked straight at Kyousuke.
Her eyes gleamed like jewels trapping the sun inside, dazzling and brilliant.
“As you can see, I’m just your average 16-year-old girl.” Shouko began, her voice unnaturally sweet. It was clear she was forcing it.
But Kyousuke’s eyes widened.
Somehow, her expression matched the anime scene he’d imagined perfectly.
Shouko noticed his surprise, but by then, she had already slipped fully into character.
Her voice shifted, taking on a new timbre as her eyebrows drooped and her tone deepened:
“Just kidding. I only look like that. In reality, I’m a 20-year-old junior college student.”
“Uh… ah… uh…”
A strange, almost nonsensical sound echoed in the room—but as both a die-hard fan of Neighbor, Neighbor, Neighbor and a member of its production team.
Kyousuke instantly recognized it.
That was the pitiful moan of the useless older sister, groaning after smoking her last cigarette and finding her pack empty.
‘She’s amazing…’ Kyousuke marveled inwardly.
There wasn’t even a scene for this—it was entirely her imagination and interpretation.
Kyousuke knew about “imaginary acting” in performance arts, where actors pretended props were real, but usually that came with gestures or stage cues to help.
Yet here Shouko was, voice acting in front of expressionless seniors, conjuring emotion out of thin air.
“Th-then… next, let me introduce my treasure vault. No, no… I mean, my cute little sister.”
The shameless, good-for-nothing older sister extending her claws toward her sibling—Shouko’s face captured just the right mix of awkwardness and brazen boldness.
Her voice carried the perfect balance of embarrassment and shamelessness.
‘Good… looks like my advice actually got through.’
Kyousuke’s lips curved into a satisfied smile.
Shouko had absorbed his suggestions well.
At the same time, Shouko herself smiled faintly, no doubt thinking of Eriri.
With that, she slipped fully into character.
The other three veteran voice actresses needed no warm-up.
Kihara Saki, usually elegant and aloof, transformed into the precocious younger sister, handling her bratty older sibling with weary grace.
Ayano Kitani, the sixty-year-old legend of the industry, voiced the scatterbrained neighbor Miyu—a girl who shouted “Atatatata!” while leaping across rooftops like a martial arts master, only to crash face-first onto the floor every single time, limbs spread stiffly in perfect “defeat pose.”
Kyousuke nearly dropped his jaw watching Ayano.
Seeing the cool and collected Saki produce such a youthful voice was surprising enough, but Ayano embodying Miyu was on another level.
“What are you doing here?” came Miyu’s accusing whine, spoken from her sprawled position on the floor.
“Wait, isn’t that supposed to be my line?”
Even when faced with the “villainous accusations” of a sixty-year-old veteran, Shouko didn’t falter.
She answered naturally, her exasperated tone right on point.
The practice flowed smoothly, and Kyousuke was utterly absorbed.
Among the four, Shouko obviously needed the practice most.
Saki and Ayano didn’t actually need to be here—they could have rehearsed alone at home.
They’d come purely out of goodwill to help their junior.
As for Senbo Eina, who hadn’t even landed a role? She was here simply to support Shouko too.
…Well, that, or maybe because she wanted to drink more water after making her throat dry.
After all, this was the same “Water Princess” who once composed a haiku live on a radio program:
‘After voice acting— water tastes so wonderful.’
Simple. Catchy. Legendary.
Her co-host and the audience had been floored.
Wait, are you saying you only do this job to drink water afterward?! From that day on, everyone greeted her with, “Senbo-san, have you hydrated yet?”
On the bright side, she never had to worry about anyone tampering with her drink—her massive thermos was never empty.
To the uninitiated, voice acting might look easy. Just talking, right? Must be the easiest job in the world.
But after watching in person, Kyousuke fully understood why Shouko sometimes practiced until her throat swelled.
Her very first line—the one Kyousuke had thought was perfect—hadn’t satisfied the seniors at all.
“Not enough emotion,” one said.
“Too forced,” another critiqued.
The three of them tag-teamed Shouko with corrections for a solid ten minutes before letting her go, then gave her a list of similar scenes from their own works to study.
And through it all, Shouko listened earnestly, notebook in hand, jotting down every word of advice and thanking them over and over.
Kyousuke’s chest warmed as he watched.
Their strictness wasn’t cruelty; it was genuine care.
Better to be grilled here than face the horror of a voice director sneering, “How did you even get this role? Are you sure you’re a real voice actress?”
Not that Shouko would ever collapse like that—her skills were real.
But still, it moved Kyousuke to see how much these veterans wanted to guide her.
Satisfied, he decided he would put extra pressure on Shimomura, his editor, to use his networking skills and secure more roles for Shouko’s agency.
‘Wait… hold on. Don’t I know someone even more useful?’
A lightbulb went off in his head—Kosaka Akane, who had nearly collapsed in fright after one glare from him.
Perfect. He’d call her tonight. Whether it was for games or anime, she could easily spare a few roles for Shouko.
With enough experience, Shouko would master her craft—and then she could join his production team.
By the time practice ended, it was already 5:30.
Eina still wanted to keep going, whining about not having drunk enough water yet, but Shouko is concerned about Kyousuke’s stomach and decided to wrap it up.
The group left the office and headed to a restaurant.
Kyousuke thought of inviting their agency president, Matsuda, but she wasn’t in Tokyo at the moment.
Dinner was shabu-shabu.
Compared to sukiyaki, with its heavy soy-and-sugar broth that could mask mediocre meat, shabu-shabu was lighter, letting the quality of the beef shine through.
“Ahh, this is how you’re supposed to eat high-grade beef! Shabu-shabu or yakiniku—sukiyaki is just blasphemy!”
Eina declared with satisfaction, scooping out a perfectly pink slice of beef, dipping it in egg, and popping it into her mouth with a blissful hum.
Saki mirrored the action quietly beside her.
Yet strangely, none of the three seniors struck up much conversation with Shouko.
Instead, they only cast her sidelong glances from time to time, their expressions immediately twisting as though they were suffering.
The reason was clear on the other side of the table.
Shouko held the long chopsticks delicately, dipping a slice of marbled beef into the broth with painstaking care, swishing it back and forth as though performing a delicate chemical experiment.
When the fat and meat melded into the perfect texture, she lifted it out and gently placed it into Kyousuke’s dipping bowl.
Then she tilted her head up, eyes wide and sparkling with expectation.
“Kyousuke-kun, thank you for your hard work.”
Her syrupy, sugar-sweet voice was enough to turn the shabu-shabu broth into sukiyaki on the spot.
