Animate Girls Festival 2023—Short Story: STRANGE LAD | “A Sense of Rivalry -AGF2023 ver.-”

[odorekijin]

Released on November 2nd, 2023 (source)

An event drafted and produced by COLORATION has been in the works to promote this year’s “Tokyo Color Sonic” selection. Tomoe and Oshiro had been called to try on their personal outfits for the occasion.

That day, Oshiro was happily skipping down the hallway that led to the fitting room.

“I can’t WAIT to try them on! How ‘boutcha, Miyazono? Excited~?”

“Not really.” Tomoe spared no glance at the composer walking by his side.

“Live a li’l, dude! The staff went outta their way to create these fits just fer us! I can’t even imagine the work that goes into creatin’ ten different looks… Makes our outfit feel a li’l more special, don’tcha agree?”

“...Not only are you a hopeless idiot, but you’re also incredibly naive. They’re turning us into their dress-up dolls right under our nose, and you still fall for it.”

“Huh? Dolls? Whaddya mean?”

“No matter how you look at this promotional thing, we’re just their dress-up dolls to rack-in more customers. Didn’t you see the outline documents for the event? We’ll have to greet and wave at the fans or something—even smiling back at them is mandatory.”

“I dunno, sounds pretty cool to me. Shouldn’t we celebrate that peeps will come just to show us their support?”

”Your positivity sounds terminal, you should probably get that checked.”

“And you oughta drop the cynicism, man. You’d learn a thin’ or two from openin’ up a li’l more to new stuff.”

“No thanks, I’m only here to sing and make music, nothing more. I will not smile and wave at complete strangers.”

“C’mooon, it’s gonna be fun, all you gotta do is try!”

“I don’t see the fun in that—but I can understand why a gorilla like you find that entertaining.”

“Miyazonooo~!” groaned the composer, his feigned wails echoing through the hallway.

Upon entering the dressing room, the unit was greeted by an array of brightly coloured ensembles neatly arranged on a rack. The mere sight of their future outfits stirred a squeal of joy out of the composer:

“Your outfit is so darn cool, Miyazono! Look—it’s sheer too! That looks straight outta some kinda fashion show!”

Tomoe gave a quick look at the picture they had previously received on their smartphones for confirmation's sake. He took the still wrapped ensemble from the hanger, held it against his body and gave himself a once-over in the mirror.

“It’s pretty good. It looks better in person.”

“That suits you like a glove.”

“There’s nothing in this world that I can’t pull off.”

“Hahah, love the confidence! It makes you look even cooler! Oh, hey, speak of the devil—I found mine!” Oshiro took the outfit off the rack, adjusting it to his frame.

“Mmh, it’s not half bad. It suits your personality.”

“Fo’real? You mean it!? Pretty sure pigs are gonna fly next, ‘cause you never compliment me!”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“What?”

Tomoe quickly adorned his new look, and found himself once again before the mirror. He wasn’t trying to fake confidence: he truly could pull off even the most unconventional designs, adding to his own modern elegance. Noticing his return, Oshiro instantly rushed over to Tomoe’s side:

“Damn, Miyazono! You look sick in this, seriously!”

“I told you I could wear anything.”

“I know, but it suits you so well, it’s like ya were made fer the outfit!”

“Hmph, of course I am. Thanks though.”

“It looks incredible on you, I’m…”

“You should change too before our teachers come check on us. Hurry up.”

“On it!”

While Oshiro was off, Tomoe took a seat on a nearby chair, crossing his legs to find a comfortable sitting position. He took his smartphone out and opened the members’ shared social media account: they were taking turns in keeping the account active with their posts, which Tomoe diligently applied himself to do the day before. He had tweeted a selfie on a whim, which caught his own fans positively off guard: his impulsive decision earned him the fervour of netizens, and ten thousand likes overnight.

“(I guess I could post some more if they really want it…)”

Encouraged by the sudden fad over his selfie, he toyed with the idea of posting another selfie in his new, stylish attire. But that excitement was cut short as he scrolled down their timeline: there was a post that received twice as many likes as his. His eyes travelled to check who could be behind such incredible feat: #Oshiro.

The vocalist had to double-check out of sheer surprise.

“(Huh? How come that Gorilla has more likes than me!? Something must be off with the platform… Yes, this has to be some kind of bug!)”

“Miyazono―! I’m readyyy!”

“Come here, I’ve got to ask you about some–...”

The sentence died in his throat.

Before him stood Oshiro, six feet two, slender limbs, well-balanced face proportions, so smartly dressed he was nothing shy of being a high-fashion model himself. He was undeniably perfect in every way, so much so that Tomoe couldn’t peel his eyes off him.

“Miyazono? You good?”

“...gh.”

Only when Oshiro looked back at him did Tomoe snap out of his stare.

But that stupor was immediately replaced by a diametrically opposed feeling: bitterness, mixed with an innate sense of rivalry that was begging to explode.

“You piss me off.”

“Huh?”

“And what’s with your height, huh? Why do you have to be so tall!?”

“It’s not my fault!? What did I do?”

“I should be able to do anything, no, everything better than you! Then why– why does this outfit suit you better than me, huh? Unfair, it’s unfair! Foul even! Of course everyone is going to like your pictures more, there’s clearly favouritism in our staff!!”

“What are you even talkin’ about? C’mon, calm down, and explain–”

“Shut up!!” yelled Tomoe, shoving Oshiro as far as he could reach.

Tomoe slowly stood up from his chair and, like a boxer entering the ring, shot daggers at his composer—a clear, brazen, yet implicit message that, regardless of what Tomoe had in mind, he wouldn’t lose to him.

“...Gorilla.”

“Ye, Yes…?”

“Let’s make a bet.”

“Uh, sure…? What’s it about?”

“We’ll post a selfie each, and whoever gets the most likes wins!”

“Wha, wait, huh…? Like that? All of the sudden…?”

“I won’t calm down until I outdo you! Let’s see who suits their clothes the best!”

“Huh… How ‘bout I don’t, plus yer definitely gonna win anyway. Look, that outfit ‘s clearly wearin’ me, not the contrary.”

“I didn’t ask for a reply!!”

“Whadda hell…”

“You zip it and do exactly as I say—and I only take “yes sir” as an answer. Understood?”

“Ye, yes sir…” replied Oshiro, both hands raised in resignation.

Thus began their selfie contest. Both relentlessly posed for an hour straight until Tomoe was satisfied with the results, to Oshiro’s demise who, once Tomoe had finally posted their pictures, fell to his knees in exhaustion.

――Soon enough, the results came in. It only took a rare picture of Towa, posted by Mirai, to win over the internet and, with it, this implicit race for likes.

“Sebumi-senpai? Why!? Ugh, that’s impossible!! Is there no justice in this world!? Why do the bean poles always have to win!!!”

Oshiro could only watch as his vocalist gave in to fury.

That day, the composer swore to never, ever provoke the wrath of Tomoe’s deep-seated jealousy.

THE END.