Animate Girls Festival 2023—Short Story: SPHERE RISE | “Banal Afternoon Activities”

[odorekijin]

Released on November 15th, 2023. (source)

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

The natural twinkle in Sora’s gaze sparkled brighter when it landed on the clothing rack.

“Look at all the clothes they have prepared for us, Arashi-kun! It’s incredible! Have any of them caught your eye already?”

“Nah, ‘n it ain’t like we get to pick ‘n choose whatever we want this time around.”

“Oh, do we not?”

“Ya dun’ remember? The Headquarters contacted us ‘bout it. They had it figured out fer us.”

Arashi drew out his phone, showing Sora a picture of the respective outfits the Headquarters had selected for them.

“Ah, yes, I remember!”

“Always late to get yer head in the game… Anyway, let’s get dressed.” Instructed Arashi, picking up his assigned garment from the rack.

Instead of mirroring the latter, Sora’s eyes darted back and forth between his outfit and his vocalist’s, a pout weighing down his lips with each glance.

“I feel like your outfit looks much better and trendier than mine…”

“Nah, you’re imaginin’ things.”

“I think I would look good in yours, actually. Do you mind if we exchange?”

“Stop gettin’ distracted ‘n get changed, hurry up.”

“You’re no fun!”

Ignoring Sora's selfishness—a surprisingly regular occurrence these days—Arashi began to take off his clothes. The composer’s eyes instantly widened at Arashi’s exposed chest: he looked… bulkier than when he last saw him bareskin.

“Oh–”

“What now?”

“Have you been working out again, by any chance?”

“You noticed?”

“Yes! I feel like you have bulked up a little.”

“That’s ‘cause I’ve been doin’ this workout routine Oshiro told me. It’s honestly pretty good.”

“From Oshiro!? I’m exhausted just thinking about it…”

“I mean, it is damn tough, but I feel like I’m slowly getting used to it. I gotta be in shape and work on my stamina for the competition.”

“You're incredible… You’re a picture-perfect singer down from every angle, that’s admirable!”

“Buildin’ muscle wouldn’t do ya harm either, y’know? I feel like you could break a bone if ya tripped.”

“D, do you think I’m… Lanky?”

“Well, if I gotta be honest, kind of.”

Incredulous, Sora hurriedly shed his clothes to take a better look at his frame in the mirror. He tilted his head, pondering:

“Hmmm, I think I understand… I suppose I have a little less muscle than the average…?”

“More like there’s no meat on yer bones, though it’s pretty weird that you dun’ put on some weight with all the stuff you gobble up. Seriously, where do ya put all that food?”

“I don’t know, but I admit that it’s rather strange… Actually, I think I have always eaten anything I wanted without ever gaining much weight.”

“Huh…”

“You have no idea how jealous I am of your body, Arashi-kun: you're slender, yet you still look athletic.”

“I’m tellin’ ya, you could be like that too if ya put in the work.”

“I guess so… Well then, this must be my call to start my fitness journey!”

As they chatted away on what would be seen as trivial matters, Arashi was first fully suited up. Admirative cheers erupted from Sora, carefully detailing his vocalist from head to toe:

“Gosh, Arashi-kun, look at you! You look incredible, I’m speechless! You’re so, oh so stylish!”

“I, uh, yeah… I guess the outfit is okay.”

“You don’t understand! It’s the person wearing the outfit that makes it truly shine. You usually dress very well in my opinion, so I knew you would pull off that outfit~!”

“...Hmph, sure, whatever you say.”

“Oh? Is this a bit of shyness I sense?”

“No it’s not.”

“Are you sure? The pink on your cheeks says otherwise!”

“You don’t hafta point it out.”

“But it’s true. You’re getting red.”

“Give it a rest! Now move yer ass and go get changed.”

“Right! I’ll be quick.”

Sora hastily put on his attire, securing his hat last; however, what he saw in his reflection left him with knitted brows.

“Huh… I think I got something mixed up. Which is the front, this? Or maybe like… This?”

Watching Sora fiddling with the bucket hat a few times, Arashi let out a long sigh:

“Ugh… It’s seriously painful to watch!”

“Hm?”

“Yer s’posed to wear it that way—see? This design in the middle is the right side.”

Arashi snatched the hat from Sora, properly setting it on his composer’s head.

“Ah, yes, that looks better.”

“Once a dumbass, always a dumbass.”

“Come on, you know I don’t usually wear these kinds of accessories…”

“Gotta do err’thin’ around here... Yer pants dun’ look right either by the way—turn my way, I’ll fix ‘em for ya.”

Arashi crouched at Sora’s feet, fixing every little detail that caught his eye as if he was Sora’s personal stylist. Now dressed to the nines, the composer beamed at his own reflection:

“Wow! I don’t even look like myself anymore, and it’s all thanks to your help, Arashi-kun! I look like a celebrity! I can’t believe it!” Sora spun on his heels, delighted.

“Nothin’ a quick adjustment can’t fix.” scoffed Arashi.

“Arashi-kun, do I look attractive? Do I look dashing!? Please, I want your honest opinion!”

”Yeah yeah, you look nice.”

“I said your honest opinion, not some off-hand comment! Show more enthusiasm! Praise me!”

“I’ll pass. I dun’ wanna deal with yer caprice right now.”

“You meanie. You’re never going to get popular with that attitude.”

“Whadda…!? This has nothing to do with becomin’ popular or not!”

“It does. If one day you have a girlfriend and give her such shallow compliments, she will leave you right away.”

“Like you’ve got experience in that!”

“Well, I do! You’re the textbook example of a terrible boyfriend! Keep it up, and you will stay a virgin for the rest of your life.”

“Oh yeah!?” Arashi jumped from his seat, nearly launching himself at his composer.

Sora had unearthed the one word to never utter in Arashi’s presence, ruthlessly targeting him where it hurts.

But Arashi had enough.

That was his final straw.

“I ain’t gonna sit here ‘n listen to ya talk shit about me…!”

“A-Ah, no, wait! We do not resolve conflicts with violence!”

“Didja forget who just styled ‘n fixed shit fer ya, huh!?”

“Those are two completely unrelated topics!”

“Go on, tell me howzat any different from yer example just now!?”

“Wai— Don’t come any closer!”

“Come ‘ere ya little—!!”

This no longer was a dressing room but an indoor hunting ground, Arashi chasing after his composer. Sora, his pride now on the line, didn’t want to lose to the singer’s argumentative, still arguing in his frenetic escape:

“I know I’m not as dashingly cool as you, but at least I know I’m probably far more popular than you will ever be!!”

“Ain’t no way I come second after someone like you!”

“I’m only stating facts!!”

“Yer just makin’ shit up!!”

After running for what felt like a century, Arashi finally managed to catch Sora by the scruff.

“EEEK!”

“Ain’t got nowhere to run now.”

“Please, stop, don’t hurt me!”

Sora shook his head, eyes tightly closed like a hare cornered by a famished wolf. A satisfied smirk spread across Arashi’s features:

“Make this easy fer me, wouldja? Go on, pick a god ‘n pray.”

“Nonono, pl-please! Let me go!!”

Sora kept flailing about in the vocalist’ arms… Until the sound of fabric tearing at the seams ruptured their quarrel.

“Uh-oh.” / “Oh shit.”

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, before dropping their gaze to where the sound came from; just as they feared, Sora’s trousers had ripped.

Blood drained from their face, their fight already a thing of the past.

“Damn it! How are we s’posed to fix this now!?”

“This isn’t my fault, okay!? You ripped it!”

“Hol’up, you were kickin’ left ‘n right, not me!”

“I’ll have you know that you were hunting me down!”

Ruthlessly trying to find new excuses to blame the other, the unit had failed to notice a certain someone at the door’s frame.

“What’s all that ruckus for?”

Tadokoro’s rumbling voice brought their squabbles to an immediate stop.

Arashi and Sora cautiously turned towards the door, almost in slow-motion.

“He, hello professor…”

“Hey. So how are the outfits?”

“...Pretty nice.” Replied Arashi, desperately trying to tuck away Sora’s figure behind him.

“What are you doing?”

“N-Nothing in particular, sir.”

“Then why are you tryin’ to hide Kirishima?”

“W-We, uh, we were about to play hide-and-seek, actually! A-Ahah…! Would you, uh, like to join us!?”

“...”

At that very moment, Sora was probably the worst liar the universe had ever known.

It took half a second for Tadokoro’s alert gaze to pinpoint the rag that was the composer’s pants.

Arashi knew, he felt it in his bones: they only had a few minutes left to live.

“Komiyama, Kirishima—come sit here, right in front of me, and I will take no objections.”

Without any way to verbally fend for themselves, Arashi and Sora quietly obliged, sitting on the soles of their feet:

“So, who did it?”

The unitmates simultaneously pointed at each other.

Tadokoro simply replied, an uncanny smile plastered on his lips:

“I see. Pick a god ‘n pray, kiddos.”

The sentence replayed on loop in their brain—they knew it would be the last thing they would remember.

“You fuckin’ brats!!”

To say their professor left them with throbbing agony would be an understatement.

―Arashi and Sora immediately went to offer an apology to the costume designer, both adorned with a comically large bump on their head. Word goes that the anecdote still echoed in the hallways of the Headquarters weeks after the incident.

THE END