“Scenes 2 through 9 of Act 1 are coming along nicely, some minor concerns about Scene 1. Oda! That’s one of yours, anything to add?” Director Ttio called out, startling a few sleepy actors around the table.

It was 10:18 a.m. on a Saturday morning at Hanako Hall, as usual, we were spending the first hour going over the script and ensuring everything was on track for the opening show five weeks from today.

It's the start of the fourth week of rehearsals today, meaning we were halfway through our schedule to get everything done and dusted. From what Emiko has told me, we’re ahead on the background work, with the stage lighting and planning fully completed. A few issues have arisen with the musical score, but she managed to patch that up by enlisting the music club at her high school to record some stuff. And other than that, backgrounds and props are almost completed, this time without much oversight from anyone.

Emiko was surprisingly pulling well above her weight here, considering she’s meant to be one of the actors rather than a behind-the-scenes manager. I’m aware she assisted in writing parts of the script, but for her to go past that and lend a hand in almost every part of the play was something I don’t think anyone expected.

Well, other than Director Ttio, the man acted as if it was par for the course that she’d complete all this extra work, and upon hearing the word of what she’d done he merely nodded and offered his thanks.

Oda’s eyes briefly looked over to me then back to the Director, “Nothing I can think of, we’re doing well.” He answered.

Scene 1 involved myself and Oda’s characters, the first meeting between Eighty-Three, and her father and creator, Dr. Akemi. The reasonings as to why it's being brought up today can all be narrowed down to confidence.

Or rather, the lack of it.

Director Ttio doesn’t believe I can act.

Even with all the improvements, that bead of uncertainty still lingers within him.

“Good.” He declared with a nod, and moved on to the next point as easily as that, “Act 2, Scene 1, where are we on that? Any progress?” He may have asked the question, but he already had a rough idea of what the answer would be.

It was a member of the support staff who put his hand up and answered, “Background is completed, musical score should be finished by next week, the composer we hired is putting extra time in for quality’s sake due to its importance.”

Not all scenes were accompanied by soundtracks made by a singular person or group, most of the music was in the process of being completed by Emiko’s high school music club, but for the key plot points Hanako Hall had commissioned an expert to create the background songs.

“Oh,” He continued after a pause, “We had a couple of problems with the rain effects for the scene, and we were thinking it’d be easier to switch the weather to snow and simulate it with cotton and some fans. It’ll save us time and might fit the theme better. Besides, opening week is in January, so it’ll coincide with the snowy season.”

Director Ttio leaned back on his chair in silence, taking the words in. It wasn’t an outrageous change, more one of simplicity, yet he wasn’t who next spoke.

“Unnecessary.” The regal feminine voice came, slicing the silence like a knife onto a cutting board; effective and with purpose.

It was Kaede Esumi.

Seated on a golden throne a thousand metres above the rest of the table, she peers down upon us; her tone final and halting. These opening briefings that inaugurate each day of rehearsal were nothing more than back-and-forth displays of vocal warfare to her, useless except to waste time.

After all, there is only one voice that has ever mattered.

Hers.

“An imitation of rain or snow will distract the audience from the performance. I am against any flashy effects that have the potential to be gaudy over complimentary.”

The Director smoothly turned his head to look at Kaede, his eyebrows raising in thought, “Miss Esumi…” He started, holding his sentence for just long enough for the previously speaking man to cut in and defend his work.

“Director, the beginning of Act 2 is a pivotal moment in the play. The first meeting between Jinko and Eighty-Three, the confrontation of the clone and the original. Ensuring we perfect the background effects can only add to the display. I assure you it won’t be ‘gaudy’, as Miss Esumi presumes, but instead guarantee the scene is committed to memory as the centrepiece that it is.” He finished with a subtle glance at Kaede, worried that she’d further disagree and convince the Director to her side.

Ttio’s eyes never left Kaede’s face, her gaze instead evaluating the support staff member who issued a challenge to her proclamation. The Director dipped his head in a nod towards Kaede, signalling her to fortify her stance.

And fortify she did.

“An extravagant showing of special effects will detract from the experience.”

Simple and concise.

A declaration announced, undefiable in all ways as the forever parade of this verdict of letters pushes past countless lines of defence, adamantine and divine. This edict of a conversation was indisputably abided by the moment Kaede Esumi spoke it.

“Why does a person come to see a stage?” She asked aloud, her speech pulchritudinous and enrapturing. “Is it for the uniqueness? Maybe for the first-timer, but what of the connoisseurs? Those who continue to return play after play?”

A question poised, yet no answers are placed on the chessboard. The Queen moves unmatched, but she is also the King, the Bishop, the Knight, the Rook, the Pawn.

“Perhaps what brings them back is the story? To bear witness to a masterpiece that rivals the great playwrights of old. However, if that were the case then would a movie, or a novel not offer a more compact and convenient showing?”

She is also the player. The whole board in Checkmate from before the first move has been made; total cognition of the game, its creation, its purpose, its weakness and its mastery.

“Or conceivably, as Touma Matsumoto claims…” Surprise appeared on the support staff member’s face, he hadn’t expected her to remember his name, “Is it the special effects? Yes, the real-life showcasing may appeal to some, those who marvel at what can be set up and flaunted in between the short intermissions of scenes. And yet, would a hastily assembled fireworks show or crude demolition not offer the same satisfaction?”

The second player makes a move, hand on the Queen, it is raised up and placed down with a clack, yet she is also them. Black and White play against each other as a single entity, all mouthed by strings that extend to the sky.

Stolen novel; please report.

“So… if it is not the special effects, if it cannot be the story, and if there is zero chance of it being the uniqueness. Then what is it? There can only be one answer…”

A goddess holds sovereignty over the entire chessboard from summits of erudition.

“Actors.”

She is the Pawn. She is the Rook. She is the Knight. She is the Bishop. She is the Queen. She is the King. She is White. She is Black. She is…

Kaede leaned back into her chair, yet her back remained straight, her pose dignified and augustus. “As I said, anything that takes away from an actor’s performance is unnecessary. Acting in itself is the art of deception, do I need anything more to enspell the audience with an illusion of something as simple as weather?”

A goddess.

And I am no longer a black hole.

Director Ttio nodded at her final words, “A fair evaluation, Miss Esumi…” He glanced at the man opposed to her viewpoint, “Anything to add, Matsumoto?” Matsumoto startled before shaking and lowering his head, “In that case, as no work has begun on the weather effects for Act 2, we’ll scrap them outright. Anyone have any complaints about that?” He asked the room.

Do I stand any chance?

No one spoke up or had a word to say against Director Ttio’s question, and to that, he just mumbled and continued, “Then it's final. On to the next topi-”

“Can we see it in action?” A voice cut in, laced with curiosity and a small dash of cluelessness.

He had short brown hair that ruffled a bit as he spoke. He was fairly tall but a little skinny with brown eyes that looked on empathetically at Director Ttio who was only slightly annoyed at being interrupted, but it faded quickly.

“Seijun.” Ttio acknowledged, “What do you mean?”

“The scene. The one we are talking about, can we see it in action to work out if we need the special effects or not?”

Director Ttio lowered his head and brought his hand to his mouth in thought, prompting Kaede to give her opinion in the space between the noise and quiet, “I am not against authenticating my point.”

“Seina?” The Director looked at me, his gaze trying to surmise my thoughts on once more performing the first scene I have with Kaede Esumi.

The very same scene I failed to perform in the second week, so overtaken by Kaede’s acting ability that I lost myself within her creation of a world that should only be found in the words of a script, not a stage transformed into the very Garden of Eden by her majesty.

In other words, have I improved enough over these two weeks to be able to finally stand equal with Kaede Esumi?

No, perhaps if I was a black hole, but I am not.

“Yes?”

“Your opinion on the matter?” He clarified.

“Yes. I would be willing to assist Kaede.”

“Good.” He declared, “Let's get it started, then. We’ll use the main stage, everyone who doesn’t care can go and work on their own. Everyone else, find an audience seat and get ready.”

The room exploded in activity, chairs were pushed back, their metal legs scraping against the floor as people got up and either moved towards the main stage or snuck off down another of the red hallways.

I followed suit, standing up with Emiko who had been sitting beside me this whole time, she leaned in close to me and whispered. “Seina, I don’t think you’re ready for this.”

Director Ttio was the first out the door, with Kaede following close behind. Oda chose a second door to exit, clearly focused more on his own role than watching this scene. Seijun was the opposite, loitering in the corner close to Hatsuko before eagerly chasing after the rest heading towards the stage.

I wondered what Emiko was concerned about. Was it perhaps that I was only recently discharged from the hospital? That my palms still carried a slight trace of the burn marks that haven’t yet faded? Or maybe it was an unease that my acting skill still wasn’t good enough to pass Director Ttio’s standards and that putting myself in this position was just asking to be evaluated before I was ready.

She was correct, whatever her reasonings were, they were probably right.

But this was bound to happen sooner or later, my challenge- no, to issue a challenge implies I can beat her, this is no challenge, the most I can hope for is to match her.

Kaede Esumi, this scene isn’t just for her to prove her point regarding the special effects. It's also to showcase that even with my refinements I am no match to her.

Seijun accidentally gave her a chance to destroy me.

For all my talk of improvements, was it I who improved?

Or was it her… was it Seina?

I suppose this is the do-or-die of it all. The test to see if my assumption was correct and if that last fire really was hot enough to fuel the forge and let it turn two pieces of steel into one.

“I have faith in myself.” I replied, a hopefully calming smile on my face as I attempted to reassure her.

“You do know the Director will be judging you, right? If you mess up this scene again, there's a chance he’ll fire you on the spot.” She crossed her arms and continued before I could get a word in, “I know you’ve improved quite a lot, but- look, I’m still worried. Even in your best state, Kaede would dominate that stage, but you just got out of the hospital.”

“Minor burn wounds that’ll be gone by next week will have no effect on my acting.”

“Then wait until next week, we can cancel our shopping trip on Wednesday and spend all week practising for this scene. I could even take the week off school and we both go fully in on it.”

“That would have been nice, but it’s too late for that now.”

“I… I know-” Emiko paused, her eyes snapping to Hatsuko walking over, her nerves instantly crept up her arms, “Just, good luck, Seina.” She finished before quickly leaving and heading out the door to the main stage.

Hatsuko was a familiar sight here, but she rarely cared to watch the rehearsals, instead loitering around behind the scenes either working on her laptop, making phone calls, or managing the marketing for the play.

“Seina.” She called, her greeting felt only a tiny bit awkward, something she must have picked up on as she quickly brushed a loose lock of her red hair behind her ear to distract herself.

“Hatsuko.” I returned in much the same manner.

“It's good to see you again, it's been a while. Are you feeling better?” She asked, falling back on familiar small talk as a cover for her real personality now that we were both in public.

“Yes, thank you for asking.”

“This will be the first time I’ve seen you act-” She paused, a quick glance to the side as she corrected herself, “First time I’ve seen you on stage. I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’d like to speak with you after the scene.”

“Oh?” She asked shocked, a confused recoil in her actions, “Sure, I suppose I can spare some time.”

I held a hand out at the door, and asked, “Shall we go to the stage?”

It was a rhetorical question, of course, we were going to the stage. I had a scene to play, a character to act as, and a point to prove.

“Sure, lead the way.” Hatsuko replied, pushing a piece of her red hair out of her eyes.

I am Seina, and I do not need her to act anymore. I will take over the role of Eighty-Three without a work mode to shackle my life.

The forge has turned two into one.

No longer a goddess versus a black hole.

Now just a person, the stone heavy in my hand and my aim true.

But I am no David, and Kaede Esumi is far more than Goliath.

To fail is to lose it all, discarded from this acting world I wish to fully drown within.

Yet to succeed is to complete the first level of the Tower of Babel.

No language to be stolen this time; only one to be learnt.

The language of acting.

All to surpass a goddess.