142. Eriri

And so, once the art style for *Steins;Gate* had been decided, the boys and girls, each harboring their own thoughts, dispersed and went home.

After Jiang Yu had made his decision, Eriri, who had clearly wanted to say something, was unexpectedly stopped by Utaha Kasumigaoka.

Eriri had been on the verge of losing her temper, but she faltered beneath Utaha’s unusually serious gaze.

After everyone else had left and only Eriri and Utaha remained in the classroom, Eriri turned on her with considerable displeasure.

“So why did you stop me just now?”

Utaha turned a page and replied carelessly, “That isn’t something a creator should meddle in.”

“What? When it comes to painting, he’s barely more than an amateur. The kind of art style he described would never sell!”

Eriri still could not understand why Jiang Yu had abandoned the bright, breezy style with its obviously broader appeal in favor of the oil-painting aesthetic that seemed so awkward to her.

Utaha sighed, closed her book, and said with some helplessness, “You still haven’t realized?”

“Realized what?”

“Precisely because he’s an amateur, he can make his judgment without being shackled by popular trends. In other words, our esteemed director may be a whole level above Kouhai Tomoya when it comes to ideological awareness. No—perhaps ‘practical sense’ would be the more accurate term.”

“…”

“He doesn’t want to make a product. He wants to make a game. A real… game! The sort of game that moves countless people, like those timeless classics from the past. Do you understand now, Sawamura?”

“Ugh…”

“Well, for a commercial-minded artist like you, someone who follows fashionable art styles and puts sales first, perhaps that level of awareness is simply too much to ask.”

As she spoke, Utaha shook her head with deep regret, looking at Eriri as though she were mourning what the girl had lost.

“You—! I don’t want to argue with you right now, Utaha Kasumigaoka!”

Eriri gritted her teeth, her face blazing with anger, but in the end she forcibly restrained herself.

Seeing this, Utaha chuckled softly and said in a tone that seemed almost pitying, “Sawamura, do you remember why you started drawing in the first place? Surely you haven’t forgotten your earliest dream as well, you hopeless loser?”

At those words, Eriri’s eyes widened as countless scenes flashed through her mind.

In the end, they all settled upon the image of a small boy wearing an impossibly radiant smile.

The anger filling her chest vanished without a trace. The golden-haired girl with twin ponytails lowered her head, unable to find a word to say, and fell silent.

Then, just as Utaha was preparing—whether one called it pressing her advantage or continuing to hammer the point home—to speak, a soft, airy voice drifted over.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say… Kasumigaoka-senpai.”

The two girls who had been arguing abruptly turned their startled gazes toward the source of the voice. Then, at the same time, they both let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, what? You were here after all…”

Utaha and Eriri spoke in unison. Then they exchanged a glance and turned away from each other in mutual distaste.

“Um… You two actually get along really well, don’t you?” Megumi Kato, who had been playing on her phone and ignored by everyone, asked uncertainly as she watched the two girls whose words and gestures were uncannily alike.

“Of course not!”

The same chorus of voices. The same contemptuous looks. The same turning away.

Aside from the words they had blurted out, it was almost an exact replay of the scene before.

“Hmm…”

Even Megumi, who had always handled situations with effortless ease, seemed at a loss for words in the face of this.

“…Hmph. I’m going home.”

Eriri gave a small snort and began hurriedly gathering her things. It was as though remaining in that classroom for even one more second were a punishable offense.

Utaha silently returned to her original seat and opened the paperback in her hands once more. Only… she seemed unable to remember where she had been reading.

Megumi glanced at the two of them with some confusion but said nothing more, returning to her game.

Calling it a game was perhaps not entirely accurate, since a book thick enough to look intimidating lay open before her as well.

Once she had gathered her belongings, Eriri quickly left the classroom. As she stepped through the doorway, she glanced from the corner of her eye at Utaha, still sitting upright in her seat.

“What’s that supposed to mean…? Who do you think you are?”

She muttered the words under her breath.

Of course I remember why I started drawing! If anything, how could I possibly have forgotten?

Even after we cut ties with each other; even though we had not spoken face-to-face again from the third grade of elementary school until high school; even after I realized what an insurmountable gulf lay between us; even after I may already have glimpsed the utterly defeated version of myself waiting at the end…

I still… could never forget.

The first stirrings of love in youth, before the dust of the world had settled upon one’s heart, when one would stake everything upon a single devotion.

Weren’t the feelings of the young always passionate, fragile, and enduring all at once?

Eriri hurried along with her head lowered, confusion vividly written across her face. Heaven alone knew how happy this girl, who had pretended to be utterly indifferent, had been when Tomoya Aki took the initiative and began contacting her again.

At first, they had cautiously tested the waters, sharing their work through their shoe lockers—just as they had years ago. Gradually, they had become able to exchange a few words again. In the end, they had become members of the same club.

When all was said and done, wherever Tomoya Aki was, Sawamura Spencer Eriri would always go as well, wouldn’t she?

Whether it had been Tomoya Aki’s proposal that was accepted, or Jiang Yu’s proposal, as it was now; whether she cursed him countless times and nitpicked every little thing; whether he played one role or another within the club…

Eriri knew perfectly well that, despite all the years that had passed, she still wished to reconcile with him. Just as when they had been children, the moment he made a request of her, the moment he asked for her help, she would never be able to refuse.

Even if she put on an act and rejected him for a while, she would soon think, “Ah… Was that too cruel? I really should help him after all, shouldn’t I?”

Then she would return to him, declare her willingness to join while he wore that dejected, heartbroken expression, and watch as he pulled himself together once more. At the same time, happiness would bloom within her own heart.

Because he had said it.

He had said it, hadn’t he?

That she was the greatest artist in his eyes.

That alone was enough.

Truly, that alone was all she needed.

The girl named Eriri, no matter how spoiled and willful she might be by nature, was still only a soft-hearted girl who yearned for the things a girl her age ought to yearn for, and pursued the things she herself wished to pursue.