I’d frankly had enough of her goddamn song.

“Oh, but Yuki, it’s my first self-written song!” she pleaded. I’d already listened to it 37 times while in production, and all she’d done was made minor edits to take out the cursing and questionable analogies.

Now don’t get me wrong, she’s my best friend, but you go mad after hearing, ‘Mira’s Magical Rhapsody of Love’ so many times.

Which is why at our school talent show I, as MC, am planning on the audience to break out their Tylenol in advance.

Not only for Mira, who says she will sprint out onto the stage wearing a cosplay of Mikuru Asahina, but for the amateur rappers with their ridiculously oversized boom boxes, the groups of girls who dance like strippers, and the nerdy girl scouts who sit on wooden stools and play obscure folk songs.

And when my homeroom teacher told us we all had to participate in the talent show I knew it was either MC or a backup dancer to Mira, in which she would force me into a sexy witch outfit. Joy. At least as MC, I got to wear something more presentable, made by the same group of hard-prude boys who designed costumes for the various plays drama club did.

Either way, I was to await the fate of song-beta. Personally with lyrics so clichéd I cannot repeat them, and music so similar sounding to something Play would do it’s practically copyrighted, it fails epicly in my book. And I told her so.

She decided to sing it anyway.

I warned her not to. I told her she would get banana peels and tomatoes thrown at her in a comic fashion. I told her she’d get pulled off of the stage by a large hook. I told her the stripper-dancers would outwin her anyway.

Mira did not care.

And so came the day of the talent show: girls running around making sure their hair was frizz-free and their outfits all matched perfectly, the boys straightening their pimpcoats, the teacher’s fretting about the schedule being on time and the girls not showing so much skin.

“Yuki! Yooooookeeeeeee!!!” I heard someone call out. Mira, running up, her cheeks flushed with spastic excitement I will never know. She then proceeded to shove a mic into my face, nearly blinding me.

“Hrm?” I asked, removing the gray metal object from near my cornea.

“Ms. Lettan told me to give it to you, Miss MC!” And then she slapped me on the back. Which hurt, seeing as she was wearing long, fake red nails that practically oozed plastic cheapness.

And then she winked. And then gave a thumbs up.

And then I wished I could put the mic back into my eye.

Our gym coach then blew a whistle hanging around his neck, and we all scurried around him like ants. Or rather, everyone else scurried, and Mira dragged me by the shirt collar.

“Now, ladies, men…you’ve all worked on this for months. You’ve all worked hard. And this is your day to shine.”

Being a husky man who’s usual expression consisted of “-_-” and his catchphrase being a grunt, I was afraid that he might burst into tears and a show tune, or gather all of us into a hug in front of a conveniently placed sunset background.

“Now, now no need to frighten the children with your sudden burst of emotions!” exclaimed Ms. Lettan, coming up from behind him, and shooing him off.

I like Ms. Lettan. She’s the only sane person in our school. The horrible irony being she’s the drama teacher and organizer of the talent show. And she knows of my disliking for it, so when I asked her why she does it every year, she told me it was to keep tradition.

Pfft.

I know it was because she liked to see the students put the money where their mouths were. Example:

‘Oh, yeah, I can soooooo totally busta move on the dance floor!’

Come talent show season, said person would be forced into a break dancing routine.

Just another one of the reasons I liked her. To think teachers could hold an antagonistic nature like that.

“But to repeat what your coach just said, you all have worked extremely hard these past few months and here the day is!” She clapped her hands together, and then was handed a clipboard by the coach, to which she scanned quickly and announced that stripper dancers would go first.

Luckily, there was no cheesy script for me to go along with.

They came, the audience clapped, they left, high-fiving each other like they had just starred in a Beyonce music video.

The rest were a blur to me.

Just the same kind of crap we had every year…

And then the amateur rappers came up.

“Now, for our next, we have…er…Maddy Inc….from Mr Cappelio’s homeroom, performing their amateur rap!”

While I got numerous sniggers from the audience, I could almost feel the glares of the boys from behind the curtain.

So they performed their amateur rap, got tons of applause from the audience, and glared at me as they trudged back stage.

Ms. Lettan informed me Mira was next.

I sighed. Just one more time of hearing Mira’s Magical Rhapsody of Love, and then if her parents hid the tape they recorded of her singing it, I would hopefully never have to hear it again.

“For our second act, we have Mira Bellois performing…Mira’s…Magical Rhapsody of Love,” I said, trying to stay cheerful for her sake, although grumbling out the last part.

The curtains parted, and I started to walk off stage…when the music started.

That horrible music.

With electronic voice imitations of Mira put in at the beginning.

With beats like if the music of Jenny Rom and Nikki Cleary reproduced.

And then Mira sprinted out onto the stage wearing her battle-waitress Mikuru cosplay.

And then I couldn’t take it.

I couldn’t freaking take it anymore.

So I stormed back out. Right in front of Mira.

She looked at me with wide eyes, not sure of what to say.

I went to the back of the stage, and ripped her CD out of the player.

And on a whim, replaced it with the CD from the amateur rappers.

The coach looked angry, and tried to come after me, but Ms. Lettan held him back. She wasn’t facing me, so I couldn’t see her facial expression, or what she was thinking. But I knew that Godforbid I get in trouble for what I was about to do, she would stand for me.

The other students looked surprised. I didn’t want to look at them, so I quickly went back up to the front of the stage.

“Y-Yuki what are you doing?” Mira asked quietly, shaking ever so slightly.

I simply made a hand gesture for her to move out of the way. She backed away without hesitation.

“Do you people know how many times I’ve heard this stupid song?!” I yelled.

The audience looked mixed. As if they weren’t sure if this was part of the act or not…

“I can’t even count! It’s too much of an amount, my brain’s exploding, and my common sense is imploding, my ears ringing like a gong and…”

I took a deep breath.

What the hell was I doing?! Was I really going through with it?!

“I can’t stand this song, like something out of a candy shop, an oversweet lollipop, one that makes you puke for a long, long time afterwards. It’s a spook, a monster fest, like this whole talent show that thinks they’re best dressed, damn it makes me wanna bury my head into the floorboards!”

The previously bored members of the audience now had their eyes turned towards me.

Heh…I figured that once I started it, I’d better finish it…

“And everything’s overdone! Dancers, singers, flute players, and jam beaters—this place is overrun. With people who think they’re cool, but they’re really just all test-cheaters, junky food eaters, or ones who think they’re hot like kerosene heaters. It’s sick, every year I wished this show would be over quick!”

The track ended, and started to go into the next one, but I turned around to see Ms. Lettan popping out the CD.

And smiling at me.

I looked the side of the stage to see Mira with the biggest smile on her face, clapping like I just found the cure for cancer.

Applause, I heard.

I was sure I was just hearing it from Mira and Ms. Lettan, and that Mira’s Magical Rhapsody of Love had corrupted my eardrums so my hearing was off…

But no.

The audience was clapping.

Louder than they had for the dancers, the guitarist, the weird acrobats, or even the original amateur rappers.

Then Mira took the mic from my hands.

“And ladies and gentlemen…Yuki Kadokawa!”

Someone pulled the curtains. I could still hear the audience clapping.

“Yuki...” Mira smirked. “And you said you didn’t like talent shows!”