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“It’s a mentorship program,” Osaka Sougo said, one of his hands holding the papers as carefully as possible so as not to bend them, the other twisted tightly in the hem of his shirt. “It’s—it’s a really competitive process, and it’ll take a lot of time and work, but if I make it through, then…then I have the opportunity to learn from Re:vale, the Re:vale. The—the forms require a signature from my parents or legal guardian, and I know Father would…I know Father’s very busy, and if I were to schedule a meeting with him the closest open spot is in two months—a week after the submission deadline, and…”
And his father would say no, too; Sougo knew it, and the person he was speaking to, one of his father’s employees, knew it, and really everybody in the entire world knew it, but Sougo felt like if he didn’t take the jump and just ask he would explode and die a little, maybe, and anyway Ogami Banri was different from the rest of the people who worked for Sougo’s father. He was freelance, for one; he had been contracted first to get an inventory in order, and Sougo had met him then, and though Banri had sworn up and down that that was the only job he’d ever do for the Osaka family, he had ended up accepting another, and another, and was now a semi-regular figure in Sougo’s life—the most regular figure, in fact, since his uncle had passed away, despite the fact that he made very little secret of his disapproval of Sougo’s father. He worked various odd jobs, and was good at what he did, and maybe, just maybe, that meant that he would be able to find some way to convince Sougo’s father to allow him to apply for the mentorship program.
“Re:vale…” said Banri, his voice soft and distant. Then he looked away from the forms, and added, “Sougo-kun, this is important to you, isn’t it?”
Sougo nodded.
“You know your father would never approve.”
“I thought maybe you’d know how to convince him?” Sougo tried. “I mean, everyone knows that you don’t like Father, but you keep taking jobs here anyway, and he keeps reaching out to you with projects. So…he might listen to you, maybe?”
Banri shook his head. “Your father keeps hiring me because he trusts me to keep an eye on you,” he said. “That’s all. I doubt I could change his mind.”
“Father…keeps hiring you to keep an eye on me ?” Sougo said. “Why?”
“I used to be a musician,” Banri said simply, “and the same person who caused your uncle’s death offered me a deal, which I refused, and then, when that person didn’t leave, I abandoned music in the hopes that he would not get what he wanted. So your father believes we have similar values. That’s all.”
Sougo’s stomach dropped, and coldness spread up through his torso. He swallowed, and twisted his fingers tighter in his shirt, and asked, “Is…is Father right about you?”
“Of course not,” Banri said. “If he was, I would respect him. And if he was, I would not have made the same choices back then. No, I couldn’t convince him to let you apply for this, and quite frankly, I don’t think there’s any point in trying. I’m sorry to say this, Sougo, but I think he’s a lost cause.”
Sougo swallowed again. His throat felt dry, and his heart slammed against his ribcage as though it were trying to break out. He wanted to ask Banri about his uncle, if they had ever met outside of their mutual connection. He wanted to ask if he approved or disapproved of his uncle’s choice. He wanted to ask if Banri hated music as much as Father did; he wanted to ask what it was that Banri respected in a person. He wanted to ask why he had abandoned music, music which to Sougo’s heart was more important than anything else.
But Sougo knew better than to ask pointless questions, and he swallowed his tongue and his hopes along with it.
“Knowing you…you’ve gone over all of the paperwork for the mentorship program already, haven’t you?” Banri asked.
Sougo nodded, unsure, and a strange little smile twisted its way onto Banri’s lips.
“Excellent,” he said. “Is there any part of the paperwork that allows a person other than the legal guardian to be the point of communication and sign off on any forms?”
“…Huh?”
“It’s alright if there isn’t,” Banri said. “Though it’s more dangerous, we could still trick your father into signing everything and just hope that he never reads anything he signs. And if that won’t work…well, it wouldn’t get you into the mentorship program, but I might be able to call in a favor or two in order for you to meet Re:vale over coffee, or something.”
Sougo blinked. “…What?” he said. “I thought—that you said you agreed with Father about music.”
Banri raised his eyebrows, amused. “No,” he said. “Not at all. Though if that’s what that sounded like, that is very good for my finances. I’ll have to raise my rates the next time I negotiate with him, assuming that we aren’t caught.”
Relief flooded through Sougo. “Thank you so much,” he said. “I’m so sorry for the trouble.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” Banri assured him. “Especially if we’re able to pull this off without my having to call in favors from that guy, which I still think is possible. What are the deadlines? I can see about sneaking in various forms for him to sign with my contracts.”
“I have a little over a month for the initial application,” Sougo said. “There is a contact form that can give someone else authority to sign off for the legal guardian, but…I mean, I can’t sign it for myself.”
“That would be illegal, yes,” Banri said. “But we can fill it out so that the communication will go through me. After all, part of my contract stipulates that I’m looking after you. If we only need to get your father to sign that form, he won’t question it—hopefully, he’ll think I’m having you do something to take your attention away from music. After that, you won’t have any trouble with the forms.”
“What about you?” said Sougo. “If my father finds out that you did that, he’d be furious with you. He’d have Re:vale blacklist you and he’d drive you out of town!”
“And if my name is recognized by anyone in Okazaki Productions, my extremely annoying and clingy ex will get my address, so I would have to leave anyway,” Banri said. “It’s alright, Sougo. Chase your dream. I’ll do whatever I can to support you.”
“Because you knew my uncle?” Sougo asked.
“No, I never met him,” said Banri. “I support you, Sougo, because I know you.”