Gamicademi Island at night was often an adventure for the rebellious who, with their love interests, crept out to visit the city or sit atop the escarpment near the water's edge. After sundown, the beach was the most ideal place on the island to enjoy the island's natural phenomena. The sandy seafront harbored all sorts of fantasies for the daring, lovers and nature lovers alike. Unfortunately, the best spots were on the end of the island opposite the academy; to get there, one had to cross the inlet that separated the western half of the island from the eastern, then navigate through the high-tech city. It was a forbidden, rebellious journey that made hearts race in more ways than one.
In Misty Woods, the forest behind the academy, boxbirds and other avians sang their nocturnes, and dolphins and whales grown to enormous proportions could sometimes be sighted in the distance by students watching from the grass-covered cliffs. To see them silhouetted against the moonlit skyline was a romantic dream, and many waited to confess their truest feelings in the wake of one leaping out of the ocean surface.
Blanc, overlooking the academy field from her window on the second story of the Gamicademi building, had been witness to more than one midnight love story. If she cared enough to remember every person that stole away after dusk, she would be able to extort a mountain of favors from a large chunk of the student population.
Breaking curfew was not a serious offense per se, but academy students were only allowed to leave the grounds on weekends. It was common knowledge that the Ice Queen VP took it upon herself to interrogate the audacious. And if that was not enough to deter rule breakers, there was a certain senior student who was more than happy to take disciplinary measures into her own hands.
The CPU on homestay rolled her shoulders, entwined her fingers, reached behind her head, and arched her back in a full upper body stretch. As her tightened muscles came loose, she closed her eyes and exhaled a deep breath. Her night's work, scrawled on several different sheets of paper, lay scattered all over her desk. There lay her most recent manuscript, the first act now finished.
"A good, productive night," she said with a glance at the clock; it was some hour past midnight. The words sounded final, some well-deserved praise after a full eight hours of uninterrupted work. Pleased with herself, Blanc glanced out the window with upturned lips. Scripts don't write themselves, but to the rest of the club they might as well.
After the success of the club's first and second films, "Megatagmension Blanc + Neptune VS Zombies 1 & 2", the dire status of the academy had been lifted. With the defeat of HachimaJin, the begrudged embodiment of Dark History, the island's undead dilemma had been cured. All the zombified students had been restored to their regular human bodies, and within a week the zombie population had fallen to zero—and the student population risen by nearly thirty percent.
Of course, the Film Club never received worldwide acclaim or scouting from big-name companies like Studio Rhibli or Katokawa Pictures. However, Blanc had been asked to give an interview for an article all about up-and-coming writers—and not just by the two rival newspaper clubs of her school, no no. A legitimate, published journalist had come to Gamicademi to request her opinion.
Thinking back on everything that had happened, Blanc made a sound that she never would have let another soul hear.
This fame was all thanks to Neptune pressuring her into joining the Film Club. She chuckled as she recalled the memory. To think she had initially turned down the offer—and for the sake of reading all the books in the library, for crying out loud! She had been such a narrowminded antisocial back then, nearly missing her chance at global recognition in favor of reading a bunch of books. If not for Neptune's pushiness, she wouldn't be sitting here gloating over her newfound success.
A part of her loathed to admit it, but she had come to embrace the girl's unrelenting, self-centered attitude. But Blanc didn't hate her for it. Although the purple-haired idiot complained at every occasion about not having enough screentime—which was more than untrue—she seemed more than happy to share the spotlight with someone else. That someone else just so happened to be Blanc.
Truth be told, Blanc had been fully aware of the implications when writing the romance between her own character and Neptune's. At first, it had only been to check a box for having a relationship in the movie—shipping the hero and heroine was only a natural choice. However, Neptune hadn't seemed at all perturbed by the development. Behind the scenes, she had predictably joined the others in taking jabs at Blanc's reportedly bad writing. That was typical, but not once did she express any misgivings about having to act lovey-dovey with Blanc.
Then again, Blanc did sort of kill off any potential love rivals storywise. She recapped all of the confirmed deaths to make sure: Nepgear had been crushed by a satellite, and Uni—or was it Tamsoft?—had fallen into a fissure filled with lava. Dengekiko and Famitsu, along with Vert and Peashy near the end, had turned into zombies. As for the rest, well... There were simply too many deaths to recount them all. On top of that, the casting had never been set in stone. Anyone who died in the story still came back to fight in the next scene, so it was difficult to tell who was actually out of the running. Neptune and Blanc had been the only ones to play the same role throughout the whole film.
The casting had been one of the many flaws stemming from limited resources. Most of the kind reviews the first two movies received kept in consideration the low budget, in which case they praised the Film Club's handiwork rather than their lack of professionalism.
However, the single, most utmost enjoyed aspect of the film was neither the story nor the production. The kiss in the final scene of the sequel was mentioned in every review and got comments like "The single moment that made the whole last two films worth watching!" and "Easily tops the near-kiss tease in the last movie!"
She could imagine why.
Blanc blinked and looked back at the mess of papers covering her multi-shelved rosewood writing desk, an import from a sleek urban brand. The student rooms only came equipped with standard oak desks, but being a CPU had its advantages. Before transferring to Gamindustri, she had been able to wring out a few favors.
She began to organize her work so it would be ready for tomorrow's shoot. She had already started on her next project: yet another continuation of the series. After the events of the second installment, in which the hero and heroine foiled the plans of several evil factions and confessed their love for each other, they escaped to the mainland in a small wooden boat. The two would have to start a new life as fugitives, on the run from the Association.
While penning the initial scene, Blanc had decided to take it up a notch, to make it clear that this movie would be nothing like the last two. After the explosive events of the first and second movies, a break from the action was necessary before they could jump back into the chaos of things. Blanc wanted to show that some time had passed and that the protagonists' relationship had grown in that time. The hero and heroine, simultaneously fugitives and lovers, would spend the rest of their lives on the run. But she was not so cruel as to leave them without a chance to relax. Washed up on the outskirts of a concrete jungle, they would have no option but to rest for the night in an abandoned hotel room. There, in the dying light of day, they would consummate their love for the very first time.
A sex scene is a must in every fugitive movie, Blanc told herself. It's the perfect timing. If not now, then when?
She finished moving papers around and got up from her seat. The writer in her wanted to pick up a pen to describe, in vivid detail, the kinds of things her two characters would do in that hotel room, but she refrained. It'll happen naturally, she told herself. It's improv.
Blanc walked over to the window. Two figures, one male and one female but their faces too far away to make out, ran along the edge of the field hand in hand. Dancing along the clifftops, they stopped to catch each other in a hug. They spun in place, no doubt laughing and revelling as if the night air belonged to them and only them. Then they lost balance and collapsed onto the grass, but the two quickly sat up and put their arms around each other.
It was such the picture of a cliché romance that Blanc felt as if she had to roll her eyes. She had lingered at the window for too long now. Those two frolicking in the field was nothing that she hadn't seen before. The moon was no longer directly overhead; midnight was already past, and in a few hours the sun would start to rise.
Better get to sleep before I get poetic again. The self-professed scriptwriter could still remember the humiliation of having her poems read aloud. They had sounded a lot better on paper, not read by some hulking idiot with LOLs for brains.
Turning away from the window and banishing the couple on the cliff from her mind, Blanc checked her desk one last time. Tomorrow's script was in order, the skeleton of the plot was pinned to her wall, and her favorite pen was capped and put in her penholder. Her work was done for the night.
She stripped off her blazer and climbed into bed. Tomorrow, the first scenario would be recorded after the final bell. At last, her third debut as a movie director, screenwriter, and leading role!
While waiting for sleep to come, Blanc saw the cliff again in her mind—only the grass was replaced by fine grains of beach sand, and the cliff by sparkling ocean water. The sand shifted underfoot as she ran, chased.
Neptune turned around, arms wide, smiling as she caught her and spun her around in a circle, sending the both of them falling to the ground...
