Mash-Up: I'm Not A Substitute

After sending the message, Utaha waited.

Based on what she knew about Kitahara Takashi, she believed he wouldn't take more than five minutes to reply.

After all, he loved her so much.

He knew all her food preferences, her likes and dislikes, and even remembered her menstrual cycle—something she herself sometimes forgot.

When it came to anything about her, he always paid close attention.

If she had to name the person who loved her the most in the world, besides her parents, she would, without hesitation, say: Watanabe Takashi. (The alias Kitahara Takashi used.)

No one loved Utaha more than Watanabe Takashi.

She was absolutely certain of it.

Five minutes passed, and her phone remained silent. Utaha didn't mind—she figured he was probably still working and couldn't reply right away.

She knew Takashi didn't come from a well-off family. He was always working part-time. Even if she wanted to see him, she had to schedule it two or three days in advance.

Sometimes, this made Utaha a little unhappy, but only a little.

Because whenever she asked to see him, he always made time.

She believed he must have canceled all his other commitments and taken a two-hour train ride just to meet her.

If that wasn't love, then what was?

She had even considered giving him money so he wouldn't have to work himself to exhaustion.

Another five minutes passed, and still no reply.

Utaha couldn't help but wonder, Is he really that busy today?

Yet another five minutes went by, and her phone remained silent. The message was still unread.

Utaha started to suspect there was something wrong with her phone. She decided to test it by sending a photo to a certain blonde.

It was a side-profile picture of Watanabe Takashi, with her hand "accidentally" visible in the frame.

A moment after sending it, Utaha felt that the blonde must have seen it by now, so she quickly retracted the message.

At the exact moment she recalled the photo, Eriri's messages started flooding in.

One after another—practically a death combo of texts.

Utaha glanced at them.

Hmm.

They were very profane.

Since her phone was clearly working fine, why wasn't Takashi replying?

Was it because he used an iPhone?

She knew how terrible iPhone's message delays could be. 

Sometimes, if you switched to another app, it wouldn't notify you of a message until much later—something like: You received a new message… 36 minutes ago.

Should I just buy him a new phone?

As she thought about it, Utaha instinctively opened a shopping app.

…

Meanwhile, in Narita, Chiba, inside a privately owned mansion atop a hill, a disheveled Eriri, wearing framed glasses, had been cursing out Utaha for a long time.

When she realized Utaha was completely ignoring her, she angrily called Tomoya Aki.

Tomoya picked up quickly.

"Hello? What's up, Eriri?"

Eriri wasted no time and went straight to the point.

"Didn't you say you were working today?"

"I am working."

"You liar! You're clearly on a date with that old woman!"

"You promised to meet me today, but you went to see her instead! Are you choosing her over me?!"

To be fair, when Kitahara Takashi put on makeup, he looked a lot like Tomoya Aki.

Otherwise, Utaha wouldn't have picked him as a stand-in.

Looking at photos alone, even Tomoya himself might mistake him for a long-lost twin.

So it was no wonder that Eriri mistook Kitahara Takashi for Tomoya Aki.

She knew Takashi existed, but just like Utaha, she assumed Tomoya didn't know about him.

Eliminating the correct answer (Kitahara Takashi) left only one possibility—Tomoya Aki must have been the one on a date with Utaha.

Case closed.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm busy right now. I'll call you back later," Tomoya said.

Then, he hung up.

Tomoya was utterly confused.

He had been working all day, saving up money for his game project. He hadn't gone anywhere—so why was she suddenly calling and yelling at him?

Shaking his head, Tomoya went back to work.

Meanwhile, Eriri stared at her disconnected call.

Her temper flared.

She slammed her phone onto the ground and furiously tore up the drawing she had been working on.

…

Elsewhere, in a dimly lit karaoke room, the music played softly.

Holding the microphone, Akari's sweet voice rang out:

"I miss you, I miss you, trembling all over..."

"The more I think of you, the farther apart we feel..."

"If only we could go back to how we were before..."

"My heart and feelings, you don't know any of them..."

Her singing was beautiful.

Her voice was lovely, her technique was solid, and her rendition of Kana Nishino's Aitakute Aitakute had a unique charm to it.

As she sang, the room's atmosphere heated up.

Everyone enthusiastically played along, waving glow sticks, shaking maracas, and clapping like they were cheering for an idol concert.

Takashi saw everyone getting into it, so he picked up a glow stick and waved it casually.

He hadn't wanted to attend this mixer, but since he was here, he wasn't going to just sit in the corner on his phone.

That would be rude.

The mood in the karaoke room became lively and fun.

"OOOH!!"

"OHHHH!!!"

Ōtani Shōta and Tanaka Kōta howled like apes.

Takashi clapped politely.

Soon, the screen displayed a high score—[89].

Akari beamed, forming a V-sign with her fingers in a cute pose.

Takashi didn't know if Awei was dead, but Ōtani Shōta and Tanaka Kōta were definitely about to die from cuteness overload.

It was obvious.

They really liked Akari.

Of course, they didn't only like her.

They liked any pretty girl.

"That was amazing, Akari!"

"You totally nailed it!"

"89 points?! You sing better than most idols!"

Takamiya Saki, Ōhashi Natsumi, and Marin all showered her with compliments.

Some karaoke chains in Japan had scoring systems, but they usually just gave a generic number at the end.

However, Japanese karaoke machines had a very precise scoring system.

Their detailed evaluations assessed pitch accuracy, expressiveness, rhythm, stability, vibrato, and even endurance—like a medical checkup for your singing.

And that wasn't all.

The system would even give personalized feedback on how to improve!

It was so strict that it felt like a professional audition.

Akari clearly loved the praise. She smiled so brightly that her eyes practically disappeared.

She was kind of cute when she looked like that.

Takashi thought so for a brief moment.

Then she turned to look at him.

Instantly, her face soured, as if Takashi owed her money.

Forget it. Not cute at all.

Takashi silently took back his previous opinion.

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Check out the other translations too: [Mash-Up: Anything For Money]

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