All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

”That was truly a wonderful performance!”

Kotomi Izumi stepped down from the stage and heard a somewhat unfamiliar male voice. Looking up, she saw a man with slightly fluffy hair graying with age, wearing glasses, standing not far from the stage stairs, waiting for her.

Beside the man stood a graceful-looking middle-aged woman. The two looked like a married couple.

Kotomi Izumi paused for a moment, then quickly recognized the pair before her.

”Mr. Anno?”

Though Kotomi Izumi really wanted to greet him with something more casual like ”old rascal” or ”pervert,” she more or less guessed the reason and purpose for Hideaki Anno’s appearance here. Since they were here to talk about something official, she decided it was best to use a formal address.

”I’ve long heard from Merii Hizuki about you, Ms. Izumi. When I first found out that you were still in high school, I could hardly believe it. But after hearing your three original songs just now, I’m completely convinced. It seems that from my university graduation until now, after all these years of refusing to be bound by rigid perceptions, I’ve slowly begun developing a few of my own. It’s rather shameful, really. No matter how young one’s heart remains, it’s still difficult to resist the subtle changes brought about by the passage of time.”

Hideaki Anno gave a wry smile and shrugged as he spoke.

”People always grow old eventually,” Kotomi Izumi replied with a faint smile, though inwardly she thought: But I don’t want to grow old. I don’t want the people I love and cherish to grow old either.

Kotomi Izumi held an almost obsessive desire for immortality—borderline madness—even though Kazumi had repeatedly warned her that there was no such thing as true eternal life in this world.

”And this lady is...”

Kotomi had already roughly guessed the identity of the middle-aged woman standing next to Hideaki Anno. She had read a few of her manga works before. Still, at moments like this, it was best to pretend not to know and let the other side make the introductions.

”Ah, my apologies. I got so excited finally meeting you that I forgot to introduce her. This is my wife, Moyoco Anno.”

Just as Kotomi thought—Hideaki Anno was indeed married to Moyoco Anno.

”Ms. Izumi, you’re so young yet possess such incredible songwriting talent. I really loved the song you sang just now—’Ultramarine.’ When it’s officially released someday, I’ll definitely download it and play it on loop with my headphones on,” Moyoco Anno said with a warm smile.

”You flatter me. It’s merely a melody and lyrics written from my personal emotions—still full of flaws that need improvement,” Kotomi Izumi replied modestly. Then, rather than jumping straight into business, she took out her phone and asked:

”Mr. Anno, Ms. Anno, may I take a photo with you? I’m so happy to meet you both. I grew up watching Mr. Anno’s anime and Ms. Anno’s manga—it feels surreal meeting you here. I guess you could say it feels like I’ve finally succeeded as a fan!”

In truth, Kotomi hadn’t read many of Moyoco Anno’s manga, and the few she had read were from long ago, the details now blurred in memory. But since Moyoco Anno was standing right here, whether she remembered or not, it was only natural to say sincerely: I grew up reading your manga!—it made the conversation sound much more pleasant.

”Of course! Merii Hizuki mentioned that your Line icon is Ayanami Rei. As the creator of that character, I was delighted when I heard that,” Hideaki Anno said.

”Not just my Line icon—on my desk, I’ve also got figures of Asuka and Ayanami Rei,” Kotomi said with a faint smile.

She asked a passing classmate to help take a picture of the three of them—Kotomi Izumi, Hideaki Anno, and Moyoco Anno. After checking the photo, Kotomi chuckled and half-joked, ”If I post this photo on Twitter right now, I bet the comment section would go crazy.”

”If our collaboration goes smoothly, then yes, once it’s finalized, you could definitely post it. That way, fans and viewers can start speculating—what kind of collaboration will the popular light novelist and manga artist Izumi Ki have with anime director Hideaki Anno?” Hideaki Anno said with a smile.

Kotomi’s smile deepened. It seemed Hideaki Anno was preparing to discuss the composition work for Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time.

”Haha, I’d love to post it on Twitter too—but my readers still don’t know I’m a girl, nor do they know what I look like.”

”Ms. Izumi hasn’t held an autograph session yet? I haven’t read Sword Art Online myself, but judging from the sales, it looks more than capable of supporting a large-scale signing event,” Hideaki Anno said curiously.

”That’s still uncertain. For now, Dengeki Bunko doesn’t seem to have any plans to organize one for me,” Kotomi Izumi replied with a helpless smile. She knew that at the end of this month, Dengeki Bunko would be holding a signing event at the Dengeki Expo, but the participating author hadn’t been announced yet.

Kotomi didn’t think much of it—she was sure it wouldn’t be her. After all, if it were her signing event, Haruno Yukinoshita would’ve already informed her long ago.

After a brief exchange of small talk, Kotomi began discussing the Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time collaboration with Hideaki Anno. He was refreshingly straightforward.

”The reason I came to Sobu High’s cultural festival today, aside from accepting a friend’s invitation—her child goes here—was actually to listen to your singing in person, Ms. Izumi. I wanted to determine whether you truly had the ability to compose music for Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time.

Please don’t misunderstand. It’s not that I doubt your skills. Your composition Fly Me to the Star for Phoenix Studio already proved your talent beyond question. It was after hearing that song that I immediately decided I wanted to work with you.

However, Evangelion is the work I’ve poured most of my life into. I want every aspect of it to be absolutely flawless.”

Hideaki Anno spoke with disarming honesty, and Kotomi had already guessed that this was the real reason he had personally come to Sobu High—to hear songs from her that differed from Fly Me to the Star.

”That’s perfectly understandable. I’m a creator too, so I understand how that feels. I treat every one of my works like my own child,” Kotomi said with a nod. After a moment, she smiled and asked, ”So, Mr. Anno, after hearing my three songs today, do you think I’m qualified to compose for Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time?”

”Honestly, after your first song, I already regretted not bringing a contract with me today. I just want to sign you on the spot and entrust you completely with the soundtrack for Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time.”

There was no need for negotiation. Kotomi’s three songs performed on stage had completely convinced Hideaki Anno—he had already made up his mind. He would hand over full authority for the soundtrack composition to Kotomi Izumi, giving her absolute creative control.

And just like that, their first collaboration discussion—from opening greetings to closing agreement—took less than twenty minutes.

Hideaki Anno was a man of decisive action. Once he confirmed someone’s capability, he wouldn’t hesitate—he’d collaborate without reservation and do everything in his power to meet their needs.

After exchanging contact information and agreeing to meet again for detailed discussions after the festival, Kotomi said goodbye to Hideaki and Moyoco Anno, then turned and headed backstage.

”Great work out there!”

Arriving backstage, Kotomi was greeted by Yukino Yukinoshita and Yui Yuigahama, who were waiting for her. The three of them exchanged a quick high-five.

”Kotomi, your singing just now... how should I put it—it was better than some professional singers,” Yukino said sincerely.

”Yeah! When you started singing, I thought my own voice was pretty good, but then... poof, instant humility. Kotomi, you were incredible! If you’d sung the first two songs too, the performance would’ve been a hundred times better than when I sang them!” Yui said, her eyes practically sparkling like tiny stars.

Though she said it with a laugh, Kotomi could still hear a faint trace of insecurity in Yui’s tone.

That was only natural. Anyone who loved singing, upon hearing Kotomi Izumi’s voice, would fall into at least a moment of self-doubt. They might have believed their singing was quite good—until they heard Kotomi perform. It wasn’t merely a case of realizing that there are always people better than you; it was more like a mortal catching a glimpse of a higher-dimensional being with the naked eye.

It would be strange not to have your mindset shaken after that.

When Kotomi Izumi glanced toward the audience earlier, she had already noticed a few music-specialized students—usually quite proud—now sitting slack-jawed in their seats.

Her guitar-and-vocal performance of Ultramarine could only be described with one word—overwhelming.

If someone uploaded the video online, most viewers would probably assume it was a professional concert, not a high school cultural festival.

Kotomi gently patted Yui Yuigahama’s hair and said softly:

”What are you saying, silly bun? I can only maintain a high-quality singing voice for a limited time. If I had sung all three songs myself, I probably would’ve lost strength halfway through the second one. You did wonderfully with the first two songs. If we’d had more time, I actually planned for you to sing the third song too.”

”Eh? But my singing skills... they’re still too poor...”

”So what if they are? Besides, your singing isn’t bad at all—you just didn’t train from a young age. That’s not your fault. Who said someone who didn’t study vocals since childhood can’t sing? I simply like your voice. It’s like how some people enjoy their dumplings with chili oil, but I only like mine with ramen. A thousand fancy compliments aren’t worth one simple truth: ’I like it.’”

Kotomi spoke with complete sincerity.

”Kotomi... Mm! I understand! If possible, I want to keep singing for you from now on!” Yui said, nodding hard, her cheeks tinted pink.

Nearby, a few third-year seniors who were tidying up happened to overhear their conversation. They exchanged knowing glances before smiling like indulgent aunts.

”Oh my, oh my~ what’s this situation here~?”

”Who knows~ But if we asked little Kotomi directly, maybe we’d get to see her embarrassed face!”

”I doubt it. Rumor has it Kotomi Izumi’s a total playgirl—she’s been through hundreds of relationships, juggling six hundred partners at once. A veteran like that wouldn’t blush just because someone asked if she’s dating, right?”

”Heh, that just shows you’ve never been in love. Girls like Kotomi—those charming little scoundrels—know exactly how to use their strengths. And what’s her strength? A pure, innocent-looking face that still radiates temptation at every moment, paired with a body that captures every gaze. Every smile, every gesture—even just walking with that swaying hips, those shapely thighs hugged tight by sheer pantyhose under that short skirt—it’s like a poison that awakens desire. The deadliest, most intoxicating kind. She must be fully aware of her allure, yet still plays the part of the harmless, pure-hearted girl before her prey. She lures them in, lets them think they’ve conquered her, that they’ve devoured the hunter... but in the end, the hunter’s the one who’s feasted.”

”You sound way too experienced. Got a side gig or something?”

”Haha, flattery. I just happen to have written over a million words on an R18 site in my spare time.”

”Link. Now. GKD.”

”Tell me—between Yukino and Yui, which one do you think is Kotomi’s girlfriend?”

”I’d bet on Yukino. The cool, elegant type is totally Kotomi’s favorite kind to conquer.”

”Nah, it’s probably Yui. Who doesn’t want a kind, trusting, obedient girlfriend?”

”You’re thinking too small. What if it’s both? Three’s not a crowd, right?”

”Tch... fair point.”

”Heh, respect.”

”Keep it low-key, though. Actually, I’ve written some elegant R18 works myself—about 7 million words in total.”

”Whoa, a true heavyweight.”

”Elegant—simply elegant.”

Though the group of seniors spoke in low voices, Kotomi’s keen hearing caught every word clearly.

She listened from beginning to end, wanting to refute them—but couldn’t find the words, since some of what they said... wasn’t entirely wrong.

Pretending she hadn’t heard a thing, Kotomi glanced at the wall clock. It was already 5 p.m.—the sky would start darkening soon.

”Let’s all rest well when we get home today. I heard that during the cultural festival, attendance is optional. I’m skipping tomorrow. I just want to stay home and play games—ahem—I mean, sleep all day. The rehearsals lately have been exhausting. I’ll come back for the final day the day after tomorrow,” Kotomi said, stretching lazily.

Despite her fatigue, she could still feel the lingering sweetness of the guitar’s melody at her fingertips.

Suddenly, Kotomi realized she was thirsty—she hadn’t had a single sip of water since stepping onto the stage. The bit of mineral water she drank before performing had long since evaporated.

Seeing her thirst, Yukino Yukinoshita stood up. ”I’ll go buy some water.”

”Thanks, Yukino. If possible, I’d prefer a drink—the one with lemon and grape, you know, the one that smells like perfume,” Kotomi said.

”That one, huh... right, you’ve been eyeing it since this morning. I wonder if the students selling it have closed up shop yet. Oh well, I’ll go look. Try to hold on a little longer.”

”I’m not that thirsty,” Kotomi chuckled.

After Yukino left, Kotomi and Yui sat side by side on the backstage floor. Yui shyly asked if she could lean on Kotomi’s shoulder, and Kotomi nodded in approval.

After leaning for a while, Yui’s expression gradually turned serious, as if she had made up her mind about something. She straightened up and looked directly into Kotomi’s eyes.

”Kotomi, there’s somewhere I want to go. Will you come with me?”

”Hm? Where to?” Kotomi asked instinctively.

”Just somewhere in the school—it’s not far,” Yui said, her voice trembling slightly with emotion.

”All right, let’s go then.”

Kotomi nodded and stood, walking out of the hall together with Yui Yuigahama.

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