I Will Do Everything In My Power To Bring Happiness To The Enchanting Beauty Who Can No Longer Smile. - Chapter 26: Childhood Friend. Sakakibara Tsubame’s POV.

Childhood Friend.
Sakakibara Tsubame’s POV.

The moment I decided I wanted to become a model was when I saw a poster displayed at a bookstore.

It was simply breathtaking. I thought to myself, I want to be like that.

That was the beginning of my dream.

Fascinated by the world of modeling, I asked my mother to buy me fashion magazines from time to time. They were filled with beauty and elegance, and I found myself admiring them every single day.

Sometimes, I even brought them along when I played with Shigure-kun, and we would look at them together. …But whenever he praised a model from the magazine, a strange feeling stirred inside me, so I didn’t bring them out too often.

Even after moving away and being separated from Shigure-kun, my habit of reading fashion magazines remained unchanged.

No… If anything, after we stopped seeing each other, I found myself reading them even more.

On my mother’s days off, we would do makeup together or go shopping. At school, I wasn’t the type to have people casually approach me, so I didn’t really have anyone to spend my weekends with.

Then, the turning point in my life came during the summer of my fifth year in elementary school.

“Hey, are you interested in becoming a model?”

The woman who spoke to me was tall. The approach had been so sudden that I still remember how cautious my mother became.

She handed us a business card, and when we looked up the name later, we found that it belonged to a well-known talent agency.

After discussing it with my mother, we decided to meet with them—under the strict condition that we would immediately decline if anything felt off.

The magazine they wanted me to model for was one I was already familiar with. My mother knew it too, which put her at ease for the moment.

From there, we discussed the finer details—things like compensation and the general process moving forward.

The payment wasn’t particularly high… But I learned that some magazines barely paid at all. Since I was being recommended as a reader model by the agency, they were offering a slightly better rate than usual.

They also mentioned that I would likely gain popularity and asked if I would be interested in continuing as a reader model in the future. If things went well, I could even sign with the agency and become a professional model.

My mother took the lead in asking questions, which was a relief since I didn’t understand much of it myself.

After that discussion, we proceeded with my first photoshoot. …Though it wasn’t in a rented studio or anything—it was just a shoot at the park in front of the agency.

And so, my life as a model began. My dream had come true in what felt like the blink of an eye.

It was six months later that I officially became an exclusive model for the agency. After appearing in magazines two or three times as a reader model, my presence naturally gained traction on social media… and from there, things took off.

It might sound like my rise to fame was smooth and effortless—but that was far from the truth.

I studied trends. I bought fashion magazines every month and spent hours discussing with my mother what styles suited me best.

I watched what I ate. I didn’t go on any strict diets, but I cut down on sweets and avoided drinking juice whenever possible. I made sure never to stay up late.

I worked hard to become beautiful, to become elegant.

That’s why, when they offered me an exclusive contract, my mother and I were overjoyed. My mother even cried, and to celebrate, we treated ourselves to donuts—my favorite, for the first time in a long while.

That’s how I became a model. That’s how I achieved my dream.

But with that came an even busier life.

Before, my magazine shoots had been sporadic, but now they became routine. Almost every Saturday or Sunday was taken up by work—sometimes both days.

Still, it wasn’t an overwhelming kind of busy. I imagine it felt about as exhausting as being in an after-school club, though I never joined one myself.

The first time I cried after becoming a model was six months later.

That day, I ran into someone I had been close to during my time as a reader model. I had heard she had recently signed as an exclusive model, and I had been looking forward to the day we could do a shoot together.

“Oh, it’s been a while! Hanao-san!”

“Tch.”

“…Huh?”

I greeted her cheerfully, but in response, she clicked her tongue. I wanted to believe I had misheard.

“H-Hanao-san…?”

“……”

“Is… is something wrong?”

No matter what I said, she didn’t reply.

I racked my brain, wondering if I had done something to upset her—but the last time we met was back when we were both reader models. I couldn’t think of anything.

“I, um… I heard about your contract! That you became an exclusive model! I’m so happy that my friend’s dream came true—”

“Are you kidding me?”

She cut me off, her voice laced with frustration. I froze, unable to respond.

“I’m quitting modeling after today.”

“…What?”

“God, your face pisses me off. Do you even realize whose fault this is?”

My mind went blank.

Because I knew. I knew how much she had dreamed of becoming a model. How she had always said she would prove everyone wrong, no matter how much they mocked her.

“It’s because of you that my dream is over.”

“W-What do you mean…?”

“You really don’t get it? Your work has been increasing lately, hasn’t it? Those were supposed to be my jobs.”

“…Huh?”

Her words didn’t register at first. But after a moment of thought, I understood.

Today’s job had been a last-minute assignment. And the realization hit me like a wave of ice in my stomach.

“So what now? You took my job, and now you’re acting all friendly? Does rubbing it in make you feel that good?”

“N-No, that’s not it, I… I didn’t know—”

“Oh, really? Because I just found out that I was taken off today’s job. Thanks to you, the agency is in chaos right now. So much so that they couldn’t even be bothered to tell me in time. What a joke.”

Hanao-san kicked over a trash bin in frustration.

“So I snapped and told them I was quitting. Ugh, I’m done. I’m leaving.”

She stormed off, kicking chairs and tables along the way. And I… I had no words to stop her.

But just before she disappeared from sight, she paused for a moment.

“…Just so you know, nobody here sees you as a friend. To them, you’re nothing but an enemy who steals their jobs.”

“—!”

“Well then… I hope you enjoy your meals, knowing you crushed someone else’s dream. I never want to see your face again.”

With those words, Hanao-san left.

Afterward, my manager arrived, tidied up the things that Hanao-san had kicked over, and listened to my story.

They assured me that I had done nothing wrong. It was true that Hanao-san’s manager had been too busy to get in touch recently, but that had nothing to do with me.

…And yet, Hanao-san’s words clung to my mind.

That day, the next day, the day after that. The next week, the week after, and the week beyond that—one month, two months, three months, half a year, a year, two years, three years.

Every night, they haunted my dreams, making it impossible to forget.

But regardless of whether I could forget, the sun continued to rise and set. I went to school, attended photo shoots.

Sixth grade. On Christmas Day, I found myself sharing a shoot with another girl.

“So you’re Sakakibara Tsubame.”

“…? Uh, yes, that’s me. And you are…?”

“Teruma Tabane. One day, I’ll surpass you.”

“…”

It was the first time anyone had said something like that to me.

Seeing the stunned look on my face, she must have assumed I didn’t understand, so she explained further.

“Do you know about the popularity poll this magazine runs?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Hmph, so you don’t even consider it worth your attention. Well, they hold a popularity poll once a year. The top three rankings are revealed at the start of the new year.”

“I see.”

“I was ranked first last time. You joined the competition this year, but… I have no intention of losing. And even if I do, I’ll catch up right away.”

“…!”

It was the first time anyone had ever said something like that to me—a direct challenge, a declaration of rivalry.

I hadn’t had many people to talk to lately, so I was… happy.

“…I see.”

“I don’t like that attitude. Enjoy your confidence while you can! I’m looking forward to the results!”

“Oh, yeah. Me too.”

With that, she turned and walked away with firm steps. Her manager scolded her, but… I didn’t mind. I was happy—because she was the first person to speak to me that way.

At the start of the new year, I saw her in the office, clutching a magazine in tears.

She was crying so hard she didn’t even notice I had entered. She kept staring at a single page over and over again.

A terrible suspicion crept over me, and I picked up the magazine myself.

I was ranked first.

Because I had read it before, thanks to her, I realized something—the vote count wasn’t disclosed this time.

I asked my manager why, and they told me.

The results—9867 votes for me.

678 votes for Teruma.

It was beyond overwhelming. More than 90% of the votes had gone to me. The third-place candidate and those below barely managed to scrape into triple digits.

But that didn’t mean Teruma and the others were unpopular. Their votes had dropped compared to last year, but not by much.

It was at that moment that I realized—I was the anomaly.

A month later, I ran into Teruma at the office.

I had already heard from my manager that she was quitting modeling. I couldn’t say anything.

She was the first to break the silence.

“Stay at the top. That way, I can come to terms with my loss.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper. She sounded so different from before—so subdued, so drained that she seemed like another person entirely.

Yet, I couldn’t ignore her words.

In fact, I could never forget them—not even for a single day.

Right before I entered middle school, I started working frequently with a certain person.

Even when I asked my manager why, they wouldn’t tell me. Looking back now, I understand why they kept silent.

She was a year older than me. She called herself Hanao-san, though she said that wasn’t her real name.

She always called out to me cheerfully, “Tsubame-chan, Tsubame-chan!”

She was kind, like an older sister.

“…I can’t do this anymore.”

That’s why I was so shocked when she suddenly broke down crying in the middle of a shoot.

I thought she might have hurt herself, so I reached out to touch her shoulder—

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed.

The shoot was canceled. As I stood frozen in shock, my manager took my hand and led me away.

And then I heard Hanao-san’s voice.

“I only agreed to this for the sake of work, but I’m done being the supporting act. I’ve had enough! Enough of looking after this girl just to get jobs…!”

At that moment, everything fell into place.

I turned to my manager and demanded the truth.

My manager owed a debt to Hanao-san’s manager. They had pleaded, again and again, for her to be given work alongside me.

Hanao-san’s modeling jobs had been drying up. She was getting desperate. She said she would do anything. And so, her manager begged mine.

But in the end—things turned out as they had.

Hearing about the decline in her work, I suddenly remembered Hanao-san’s words.

“Because of you, my dreams were crushed.”

“Food must taste amazing when it’s served over someone else’s broken dreams.”

A month passed after that. No matter what I ate, I couldn’t taste anything.

“Wouldn’t you like to see Shigure, Tsubame? You can still go back if you want.”

Not long after I entered middle school, my mother said this to me. I was mentally exhausted, barely holding on after losing my sense of taste. Despite her own declining health, she always worried about me.

But I refused.

What if Shigure, like the others, never really considered me his friend? What if I was the only one who thought we were close? The mere thought terrified me.

…Back then, all I could do was cling to the Shigure of my memories.

When I told my mother, “I don’t want to,” she simply apologized. She had nothing to apologize for, yet my heart clenched painfully.

Modeling was always a solitary job. I was alone at school, too.

Whenever my mother worried, I would smile and tell her, “I’m fine. I enjoy my work.” And I meant it.

But—

One day, as I was washing my hands in the bathroom, I repeated those same words to reassure her. And that’s when I noticed it.

The face staring back at me in the mirror was utterly still.

Panicked, I tried to force a smile—but I couldn’t.

Wait… how do you smile again?

When was the last time I even smiled?

After that, time moved faster, as if accelerating each day.

My work didn’t change. No, that wasn’t true—it got busier. Some days, I even had to skip school for it. Once my mother’s health improved, she started driving me to and from my jobs.

But to me, those days felt dull and lifeless.

Food had no taste.

Coffee was nothing more than scented water.

Sweets were flavorless.

I tried shocking my senses—drinking vinegar straight from a cup, placing a spoonful of salt on my tongue—but nothing worked. My body rejected them violently, leaving me nauseous and sick.

Even so, I still enjoyed modeling. That feeling hadn’t changed since the beginning.

And yet, every photo of me showed the same blank expression.

—Third year of middle school. The high school entrance exams were approaching.

I talked with my mother a lot during that time, and in the end, I decided to apply to the same high school as Shigure.

I had hesitated for so long, but my mother was patient and persistent. I owed her so much for that.

And then, I met Shigure again.

He hadn’t changed much—he was still as cool as ever.

When I told him I wanted to know how to spend my free time, he readily agreed. But he didn’t owe me anything, so I asked why.

His response was simple.

“If my childhood friend is struggling, of course I want to help. That’s all there is to it.”

My heart thumped loudly. I was so happy I thought I might cry.

—But my expression didn’t change. My eyes remained dry.

From then on, I spent more and more time with him.

We watched dog and cat videos, went to the movies. At school, he was always by my side.

When I found out he could give massages, I was surprised—but more than that, I was happy. And when we ended up falling asleep together afterward, I was even happier.

Before I knew it, I started to enjoy my days again.

Going to school became fun. Even on days when work kept me away, I was excited to see Shigure the next day.

—Every day feels joyful. So surely, it’s only a matter of time before I regain my sense of taste.

But deep down, I know—the real turning point was when I told Shigure everything.

He promised me. That he would never leave me alone again. That he would stand by me through everything I had been struggling with.

When I asked him why, he simply said, “I want you to be happy, Tsubame. I want to make you happy.”

—Is there anyone who wouldn’t be overjoyed to hear those words from their first love?

At the very least, I was. More than anything in my entire life. Just as much as the moment I first achieved my dream.

I went through so much pain. But more than that, he reminded me of all the moments that had been filled with joy. He reminded me of how hard I had fought.

Perhaps, along the way, I crushed someone else’s dream. But maybe, in return, I also gave someone a dream to hold on to.

He made me realize—there are people who look forward to seeing me in magazines.

I am no longer alone.

But still, I never imagined… that I could be this simple.

To be held by my first love. To hear the person I adore say, “I love seeing you happy the most.”

And just like that, as if all the pain had never existed—

—After three years, I finally remembered the bitterness of black coffee.