"ACTION!"
The clapperboard clapped loudly.
The camera was pointing at me.
Well, technically, Saitou was pointing the camera at me.
At the star of the show.
I was wearing a blacked-out suit, complete with a beard drawn on my face with a sharpie. I smacked the blackboard with a ruler.
Written across it was:
BECOMING RICH!
"Becoming rich! One of the hardest... yet most accomplishing achievements in one's life. Taking such a risk requires effort that surpasses that of a normal human being."
Saitou handed me the camera and sat down on the floor.
"And how do you do that exactly?" Saitou asked, doing that scratching-his-chin gesture.
Now that's top-tier acting, ladies and gentlemen.
We switched cameras.
"Good question, my intelligent and only student."
I flipped the board around with all my might.
The plan was written in chalk.
"GSGSR. Can you say it?"
We took turns holding the heavy camera.
Saitou went back to scratching his chin.
"I really don't care what it means."
I raised my eyebrows. He sighed.
"GSGSR," Saitou said, pausing between each letter.
We switched cameras again.
"Good job! Now, the first step..."
I smacked the board again, pointing at the first step.
"...is Grab a Watermelon. Or G." I smacked it again.
"The second one is..." I pointed at the second step.
"...Sell the Watermelon. Because if you don't sell, you won't do well! If you're listening, what do G and S mean again?"
Before I could grab the camera—
"Can we just get someone else to point this damn camera?"
"Yuta said no."
At this point, he didn't have any choice. I mean, WE didn't have any choice.
"Grab a watermelon and sell the watermelon."
"Terrific! The third and fourth steps..." I smacked the board twice.
"...are grab and sell another watermelon.
And the last step is repeat until you can afford a house." I stepped back proudly.
"In summary, that is GSGSR." One smack for each letter.
"Any questions?"
We switched cameras again.
"Oi! You guys filming?"
I looked toward the voice.
"Yes, Uncle. Your son is a top-tier actor."
"Of course he is. I always remember that time he acted in fifth grade."
"Ah, yes. Hopeless Romantic. I remember now, Uncle."
"Dad. Why?"
"And that long, emo, sadboy hair you still have today. Right, Uncle?"
"I hate you."
"Baby come back, you can blame it all on me. I was wrong—"
"Let's just film so we can get this over with."
"You don't want to eat first? Soft-baked cookies, chocolate-stuffed, and your mom made juice."
Saitou dropped the camera onto the floor.
"...Alright. I guess."
***
Meanwhile, Doo-Pu was busy munching on leftovers from the food carts that Bendadivida had filled two minutes ago.
Speaking of Bendadivida, he was busy searching through articles and surveillance footage from the area where the device had dropped.
"Doo Pu," Doo-Pu said.
"No, thank you. Food comes last while working, Doo-Pu. We're not taking a break until we find something."
A crunch followed from Doo-Pu's mouth.
Bendadivida paused. "I mean I'm not taking a break."
After some continuous, aggressive typing—with all six of Bendadivida's arms working at once, something finally appeared on the screen.
It seemed to be exactly what the two had been looking for.
Bendadivida clicked on what appeared to be a television news report.
Then...
The power shut down.
Doo-Pu's three eyes twinkled. His mouth slowly formed a smile.
Bendadivida stared at him.
"...Fine. Three minutes. Then we'll restore the power."
"Doo Pu!"
Bendadivida sat down on a stool that was barely big enough to hold him.
"I wonder how he's doing right now." He sighed.
"It's my fault for doing it late, after all. He could've escaped earlier if it wasn't for me."
Somehow, a tear rolled down Bendadivida's face.
Doo-Pu groaned and came closer.
"I'm okay. Don't worry about me."
Just as he was about to continue,
Bendadivida shook his head and returned to work.
"That's right. We gotta restore the power. What do you think, Doo-Pu?"
Doo-Pu processed his thoughts for a few moments.
Then—
"Doo Pu!" He raised his hands.
"Brilliant! Acidic waste as fuel. Hurry and-"
Doo-Pu puked into the crate, Bendadivida stared.
"...Nice. But don't do that when I'm looking."
Doo-Pu nodded.
His three eyestalks said otherwise.
Bendadivida ran toward the generator, his short feet thudding against the floor.
Meanwhile, the acid left tiny trails behind him, drop after drop...
The generator's lights flickered on one by one.
Then the computer screens followed, and then...
Something played.
It started with a lively trumpet chord.
Within a second, a drum set slid into view, with a young boy sitting behind it.
The boy's upper torso was visible as he began playing aggressively, repeatedly striking the drums and cymbals.
Somehow, the music sounded perfectly fine.
The vocals, however...
Were horrendous.
The boy looked short from the front, with messy hair and a somewhat feminine face.
But the blacked-out suit immediately caught the eye.
Suddenly, the scene transitioned.
Multiple people appeared, singing and dancing at the same time, with the boy standing right in the middle.
Somehow, the pitch of the song got even worse.
Finally, the entire thing ended with a title screen:
THE NAOKI SHOW
Bendadivida stared at the screen, his jaw hanging open.
Meanwhile, Doo-Pu raised his hands in excitement.
"Doo Pu!"
"No time for entertainment, Doo-Pu! We must continue our research."
"Doo... Pu."
His face fell.
***
"End of the line, muchacho. "The kid stared deeply into my eyes.
Then he stared at the fruit I was holding.
Multiple people had gathered around us in a circle.
Elderly people. Young people. Jobless people. And, most importantly... Camera people.
Some shouted:
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
Others yelled:
"Come on! You idiots are blocking the road! We're late for work!"
The audacity of people honking in the middle of our battle.
Still, I focused my attention on the kid in front of me.
He asked:
"Who are you, really?"
I grinned.
Then, at my side, a lovely girl handed me a ukulele with a lovely smile.
As a token of appreciation, I must win this battle...
And play a piece.
*Thud. thud. thud. Tuh tuh tan
"Hola... "
"..."
"... soy, Dora."
*Tuh tuh thud
"Wait! Cut! I played the wrong chord."
The crowd groaned. "Oh, come on!"
"Sorry about that."
Amidst the criticism, we continued our work.
"Saitou, how do you autotune a ukulele?"
"For the eleventh time, you can't autotune a ukulele."
"Eleventh? Wait, how long have we been filming?"
"Since..."
Saitou glanced at his watch. "...eight in the morning."
"And—"
"It's two in the afternoon! Now, get out of the way!" A random guy honked.
I looked around.
"Huh."
Everyone was holding ice creams.
"So, that's why everyone has an ice cream."