"Wait! Don't go, don't go!"
The moment I stepped into the special building, I heard Yuihama's voice from behind me.
She caught up with me, her light backpack on her shoulders, and walked alongside me with an energetic air.
"Hey, shut-in guy, you don't seem very lively. What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Of course I'd be drained after reading something like that... I'm still really sleepy. More importantly, how can you still be so full of energy after reading that kind of work?"
"Huh?"
Yuihama blinked.
"...Ah, y-you're right. Yeah, I'm really sleepy too."
"You definitely didn't read it..."
Without answering my question, she looked out the window and even started humming a song. Though she acted as if nothing was wrong, cold sweat kept breaking out across her cheeks and neck... I wondered if it would make her shirt turn transparent.
When I opened the clubroom door, I found Yukino dozing off for once.
"Good work."
I greeted her, but Yukino continued breathing softly, sleeping quite peacefully. Her expression looked almost like a smile, completely unlike her usual cold, impenetrable face. The contrast made my heart skip a beat.
Her gently swaying black hair, flawless and delicate white skin, large glistening eyes, pink lips of just the right size—her serene sleeping face made me want to keep watching forever.
Then Yukino's lips moved slightly.
"...That startled me. The moment I saw your face, I woke up."
Whoa... I woke up instantly too. That was close—I had almost been bewitched by her alluring sleeping face. I wished this woman would just sleep forever.
Yukino yawned like a kitten, then stretched her whole body.
"Looks like you got tired from reading too."
"Yeah. I hadn't stayed up late in a long time, and I'd never read this type of work before... I guess I just can't bring myself to like it."
"Ah~~ I definitely can't like it either."
"You didn't read it at all, did you? Hurry up and read it now."
Yuihama made an unhappy "Mmm" sound and took the novel manuscript from her bag. Her copy did not have a single crease in it. It was perfectly clean.
She flipped through the entire novel with a rustling sound, as though she genuinely found it boring.
After watching her for a while, I spoke up.
"Zaimokuza's work doesn't represent all Light Novels. There are plenty of interesting works out there."
I knew perfectly well that saying that would not help Zaimokuza, but Yukino tilted her head slightly and asked:
"For example, something you've been reading recently?"
"Yeah, it's really good! Personally, I'd recommend GAGA—"
"I'll look for a chance to read it."
I keenly felt the truth of the rule that people who say that will definitely never read it.
The next second, someone pounded roughly on the clubroom door.
"I have a request."
Zaimokuza greeted us in his old-fashioned manner and entered the clubroom.
"Well then, let me hear everyone's thoughts."
Zaimokuza dropped into a chair, crossed his arms grandly over his chest, and wore a supremely confident expression with an air of superiority from who knew where.
Across from him, Yukino wore an unusually hesitant expression.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not familiar with this kind of work..."
Yukino began that way, and Zaimokuza magnanimously replied:
"No matter. I wished to hear the opinions of the common masses. Speak freely."
"All right."
Yukino took a light breath and steeled herself before speaking.
"It was extremely boring. Reading it was even painful. This work was unimaginably boring."
"Guh!"
With a single sentence, Yukino dealt Zaimokuza a fatal blow.
The blow sent Zaimokuza's entire body jerking backward, his chair rattling as he barely managed to regain his posture.
"M-Mm... c-could you tell me what was boring about it, so I can use it as a reference?"
"First, your grammar is a complete mess. Why do you keep using inverted sentences? Do you even understand how particles and auxiliary verbs work? Didn't you learn that in elementary school?"
"Guh... W-well, writing that way is more approachable, and readers can feel closer to it..."
"Shouldn't you say that after you're capable of writing proper sentences? Also, there are many problems with your furigana. Nobody reads 'ability' as 'chikara,' and why is Bloody Nightmare Slasher given the reading 'Bloody Nightmare Slasher'? Where did 'Nightmare' come from?"
"Cough, cough! M-Mm, no! The hallmark of recent superpower battle works is unusual furigana—"
"That's called self-indulgence. No one except you can understand it. Do you really want people to read this work? Oh, and speaking of the work itself, the plot progression is far too predictable. There isn't any enjoyment in it at all. Also, why does the heroine take off her clothes here? There's no need for that whatsoever, and it's unpleasant to read."
"Eek! I-I heard it wouldn't sell if it wasn't arranged that way... As for the plot progression, that's..."
"And your narrative sentences are too long, with too many difficult words, making it hard to read. More importantly, could you not show people a story that isn't finished yet? Before showing off your literary flair, please acquire some common sense."
"Aaaah!"
Zaimokuza let out a loud scream as he sprawled on his back, his shoulders twitching incessantly and his rolled-back eyes staring at the ceiling. Even I was getting annoyed by his exaggerated reaction. It was probably time to stop.
"That should be enough, right? Telling him everything at once is a little too cruel."
"I haven't finished yet... Fine. Shall we have Yuihama-san go next?"
"Huh? M-me too?"
Zaimokuza looked at the startled Yuihama with pleading eyes, tears gathering at their corners. Feeling sorry for him, she stared into empty space, trying to find something she could praise, and forcibly squeezed out these words:
"I-I think... y-you know a lot of difficult words."
"Gwaaah!"
"Why would you deal him a fatal blow..."
For someone aspiring to become a writer, those words were practically forbidden, because they meant there was nothing else worth praising. People unfamiliar with Light Novels often gave that kind of answer when asked for their thoughts. But if a novel was evaluated that way, it was no different from being called boring.
"Th-then let the shut-in guy say something."
Yuihama quickly fled her seat and gave it to me. She had originally been sitting across from Zaimokuza, but now she hid diagonally behind me.
Apparently, she could not bear to look directly at Zaimokuza, who had burned out and turned to white ash.
"G-Guh. H-Hachiman, you understand, right? If it's you, you should understand the world I have depicted, the horizon of Light Novels, yes? This is a vast tale beyond the comprehension of the ignorant masses."
Yeah, I understood.
I nodded to reassure Zaimokuza, and his eyes seemed to tell me, I believe in you.
If I did not answer him, I would not deserve to call myself a man. So I took a deep breath and spoke gently.
"Tell me, what work did you plagiarize?"
"Pff! G-Gweh... hehehe..."
Zaimokuza rolled all over the floor, only stopping when he slammed hard into the wall. He stared blankly at the ceiling, a single tear sliding down his cheek, looking utterly ready to die.
"...You're really merciless. That was even harsher than me."
Even Yukino retreated several steps.
"You..."
Yuihama poked my side with her elbow, apparently trying to say, Isn't there something else you can say? But what else was there...? After thinking for a long time, I finally remembered the most fundamental point I had overlooked.
"Anyway, the illustrations are what matter. You don't need to worry too much about the story."
For a while, Zaimokuza kept practicing Lamaze breathing—inhale, inhale, exhale—to calm himself down. Then, like a newborn fawn, he stood up with all four limbs trembling.
He brushed the dust from himself and looked directly at me.
"...Would you still be willing to read my work?"
I could not help wondering if I had misheard him. Seeing my bewildered expression and receiving no answer, Zaimokuza asked again, this time in a louder voice.
"Would you still be willing to read my work?"
He looked at Yukino and me, his gaze filled with passion.
"You..."
"Are you a masochist?"
Yuihama hid behind my back, glaring at Zaimokuza in disgust as though saying, Drop dead, pervert. No, he was not like that.
"After being criticized so thoroughly, you still want to keep writing?"
"Of course. The criticism was indeed brutal. It made me feel like dying, since I won't be popular with the opposite sex even if I live, and I have no friends either. In fact, I wish everyone except me would die."
"Yeah. If it were me, I'd want to die too after being criticized like that."
But Zaimokuza accepted every bit of the negative criticism and continued.
"Still, I was happy. Letting someone read a work I wrote because I loved writing it, then hearing their thoughts on it—that is a wonderful thing. I don't know how to describe the feeling... but I was truly happy."
Then Zaimokuza smiled.
It was not the smile of the Sword General. It was the smile of Yoshiteru Zaimokuza.
—Ah, I see.
He did not just have Chuunibyou. He also had a severe case of writer's disease.
People like that wanted to write because they had something they wanted to write, something they wanted to convey to others. If their work could move someone's heart, they would be incredibly happy. They would keep writing, even if they received no affirmation at all. That was the symptom of writer's disease.
Therefore, my answer was obvious.
"Yeah, I'll read it."
There was no way I could refuse. This was the realm Zaimokuza had reached only after his Chuunibyou had developed to its ultimate extreme. Even if people thought he was sick, gave him scornful looks, ignored him, or made him a laughingstock, he would never give up or change his beliefs. It was proof that he had given form to his delusions and seen them through to the end.
"I'll bring over my new work when it's finished."
After saying that, Zaimokuza turned around and strode proudly out of the clubroom.
Even the closed door somehow looked dazzling.
Even if it was twisted, childish, and unreasonable, as long as one saw it through to the end, it had to be right. If something changed easily just because others denied it, then it did not deserve to be called a dream or a self. So Zaimokuza did not need to change.
—Except for the parts of him that made people uncomfortable.
A few days later...
Today's sixth and final period was physical education.
Zaimokuza and I were still paired up. That had not changed.
"Hachiman, who's the most popular illustrator right now?"
"It's way too early for you to worry about that. Win an award first."
"Mm, true. The problem is, which publisher should I debut with..."
"Why do you always assume you'll win an award?"
"...If my work sells really well and gets adapted into an anime, would I have a chance of marrying a voice actor?"
"Enough. Stop fantasizing. Just write your novel properly first, got it?"
We had started talking during PE class. If anything had changed, it was probably that.
Still, we only talked about pointless things, and none of it was particularly funny, so we did not laugh loudly like the other students did.
Before you continue