Kuroha Akira's words had struck Aizono Moe right in the heart—and she meant that quite literally.
The truth was, Aizono Moe had always wanted to do something for everyone. Whether it was the Literary Club's ongoing personnel crisis or her best friend's literary aspirations, she could never seem to help enough…
She knew herself well, after all. Her social skills were practically non-existent, so recruiting new members was out of the question. And authors in the pure literature field rarely got the chance to collaborate with illustrators anyway.
If Shiori wrote light novels, though… The thought had crossed her mind more than once. Then maybe I could finally be useful…
So when Kuroha Akira first grabbed her hand earlier, she'd been genuinely, overwhelmingly happy. Sure, a tiny part of her was afraid she couldn't handle the responsibility—but what she felt even more was the burning determination to try.
And now, learning that her beloved best friend would also join in the creation of light novels? Aizono Moe felt like she was dreaming. She stared at Shirai Shiori in her arms with wide, sparkling eyes that threatened to overflow with tears of joy.
"Ah…! Really?! Shiori, you're going to participate in creating light novels too?!"
"Yes, it's true." Shirai Shiori nodded, a small, gentle smile playing on her lips. "I've already promised Akira-kun. But I'm only responsible for polishing the text, so don't expect too much from me."
"That's great…! That's great, that's great, that's great!"
"Moe, you're being way too dramatic…"
But Aizono Moe couldn't help it. She bounced around while hugging Shirai Shiori tightly, her usual shy demeanor completely forgotten. For a girl who normally hid behind her best friend like a timid kitten peeking out from its mother's fur, this lively, excited display showed just how genuinely overjoyed she was. Her braids swayed with each enthusiastic bounce, and her cheeks flushed pink with pure, unbridled happiness.
Kuroha Akira watched the two childhood best friends reconcile before his eyes, and he felt more and more that his decision to recruit Shirai Shiori as a ghostwriter was absolutely perfect.
This way, Aizono Moe will be bursting with motivation. He smiled inwardly, crossing his arms with satisfaction. No matter how many revision suggestions I throw at her, she'll accept them all without complaint.
Excellent! Everything was looking up! The gears of his grand plan were finally turning smoothly!
Meanwhile—
Asato Hitomi, president of the Literary Club, currently being excluded by her own members, looked like a resentful woman who'd just been stood up on a date. She gazed at Kuroha-kun with a mournful, almost theatrical expression, her lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout.
"Kuroha-kun… what about me?"
Uh oh. The class monitor is emitting a dark aura.
A faint, almost visible dark mist seemed to swirl around her elegant shoulders.
Danger, danger!
But Kuroha Akira would never forget the class monitor. Thanks to her bringing him to the Literary Club—this wonderful treasure trove of fascinating girls—he'd had the opportunity to restart his light novel project. Calling her his lucky star wouldn't be an exaggeration at all. She was the catalyst, the key that had unlocked this entire chain of events.
So he smiled warmly—the kind of smile that could melt a winter frost—and said,
"Hehe, don't worry. How could I possibly forget the esteemed president of the Literary Club? I've decided to entrust the supervision of this work to you!"
"Oh?" Asato Hitomi tilted her head, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in curiosity. "So I'm just responsible for nagging everyone to submit their work on time? How… glamorous."
"Exactly! Along with proofreading and error correction!" Akira nodded enthusiastically, ticking off points on his fingers. "I'm hoping our beloved Class Monitor can provide us with her valuable first impressions and also help us catch any typos or grammatical mistakes that slip through the cracks."
In truth, he was just giving the class monitor a supervisory position to keep her happy and involved.
But the production model of this light novel was starting to resemble the division of labor in a fan translation group. There was a certain elegance to it, really.
First, you needed a novel source—that was Kuroha Akira, producing the outlines and story structure. Then came the illustration production, which replaced the translation step—that was Aizono Moe's job, bringing the characters to life with her delicate brushwork. After that, polishing and writing the main text—Shirai Shiori's responsibility, ensuring the prose flowed like honey. Finally, supervision and quality control—Asato Hitomi's role, the eagle-eyed overseer.
Originally, supervision should have been Kuroha Akira's job too. But handing it to the class monitor gave her a sense of presence and purpose without requiring any payment.
Free labor. Why not? Everyone wins!
Asato Hitomi pondered for a moment, tapping her cheek with a slender finger. Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were calculating something behind that sweet exterior. Then she smiled—a soft, knowing smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Hmm… It kind of feels like you're just finding something for me to do so I won't feel left out. But…" Her expression softened, just a fraction. "Seeing as Kuroha-kun didn't forget about me, I'll gladly accept this responsibility."
Kuroha Akira knew she would accept. Because above all else, Asato Hitomi hated being excluded. She needed to be part of the circle, to have her place at the table.
A Literary Club where no one gets hurt is complete!
"Alright then!" Akira stood up, extending the back of his hand toward them like a general rallying his troops. "This is our Literary Club's first official activity! To jointly complete this light novel! Let's all work hard together!"
The three girls understood immediately. One by one, they stacked their hands on top of his—Aizono Moe's small, slightly trembling hand, Shirai Shiori's steady, confident one, and finally Asato Hitomi's elegant, long-fingered palm.
Kuroha Akira: "Literary Club! Revive!"
The other three, in perfect unison: "Oh!"
The atmosphere crackled with energy—like a sports club shouting, "Our goal is the national championship!" after a grueling practice session. The long-dormant Literary Club had been reignited, its embers fanned into a roaring flame.
Kuroha Akira was the one smiling brightest. But in his heart? His heart was blooming with secret, mischievous joy.
Actually, you're all contributing to my dream of living off women! Wahahaha!
After the morale-boosting session ended, Kuroha Akira sat back down and pulled out three copies of the novel manuscript he'd prepared earlier. The stack of paper made a satisfying thump against the desk.
"Anyway, let's start by reading through my light novel today. Shiori, you didn't finish it yesterday, right? Let's finish it together now."
"Hmm." Shirai Shiori's eyes lit up with genuine curiosity. "Actually, I really wanted to finish it yesterday. I've been dying to know what happens next in the story. The cliffhanger was evil, you know."
The other two also took their manuscripts and began reading carefully, their eyes tracing the lines of text with rapt attention.
— Literary Club Reading Time —
The only sounds in the room were the soft rustle of turning pages and the occasional quiet intake of breath.
Asato Hitomi was the first to finish.
She closed the manuscript with a decisive snap and set it down on the table. But instead of praising how good Kuroha Akira's novel was—instead of showering him with the compliments he'd secretly been expecting—she wore a somewhat strange expression. Like someone who'd just stumbled upon a secret diary they weren't supposed to read.
"…Kuroha-kun, if I may ask…" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Do you have a younger sister?"
"Hmm? No."
Probably not.
Actually, Kuroha Akira couldn't be entirely sure. If he ever learned from Tashiro Kurenai that his current self was an alternate version from another world—well, that was a headache for another day. For now, he assumed the family circumstances in both lives were the same.
In his previous life, Kuroha Akira had originally had a chance to have a younger sibling. He used to hear his mother mention it sometimes, in that wistful tone adults used when talking about roads not taken. When he was three years old, she'd been pregnant with a second child.
But because of the one-child policy back then, the family had decided not to keep it. So Kuroha Akira grew up carrying the family's burdens alone, an only child with no one to share the weight.
Sometimes, late at night, he wondered what it would have been like to have a sibling. A little brother to roughhouse with. A little sister to protect.
But precisely because I don't have a younger sister, he thought with a private smirk, I can write this kind of sister-complex novel! This is the power of fantasy! Reality's loss is fiction's gain!
"I see…" Asato Hitomi murmured, her gaze growing distant. "If you had a younger sister, she'd probably blush and her heart would race if she read this light novel."
It's practically a super long love letter written to a younger sister…
Fortunately, he didn't have a younger sister. Otherwise, it might cause some awkward misunderstandings within the family. The kind of misunderstandings that could escalate into a very, very bad situation. The kind that ended with parents sitting you down for an "important conversation."
"But this work is really interesting, Kuroha-kun." Asato Hitomi's voice softened. "You're truly talented…"
"Hehe, thank you for the compliment." Akira scratched the back of his head, feigning modesty. "I try my best."
Asato Hitomi's praise was heartfelt—genuine admiration colored her words. But beneath that admiration, something else stirred. A quiet unease that coiled in her chest like a serpent.
It was likely that after this light novel was released, it would trigger a surge of sister-complex fever nationwide. The kind of cultural wave that swept through schoolyards and online forums alike.
And as an introductory work, the sales of this light novel would rise. Higher and higher, like a rocket launching toward the stars.
He would become very famous. He would earn a large sum of money—more than most high school students could dream of. And at that time, her value to him would only become smaller and smaller. A fading star next to his blazing sun.
This won't do.
She clenched her hands in her lap, hidden beneath the desk.
I need to work harder to catch up… otherwise, he will never look at me. He'll only drift further and further away, until he's nothing but a distant silhouette on the horizon.
Asato Hitomi once again made up her mind, the resolve hardening like steel in her chest: as his friend—as someone who stood by his side—she had to acquire the talent to walk alongside him. No matter what it took. No matter how many sleepless nights or how much effort she had to pour in.
She absolutely could not be abandoned.
Not by him.
Never.