— No, that approach definitely won't work; I think we need to completely change the character concepts.
— My soul is aflame with objection, God of War! How long will you pierce my creation with the sharp blades of criticism?!
— You chose to come here looking for help; no one forced you. Be glad that Yukinoshita can't be here today, otherwise you'd have to scrape the remnants of your self-esteem off the floor.
— ...Fine, I agree to make a pact with you. Impart to me the devilish knowledge, the price of which will be my innocent soul!
I sighed wearily and rubbed the bridge of my nose.
Maintaining "character" in any situation is undoubtedly a good skill, but sometimes I just want to throw something heavy at him.
Zaimokuza, sitting across from me, apparently didn't notice my irritation, continuing to quietly mumble about his miserable life and the sacrifices he has to make for the sake of art.
He'd be better off thinking about what I'm feeling as I scroll through his latest creation, fighting the urge to tell him everything that's on my mind honestly. It's just a shame I don't like arguing, and the guy might take offense.
— You're certain no one will disturb our sacred ritual, Hachiman? An intrusion into the space of the ritual is fraught with serious problems for our astral bodies, — Yoshiteru finished his pitiful tirade and inquired at the end.
— Yuigahama ran home early, Yukinoshita is busy with Shiromeguri, so this room belongs to the two of us, — only after speaking that sentence aloud did I realize how ambiguous the last part of the statement sounded.
Looking at my classmate's face, I realized he had come to the same conclusion but said nothing out loud, just delicately cleared his throat.
In any case, the fact remains that the chance of being disturbed by anyone in the next couple of hours approaches zero. Well, excluding Hiratsuka-sensei, who occasionally likes to drop by the club to check on our affairs.
However, lately the sensei has hardly paid us any "attention," being more burdened by the approaching third-year graduation and some other matters, the essence of which is unknown to me.
There is also a small—no more than three percent—chance of Snow's appearance. I doubt, of course, that Meguri will just let her slip from her grasp. Although the Student Council President seems like a gentle and compliant girl from the outside, it is pointless to deny that she has a certain core and the ability to command people. One only has to look at how quickly her subordinates rush about at her slightest word.
Especially since she managed to lure Yukino into her nets under some pretext.
If the girl leaves the club, goes to the council for good, then our volunteer activities will be over. No more evening get-togethers after classes, no stressful errands from others, no headaches...
— Hachiman, I see your thoughts have ascended to the higher spheres, but could you lower your gaze to the earthly realm, to irrigate the dried fields of my mind with your wisdom? — my sweet dreams of an unattainable future were shattered by Yoshiteru's voice.
— Yeah, yeah, — ruffling my slightly overgrown hair, I placed the guy's "manuscript" on the desk. — Let's start with the most important thing...
— The plot? — Zaimokuza perked up.
I clicked my tongue in displeasure, crossing one leg over the other.
— The characters. Specifically, the female ones. After all, your main target audience is guys your age, right?
— Right, of course, — my classmate frowned, not noticing that he had broken his signature speaking style: — But isn't the main component of a good book the story itself?
— Well, it depends on what exactly you want to achieve, — I paused, choosing the right words. — If you want mass popularity, say, large print runs and, accordingly, high sales, then the plot can be slightly de-emphasized. Just think about it: what attracts you most in similar light novels, where you pi... draw your ideas from?
— Um-m... — Yoshiteru froze. — You can't just say offhand.
He pondered, closing his eyes and stroking his chin with his gloved hand.
— Probably the most correct answer would be a strong main character surrounded by many beautiful girls, — hearing this, for some reason I wasn't surprised, especially considering all the writings of his that I had read.
— And what can you say about the overarching plot in those works? — I threw in a leading question.
Yoshiteru pursed his lips.
— Hmm, — another brief silence, followed by a slightly hesitant answer: — The protagonist is initially weak, no different from others, at the bottom of society, but at one point gains powers, because of this he clashes with enemies, develops along the way, and...
— Enough, — I gently interrupted him. — I'll add: he often acquires these very "abilities" when, while still a weakling, he enters into conflict with the supernatural. Simply put, the whole leitmotif is based on the following concept: "I was weak, but then the deus ex machina played, and everyone started applauding me." Correct?
— Correct. Your wisdom, God of War, knows no bounds and evokes only pure admiration, — he seemed to have returned to his old style, but I had a faint feeling that he was subtly mocking me. — So, should I move away from this path, choosing a different road?
Raising an eyebrow, I couldn't help but chuckle.
— Wait, who said such a plot is bad? On the contrary, it's quite good and easy to understand. Your task is to work for a mass audience, and they need a simple-to-understand scenario, — getting up from the chair, I stretched. — The problem with most works and authors is that they make one of two, or, in rare cases, both mistakes.
Putting my hands behind my back, I began to stroll leisurely back and forth across the classroom, continuing to speak on a long-standing issue, thankfully now having a willing listener:
— When creating a plot based on such a concept, it is important not to forget a couple of aspects.
— Wait, God of War, — Zaimokuza quickly pulled out a small notepad with a pen tucked inside from the inner pocket of his coat. — I'm writing this down!
I felt like a lecturer.
I wonder if I should remind him that I'm just an ordinary reader, and all my insight is based solely on the sheer volume of similar works I've read?
However, maybe I really will be useful.
— Then let's start with the most basic thing, which is why most works are criticized by the audience. Let's take, as a hypothetical example, a book where everything is initially presented with humor. We, the readers, are actively fed fanservice, rainbows abound, and most situations elicit laughter or the urge to cover one's face with a palm, — I took a deep breath. — Nothing bad is brewing; the hero successfully moves forward, showing everyone his mastery of playing the keyboard instruments, however, at one fine moment, the author decides...
Stopping in place, I turned on my heels, facing Yoshiteru.
— He decides that his world is too humorous, too kind, and there is no place for drama and suffering. Too far removed from reality. And, without much thought, he begins to weave elements of realism into the work. Situations that heroes previously escaped from without much difficulty are now resolved by losing comrades; previously peaceful enemies, who only limited themselves to kicking and tying people up, now shoot out the brains of the protagonists' friends without a drop of hesitation. As a result, from a humorous work conceptually intended for brain relaxation, we end up with an incomprehensible mess and a departure from the original intent.
— Is the path that leads you through the thickets of the Lower Realm from the Realm of Light a bad one? — Zaimokuza rubbed the lenses of his glasses, looking at me questioningly.
I chuckled.
— When you're told that all the candies in the bag are sweet, and then you discover that half the bag consists of licorice—will you be happy? — seeing that the guy didn't quite grasp my point, I snapped my fingers, trying to find the most accessible explanation. — The main mistake of these authors is that there is initially no hint of the upcoming "realism." They just decide at some point to start writing seriously, without any groundwork. You cannot abruptly change the genre! You cannot! And in general—you shouldn't change it! Your base, your audience, they come with a clearly defined request, understand? As long as you satisfy that request, you will be read and praised!
— Sometimes even the most desperate warrior, fighting an insurmountable enemy, is ready to resort to forbidden demonic arts. Sometimes one must make changes in one's cultivation to reach a new level of the spiritual body, or am I mistaken, God of War? — Yoshiteru frowned. — Sometimes only a change in the story is capable of breathing life into the moldy scrolls of time!
I stared at the guy without blinking.
— Then you thought through your work extremely poorly. I will give a famous example where this worked: Higurashi When They Cry. It abruptly turns from a children's story about friendship into a creepy thriller. It seems like a vivid example! The creator of that novel managed it, so I can too. But there is one nuance, — I leaned forward slightly. — Ryukishi07 planned this from the start and led the reader towards the sharp transition. In most works suffering from the problem I described, the authors do not think—they act on a whim, completely forgetting the concept that gave rise to the book.
— Are you trying to tell me, Hachiman, that, wishing to reach the peak, I must...
— It must be the main feature, — I interrupted him. — The main cherry on the cake. The culmination. And even more—that altered leitmotif of the work must be the leading one. That is, going back to Higurashi, the starting "peace-friendship-chewing gum" set serves only as a certain contrast, which makes the displayed thriller look especially vivid. Let's add another one: Puella Magi Madoka Magica. The harsh transition in it also seems appropriate due to the "foundation" laid by the screenwriters.
Zaimokuza clicked his pen and closed his eyes, thinking deeply. Deciding not to distract him, I went to the small table where Snow usually kept her tea supplies. Pouring water from the filter into a glass, I quickly drained it.
It turns out that talking about something at length and with feeling can dry out your throat. I never thought I'd be doing this, but the topic is painfully relevant.
— Perhaps then the path of gentle instruction would be suitable, not telling the student his errors, but subtly guiding him, sewing the clan's technique into his essence with a fine thread? — Yoshiteru asked, having finished processing the information.
I set the glass down with a thump, exhaling, pinching the bridge of my nose.
— Imagine drinking juice and at some point realizing that the taste is changing to sour milk. Would you finish it? — I raised an eyebrow.
— What fool would willingly drink poison?! — the guy flared up.
— Then you've answered your own question, — given that there was no one else in the room besides the two of us, I brazenly sat down on Yukino's desk.
— Then what is the second erroneous aspect of the mystery of creation, the initiation into which I have been granted permission? — Yoshiteru asked, having finished making his notes.
I scratched my chin, shifting my gaze to the landscape outside the window.
— The well-known one... — I tapped my fingers on the desktop. — Cardboard world and characters. Sometimes the plot is not enough. What can I say: even a great scenario won't save a work where the people and their environment are... nothing. Empty shells, filled with clichés, parodies of famous characters. I can't say much here; everything is too subjective. Although no, one point should always be kept in mind.
Turning back to Zaimokuza, I raised my index finger.
— The characters in your book must live! So that you can literally picture them in your head, how they will act, and—crucially!—why they will act. Logical justification, premises, even if they're insane. There must be an element that makes the reader understand: "Aha, he acted that way here because..." or "The world fell apart because of..."
I clicked my tongue and smirked.
— Honestly, I can't give advice here, as I myself don't really understand why some works have a cardboard aftertaste, while others make you drool. Aspects of this kind are learned in the process of writing.
— Even the all-powerful God of War admits defeat? — Yoshiteru closed his notepad and shook his head. — In that case, there is nothing left but to continue working hard on my technique. By the way...
He adjusted his glasses.
— Would Hachiman himself not wish to try his hand at creating manuscripts for future generations?
— Become a writer? — I couldn't help but laugh softly. — No thanks, I don't need that kind of happiness.
— However, you, God of War, know the theory, so what prevents you from applying the secret knowledge in practice? — Zaimokuza was surprised.
Shaking my head, I jumped off the table and, walking over to the guy, patted his shoulder.
— True art is born in the hearts of those who are ready to give their soul for the sake of maintaining the creative fire, my faithful comrade. Unfortunately, I have already chosen my path and do not intend to retreat from it, for then my footprints on the sands of time will be mixed with dishonor, — Kami, how does he manage to speak like this constantly? Talent, true talent.
— An admirable speech! — Yoshiteru sprang to his feet, striking a strange pose and spreading his arms out to the sides. — I feel the flame ignite within me! Wait for me, Hachiman, O God of War, soon I will bring you a new scroll, the contents of which will fill you with awe!
In the end, he performed a series of intricate hand movements and, without saying goodbye, flew out of the club room.
Making sure the sound of his footsteps had faded, I slumped into a chair with relief, closing my eyes.
That's it, the sacred club mission is accomplished two hundred percent.
I gave criticism, suggested how I think the plot should look, outlined the main problems that scare off readers, and...
Crap, we never talked about the female characters!
Oh well, next time. Because I'm sure Zaimokuza doesn't plan on leaving me alone anytime soon.
...Unfortunately.
***
After the cultural festival, a blessed calm reigned in the school for some time, which I had even started to miss a little. No one bothers you, no one draws you into unnecessary dialogue, and the amount of noise in the classroom has noticeably decreased.
However, as is often the case, happiness did not last long.
The announcement of the upcoming trip to Kyoto from Hiratsuka-sensei signaled the end. To say that my classmates warmly received the news is an understatement.
I actually had to leave the classroom during the break after the announcement just to avoid going crazy from the insane cacophony of voices.
Because, of course, they absolutely had to start arguing about who would go with whom, considering the excursion to Japan's cultural capital was a whole week away. How could they not?
Once again, I questioned the need for such events.
I sat down on the steps of the staircase leading to the roof—the keys to it had been stolen by someone from the student council, so access was unavailable—and leaned my shoulder against the wall.
If you think about it, visiting the historical sites of the homeland awakens a growth of patriotic feeling and love for the country in the younger generation—a debatable assertion in the current reality, but traditions don't easily fade away. Personally, thoughts of strolling through ancient temples and examining old architectural styles evoke nothing but boredom in me.
I am far from traditional culture; there's nothing I can do about that. If needed, one can always find the necessary images or videos on the Internet without wasting energy and time traveling anywhere. As adults say—the age of gadgets has spoiled the growing youth.
In addition, the school takes care of all the expenses, thereby eliminating the possibility of refusal due to lack of funds. No, of course, no one is stopping me from pretending to be sick, but I'm more than sure that Hiratsuka-sensei won't let it slide easily. She'll demand a doctor's note or, worse, show up at my house personally to check. The latter is in the realm of fantasy and cheap novels, but the possibility shouldn't be ruled out.
There is also the factor of forced social interaction with several people for three days and four nights. Students cannot be allowed to wander around a foreign city in proud solitude, both from a safety and a pedagogical point of view. A collective bonds people, and all that.
But for some reason, the mere thought of having to spend so much time in the company of three classmates leaves a nasty taste in my mouth.
Okay, let's tentatively assume Yuigahama will be in the group; I've somehow gotten used to her, so I can survive it. Next, let's say, Totsuka. Despite his love for violating personal boundaries—and he is somewhat similar to Dog-san in this regard—enduring Saika's presence doesn't cause any particular difficulty. That leaves the last spot.
Someone from the Cap and Blondie's group? I'll instantly discard the guys; I see no common ground, and they'll constantly demand to join up with their friends, which will turn the excursion of four students into eight, in the best-case scenario.
Ebina? Well, Yuigahama would like that. I'm not sure about myself and Totsuka.
Hayato is out of the question.
Yumiko...
— Hikigaya, why aren't you in class?
I slowly closed my eyes, rested my forehead against the cold wall, and let out a noisy exhale.
— Don't pretend that my presence is enough to give you a migraine!
Suppressing a chuckle, I regained the remnants of my composure and turned to the disturber of my peace.
— I'm afraid the reason lies in something else, — coughing briefly, I folded one knee up to my chest. — And what did you need from me in this dark and cozy nook, Miura?
Blondie, standing one flight down, snorted.
— Try to temper your self-importance; maybe life will become easier, — glancing around quickly, the girl pursed her lips and quickly climbed up, stopping on the step right in front of my leg.
Looking down, she artistically raised an eyebrow.
Rolling my eyes, I moved aside, allowing my classmate to sit next to me, almost pressing me against the wall. Of course, before doing so, she ran her finger over the concrete, as if expecting it to shine with pristine cleanliness.
I have to ask: does this person realize that anyone who comes up here and sees us in this position will come to an absolutely wrong conclusion?
Moreover, shouldn't she herself be uncomfortable being so close to a guy? Especially when the warmth of our relationship is only slightly above the average temperature in Antarctica?
Sometimes I truly don't understand the logic behind other people's actions.
— Hmm, I thought you'd continue the "interrogation," — Yumiko muttered after about thirty seconds, her phrase catching me slightly off guard, especially considering the fact that there was discontent in her voice.
— Well, it's not my rule to pry into a person's soul when they've expressed opposition to it, — I replied, dismissing the irrelevant questions about the girl's strange behavior.
Not that this can be described as "inscrutable female logic;" it's much more primitive.
Laziness.
— And when did I express opposition? — Miura glanced sideways at me.
Right.
I scratched my cheekbone.
Mmm, is it really that obvious?
— A question, a request, or a suggestion? — Judging by her look, the girl didn't immediately grasp the meaning of my phrase.
I sighed.
— Do you need something from me? It's hard to believe you decided to come here for no reason, especially during such an important discussion about forming groups for the trip, — I shouldn't forget that even though Yumiko is talking to me for some unknown reason, from the point of view of the school hierarchy, she occupies the top spot. If the upcoming event means nothing to me, in her case, it's the exact opposite.
— What if I said that our meeting is a coincidence? — Blondie chuckled, but, meeting my gaze, her expression changed, and she clicked her tongue. — How did you and Yuigahama manage to get along? She clearly has taste issues.
— Are you trying to provoke an emotional reaction from me by mentioning a topic that, in theory, should make me feel anger, embarrassment, or something similar? — I asked, propping my head up with my hand. — Just letting you know: a jab loses its charm after three repetitions.
— If you had kept quiet, I would have believed you, — the girl narrowed her eyes.
— Or thought you had definitely hit a nerve.
— Judging by this, I did hit a nerve, — she smiled contentedly.
— If that thought brings you pleasure, I won't argue, — I shrugged.
In some cases, you should just agree with someone else's opinion.
It allows you to avoid unnecessary conflict.
— I sense a trick, — Yumiko muttered suspiciously.
Furthermore, if they were resisting before and then suddenly backed down—the conversational partner often loses the foundation for further pressure. It's like playing tug-of-war: at the moment of highest tension, you just let go of the rope, and voilà, the opponent, due to inertia, falls onto their back. Of course, defeat is still defeat, but you remain standing on your own two feet.
— Whatever the case, is it about Hayato again? — There were literally ten minutes left until the end of the break, so there wasn't much opportunity for a long preamble, which is why I decided to force the issue.
— Why would you think that?! — the girl bristled immediately, thereby confirming my guess.
— Think for yourself, — I smirked, raising the corners of my mouth.
— Do you think I have nothing else to talk to you about besides him? — Miura, I'm a naive young man, but not that naive.
You are somewhat similar to Hiratsuka-sensei. Or Yukinoshita. Or, in part, Haruno.
All of you diligently pretend that you are not driven by some selfish motive or the need to find something out.
Not that I overestimate my importance.
It's just a funny fact.
— Haaah... — Blondie sighed resignedly, lowering her head. — It's impossible to talk to you normally. You either annoy me or... you annoy me!
I was prevented from answering by a delicate cough that came from below.
— Am I interrupting you two? — Ebina asked in an overly sweet tone, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
Yumiko instantly shot up.
— Hina? What are you doing here? — Realizing the position she was in, and more importantly, who she was practically cuddling with, the girl jumped to her feet, painstakingly avoiding looking in my direction.
— Well, everyone was looking for you, so I volunteered to find you, — the lover of non-traditional affection drawled. — Who knew...
Considering her suspicious gaze, it wasn't hard to guess her train of thought.
— It's not what you think! — Miura cut her off quickly, practically leaping down to her friend.
— And what am I thinking? — the other narrowed her eyes, but instead of answering, Blondie grabbed her by the shoulders and, turning her around, began to push her so she would go down the stairs.
— Don't fill your head with nonsense, got it? — and, giving me one last unreadable look, Yumiko disappeared with her classmate, leaving me sitting alone on the step.
— But Yumi, I'm curious! — Hina's muffled exclamation made me chuckle briefly and shake my head.
On the one hand, I'm glad they didn't manage to fill my brain with something strange, because if it were some ordinary question, the girl wouldn't have been beating around the bush, as if preparing herself.
On the other hand, I'm now slightly curious.
What did she want to know?
Clicking my tongue, I stood up and, dusting the sticky grime off my pants, slowly headed back to class.
However, glancing at the time, I had to noticeably speed up my pace, as there were slightly less than two minutes until the start of the lesson.
Slumping into my seat, I breathed a sigh of relief, since the biology teacher hadn't arrived yet. Tossing the necessary textbooks onto the desk, I leaned back in my chair, catching Ebina's suspicious glance out of the corner of my eye.
Noticing that she had been spotted, the girl smiled wickedly and put her finger to her lips. What is that supposed to mean? She's keeping quiet? I need to keep quiet? Can't she express her thoughts more clearly with gestures?
The sound of the door creaking came, and the teacher ran into the classroom, slightly out of breath. Apologizing briefly for being late and telling everyone to sit back down, she immediately started the lesson, for which I was grateful, as I had a chance to momentarily tune out the useless contemplation about the strange behavior of the people around me.
***
— Hachiman, why are you spacing out? — Doggy, having managed to pack her things, got up from her seat, looking at me with confusion.
I followed the company of the Cap and Blondie with my eyes, who had rushed off somewhere immediately after the bell, and shrugged.
Apparently, I shouldn't expect a continuation of the conversation with Yumiko today.
All the better for me.
— I was thinking, — I sighed and, putting my notebook into my bag, followed her example.
— You do that too often, — the girl smiled and, grabbing the sleeve of my blazer, pulled me along. — Come on, Yukinon has been waiting for us!
Glancing down at her fingers, I caught myself thinking that I barely felt any discomfort because of it.
— A minute later or a minute earlier won't make much difference.
— Stop grumbling, — Yui playfully chastised me. — And don't frown; you'll get wrinkles!
I snorted.
— You sound like a caring mom.
— Hey! We're the same age, actually! — my classmate laughed, continuing to pull me along. Thankfully, after getting into the hallway, she remembered to let go of my sleeve.
However, that didn't save me from a couple of interested glances from the casually wandering students who walked past.
— By the way, what do you think of our excursion program? I think it sounds fun, — a small flaw of Yuigahama is that the girl is incapable of walking in silence for a long time.
This time she lasted only a couple of minutes—we had just managed to get outside and head towards the special annex.
— We have one? — I raised an eyebrow.
The girl looked at me in shock.
— Hachiman, we discussed it with the whole class for almost half an hour! — notes of indignation now sounded in her voice.
— Really? — I scratched my cheek. — Sorry, I guess I accidentally missed it.
Moreover, there was no lie in my words. At some point, giving up on trying to make out their shouts, I simply tuned out, hypnotizing the ceiling. My opinion wouldn't matter much anyway.
— You can't be so careless about such important events! — Yuigahama said instructively and, overtaking me, stopped, turning to face me.
— At least now I'm sure to be pleasantly surprised in the process, — I tried to change the subject, but Dog-san, resting her hands on her hips, leaned forward slightly, puffing out her cheeks in a funny way.
— And you don't care at all who you'll be grouped with? — there was a certain tension in her question.
Oh, right.
I was thinking about this, but here's the problem: my classmate can't read my mind.
— Why? I do care, but... — I tried to feign the most natural surprise. — Would you really refuse my company? I sincerely believed in our bond!
— No-no! — Yui immediately waved her hands, her expression changing instantly. — I wouldn't have it any other way! But you were silent, and I thought you weren't interested in the idea of...
I stopped holding back and laughed softly. The girl fell silent, then knitted her eyebrows together, thought about something, and waved her hand.
— Idiot, — Yuiigahama mumbled quietly, turned on her heels, and quickly walked towards the entrance of the special annex without looking back.
Did I go too far?
I shouldn't have, she usually reacts differently.
The question is: should I catch up and apologize, adding a couple of sweet phrases like, "Sorry, I really didn't imagine anyone else next to me" or "Just you will be enough for me"?
...A hundred percent bad idea, and so bad that it could lead me to a fatal mistake.
I need to choose different words, preferably ones that don't sound so ambiguous.
Play on a mild form of self-deprecation, like, "Sorry, you know, I didn't have any friends before you, so I lack experience?"
I'm not keen on belittling myself in front of my interlocutor. I had enough of that in elementary and middle school.
...Wait.
Blinking, I realized I had been standing still for a minute, and Dog-san had long since disappeared into the building.
Exhaling loudly, I tilted my head back and massaged my temples.
Kami, sometimes my habit of zoning out for no reason will lead me to deplorable consequences.
***
I couldn't catch up with Yuigahama: when I reached the second floor, her voice was already coming from the slightly ajar club room door. Apparently, she was sharing her impressions with Snow.
— ...That's why we absolutely must spend the third day of the trip together, Yukinon! — Upon entering the room, I found her actively leaning on her friend, hugging her shoulders.
The girl herself, as always, was trying to fend off the advances toward her, but she was doing it without much spirit, essentially having resigned herself to that trait of Dog-san.
However, noticing my presence, she didn't fail to use it, pushing Yui aside and greeting me with a nod of her head.
— Hikigaya, — it might have seemed like her tone sounded extremely dry, but having experience, I caught notes of relief in it.
Yuigahama finally peeled away from Yukino, turned to me, and gave me a narrowed-eye look.
I definitely hit a nerve.
— Day, — I waved my hand listlessly, pulled up a chair, and took my usual seat, diligently pretending not to notice Dog-san's attempts to inflict horrible pangs of conscience on me.
— You don't look well, — Snow noted. — Have you finally realized the flawed nature of your chosen behavioral model?
— Rather, I was once again convinced that the societal paradigm of thinking of a given collective is extremely hostile to foreign elements that disrupt its integral structure, — I chuckled, engaging in the usual wordplay.
— What kind of reaction did you expect? Society is like blood vessels: when pathogens enter, leukocytes begin their work, trying to eliminate the threat, — the girl replied calmly.
The electric kettle, which had been gently burbling in the background, let out a loud click, and upon hearing it, Yukino got up and headed towards it.
— I see we weren't the only ones who had a lecture on the structure of the human body today, — I could have come up with something more original and stinging, but the current task was simply to relax and enjoy myself.
Although to an outsider, it would seem like we were actively trying to provoke each other. In principle, a couple of months ago, such a statement would have been true. But at the moment, even Yuigahama didn't pay much attention to our "bickering." She had given up on trying to burn holes through me with her gaze and was intensely texting someone on her phone, with the tip of her tongue sticking out.
— The ability to use newly acquired knowledge in the necessary context and with full understanding distinguishes a wise person from an erudite one, — Yukinoshita answered with a slight superiority in her voice, simultaneously pouring boiling water into three mugs.
— Debatable, — I nodded gratefully when she placed a cup, still steaming, in front of me. — I believe that "understanding" of a subject can only be achieved when you are capable of explaining the material in your own words and in the most accessible language to a person unfamiliar with the topic.
— I agree, — making sure no one was left out, Snow returned to her seat. — In any case, as I understand it, you are not thrilled about the upcoming trip to Kyoto?
— And do I look like a person who enjoys forced social interactions? — I raised an eyebrow.
— Quite possibly, — the girl added a spoonful of sugar to her tea and meticulously stirred it. — In light of recent events, I'm starting to doubt your "sociopathic" nature.
I smirked, carefully sipping the hot drink. Of course, I would much rather have coffee, but sometimes you have to take what's offered.
— And you're telling me this?
Yukinoshita curved the corners of her lips, about to respond, but Yuigahama interrupted her, placing her phone on the table with a loud clatter.
— Kyoto! — she proclaimed, shifting her gaze from me to Yukino. — The excursion is the only thing on the agenda right now!
Having secured our attention, Dog-san cleared her throat.
— I suggest we discuss a possible plan for visiting sights and other cool things, — she paused, looked at me, and added: — More precisely, Yukinon and I will decide, and Hachiman will just agree since he doesn't care anyway!
I could only shrug at Snow's questioning look. I had no desire to explain my blunder, and if need be, Yui would tell her everything herself.
Besides, no matter how much they wanted to create the best entertainment program, we only have one free day, and it's at the very end. Knowing myself, by that time I will be close to a state of "just leave me here and cover me with a sheet." Consequently, whatever route Yuigahama and Yukinoshita create won't make a significant difference.
Therefore, while listening to their discussion with half an ear—Kami, how does Yukino know so much about completely unnecessary things?—I pulled out Zaimokuza's latest draft from my bag, which he had handed me a couple of days ago.
Then, armed with a red pen and occasionally sipping my tea, I began to relish marking every moment that displeased me, inserting my remarks from time to time, not mincing words.
Well, there he goes, repeating the exact same mistake again. How is the reader supposed to know about the classification of some energy levels? What is the point of all those complex names and huge chunks of text dedicated to them?
Most of the audience will skim past it. He wants mass popularity, so he needs to write accessibly. Ac-ces-si-bly! So that everyone understands. And for the subject enthusiasts, he can leave a conditional appendix with pages of information about one aspect or another.
And the dialogue. Why is it so bland? "He asked," "he said," "he exclaimed," and "he smiled"...
Zaimokuza, damn you!
Only a few are interested in beautiful and vivid descriptions of the scenery, people, or, I don't know, techniques. Ninety percent of the public focus purely on the dialogue, because that's where the hero's character, the logic of his actions, and, in principle, his relationship with other characters are most clearly traced.
Wait. He introduced a new girl into the plot again? The previous five aren't even developed yet, why?!
— Hikigaya, — Snow, not now, I'm currently in the process of destroying someone's expectations and hopes.
Without looking up from correcting the text, I waved her off.
— Whatever you decided—I agree to everything, except for an act of mass suicide; that's strictly a personal matter.
Yukinoshita sighed.
— Hikigaya, we have visitors.
I covered Yoshiteru's draft and looked up.
Standing in the doorway was a familiar group of guys: The Cap with his lackeys.
Hayato met my gaze and offered a crooked smile; I didn't return it. Tobe nervously laughed, looking away. The duo standing behind, whose names I had forgotten, pretended they weren't there.
A delightful scene.
And the request, I'm sure, is an unusual one for these guys, one that will definitely pique my considerable interest.
Clicking my pen, I went back to checking Zaimokuza's novel.
Firstly, if they need something, they'll call me.
Secondly, I couldn't care less about their problems.
And thirdly, I should give Yukino a chance to score points.
Hiratsuka-sensei's competition is still on.
...It is still on, right?