(A Duel of Pride and Page Count!)
Currently, Shirai Shiori stood as the sole opposing force within the Literary Club. Therefore, Kuroha Akira's next strategic objective was clear: persuade her, or neutralize her opposition.
"I truly have no intention of looking down on professionals," he began, adopting a tone of measured reason. "As the Class President mentioned, I do write, but my skill is lacking—my prose is clumsy, my descriptions weak. That's precisely why I thought pairing the story with exceptional illustrations could compensate. Even if it's not a bestseller, it might still have a shot at publication."
In his mind, he was being perfectly 'humble.' He didn't anticipate that Shirai Shiori would perceive this as the pinnacle of 'arrogance.'
"Publication?" Her voice was cool, sharpening like a honed blade. "Kuroha-san, do you even comprehend what 'publication' entails? Do you know how many rounds of feedback and revision a manuscript must endure before it sees the light of day as a complete work? Do you understand the sheer, monumental difficulty of becoming a professional author? Do you have any idea how many hopefuls remain forever stuck at the 'award-winning' stage, never granted the chance for a proper release?"
No longer content with silent disapproval, Shirai Shiori unleashed a volley of suffocating rhetorical questions, each one aimed like a precision strike.
The sudden shift in atmosphere startled the other two girls. They had never seen Shirai Shiori so visibly agitated. Known for her quiet, listening demeanor—gentle, well-mannered, the picture of a refined young lady—this blunt, forceful refutation was entirely out of character.
It seemed Kuroha Akira might be the first person to provoke her to this degree.
And she was not finished."I'm not mocking your desire to write, Kuroha-san. What I mock is this presumptuous fantasy of publishing a book after what must be only a brief period of dabbling! Do you believe getting published is that simple?"
Kuroha Akira merely shrugged, his expression unbothered. "I know it's not simple. But how will I ever know unless I try?"
"Hmph! Stop talking to yourself!" Her words grew even more pointed. "Do you think just because you write decent compositions in modern literature class, you can call yourself a writer? Do you imagine those 'brilliant ideas' of yours haven't been conceived by countless others before? If it were that easy, every chuunibyou with a notebook could become a published author!"
"..."
The insult didn't land. Instead, Kuroha Akira found himself wondering… was the chuunibyou she referred to perhaps himself? After all, that 'eighth-grade syndrome' phase was often when creative impulses burned brightest, and many a writer's journey began with that very same, embarrassingly earnest past.
"Trying to paper over deficiencies in your writing with pretty pictures—the very concept proves you lack the resolve to become a true professional writer!"
She's not wrong, on that count.He didn't have that resolve.
For Kuroha Akira, novel-writing was not a lifelong pursuit, a cherished dream, or a sacred hall. It was a tool. A means to an end—that end being profit. From that perspective, his 'purity of heart' was indeed lacking.
And in that moment, he understood. The reason for her vehement reaction was likely because she was the one who harbored the dream of becoming a writer. His casual, pragmatic approach felt like a defilement of the goal she pursued with sincerity. Hence, the fury.
So, how to navigate this? Was it time for a dramatic, forehead-to-the-floor apology?
Having vented her initial salvo, Shirai Shiori seemed to feel it wasn't enough. She crossed her arms, turned her head with a haughty sniff, and added a final, cutting remark:"And in the end, a light novel is nothing more than a low-brow diversion for the masses. Even if one were published, it hardly qualifies as being a proper writer…"
That was the line that finally ignited a spark of irritation in Kuroha Akira.Not because he was mocked, but because of the condescending, hierarchical contempt dripping from her words.
What he despised most were those who constructed arbitrary ladders of superiority—the self-important 'connoisseurs' who, just because they consumed 'refined' media, looked down their noses at others, perpetually acting as if they alone were sober amidst a world of drunks.
People who read classics scoff at web novel readers. Console gamers deride mobile gamers… Huh? Actually, that last one might be fair game—No! Focus!
The principle was the same. Whether reading or gaming, who bestowed the right to decree what was 'noble' and what was not?
While he understood Shirai Shiori's outburst probably stemmed from a protective instinct towards her friend—not wanting to see Moe exploited—her chosen words left a sour taste. For a girl afflicted with what seemed like a severe case of literary snobbery, Kuroha Akira decided it was time to set aside kid gloves and administer a small dose of 'tough love' from a more… experienced perspective.
"The Class President mentioned that Shirai-san is also working on a novel," he said, his voice shifting to a calm, almost clinical tone. "Though I haven't had the pleasure of viewing your 'masterpiece,' given your strong opinions, you must possess considerable confidence in your own work, correct?"
"Ugh—!"
Shirai Shiori flinched, realizing she'd gone too far. While they were her genuine feelings, some thoughts were meant to remain unspoken. Especially her blanket dismissal of light novels—it was rude to the many who enjoyed them. She knew Moe loved light novels; disparaging a friend's interest was a low blow. And intellectually, she knew there were excellent works within the medium… She had spoken in the heat of the moment.
But words, once released, could not be recalled. Her pride wouldn't permit a retraction. She could only retreat into stiff silence.
Now it was Kuroha Akira's move.
"Since Shirai-san declares light novels to be 'low-grade,' then surely, for someone of your caliber, writing one good enough to be published must be a trivial task, no?"
"..."
Shirai Shiori could see the trap being laid. This was a direct 'challenge' issued to her doorstep.
Kuroha Akira spread his hands, the picture of nonchalance. "My original goal was simply to produce a result that ensures the Literary Club's survival. In the end, whose novel gets published is secondary… So, why not settle it with a contest? Let's see whose work Aizono-san will ultimately illustrate."
He let the proposition hang for a beat before continuing. "The criteria? Any publisher will do… No, let's be more attainable: even securing a serialization opportunity in a magazine will suffice. Whoever's work first gains a chance for publication wins. How does that sound?"
By now, Shirai Shiori fully grasped her predicament. To stop Kuroha Akira's plan, she would have to produce a result that forced him to concede.
"…What is the time limit?" she asked, her voice tight.
Kuroha Akira held up a single finger. "One month. If you win… I'll run naked around the school track."
"…Are you being serious?""Deadly serious. But if I win…"
Fueled by her own pride, the girl volunteered her wager before he could finish. "Then I will kneel and apologize to you."
"A simple kneel isn't enough. I'll be stripping, after all. You should offer a full dogeza."
Shirai Shiori's brow furrowed deeply. A prostration of that magnitude was social death for a girl. But retreat was impossible now. Her pride, once engaged, would not allow it. Gritting her teeth, she accepted."Fine! It's a deal! Just you wait!"
Whoever loses, strips naked.
A duel betting face, dignity, and the very future of the Literary Club's first project had officially been declared. The quiet clubroom now thrummed with the tense, electric energy of a high-stakes showdown.