"So after squeezing every ounce of value from , you're just going to toss aside? Is that the fate of girls like ?"
A mournful voice echoed from the phone, soft and sorrowful, brimming with such pitiful sadness that Kyousuke imdiately thought of the phrase:
Desolate, miserable, and woeful.
The image of a lonely girl holding a pair of scissors flashed through his mind.
He had been happily basking in the warm sun, ready to take a nap, but that drowsiness vanished instantly.
"I'll co get you right now, Senpai!" he blurted out.
"I'm already at the entrance of your apartnt — Chidamoku 49, Unit 701," ca her cool and composed reply, though Kyousuke broke out into a cold sweat.
'Senpai! My dear Senpai! You could've just said 'I'm at your place'! Why report the full address out loud like that?!'
Panicking, he scrambled to the door and sure enough, there she was: Kasumigaoka Utaha, standing gracefully in front of him.
"Kyousuke-kun, it's been a while. I hope you've been well," she greeted him with a flawless, formal smile, bowing elegantly while using a phrase that sounded like it belonged either in old ani or among aristocratic won of the Taisho era.
"Please, have rcy on , Senpai," Kyousuke quickly pressed his hands together apologetically.
"I'll co to you for writing advice every week from now on, I promise!"
Normally, he would have taken his ti to enjoy the unexpected "blessing" of being greeted like this, but not today.
If it had been Shouko saying those words in her soft, gentle voice, he might've felt like he'd beco the king of so ancient harem.
But this was Utaha-senpai — still dressed like a high school girl even on a Sunday, complete with her black stockings and shiny loafers.
Her words, combined with her sharp gaze, made him suspicious that she might be hiding so kind of deadly weapon inside her brown leather school bag.
"At least five days!" Seeing Kyousuke's reaction, the icy mask on Utaha's face lted into a playful, almost bewitching smile.
She wasn't the type to say, "Oh, I don't an to trouble you," or "Will it interfere with your other plans?"
No — this was the mont to press her advantage.
'Five days?!' Kyousuke ntally cursed.
Eriri alone needed at least two days.
Weekends were reserved for tutoring Sakura — that made four.
And then there was Miki's café, although maybe he could kill two birds with one stone by eating dinner there and then again with Utaha-senpai later.
Eating two dinners wasn't a problem for him; he could just work out a little harder to burn it off.
"Two days!" Kyousuke countered stubbornly.
'Damn it!'
Utaha knew exactly where those missing days were going — to other girls.
Still, she didn't let it show.
Instead, she bead with a satisfied smile and said in a bright, pleasant voice:
"Then, Kyousuke-kun, help review the third volu of Love trono too, would you?"
After taking off her shoes, Utaha casually tugged Kyousuke into the living room, plopped herself down against the sofa, and pulled a thick manuscript out of her bag.
"But..." Kyousuke hesitated, instinctively wanting to refuse.
Even though his literary sense had improved a lot, he still didn't feel comfortable critiquing soone else's work.
"And so," Utaha began in a sorrowful tone, "a woman who's lost her usefulness will eventually be—"
"Alright, alright! I'll help!" Kyousuke interrupted hurriedly.
———————————————————————
Since Utaha was wearing a skirt, Kyousuke had escorted her ho by subway.
Now back at his own place, Kyousuke was about to hop into the shower but when he opened the bathroom glass door, he was greeted by the sight of a pair of black stockings hanging inside.
"Senpai, you forgot your stockings at my place," he called her.
Earlier, while they had been deep in discussion, an unfortunate spill had left tea all over her leg.
Kyousuke had assud she'd packed her stockings after cleaning up — but clearly, she hadn't.
"But they're soaked," Utaha replied through the phone, her voice slightly distorted by speaker mode. "I couldn't just throw them into my bag with my manuscript."
"Should I just hold onto them and return them to you next ti?"
"No need," she said coolly. "They're yours now."
"Wait, what? I—"
Before he could say anything else, she hung up.
'What am I supposed to do with a pair of stockings?'
It's not like they're thermal leggings that could keep him warm in winter.
Holding the damp, faintly rose-scented stockings in his hand, Kyousuke frowned.
After two seconds of hesitation, he tossed them straight into the trash.
'I'm not a pervert,' he thought.
'If stockings aren't on a beautiful pair of legs, they're aningless!'
———————————————————————
anwhile, across town, another girl was caught up in her own whirlwind of emotions — Sawamura Spencer Eriri, the other renowned beauty of Toyogasaki Academy.
Spending ti after school alone, well at least once a week she will do drawing alongside Kyousuke was the highlight of Eriri's life.
Doing what she loved, being close to the person she adored, and even occasionally making him pose for reference when she got stuck, it was like living in a dream.
They were working on One Punch Man illustrations, but Eriri also took the chance to sketch so rough drafts for the upcoming Comiket.
Of course, Kyousuke was her go-to model for those too, and this ti she even posed alongside him for better reference.
Despite gaining real recognition among professional artists, thanks to Kyousuke crediting her na at the start of the ani's opening, Eriri still couldn't resist the pull of her beloved doujin circles.
Deep in her heart, Eriri harbored one small wish:
She wanted to turn their story — how they t, how they beca friends, how they fell in love — into an ani.
'It would be a dreamy tale that would make every girl in the world mad with envy!'
She had tried creating a fan comic based on their eting, and even dread of making a ga about it.
But now, after seeing the characters she drew co to life on-screen, the idea of making a real ani felt impossible.
The problem?
Every ti she tried writing the script herself, it fell hopelessly short.
No matter how many drafts she cranked out, none of them captured even a fraction of the magic she envisioned.
"People shouldn't force themselves to do things they're not good at," Kyousuke once told her.
And maybe he was right.
Maybe it was better to stick with what they were good at — Kyousuke writing, Eriri drawing.
Glancing sideways at Kyousuke, who was tapping away at his laptop, lost in concentration, Eriri sighed softly.
'But... it feels wrong to bother him right now...'
He was already so busy these days.
Even writing his novels only seed possible when they were together.
Asking him for even more — like writing a whole ani script — might just push him over the edge.
Caught between longing and hesitation, Eriri gently twirled her pen, her sketchbook lying open in front of her.
The character she was supposed to be drawing — a hero from One Punch Man — had sohow turned into a detailed pencil sketch of Kyousuke, focused intently on his work.
"Sothing wrong, Eriri? Need to pose for you?" Kyousuke asked, noticing her staring at him.
"Ah—n-no! I'm fine!" Eriri yelped, hastily pulling a blank sheet of paper over her sketch to hide it.
"Too tired then? Want to take a walk out in the garden?" Kyousuke suggested, rolling his shoulders to loosen up.
He was currently working on Sword Art Online.
"Mmhmm~" Eriri shook her head, then put down her pen and turned to face him with a soft smile.
After May rolled in, the weather kept getting hotter.
These days, she wore nothing but a T-shirt printed with "Saitama" on the front and a pair of grey athletic shorts, her soft, pale feet bare against the floor.
Kyousuke still had several boxes of these T-shirts lying around — free samples from rchandise companies.
His tiny apartnt couldn't hold them all, so he temporarily stored them at Eriri's place.
Though she acted spoiled thanks to being favored, Eriri would still tidy herself up a little whenever Kyousuke was coming over.
At the very least, that caterpillar-like green tracksuit she used to wear had beco a rare sight.
Even now, her athletic shorts were a more fitted style, perfectly showing off her long, slender legs, a gift to her 160 cm (about 5'3") fra.
"I'm thinking about your novel," she said, pulling her knees up and curling into the chair, her gaze drifting toward Kyousuke's laptop.
"My novel? You an the illustrations?" Kyousuke asked, as if it were obvious.
After all, having the chosen one of illustrators, Eriri Spencer Sawamura, draw for Sword Art Online was about as perfect as fate could get.
"It's the other novel," she said, resting her sharp chin on her knees and shaking her head slightly.
"Oh, that one..." Kyousuke scratched his head awkwardly.
Given Eriri's sensitive heart and easily stirred emotions, she probably couldn't even sleep after reading Love trono.
If she read The Devotion of Suspect X, she'd cry herself into a ss — he'd probably have to perform CPR on her.
"I can already hear it now: 'Nooo, Ishigami's so pitiful! Kyousuke, hurry up and rewrite the ending! Let him reincarnate into a fantasy world instead!'"
Honestly, it wouldn't surprise him if she ended up hugging her knees and wailing exactly that.
But of course, she was just the type to say it — she never actually ddled with his writing, no matter how many opinions she threw around, just like back when they made manga together.
"That novel's not really for you," he said.
"What the heck? It's not... it's not so weird novel, is it?"
Eriri lifted her head, looking at him with eyes full of suspicion, like she was staring at a pervert.
She ant "weird" as in... adult content.
Sensory-stimulating novels. In short, R-18.
If that were the case, Kyousuke thought, he actually wouldn't be worried at all about her reading it.
"It's a mystery novel."
"I wanna read it!" she said imdiately.
"You're gonna cry."
"There's no way I—"
———————————————————————
"Uuuuuuuu~~~"
"Shishigami... Shishigami..."
"Kyousukeuuu!"
Her clear blue eyes were now swimming in tears, looking at him miserably through a blurry veil.
"...Good grief. You're such an idiot," Kyousuke muttered, shifting closer so she could lean against him.
This girl — she had grabbed his hand so tightly at the climax of the story that even his rough, calloused skin had felt the pain.
Every tear a reader sheds is a badge of honor for the author — Kyousuke.
By that standard, Eriri openly crying like this was the highest praise he could possibly get from soone as stubborn as her.
"Uuuuuu..." Eriri continued sobbing, unable to string a full sentence together.
It took almost until nightfall for Kyousuke to finally calm her down, he promised that one day, he'd write a story with a happy love story ending.
Only then did Eriri, with her eyes swollen like peaches, finally stop crying.
At dinner—
"Lilly, what happened to you?"
Sayuri, Eriri's mother, asked in surprise.
Usually after spending an evening drawing with Kyousuke, Eriri would be on cloud nine for a whole week.
Seeing her like this was definitely out of the ordinary.
Spencer-san, sitting beside Sayuri, also wore a worried expression.
If they hadn't known Kyousuke so well and trusted him with their daughter the overprotective father might have flipped his chair over and charged him by now.
"U-um..." If Kyousuke hadn't been sitting right there, Eriri would've probably started bragging to her mother about how amazing and touching his novel was.
But right now...
The girl shifted her gaze left and right like a guilty kitten, poking at her empty plate with her fork and knife.
Only when a horrible screeching noise echoed off the plate did she snap back to her senses.
"I... I was reading Kyousuke's novel..." she whispered.
'I'll tell Mom about it properly later,' she thought to herself, stubbornly biting her lip.
No way was she going to let that idiot get even more full of himself after she cried all day over his writing!
Sayuri and Spencer exchanged a look, a knowing smile on their faces.
Of course, they already knew Kyousuke was writing novels they are practically family at this point, how could they not?
In fact, they had secretly read The Devotion of Suspect X ahead of ti.
Eriri father even offered to introduce him to a publisher.
Seeing the looks on her parents' faces, Eriri quickly realized they were already familiar with the novel.
Her cheeks flushed bright red as she quickly piled a huge piece of steak onto her plate and buried herself in eating.
Later that night, in Eriri's room—
Now that Kyousuke had regained his artistic abilities, his mories of One Punch Man were also returning.
aning — he could finally resu drawing it!
Well, at least until the part he rembered from his previous life... before it inevitably went on hiatus again.
Their usual collaboration style resud: Kyousuke sketched rough drafts, and Eriri polished them up.
But when she looked at the first page he'd just drawn... she fell silent.
"Kyousuke... do you even need anymore?"
Her voice was low and dejected.
From his angle, Kyousuke could see her long eyelashes trembling.
Sohow, she reminded him of a stray kitten poking its head out of a flowerpot after finishing the food a kind stranger had left behind.
A kitten, hoping it had found a ho, but fearing it would lose it just as quickly.
"Huh? What are you talking about, Eriri?"
With soone as adorably straightforward as Eriri, he knew she ant every word — unlike Utaha-senpai, who would veil her emotions with playful sarcasm.
But... had she noticed?
"Because... Kyousuke, with your skill now, you don't even need anymore!"
Eriri lifted her small face and held up the draft he'd just handed her.
Her voice was small but overflowing with frustration.
If she weren't so crushed inside, she would have been yelling and waving her arms like usual.
'...Crap.'
Kyousuke looked at the draft and cursed silently.
Ever since he gained the "artistic talent" trait, his drawings had evolved.
They were no longer the stiff, textbook-style figures he used to make.
He had always consciously suppressed his full potential around Eriri, he didn't want her to notice.
But maybe, after spending the whole day nursing a headache from Eriri's crying, he'd let it slip a little without realizing.
Even though it was just a little, soone like Eriri would catch it instantly.
His art might not surpass hers yet but for a manga artist, it was already more than enough.
"That's ridiculous. You're my manga partner," Kyousuke said, trying to brush it off.
"But we both know..."
"With your ability to churn out storyboards without even thinking, and your hands steady like a damn printer, once your drawing skills caught up... you don't need anyone else to make manga."
Eriri clenched the paper tightly in her small hands, torn between frustration and heartbreak.
But when she realized she was crumpling Kyousuke's precious draft, she quickly placed it carefully on the desk, her face pained.
"It's not that..."
"If I end up becoming a burden to you, then I—"
Her slender eyebrows drooped low, and her small face was filled with sorrow.
The ti they spent creating together had been so much fun... but if she was only holding him back, if he could move forward faster without her, then—
"Are you stupid or what?!"
This ti, it was Kyousuke who interrupted Eriri, pulling her into his arms without hesitation.
She was like a little black kitten, soaked by rain and pitiful beyond words.
You're supposed to be the proud, golden-haired princess—how could you ever wear such a face?
He gently ran his hand through Eriri's soft, silky hair.
It was because of monts like this that he had worked so hard to hide how much his own skills had improved.
Was sitting next to Eriri every day, watching her pour her heart into her art, ever a burden to him?
Not even close.
Whenever his neck stiffened from typing too long, just turning his head and seeing her frowning in deep concentration over her drawings could wash all his exhaustion away.
Fresh inspiration would flood his mind like an unstoppable tide.
Stretching together to rest their eyes, the sight of her graceful figure felt like a miracle cure that could add years to his life.
After a late-night snack, they would wander under the moonlight in the garden, listening to Eriri share funny stories from school in her bright, cheerful voice.
He'd watch her pick tender green maple leaves and toss them into the pond, startling the sleeping koi fish.
They would step on each other's shadows, competing childishly under the stars.
"A person who abandons their precious companion is no better than soone who throws away their own life," Kyousuke murmured, resting his chin lightly atop Eriri's head.
His voice was so gentle, it was as if the moonlight itself had lted into words.
"If I didn't have the world's greatest artist by my side every single mont, how could soone as slow as ever hope to improve?"
"..."
The girl in his arms stayed silent for a long ti, as if she'd fallen asleep.
Then, in the softest voice, she finally muttered:
"Idiot..."
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