After dinner, everyone went their separate ways to bathe or return to their animation work.
They treated Sorata’s casual mention of a future career path as nothing more than a joke.
Mitaka Jin and Sengoku Chihiro were slightly surprised, however.
Even after realizing he lived among a nest of genius freaks, Sorata remained relaxed.
Most ordinary people, when faced with talents like Shiina or Misaki, would inevitably feel pressure or inferiority.
But Sorata had not been joking.
He had long noticed that in this world, Sakura nation manga, light novels, anime, and gaming culture were extraordinarily prosperous.
How prosperous?
At least seventy percent of Sakura nation teenagers were into the 2D world.
Industries connected to light novels, manga, anime, and esports filled cities large and small.
In Sakura nation, being an otaku who loved novels, manga, anime, or competitive games was no longer stigmatized.
It was as normal as discussing a movie plot or watching television.
It was almost as if an invisible hand guided Sakura nation’s economy and social atmosphere in that direction.
At the same time, because history had diverged, and perhaps certain creators had never been born, many legendary works that had once swept the globe in Sorata’s memory simply did not exist here.
For example, the pseudo mecha apocalypse EVA that had caused a worldwide sensation.
The youth romance Toradora!
The life narrating CLANNAD series.
However, the legendary Big Three shonen manga were still present, exerting their proper and immense influence over the Sakura nation anime and 2D world.
That was precisely why Sorata intended to recreate some of the anime and light novels from his memory that were absent here.
Earning money this way would be easy, and he could live quietly.
As for plagiarism, Sorata felt no embarrassment.
After surviving countless life and death battles, his perspective had long changed.
If something was useful, that was enough.
As for shame, he only had one answer.
Sorry.
I have none.
Of course, if he truly wanted to make money, he had countless methods.
For instance, he could introduce obsolete technologies from star level civilizations stored in his memory.
Becoming the richest man in the world would not be difficult.
But massive profits would stir ambition.
Endless attention would follow.
In his current weakened state, especially in the early phase of recovery, that attention could pose real threats.
He did not want that kind of trouble.
Without pressure, he preferred quiet development.
Once he decided, he acted.
That night, Sorata did not sleep early.
He worked continuously until midnight.
Only then did he yawn.
On his screen was the completed document for Toradora!
Volume 1.
He nodded with satisfaction and clicked save.
“Done. Send it, then sleep.”
In just over four hours, he had copied nearly one hundred thousand words from memory, word for word.
Afterward, he made minor adjustments to better suit this world’s social environment and reading habits.
Opening the website of the well known Sakura nation publisher Dengeki Bunko, he located the submission email and sent the manuscript. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Then he put the matter aside and went to bed.
The vast light culture industry had produced countless publishing houses.
At the beginning of the year, the three major Sakura nation publishing giants had launched online submission platforms, promoting the idea that anyone could write light novels.
The response was overwhelming.
Massive submissions poured in daily.
Ninety nine percent were commercially worthless.
Which made things convenient for Sorata.
The next morning, he went upstairs to wake Shiina.
“Shiina, get up.”
He knocked.
No response.
He opened the unlocked door and stepped inside.
Unlike yesterday, there was no scattered lingerie across the floor.
Instead, manga manuscripts covered the room.
Shiina was sleeping under the computer desk, wrapped in a quilt.
She had clearly worked late again.
“Get up.”
Sorata knelt beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder and gently shaking her awake.
“Good morning…”
She stared at him drowsily before slowly crawling out from under the desk.
At least today she wore pajamas.
Under Sorata’s repeated reminders over the past two days, there was no accidental exposure.
Not bad.
She listens.
The thought had barely formed before he felt speechless.
She was only wearing the pajama top.
Nothing below.
“Do you not see me as a man?”
“Isn’t Sorata a man?”
Shiina tilted her head blankly.
“You misunderstand what that means. Never mind. Change your clothes.”
He handed her the underwear and Suiko uniform for the day.
While she changed, he began tidying the room.
“Sorata, hair.”
She sat at the dressing table in blue underwear, still half asleep.
Her uniform lay on the floor.
“Comb it yourself. And put your clothes on first.”
He flipped through the manga pages in his hand.
Thirty two pages.
A complete short story.
The artwork was strong.
Clean lines.
Lifelike characters that seemed ready to step off the page.
In Sorata’s judgment, her skill matched that of a Level 5 international professional sketch artist. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
And this was not even her strongest medium.
But the story itself was bland.
“Sorata, hair.”
Her unfocused eyes turned toward him.
Her voice carried a faint nasal softness.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
If he left her alone, they would arrive at school at nine or ten again.
He did not care much about being late.
But if he was attending school, he might as well make it look proper.
Standing behind her, he lifted her long hair, preparing to comb it.
Suddenly, Shiina leaned back into his arms.
“Mm… Sorata smells like sunshine.”
She pressed her face against his chest, rubbing slightly, eyes closed.
“What time did you sleep?”
Sorata steadied her by the shoulder, frowning at the half dressed girl in his arms.
She shook her head faintly.
“Don’t remember. Fell asleep while drawing.”
“You pulled an all nighter again? Then don’t go to school today. Rest.”
“Okay.”
She agreed instantly.
Her head tilted.
She fell asleep against him.
“This tired?”
Sorata shook his head, carried her to the bed, covered her with the quilt, and left the room.
“Chihiro sensei, Shiina drew all night and just fell asleep. She’s not going to school today.”
Downstairs, Sengoku Chihiro nodded calmly.
“I see.”
“Eh? Kohai, did you grow taller?”
Misaki suddenly exclaimed.
She circled him, examining him closely.
“Kohai, Kohai, what’s your secret? You’re two centimeters taller than a few days ago. Tell me. I want to grow too.”
“How can you measure that so precisely? And even if I did grow, it’s just a growth spurt. There’s no secret.”
He pushed her face away with mild irritation.
“Growth spurt… sigh. I thought Kohai had some magic method.”
She deflated instantly.
Sorata had already noticed the changes.
Under the Kryptonian bloodline modification, his height had increased from 1.67 meters to 1.69 meters.
His features had subtly sharpened, gaining a faintly more mature outline.
His body constantly absorbed solar energy, giving him a clean, bright presence.
And the transformation was not finished.
It would continue.
That was the instinct of evolution.