The voice was familiar.
It was Anko Mitarashi, whom he had just seen that morning.
Yuuga turned toward it and looked up, just in time to catch her waving at him.
She was sprawled on a thick branch of a tall pagoda tree, legs crossed and stuck straight up at ninety degrees, chin propped on her right hand, the corner of her mouth tilted up, laughter she wasn’t hiding in her eyes.
The Konoha forehead protector tied around her head caught the sunlight in uneven flashes.
Purple hair.
Very tempting.
Yuuga waved back and called out, “Anko-senpai, why are you up in a tree?”
Pagoda leaves lay scattered all over the ground.
Anko let go and dropped from the fork several meters up, to a chorus of gasps, landing squarely in front of Yuuga.
She ruffled his hair and said lazily, “Because I like sunbathing in trees.”
Looking past her shoulder, autumn had come and the leaves were falling, but they were nowhere near gone.
There was hardly any sun to be had up in that tree.
So that had been a joke.
Following his gaze, Anko knew he was probably running her down in his head.
She didn’t much care.
She smiled and asked, “Well?
How much have you written so far?”
She really did look like one of those people chasing updates.
Yuuga watched her and snorted out a laugh.
He pulled his bag around and took out the blue notebook.
“Here, for you.
The first chapter is done.
Try not to worship me too much, Anko-senpai.”
“I worship you to death.”
Anko took the blue notebook, hugged it happily for a moment, and then scooped Yuuga up and spun him around in midair.
When she finally set him down, Yuuga was fuming.
He was a man, and a woman had just scooped him up and twirled him around like a toddler.
Just thinking about it was mortifying.
He shot her a glare, jumped up and yanked his blue notebook back.
“Anko-senpai, I’m warning you.
I am a man.”
“Hahaha!” That set her off; she doubled over laughing.
She looked him up and down, then snatched the blue notebook back while he wasn’t watching and said smugly, “And?
You little brat, you want to go up against me?”
She laughed twice more, pleased with herself, then opened the notebook right away and went on reading.
Yuuga shrugged.
His “temper” had gone to waste.
Watching her stand there in the middle of the road with everyone staring at her like a monkey in a cage, he considered himself a kind soul.
He tugged her clothes and asked, “I’m working the school festival too, so standing around here isn’t great.
How about we patrol and you read while we walk?”
“Sure.
You walk in front, I’ll follow.” Anko nodded, offhand, dumping the job of leading the way straight onto Yuuga.
Yuuga: “…”
The two of them together drew plenty of attention.
The Academy had six year levels, and each year had four classes, S, A, B and C, so there were only twenty-four classes in all.
Twenty-four stalls went by quickly.
Not much ever goes wrong at a school festival like this, so the job was easy.
Along the way he ran into Ino, Choji and Shikamaru, though he didn’t go over, just waved from a distance.
Ino seemed a little unhappy about something, he had no idea why.
One chapter isn’t much, and Anko had already read half of it that morning.
By the time the two of them reached the end of the school festival’s long street, she swung the notebook down hard on Yuuga’s head and demanded loudly, “Why does Kanchi feel like his heart is being cut up when he sees Mikami and Satomi kissing on the street?
That doesn’t make sense, Kanchi belongs to my heroine, Rika.
Yuuga, what is going on in your head?”
“Ow.” Ambushed, Yuuga turned around, looked at her with “not happy” written across her face, and rolled his eyes.
“Anko-senpai, rule one of being a good fan: don’t interfere with the author’s ideas.”
“But it’s really sad for Rika like this.” Anko sounded genuinely indignant.
Who isn’t pitiable, once they’re written into a book?
Yuuga pressed his lips together and said nothing.
Looking at the blue notebook in her hand, he stared off for a moment and then remembered something.
He raised his head and met her eyes.
“Can you do me a favor?
Anko-senpai, I really need your help with this.”
“What is it?” Anko said, puzzled.
She held the notebook out to him.
Yuuga shook his head, refusing it, and said, “Anko-senpai, could you submit it to Maruzen-do for me?
Konoha Love Story.”
Anko pulled the notebook back and pointed at herself, confused.
“Why me?
You’re the author, wouldn’t it be better to go yourself?”
Yuuga had his reasons, and he explained them.
“Because you’re a special jonin of the Village, so you have real standing in Konoha.
If you submit it, they’ll definitely take it more seriously.”
He didn’t dance around it with her.
He said it straight out: he wanted to borrow her reputation so his book would get more attention.
If he went himself, no matter how good the novel was, he would get looked down on a little.
First, he looked like a child.
Second, the same reason as always, he was from outside and had no official standing in Konoha.
Either way, finding someone he could trust to submit it for him was the best option available.
Anko looked at the hope on his face, raised an eyebrow and teased, “Submitting it is no problem, but I want a cut of the writing fee.”
“Done.” Yuuga made an OK sign and shrugged.
“As long as you’re willing to help, money isn’t a problem.”
He had no money right now anyway.
Everything had to wait until the writing fee came in.
Anko put the blue notebook away, smiling like a fox, and flicked his forehead lightly with her index finger.
“What are you thinking?
Like I’d take your money.
It was just a joke.
Did you actually believe it, Yuuga?”