“Judging by the name, is it a magical girl series like Lunar Witch Transformation?”
“No, wait — do you even know anything about manga?
Not just any work can get serialized.
Where’s this confidence coming from?”
Kirino looked at him with open skepticism.
Sure, Kyousuke’s grades were top-tier, but studying and creating manga were two completely different things.
Plenty of people had good heads on their shoulders, but that didn’t mean just anyone could become a manga artist.
Even when it came to something like a Name— a rough draft — you still had to know how to write a story.
As someone who’d been through it herself, Kirino knew better than anyone just how hard manga serialization really was.
It wasn’t something you could just casually pull off.
Sure, “Lunar Witch Transformation” had been a huge success, but even she had no confidence that her next work would definitely pass editorial review.
And even if it did, keeping a stable serialization going without getting axed was an immensely difficult feat.
In Kirino’s eyes, the success of this work was practically impossible to replicate.
It wasn’t as if imitators hadn’t tried to debut in her wake — but every work in the same genre had ended up dying a miserable death.
Kyousuke didn’t answer her question directly.
He could hardly tell her the truth — that this work had already been market-tested in another world.
“In a few days, I’ll give you the Name drafts for the first ten chapters.
If you don’t think they’ll work, you can turn me down, and my promise to tutor you will still stand.”
What, was he just messing around?
Kousaka Kirino arched an eyebrow.
As a manga artist herself, being able to recite every popular and best-selling manga by heart was a basic professional skill, and it had cultivated in her a fundamental aesthetic sense.
Whether a Name had potential or not — she’d know the moment she saw it.
A truly outstanding work could captivate you beyond all hope of escape even if the art was drawn like garbage.
Kirino absolutely was not naming any specific titles.
“You said it!”
She nodded in agreement.
If that was the case, she could just shoot down Kyousuke’s work before ever putting pen to paper.
Wouldn’t that mean she could get the benefits for free?
Kirino hadn’t taken those two words Kyousuke had written on the paper seriously in the slightest.
“That’s right.
Then it’s settled.”
Kyousuke extended his hand.
“Here’s to a good collaboration.”
Kirino waved his hand aside with open distaste.
“Save it until you’ve actually produced a name.
My standards are very high.”
“Heh.”
…..
By the time they returned home from the studio, it was nearly dinner.
Kyousuke hadn’t forgotten the real task at hand, and he’d also taken Kirino to the bookstore to buy a full set of review materials.
Entrance exams were, at the end of the day, all about drilling practice problems.
He’d already sorted through Chiba Prefecture’s exam question bank the previous year, so buying the latest editions was simply to check for any new changes.
“Don’t tell me you expect me to finish all of these.
If that’s the case, you might as well just sentence me to death right now.”
Kirino clutched the towering stack of study materials that reached nearly to her chin, her expression utterly miserable.
Was he kidding?
If she had the time and patience to do this many problems, how could her grades have possibly fallen to their current state?
Kyousuke was carrying two more bundles of books himself.
Combined with what Kirino held, the volume of practice problems would be enough to keep a normal student working without sleep for an entire week.
“Relax.
These are for me to compile the question bank.
The material I’ll use to tutor you won’t be anywhere near this much.”
Even if Kirino could somehow steel herself to tackle all these problems, the sheer number of questions that would arise from it — Kyousuke simply didn’t have the energy to answer every single one.
Smart people didn’t try to teach idiots the logic behind solving problems.
What he needed to do was distill the essential parts, pick out the types of questions most likely to appear on the entrance exam, and drill her on them repeatedly.
“This had better be exactly like you say.”
Kirino glared at him and said nothing more.
….
Back at home, after dinner, Kyousuke retreated to his bedroom alone.
He set aside two hours to browse through some of the practice books.
He wouldn’t be starting Kirino’s tutoring immediately over the next few days, since compiling the question bank would take time.
At his speed — skimming ten lines at a glance — organizing all these materials would take roughly three days.
Over those three days, besides this task, he also needed to produce a Name of sufficient quality.
Kyousuke pulled an ordinary notebook from his desk and flipped open the cover.
A “Name” was essentially a rough draft.
It didn’t require any artistic skill — expressing the correct meaning and scenes was enough.
But it was also completely different in perspective from writing a light novel.
Still, for Kyousuke, adapting wouldn’t be too difficult.
He had tried this path before, only to abandon it because he couldn’t find a trustworthy collaborator.
“Childhood memories, huh.”
He murmured the words to himself.
In the orphanage of his previous life, every evening at five o’clock, everyone would sit in front of the TV and watch cartoons together without fail.
These memories were precious to him, etched with perfect clarity.
Every episode, every plot point — all of it was carved deep into his mind.
“Cardcaptor Sakura” had originally been co-created by a small group called CLAMP.
The work had been serialized in the magazine “Nakayoshi” starting in 1996, got its official anime adaptation in Japan in ’98, and didn’t air on TV internationally until the year 2000.
Kousaka Kyousuke gripped a gel pen and began sketching the magical staff from his memories in the notebook, along with the well-known characters from the series.
Soon, a rough draft of the protagonist appeared on the page.
“Pfft.”
Kyousuke looked at the crooked, misshapen figure in his notebook and couldn’t hold back a laugh.
If any of the fellow fans from his memories saw this, they’d probably tear him apart.
To draw the original First-Generation Moe Queen in such a state…
“As expected, I really am terrible at drawing.
The original art will have to rely on Kirino.
What I need to focus on is the plot and dialogue.”
He picked up speed and began rapidly drafting the Name.
He’d spent a period of time studying this kind of manga rough draft work, and combined with the anime etched into his memory, mastering the corresponding paneling techniques came easily.
The tip of his pen danced across the paper.
Before he knew it, the clock’s hands had crept past midnight.
…..
Kousaka Kirino lay in her bedroom, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
She pressed her pillow down hard over the cute Hello Kitty pattern on the chest of her pajamas, her legs clamped tightly together as if trying to strangle the pillow in her arms.
“So annoying.”
She couldn’t stop herself from raising an arm and driving her elbow viciously into the pillow, venting her agitation.
“Honestly.
Saying we should collaborate on a manga together…
such big talk.”
She sat upright in bed.
Ever since they’d returned from the studio during the day and Kyousuke had brought up collaborating, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about a new work.
But the only thing carved into her mind were those same highly repetitive plot structures.
No matter how she turned it over, everything eventually came out looking painfully similar to “Lunar Witch Transformation,” the very series she was still working on.
It left her feeling deeply anxious.
That guy — the Name he’d hand over in a few days was probably going to be a complete mess, wasn’t it?
An amateur waltzing in just because he had a passing interest, seriously overhyping himself.
Kousaka Kirino had absolutely zero expectations for her freakishly intelligent brother when it came to manga.
Who was he kidding?
If he could just casually churn out a great work, then what did that make her?
As far as she was concerned, he probably didn’t even understand how to panel a page.
“I can’t sleep.
This is all his fault, making me obsess over a new series when I haven’t even finished applying screentones to the final manuscript pages of ‘Lunar Witch Transformation.'”
Kirino fished her phone out from under her pillow and sent a message to her friend Aragaki Ayase.