The Shinjuku of the 90s was drenched in vibrant colors.
Once merely one of Tokyo’s sub-centers, it had since leapt forward into a bustling urban hub, bringing together administration, commerce, business, culture, and entertainment all in one place.
As the car passed through the East Shinjuku side, a flash of dazzling red swept past his eyes.
The famous Kabukicho shopping street.
Just a single glance was enough to make Kousaka Kyousuke feel rather like a country boy stepping into the big city for the first time.
Back in Chiba Prefecture, it was nowhere nearly this lively.
“This area looks even better at night, though I wouldn’t recommend Sigsawa-sensei go exploring there.”
Hayakawa Rumi had noticed where Kyousuke’s gaze had drifted and took the initiative to introduce the area.
She had a smile on her face now.
Still a touch awkward, but far better than just moments ago.
She revived that quickly?
Kyousuke had expected her to stay dead for a while longer.
“Ms.
Hayakawa, do you ever go over there to unwind after work?”
“Me?
That’s not a place someone with my current means can afford.”
Rumi hurriedly waved her hands, instinctively assuming he meant Kabukicho proper.
The spending levels there were sky-high.
She wouldn’t dare go anyway.
She’d heard a colleague once blew an entire year’s salary there in a single night.
Absolutely terrifying.
“Huh?
I thought you’d at least go buy cosmetics and things like that.”
“Ah, that’s what you meant.
Then yes, I do.”
“What did Ms.
Hayakawa think I was talking about?”
“…..”
“…..That conversation just now, I must ask Sigsawa-sensei to pretend we never had it.”
Kyousuke couldn’t resist teasing her a little, and sure enough, just as he expected, she went gray and lifeless all over again.
‘What am I even saying in front of an author so much younger than me?!
There’s no way someone his age would be talking about Kabukicho!’
This time, the blow took until the car came to a stop for Rumi to recover from.
Kyousuke stepped out and looked up at what stood before him.
The entrance of the business building was crowded with company signboards.
The most prominent and eye-catching was a marble monument nearly five meters tall, engraved with the four large characters of Kadokawa Pictures.
Dengeki Bunko was under the umbrella of ASCII Media Works, which itself had been acquired by the Kadokawa Group years earlier, becoming its subsidiary.
Being brought here didn’t strike Kyousuke as strange at all.
“Let’s hurry along, Sigsawa-sensei.
Editor Hattori has been waiting for quite some time now.”
Hayakawa Rumi eagerly took the lead, forging the path ahead.
She desperately needed a cup of coffee to calm herself down.
Who could truly understand the trials and tribulations of this journey?
By now, she had already given up hoping for a promotion to managing editor by year’s end.
As long as she didn’t lose her job, that would be enough.
After completing the visitor registration, Kousaka Kyousuke stood before the elevator hall, scanning the floor directory.
The Dengeki Bunko editorial department was on the 32nd floor.
The manga editorial department shared the same floor.
That reminded him — in this era, although Shueisha’s Weekly Shonen Jump reigned supreme, Kadokawa also had its own manga publications.
Paired with its film division, they had produced quite a number of well-loved anime.
That series “Lunar Witch Transformation,” the one Kirino was so fixated on, was a project from this very company.
‘Shame I can’t draw manga.
Getting a light novel adapted into anime…
that probably won’t take off until the 2000s.’
Among Kyousuke’s classmates at school, their discussions leaned much more toward hot-blooded shonen manga.
The biggest thing right now was “Dragon Ball.” That much was the same as he remembered.
The difference was the author wasn’t named Toriyama Akira, but Torishima Akira.
Kyousuke had read it back in middle school.
The plot diverged considerably too, but in terms of quality, it was by no means inferior to the original work in his memory.
“Ms.
Hayakawa, does your company have any plans to adapt light novels into anime in the future?”
Inside the elevator, Kyousuke posed the question.
This was something he cared about quite a bit.
If an anime adaptation was possible, that meant the copyright revenue could be realized quickly.
Kousaka Kyousuke had a plan for his own future.
He hoped to establish a company that produced anime, bringing all the beautiful things from his memories into this world.
It hadn’t gotten off the ground yet.
First, because he still hadn’t graduated high school.
And the second reason was the real sticking point.
He had no startup capital.
The manuscript fees from a novel were a mere fraction, a drop in the bucket compared to what an IP could yield after incubation.
Nowhere near enough.
Hayakawa Rumi shook her head.
“I’ve never heard the editor-in-chief mention anything like that.
Compared to anime, maybe a manga adaptation would come first?”
“Is that so?
Understood.”
Kyousuke didn’t press further.
The elevator arrived at the 32nd floor right at that moment.
The instant the elevator doors opened.
A flash of gold drifted past his eyes.
That figure struck him as intensely familiar, but before he could get a clear look, the person turned and disappeared into a meeting room.
Was that…
Kirino?
What would she be doing here?
Did my eyes play tricks on me?
Kyousuke wanted to follow and take a look, but Rumi stopped him.
“Sigsawa-sensei, this way.”
She gestured toward the west side of the elevator hall and stepped ahead first.
Kyousuke hesitated for a brief second, then followed behind her.
“I’ll see Editor Hattori first.
Besides, I might have just been seeing things.”
…..
They entered the editorial department.
The office was sealed off from the clamor of the outside world, remarkably quiet.
Everyone was absorbed in the work at hand.
Kousaka Kyousuke was led by Hayakawa Rumi into a private partition enclosed by three walls.
“Sigsawa-sensei, please wait here for just a moment.
I’ll go inform Editor Hattori.”
Once Rumi had left, Kyousuke took the tracker out of his bag.
The green dot on it glowed especially bright.
The dot representing himself and the dot representing his sister Kirino overlapped almost perfectly.
“So she really is inside the Kadokawa building.
Could she be…”
Connecting it to what his mother had said about finding over a million yen in cash under her bed, Kyousuke couldn’t help but form a conjecture.
“Could she actually be in the same line of work as me?”
If they were talking about writing novels, earning that level of income would at the very least come after formal publication.
But from what Kyousuke understood of the current market, with Kirino’s life experience, she shouldn’t be able to produce a work of that caliber.
Unless she was just like him.
But on that point, throughout all their interactions, he had never sensed the slightest hint of anything unusual.
Kousaka Kirino was indeed somewhat precocious, but that was purely in terms of her physical development.
Mentally, she was still quite clueless.
“Once Editor Hattori arrives, I’ll ask him.
He might know something.”
…..
Editor Hattori was a young man with thick lips, a spiky crew cut, and round glasses.
This appearance was somewhat outside Kyousuke’s expectations.
Judging from the steady, composed writing in his letters, Kyousuke had pictured a balding middle-aged man.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sigsawa-sensei.”
“Likewise, Editor Hattori.
I look forward to working with you.”
After exchanging greetings, his counterpart first handed over an envelope.
“This is the prize money for the Novel Newcomer Gold Prize.
A total of five hundred thousand yen.”
This was something Kyousuke had already anticipated.
The reply letter had mentioned it.
The Dengeki Novel Prize consisted of three award tiers, divided into the Grand Prize, the Gold Prize, and the Silver Prize.
The corresponding prize money was also tiered.
The highest, the Grand Prize, came with a reward of one million yen.
“The reason I invited you here isn’t solely about the prize money.
We also need to discuss the specifics of publication.
But I didn’t expect you to be this young.
Are you able to make these decisions yourself?”
Editor Hattori wore a serious expression.
For any new author, winning a newcomer’s award was a tremendously difficult thing, let alone taking the Gold Prize.
Even though Dengeki Bunko had only just gotten off the ground, submissions from writers among the public came in like a flood of fish crossing a river.
This contest alone had seen over five thousand entries.
Fighting through that crowd and emerging victorious was no simple feat.
“Yes.
I am fully authorized to make these decisions on my own.”
Kyousuke responded with a smile.
Hattori stared into his eyes for a moment, then gave a nod.
“As expected of the author who wrote Kino’s Journey.
You’re far more mature than your peers.”
“You flatter me.”
“Well then, let’s discuss the details concerning publication.”
Kousaka Kyousuke nodded, and the two of them talked on like that for over an hour.
As a newcomer, he didn’t really possess any capital with which to negotiate terms with an editor.
This conversation was, at its core, simply an educational overview for his benefit.
Making him understand the copyright ownership and his own projected income.
This was, indeed, precisely what Kyousuke lacked.
“Then let’s leave it here for now.
I’ll have an assistant prepare the contract documents.
I’ll ask you to find time to come again tomorrow.”
Editor Hattori organized the documents at hand and spoke.
“No problem.” Kyousuke had originally planned to stay in Tokyo for two days anyway.
He had other things to take care of.
“One more thing, Editor Hattori.
I’d like to ask about something, if it’s not too inconvenient.”
“Go ahead.”
“Among the works your company handles, are there any female authors around my age?”
Hattori showed almost no hesitation, shaking his head decisively.
“No.
You are currently the youngest author our editorial department has ever received.
However…”
Kyousuke’s brow had just begun to furrow when he caught the implication in those words.
He pressed further immediately.
“However, what?”
“I’ve heard that our manga editorial department has a female artist matching your description.
Apparently she’s still in high school.”