The Awards Ceremony

One day in mid-November, Miyako Shirakawa found herself on the second basement floor of a downtown hotel, about a twenty-minute walk from the Gift Publishing building. There was a large event space down there, set to house the awards ceremony for both the 15th GF Bunko New Writers Contest and the 10th Comic Gifted New Artists Contest.

The event, as the name suggested, offered a chance for industry newbies to claim their prizes and celebrate their potential new careers, a kind of informal get-together and commemorative party in one. Different labels handled these events in different ways, but they were usually large affairs, hosting winners, judges, recipients from past years, writers working for the label, people working for spin-off projects, and more. It was a valuable mingling event for authors who lived in rural areas or had full-time jobs in other industries, and it also served as a kind of career milepost, a way to prove to your contemporaries that, yes, you’ve survived another year in this business. (Not that these all took place on a strict annual cycle. Depending on scheduling, they were usually either scheduled for early fall or toward the end of the year.)

GF Bunko’s awards party was held in tandem with Comic Gifted’s, which meant you saw people like assistant manga producers hanging around. The guest list totaled five hundred, and given the amount of prep work involved, there was never enough help to go around. This was why the editorial department contacted Miyako to assist as a temp to get everything ready for the show. She had been setting up the room since morning, and now, at five PM, she was starting to guide the award winners from the hotel entrance to the show’s greenroom.

“Award winners, I need you to put on these ribbons, please!”

Dressed in her finest business attire, Miyako gave each winner a red ribbon with their name on it to fasten to their lapel. Miyako had bought her own suit when she started college, figuring she’d need one for job searching, but she hadn’t worn it since her college entrance ceremony. A white ribbon name tag, indicating she was part of the staff, was on her chest.

GF Bunko had awarded six prizes to new authors, all varying ages and genders. Some were dressed up for a formal gathering, but from there it ran the gamut—stiff-collared student uniforms, blazers, kimonos, sexy dresses, even hoodies and sweatpants. Being there for the light novel judgment sessions, Miyako was curious about what kinds of people these authors were. They certainly came in all shapes and sizes.

“Okay, we’re going to have you wait here until the ceremony begins.”

Leaving the greenroom, Miyako made her way to the lobby, chatting a bit with the other part-timers and editors. The crowds began to file in—registration began at five thirty, with the event itself starting at six. After making a stop at the coat check, the guests went up to the desk and accepted name tags. As with the award winners, they came in every imaginable age and appearance you could think of, and while this crowd dressed more formally overall, some went for eye-catching looks, while quite a few had clearly just tossed on whatever was in the closet.

So this is an awards ceremony…

It impressed Miyako, never having attended anything like it.

“Oh! Miyako?!”

The greeting came from Haruto Fuwa, with Itsuki right next to him. He was in a casual jacket—not too stiff, not too informal—while Itsuki went for a straight-up black suit. Being a judge, Haruto had a red ribbon as well, except without a name printed on it; that was printed on an attached name tag. Itsuki had just the regular tag.

“Are you still working for us, Miyako?”

“No, just helping today.”

“Oh, I see.” Haruto nodded, then took a closer look at Miyako’s outfit. “You look good in a business suit.”

Itsuki nodded his agreement. “Yeah, it totally screams ‘I’m not a slut!’”

“I’m not a slut!” she protested, frenzied eyes fixed on Itsuki. “And you don’t look right in a suit at all. Is this even the right size?”

Itsuki blushed. “Ah, shut up… I went up a size so I could fit in the same suit all the way to graduation, but I haven’t grown at all since my freshman year.”

“Wow. So you bought this for the entrance ceremony, too?”

“…Yeah. Total waste of money now, of course,” he grunted.

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“…We ran into each other thanks to you getting into that school, so I don’t think it was a total waste.” Now Miyako was blushing a bit.

“Y-yeah… Well, I guess so,” he said guiltily.

“Okay, okay,” Haruto interjected with a strained smile, “enough with the gushy memories right in front of me, thanks.”

“Uh, oh, I didn’t mean anything by it…!” Miyako grew redder as she looked around, searching for a change of subject. “Oh, by the way, where’s Nayu?”

“Kanikou isn’t here,” replied Itsuki.

“No? Why not?”

“Because she doesn’t like big crowds apparently.”

“She didn’t come last year, either,” Haruto added with a grin. “I think she really doesn’t like crowds, but there’s also the trauma, so…”

“Trauma…?”

“The puking incident,” Haruto immediately replied.

“Ohhh…”

“Don’t remind me,” Itsuki said, wincing.

Two years ago, at the awards ceremony where she accepted her prize, Nayuta’s spiraling stage fright caused her to throw up all over Itsuki. Miyako had heard about it.

“That reminds me,” continued Haruto, “one of the winners this year was a huge follower of Nayuta’s, but do you know who it is?”

“I just guided the award winners to the greenroom, but we didn’t talk too much, so I don’t know who wrote what. Do you know their age or gender?”

“Mmm, their pen name didn’t give me any clues…”

The winning titles, plots, and author pen names were released on the web and in the little flyers tucked inside novel volumes, but their ages and genders were kept a secret.

“Ah, well. We’ll find out soon enough.”

Itsuki and Haruto chatted with Miyako a bit longer. Once the editors called her back to work, they headed for the event space. They each accepted a glass of sparkling wine at the door before heading for a random table.

The awards party was a stand-up affair, with several circular tables dotted around the room and a larger one in the middle holding a buffet spread. There was a stage at the front and a long banner reading 15TH GF BUNKO NEW WRITERS CONTEST—10TH COMIC GIFTED NEW ARTISTS CONTEST—AWARDS CEREMONY hanging from the wall. Below it was a large screen, used to introduce the award winners and play highlights from the GF Bunko and Comic Gifted properties made into anime in the past year. Right now, it happened to be showing the opening to Chevalier of the New World, which had launched this past April.

“…Maybe I shouldn’t have shown up, either,” Haruto deadpanned, staring glassy-eyed at the screen.

“I know it’s the custom, but this is just torture.”

Itsuki pitied him. Then he realized this same screen would be showing the All About anime next year, and his chest suddenly clenched.

Then a man approached them, a thin, hunched-over unhealthy-looking figure with bags under his eyes—Makina Kaizu. He had on the same worn-out jacket from the judging session, along with a red ribbon tag and a glass of oolong tea in his hand.

“Hey…you two…”

“Oh, hello, Mr. Kaizu.”

“Hey there.”

“It’s been quite a while, Hashima. Doing well?”

“Oh, pretty much…”

“Have you gotten your physical?”

“…No.”

Kaizu frowned. “That’s not good. Have you had a physical since then, Fuwa?”

“Not yet…”

“You two ought to go together. I know a good clinic.”

“Oh, uh, yeah…thanks…”

Itsuki awkwardly nodded as Kaizu texted each of them the URL of his recommended site. It apparently specialized in health diagnostics, filled with all the latest equipment and handling physicals at a speedy pace.

“You can make an appointment on the Net, but they’re more accommodating on the phone, so go for that. Call them tomorrow, will you?”

“Um, okay,” Itsuki said, nodding despite himself. Kaizu was always in the habit of bugging other authors about their health, but he was particularly meddlesome with Itsuki. He appreciated the thought, at least. Too bad the same wasn’t true for someone else in his past.

“Make sure you do,” Kaizu added before turning to Haruto and grinning. “By the way, Fuwa, how’s it been going with Miyako since then?”

“……………………………She turned me down.”

“……”

It came so quickly that even Kaizu felt obliged to avert his eyes.

“…Ahh……I’ll buy you something, okay?”

“I don’t need your sympathy!” Haruto took a swig from his drink. “Plus, I haven’t given up yet.”

Kaizu smiled at this. “Hee-hee-hee… That’s the spirit. Don’t give up, and there’s always a chance.”

“Yeah! I’ll do my best with her, okay?”

The three talked a while longer until the ceremony was about to begin. A young man and woman were onstage now, by a lectern on the left side—voice actors, apparently, from one anime or other based on a GF Bunko novel this year.

“All right, it’s time to begin. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the awards ceremony and celebration for the Fifteenth GF Bunko New Writers Contest and the Tenth Comic Gifted New Artists Contest!”

The next host to appear was Satoshi Godo, GF Bunko’s editor in chief.

“Ahh, thanks for having me up here. My name is Satoshi Godo from GF Bunko.”

At his low, raspy voice, the remaining chatter among the audience ceased.

Godo’s speech touched on his elation at the New Writers Contest reaching its fifteenth year before diving into an assessment of the current light novel, manga, and anime scene. He expressed his pride at introducing so many new people to the industry this year before thanking the authors gathered in the room. It was pretty much the same speech given by every MC at every awards ceremony like this. For more details, I would recommend winning a prize and attending for yourself.

It was now time to present the awards. First, all the winners went up at once, sitting on six chairs lined up on the right. They were greeted by Yoshifumi Gizan, president of Gift Publishing, a medium-sized man in his early fifties whose long mustache did little for his looks.

“The winner of the GF Bunko New Author Grand Prize… Ui Aioi!”

Upon being named by the male MC, the winner stood up and walked to Gizan.

“Ooh…” “Whoa…” “Hey…”

The crowd, particularly the men, chattered among themselves. She was a woman, maybe in her early twenties, and she was both beautiful and busty, a fact that was only accentuated by her alluring evening dress.

“I’m surprised a woman wrote that,” whispered Haruto. He had a right to be. Her prize-winning novel featured a male protagonist with a harem of hot girls swarming around him and lots of sex scenes—definitely built for a male audience.

“Heh-heh-heh… I knew I had a good eye… I better go tell her all about how hard I pushed for her to win it all…!”

“Did you, now?” Haruto glared at Kaizu, who was currently exhibiting the sleaziest smile known to humankind. “Because I remember it more being a very reluctant process of elimination…”

The president, obviously taking careful note of the winner’s breasts, read the award certificate aloud. “Ah, the Fifteenth GF Bunko New Writers Contest grand prize, awarded to Ui Aioi. This is to certify that your novel, I Woke Up as the Demon Lord of Another World, so I Just Started a Harem, has been awarded the prize above based on its exemplary quality.”

…And when Aioi accepted the certificate and took a bow, Gizan’s eyes were pointed straight at the valley running down her chest.

She returned to her seat, and the next winner was called.

“The first runner-up prize goes to… Aoba Kasamatsu!”

Another murmur across the audience.

“Aha,” an admiring Kaizu said. “I knew she was a teenager.”

She wore a wine-red blazer and a checker-patterned skirt, clearly the formal uniform of one school or another. She was maybe sixteen and had her long hair tied back. Her looks were impressive, but the lines on her face clearly indicated stage fright or maybe even displeasure.

“…Was that the Kanikou follower?” Itsuki softly asked.

“Yeah.” Haruto nodded.

“Ah, the Fifteenth GF Bunko New Writers Contest Runner-Up Prize, awarded to Aoba Kasamatsu. This is to certify that your novel, Memories of the Sky, has been awarded the prize above based on its exemplary quality.”

Kasamatsu accepted the paper as the next runner-up stood up behind her—a serious-looking career man, around thirty, in glasses and a business suit.

“Ah, the Fifteenth GF Bunko New Writers Contest Runner-Up Prize, awarded to Makoto Yanagase. This is to certi— Bppphhh!”

The president did a spit-take midway through reading the certificate, and the mic screeched.

“Excuse me… Um, this is to certify that your novel, The Goddess Must Be Punished! I’ll Save the World for You, so Just Show Me Your Ass! has been awarded the prize above based on its exemplary quality.”

Despite his trembling lips, he somehow managed to make it all the way to the end without stumbling again. The Just Show Me Your Ass part of the title elicited a laugh from the audience. This happens, sometimes, with titles that have a certain kind of impact. Something similar occurred in the ceremony for the grand-prize winner of the 6th MF Bunko J Light Novel Awards. Publishing company presidents have it tough sometimes, Itsuki thought.

Regardless, Yanagase silently accepted the certificate and solemnly returned to his seat.

Following closely in his footsteps, Soma Misaka came up to accept an honorable mention for Maken Wars. He was an indifferent-looking boy in a school uniform who was perhaps fifteen. Meanwhile, Yoshihiro Kiso, author of fellow honorable-mention prize Sengoku Kenpuden, was a well-built man in his late sixties, with the face and kimono of a swordsman right out of his own story.

The final prize recipient was Tadashi Kamo, who won the Special Judges’ Selection prize for Illegal Trial. He turned out to be the hoodie-and-sweatpants dude from before, a young, unshaven man who looked like he didn’t get enough to eat. He had trouble standing still onstage, always swaying around or playing with his hands, and he even stumbled a bit on his way to pick up the certificate.

Once he was done, all the winners gathered at center stage.

“Let’s give a big hand to these six winners, the authors building the future of GF Bunko!”

The audience followed the MC’s instructions, and the winners all bowed to the crowd before filing off.

Itsuki leered at them as he clapped. “Heh-heh-heh… Let’s see how many of them actually survive…”

“Whoa, whoa,” admonished Haruto with a smile.

The chances of a prizewinner like this releasing another novel, much less building an extended professional career, were not very encouraging. The 10th GF Bunko New Writers Contest featured five winners, but only Itsuki and Haruto among them remained in the business.

“Better make sure they don’t surpass us,” he said, shrugging.

“Heh.” Itsuki’s brazen smile was back. “I’d like to see them try…!”

They may have been fellow prizewinners, the whole group of them. But they were also comrades in arms, fighting on the same level—and at the same time, rivals duking it out in the same industry.

Kaizu let out a depressed sigh. “Oh great, yet another crop of talented new writers… Now there’s an even smaller piece of the pie left for me… Hope their books don’t sell too well.”

“But don’t you always buy the winners’ books when they come out, Mr. Kaizu?” Haruto said, chiding him. “Including ours? Like, three copies each if it’s their first release?”

Kaizu eerily grinned. “If any of ’em have actual talent, I wanna be sure their books are off the shelves as soon as possible…”

“They’ll just reprint them, you know…”

In other words, Kaizu was just being mean for no reason again.

With the GF Bunko winners off the stage, it was now time for the Comic Gifted team to pass out their prizes to new manga authors. Four stepped up, president Gizan handling duties once more. Kaiko Mikuniyama, author of the All About manga version, was not among them, as she had approached the editors directly with her work instead of entering the contest. (GF Bunko, meanwhile, did not solicit manuscripts outside of their rookie contest, mainly because novels take a while longer to read.)

“Okay, another big round of applause for the future of Comic Gifted magazine!”

Once they left the stage, the female MC spoke up. “Now, everybody, we’re going to hold a meet and greet session on the event floor. We have a lovely dinner spread available for you all, so feel free to dig in!”

Now the formalities were over. It was time to eat, chat, and exchange business cards. To the majority of the crowd, the awards ceremony didn’t really matter—this was the main event.

“All right, let’s get some food…” Haruto looked around. “Hey, where’s Kaizu?”

“Hmm? Oh.” Itsuki looked around, failing to find him. “Ah!”

He spotted Kaizu first in line for the dinner buffet, a large plate in one hand and already using the other to grab several cuts of roast beef at once with his tongs.

“Damn, that was fast…”

Haruto and Itsuki stared at him, eyes bulging, before deciding to wait until the line died down. They stood around, drinking wine and checking things out around the buffet, until Kaizu returned. Every square millimeter of his plate was full, the juices from multiple types of food intermingling with one another and even seeping into the sushi.

“Heh-heh-heh… First one outta the gate this year, too…”

The two of them gave the satisfied Kaizu incredulous looks.

“…This is all mine. You can’t have any.”

“Keep it.” Haruto sighed. “We should probably get in line, too, Itsuki.”

“Yeah.”

The buffet had already been cleaned out of most of the choice dishes—roast beef, steak, sushi, caviar, foie gras, crab, lobster, and so on. Sighing, they picked over what was left (mostly starches like pasta, rice pilaf, and paella) and went back to their table. Kaizu was already gloating at them when they arrived.

“Hee-hee-hee… A stand-up party like this is all-out war, you know.”

Somehow he had obtained two more plates for himself. One was focused on desserts like cake and strawberries; the other featured ham, canapé, spring rolls, tandoori chicken, and other not-quite-marquee-but-still-decent picks.

“Now I get it,” an astonished Itsuki said. “First, you jump straight for the popular stuff on your preliminary run, then you take your time picking up the minor-league stuff. You even make sure to rifle through the dessert picks before people’s attention turns to it. What a pro…”

“You call that professional?” lamented Haruto.

“Heh-heh-heh… They’ve called me the Wolf of the Dinner Party for fifteen years now… That’s how I’ve been in the business for so long…”

“Um… Mr. Fuwa?”

“Oh! …Hoh?!”

Hearing his name called, Haruto turned around and found a massive pair of breasts filling his field of vision. It was Ui Aioi, the beauty in the sultry evening dress, fresh off winning the grand prize.

“Ummm, Ms. Aioi, right? It’s nice to meet you!”

Haruto had trouble figuring out where to direct his eyes as he said hello, but Aioi paid it no mind. She looked a little forlorn at first but then broke into a soft smile, as if smitten.

“Thank you so much for picking my novel for the grand prize.”

Kaizu sidled up to Haruto. “A-hem! Um, my name’s Kaizu; I’m one of the other judges, and let me tell you, I was pushing hard for you in the final selection—”

“I never would have made it this far without you, Mr. Fuwa.”

Aioi wholly ignored Kaizu. Her eyes were on Haruto, her cheeks blushing a tad.

“Huh?”

“I suppose you don’t remember me?”

“Um…ummm… I apologize, where did we meet…?”

Haruto raked through his memory but ultimately drew a blank. If he talked with a girl as sexy as her, he was pretty sure he’d remember.

“Ah, well, you came to my school to speak one time.”

“Your school…?”

He did speak to a class of aspiring novelists at a vocational school once, about half a year after his first book. One of the more old-school novelists at GF Bunko begged him to. But was there someone this attractive in the class…? Oh wait! He didn’t recall the face, but he did think he recalled that chest a little!

Yes, there was that one girl, wasn’t there? She was really snotty, with black hair and glasses, wearing nothing but black (which made the breasts stand out even more). She totally tuned out Haruto, just sitting there reading a Boogiepop novel instead. Haruto told her to pay attention, and she had replied “I don’t want to write novels like yours, just riding trends and doing yet another ‘overpowered isekai hero’ thing without a shred of originality. I want to make something better, more original and engaging, like Boogiepop and other light novels from the glory days.” This angered Haruto enough that he went on an epic tirade about how shallow her mind was and how she lacked the technical skill she needed to ever be a pro, and how she didn’t really want to buck the trend so much as she was too slow to read trends and take advantage of them, and also new Boogiepop novels were still coming out, so it wasn’t right to name that as a “glory days” brand, you dumbass. He was perfectly flat and logical with the argument, but it still ended up making her cry, and then, just as the school bell rang, he capped it off with a flippant “Light novels aren’t some kids’ game, got it?” The faculty, and the novelist who asked him to speak, were extremely unimpressed.

Yeah… I was pretty young, too, then, wasn’t I?

He had just ventured into the professional realm, still struggling with money and his career, and he hadn’t developed a thick skin against criticism yet. Even now, he didn’t think he said anything wrong, but that was beside the point.

“Oh… Wait, were you in that class…?”

Aioi’s face brightened up. “Yes! I was the student who started crying after we got into an argument. My teacher begged me to back off, but I just couldn’t let it slide… I barely had the energy to speak in class after that for a while. Hee-hee… I guess I was pretty clueless, but you really made me into a grown woman, Mr. Fuwa.”

“Um, people are gonna talk if you phrase it like that…!”

Her cheeks were bright red now, flustering Haruto. Itsuki and Kaizu stared coldly at him.

“Wow, you really are Prince Manwhore…,” Itsuki murmured.

“Fuwaaaa…,” Kaizu complained. “How ’bout we go up to the roof for a bit… For the first time in a while…I’m honestly pissed off at you…”

“No, it’s not like that—”

Itsuki and Kaizu weren’t the only ones staring him down. Miyako, in her business outfit, had just appeared out of nowhere.

“M-Miyako?!”

“…I guess I kind of had the wrong idea about you, Fuwa.”

“No, you do! You really do! You have the wrong idea about having the wrong idea!”

She had already turned around and stormed off, while Haruto desperately pursued her.

“I was only joking a little. I didn’t expect that…,” whispered Aioi, watching them leave as the flames of competition burned in her eyes.

“You gotta believe me, Miyako! I’m a virgin! I’m really a virgin!”

“A-all right, all right! Stop shouting it to the world!”

After somehow managing to convince Miyako that she had the wrong idea, Haruto went back to chatting with other writers and exchanging contact info. After a while, the male MC turned his mic back on.

“All right, everyone, pardon the interruption, but I’d like to hear a word from Haruto Fuwa, one of the judges for the GF Bunko New Writers Contest, about his overall take on this year’s entries.”

…The time had come. Haruto sighed lightly and headed for the stage. This was something one of the three judges had to do every year, and Godo, the EIC, always left the job to the other two. Kaizu beat him at rock-paper-scissors, so it was Haruto’s burden to bear.

“Fuwa made his writing debut in the Tenth GF Bunko New Writers Contest with Chevalier of the New World, the hit novels that got adapted into a TV anime series just this year. Truly, he represents everything GF Bunko is all about!”

Daahahhh! Stop iiitttttt!!

GF Bunko had tons of other popular series, to say nothing of Nayuta Kani way up in the clouds. Saying that he was “everything GF Bunko is all about” seemed beyond presumptuous.

Swallowing the shame, he took a few jotted notes out of his pocket. “Ahh, hello. My name is Haruto Fuwa, and as you just heard, I was one of the judges for this year’s GF Bunko New Writers Contest. It was a great honor for someone as young as I am to be given this job, not to mention a little daunting, but none of the other authors who represent this label accepted the offer, so I was forced into the role.”

The audience giggled a little.

The rest of his speech was little different from the inoffensive summary evaluation GF Bunko posted in the results page. The overall level was very high, but many of the entries were “strongly influenced” by previous works. Some of them were more unique, but many of these were torpedoed by the author’s own complacency and lack of insight. It was important to find some weapons of your own and keep your readers fully in mind when writing. And so on.

“So… Yeah. Sorry it’s the same kind of unoriginal summary that you hear from every label’s rookie prize judges.”

Another laugh. He was hoping for that.

“Congratulations once more to this year’s prizewinners. Your careers as novelists begin here. I want you to consider all the other writers in this room your rivals, and I want you to try to surpass them if you can…because that will create a stronger GF Bunko—and a stronger publishing industry in turn. Thank you.”

He gave a nod to the winners, then a deeper bow to the audience. Both applauded as he wiped a sheen of sweat off his brow. He had managed to sound smart and witty through the whole speech without slipping up once, but he had never spoken in front of such a large group before, so his mind was a mess. He didn’t tell anyone, but he had practiced this speech over and over again at home.

His eyes met Aioi’s as he stepped down from the stage. She smiled sweetly at him. He pretended not to notice.

Itsuki, who had deliberately camped out in front for the speech, grinned at him. “Heh-heh-heh… Nice one.”

“…I’m so tired. Get me out of here…” He meant it sincerely.

“Now I’d like to hear some comments from each of our winners. Will the GF Bunko contest winners please step up!”

Guided by the MC, the six winners went back onstage. Ui Aioi was first. She talked about how, back when she was at school, a certain person taught her how hard being a pro really could be. It changed her whole outlook. I studied hard…and now I’m here, a grand-prize winner. Haruto was sweating the entire time, all but expecting her to name him (judging by how she kept stealing glances at him), but she never did.

Next on the mic was runner-up Makoto Yanagase, who didn’t just dress like a salaryman but actually was one, too. His comments were perfunctory, polite, and unremarkable, especially compared to the impact Just Show Me Your Ass was already having on the people assembled.

He was followed by fellow runner-up Aoba Kasamatsu, who still looked kind of peeved. “Thank you for awarding me the runner-up prize in this contest,” she began before lowering her voice.

“…But I can’t accept this.”

That got the attention of everyone in the bored-looking audience, Itsuki included. Kasamatsu lifted up her well-sculpted eyebrows and glared at Aioi, seated on the right side of the stage.

“Instead of a novel about someone becoming the demon king of an alternate world and building a harem—like, the biggest trend-whoring template of a novel ever—I believe my novel is far more worthy of the grand prize!”

Being dissed by name seemed to bewilder Aioi a bit. She managed to smile as Kasamatsu continued.

“To be totally honest, all I can say is that the judges don’t know what they’re doing! Did they select such a by-the-book template novel because all they can write are trend rip-offs of their own, without a shred of originality to them?! And I hate how the other runner-up prize was awarded to this perverted filth going on and on about people’s butts! If people that untalented are judging this contest, then light novels are just going to get even trashier and more rehashed!”

“Wow, there’s about ten million people just like her on Twitter and 2ch, huh?” Itsuki muttered. He wasn’t unhappy or angry—just tired of it.

Haruto, meanwhile, chuckled a little as he turned an eye toward Ui Aioi onstage. She was red all the way to her ears, staring at the floor and quivering a bit. She was probably recalling herself before she met Haruto, and it must’ve been killing her.

“Now is not the time for that! Now is the time for work like mine…or work like Nayuta Kani’s Landscape series. High-minded, authentic work. We need to push these books as boldly as we can and rescue the light novel industry from the commercialism that’s putting it in a downward spiral! When I make my professional debut, I’m going to be shoulder to shoulder with Nayuta Kani at the top of the hill. And in this era infested with cutesiness, with pornography, with isekai reincarnation, with harems, with little sisters, with demon kings, with overpowered heroes, with all these ridiculous things coming out, we’re going to put an end to it and build an age of books with deeper themes. Books worthy of readers’ evaluation. Books that are good! Thank you!”

Haruto, not to mention a hefty chunk of the novel, manga, and anime creators in the room, had based their careers off cutesiness, pornography, isekai reincarnation, harems, little sisters, demon kings, and overpowered heroes. Aoba Kasamatsu’s abusive speech basically slammed the entire audience at once. But while some of them looked troubled, the majority greeted her with smiles and applause.

Why? Because most of them had a time when they felt that way, long ago. They truly believed the values they nurtured were universal, that individual likes and dislikes or “right and wrong” were just artificial constructs, that what they liked had more inherent value than anything else. They were naive, and it was painful to look back at, but that naïveté taught them that truly creative urges weren’t necessarily a bad thing. They knew that if you didn’t like current trends, just buck them with your own work—and maybe, just maybe, that naively burning flame in your mind will create a masterpiece that really does change the world.

“Uh…?”

Kasamatsu, expecting a shower of boos, clearly didn’t expect this. She gave the crowd a confused look, followed by a cute little bow, and then she briskly returned to her chair.

“I’d love for that kid to meet Kanikou,” Itsuki slyly commented. “I don’t think she’s ever thought of a theme her whole life.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Haruto replied with a dark smile. There were no lofty themes, no deep insight Nayuta strove to express in her work. She was just a genius, so she wrote genius-level novels. Faced with someone like that, how would this girl—brutally high-minded but so far capable of nothing aside from copying her idol—even react?

The speeches from the two honorable mentions and one Special Judges’ Selection winner ended without incident (except a couple jokes that failed to land and people talking too softly to be heard). The Gifted manga artists came and went soon after, and before long, it was time for the final event—a raffle giveaway, using the numbers handed out to guests at registration.

The prizes included a big-screen TV, a new game system, a road bike, a robotic vacuum cleaner, a steam oven, a night at a fancy hotel, and other big-name stuff. But there were only fifteen prizes in all, which kept the odds of winning pretty low, so Itsuki was too busy eating and drinking to pay much attention. But after a few drawings:

“Number 126! Do we have 126?” The MC looked around.

Haruto poked Itsuki. “Dude, I’m 125. Weren’t you right after me?”

Itsuki looked at his number. “Whoa! Hey, hey, me! I’m 126!”

He whipped his hand upward, waving it around. “Congratulations,” the MC responded. “Come on up!”

This made Itsuki beam as he walked over. It had to be a good omen for his anime.

It turned out that he won the robotic vacuum, the latest model, capable of cleaning up even the little nooks and crannies older types couldn’t manage. That ought to make things easier for Chihiro, he thought, glad to win something so perfectly suited for his life instead of a bike or TV that’d just take up space.

“All right,” the MC said, pointing the mic his way, “what’s your name?”

“My name’s Itsuki Hashima, and I debuted with the Tenth GF Bunko New Writers Contest! I’m writing Sisterly Combat and All About My Little Sister right now! I’m gonna build a whole new era! And I’m not gonna let the new guys zoom right by me any longer!”

Cheers and applause greeted him. He didn’t mean to boast like that, but these things happen.

With the drawing over, the party came to a close, and the chief editor of Gifted Publishing rounded things out with a speech. When he wrapped it up, there was one more tradition to carry out—an icchojime, where everyone in the audience claps once at the same time to wish GF Bunko and Comic Gifted good fortune for the next year. With that, the party was over. The attendees would now either be returning home or going out drinking or singing karaoke with their friends, but otherwise, there were no particular plans.

“Itsuki,” Haruto said, “I’m gonna go out drinking with Kaizu and the gang. You’re coming, too, right?”

His friend shook his head. “No, I gotta get home.”

“Really? Something up?”

“I’m in pretty deep shit for Volume 6.”

…And Nayuta was no doubt writing her new novel now, too. He couldn’t let her get ahead.

“Ah. Well, best of luck.”

“Thanks.”

Haruto walked toward Kaizu. He had a group of ten or so with him, including Ui Aioi and a few other newbies.

“Oh, Itsuki Hashima?” came a sharp voice behind him. It was Aoba Kasamatsu, still in her high school uniform. She glared at him, eyes smoldering with energy.

“I’m going to build that new era! …Excuse me!”

With a quick bow, she trotted off. Itsuki blankly watched her go for a while. Then he smiled.

“…Prove it, you little shit.”

I’m the only one who can stand shoulder to shoulder with Nayuta Kani. Neither Aoba Kasamatsu, nor the other prizewinners, nor any other writer out there can beat me. This brazen little girl mouthing off at me really lit a fire. Let’s take that passion and throw it into my work.

Burning to write, Itsuki left the event space.