Extra Chapter: The Origin of Itsuki Hashima

Itsuki Hashima’s mother was admitted to the hospital when he was in the sixth grade. His father often had to work late into the night, so they hired a housekeeper, a plump woman in her early forties. She was an appreciated talent when it came to cooking, laundry, and everything else, although she could be a little meddlesome at times, inquiring about Itsuki’s schoolwork and encouraging him to go play outside more. She also kept putting lots of carrots and green peppers in their food, despite his protests.

Whenever she opened her mouth, from Itsuki’s perspective, it meant trouble for him.

“…Look, Ms. Mitahora, you’re a housekeeper. Can’t you just do your job and stop worrying about me?” he finally said.

She gave this a hearty laugh. “Well, your father asked me to look after you, Itsuki! That’s part of my job, too!”

“…I think he probably just meant you should watch to make sure I’m doing okay at school. I’m doing my homework every day, and I got a good score on my last test. I’m sure my dad hasn’t been complaining. So there’s really no need to keep worrying about—”

“Oh, there’s no need for a child like you to act all thoughtful like that, ha-ha-ha!”

“It’s not a matter of being thoughtful, ma’am…”

“You’re so kind to me, Itsuki. Worrying about a lady like me!”

“N-no, this isn’t out of kindness or anything…”

“I’ll give you a special heaping helping of veggies with dinner tonight for that!”

“Huh?! N-no, no, that’s fine, I’m good!”

“Ha-ha-ha! Oh, no need to be polite!”

“I told you, I’m not trying to be polite! I hate vegetables! I mean, it’s impossible to eat all the vegetables you’re supposed to anyway with regular food. It’d be a lot more effective to just drink vegetable juice, or take supplements, or—”

“You can’t grow up big and strong unless you eat up!”

“Ngh…”

Itsuki fell silent, his extended argument falling on deaf ears.

This topic was a source of anxiety for him. Compared to other boys his age, his body wasn’t maturing as quickly—in terms of height and everything else. He had classmates who already had all their pubic hair.

“…Could you at least stop mixing green peppers and carrots into the meat loaf?”

“Ha-ha-ha!” came the hearty reply to this attempt at light resistance. The peppers and carrots stayed in.

In his second year of middle school, his mother—who had been in the hospital the whole time—passed away. It sent him into a deep depression, and no matter what Ms. Mitahora did to cheer him up, he barely even spoke to her any longer.

The melancholy cloud around Itsuki at all times made it impossible for him to attract friends. He was always alone in school, and when class was over, he walked right home and read books in his room, every day. For the most part, these were light novels. His father never bought video games or manga for him, but when it came to money for novels, his wallet was open.

Itsuki had been a fan of children’s and literary novels ever since grade school, but after reading a story that he liked the anime version of, he wound up entirely switching over to light novels. It wasn’t like he was diving deep into them so he could forget his harsh reality. They just helped him relax, take a mental break, and kill some time. But he’d get addicted to a series if it particularly struck his fancy, picturing himself alongside the heroes (many of whom weren’t much different in age from him) as they faced off and struggled against powerful, fearsome foes and unfair situations. They reassured him, giving him courage.

Of course, he loved the sex scenes unconditionally. Whenever a book featured a nude illustration, that alone would slow his reading speed by 90 percent. He wasn’t the little-sister-obsessed he would eventually become, instead preferring a wide range of female tropes—the proud tsundere student-council leader who couldn’t completely hide her feelings for the hero, the childhood friend, the big sister, the maid, the female knight, the dark elf. Little sisters were undoubtedly his favorite, however, and once he realized he had a serious thing for them, he would peek into the cast-intro page in the front of books before buying and prioritize those with little sisters first.

Still, while these sisters were cute and added color to any novel they appeared in, they were often just sub-characters or mascot-type presences, never the target of love for the protagonist. Often, he’d read a book, sigh, and say, “The sister’s so much cuter than the main heroine, too…” That later evolved into fantasies like “If I were writing this, I’d portray her like this,” but that still wasn’t enough to make him want to write novels himself. He liked reading them, so he had a sort of reverence for the art of producing them, marveling at how hard it must be. It never occurred to him that he could do it himself.

In the midst of this, though, Itsuki’s love for the sister trope grew and evolved with every new character he encountered.

One Sunday afternoon in September, Itsuki was in his room, reading as always. Despite the day of the week, his father was at the office, and Ms. Mitahora had Sundays off, so he was alone in the house.

Ever since his mother passed away, his father—always kind of a workaholic—had immersed himself even further in his job. Now, he was almost never home during regular off days. He hardly seemed to show any regret for his wife’s passing—if anything, he seemed to enjoy being relieved of the burden, so he could focus more on his work. It disgusted Itsuki.

As he read, suddenly, the doorbell rang.

Itsuki ignored it, irritated at getting pulled out of the novel world. Probably just some salesman. If it was a package, he could get it redelivered later.

But then the bell rang again. And once again, he ignored it. A fourth time, a fifth time… This was getting ridiculous. Most salesmen would’ve given up a long time ago. But it continued.

“Ugh, geez, shut up!”

Itsuki stormed out of his room in a huff, checking the front-door monitor on his way down. There was an unfamiliar girl there. Definitely older than him—maybe in high school. She had medium-length hair, pretty, refined looks, and strong-willed eyes that were staring straight into the camera… Plus, even on the little screen, he could tell she had a pretty big chest.

What’s a stranger from high school doing around here? And why does she keep pressing the button when clearly nobody is gonna open the door? Frankly, it unnerved him—and as Itsuki warily eyed the screen, the doorbell kept ringing.

Finally, beaten down, he picked up the intercom receiver.

“Um, who is it?”

“Oh, there you are!”

The voice was just as cheerful as he imagined it would be.

“My name’s Ayane Mitahora! My mom’s your housekeeper!”

“Ms. Mitahora’s…?”

“Yep!”

He looked closer at her face. It didn’t resemble Ms. Mitahora’s one bit, to be frank. But the only people who’d know that a Mitahora worked here were Itsuki, his dad, the guys at the employment center, and likely Ms. Mitahora’s own family. She probably wasn’t lying.

“Um, my father’s not here right now,” Itsuki tentatively explained.

“This is Itsuki Hashima, isn’t it?”

“…Yeah?”

“I’m here to see you, not your dad!”

“Me…?”

Great. Now he had to come out. Resigned to his fate, Itsuki nervously opened the front door.

“Hey there! My name’s Ayane Mitahora. I’m in my first year of high school!”

He blushed at the girl’s guileless smile. She was a lot prettier in person than on the video screen—and Itsuki had never in his life spoken to a girl this attractive one-on-one.

“Uh…Itsuki…Hashima. Er, how can I help you?”

Ayane laughed at the awkward question.

“I’m here to play with you!”

“P-play with me…?” Itsuki asked, unable to parse this.

“I heard you’ve been kinda down lately, so I thought I could help you cheer up a little! What do you wanna do? What kinda stuff do you like? Basketball? Table tennis? The arcade? Bowling? Karaoke? I’ll pay for whatever! Oh, but we can just play games in your room, too!”

As she made her offer with a grin, a sudden chill settled over his heart. Her mother must’ve asked her to come over and help him feel better. Itsuki was used to his housekeeper’s meddling by this point, but this was just one step too far. His emotion went beyond irritation and well into the realm of anger.

“…I think it’s overstepping for a housekeeper to take a kid out of his house when she’s not on the clock,” Itsuki curtly stated.

“Oh, my mom didn’t ask me to. I’m doing this myself!”

“Huh?”

“Mom told me about you, I’ll admit, but I didn’t tell her I was coming here today.”

“…What’re you doing this for? You’ve never even met me.”

“Well, I mean, you’re all Mom ever talks about around the house. Like ‘Oh, Itsuki got a hundred on his test’ and ‘Itsuki always does his homework’ and so on. I know we’ve never met, but I’m always being compared to you, y’know? It’s kinda like I got a talented younger brother I didn’t even know I had.”

“Um, I’d rather you didn’t think that,” Itsuki said, flushing red.

“Ahh!” Ayane smiled again. “You’re blushing, you’re blushing!”

“…No I’m not.”

“Yes you are!”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are!”

“I said, no I’m not!” he said, raising his voice and getting even redder.

Ayane gave him a warm smile. “…But anyway. There’s this boy in my life who’s almost like a brother, and I heard that he’s feeling down. Why wouldn’t I be worried about that? So that’s why I ended up here!”

“Ended up…?”

…Really, he was still incredibly perplexed about all this. But somewhere in the midst of this conversation, Itsuki’s negative impression of this girl had all but disappeared—and, you know, that initiative to take action for somebody you didn’t even know? It struck him as something a hero or heroine from a light novel would do.

His father forbade him from going to arcades or karaoke places, and he wasn’t exactly the most athletic of teens, so Itsuki wound up inviting Ayane into his room.

It was your typical-sized room, about ninety square feet and outfitted with a desk, a bed, and two large wooden bookshelves. There was no TV or game console. The only playthings to speak of were what his mother bought him when she was still alive—a pack of cards; an Othello and a shogi set; Monopoly; and donjara, a simplified, kid’s version of mah-jongg. That was about it. The rest of the shelves were filled with about 10 percent textbooks, children’s novels, illustrated reference books, and educational manga, and about 90 percent light novels.

“Wow, this is your room, huh?” Ayane asked curiously as she looked around, making Itsuki feel embarrassed. Apart from his mother and the housekeeper, this was the first girl he had ever entertained in here. “You keep this pretty clean, don’t you? Just like my mom said. In my room, there’s hardly any bare floor left to step on.”

“I dunno about clean. More like I don’t own anything I can mess it up with.”

This wasn’t humility on Itsuki’s part. He really meant it.

“You sure have a lot of manga volumes,” Ayane said as her eyes rested upon the shelves.

“Oh, those are novels…more or less.”

“Really?” exclaimed Ayane as she took a volume out at random. Of course, it had to be one with a cover featuring the heroine clad only in her undergarments, complete with a color illustration of a bathhouse scene on the very first page.

“Wow… I didn’t know they made novels like this.”

She didn’t seem to care about the risqué content at all as she flipped through the pages. Itsuki, on the other hand, was blushing a furious shade of crimson.

“P-plus, with these kinds of books, you see a lot of…um…stuff like that.”

“Oh, am I embarrassing you looking at this? No need to worry. Sometimes I borrow some adult manga from my friends to read, too.”

“R-really…?”

“Yep!”

Ayane nodded, returned the book to the shelf, and took out another one. This was more straight-up swords and sorcery, no outright fan service in it, and the cover was done up in beautiful watercolors. Itsuki breathed a sigh of relief as she paged through it.

“Since you read all these novels, do you get pretty good grades in language arts class?”

“Um… Yeah, that might be related, actually.”

Indeed, that was the one subject since elementary school that Itsuki never had to study for to excel at. No matter how simple and unadorned the language in these novels, it still did wonders for his vocabulary and reading skills.

“I’ve never been very much of a novel reader. Just reading the little snippets in my schoolbooks is enough to put me to sleep,” Ayane said, grinning. “I should probably fix that… Do you have any recommendations you could maybe lend to me?”

“Um… S-sure.” Itsuki nodded, still a little lost.

“Thanks!” Ayane replied, smiling her sweet, brilliant smile.

“Give me just a second…”

Itsuki stood in front of the shelves, pondering as he scanned the spines. A book for a teenage girl in high school who didn’t like novels and had never read a light novel before… That was a tough order. Maybe something like Kino’s Journey, Ballad of a Shinigami, or Post Girl, with lots of self-contained, bite-sized chapters to gradually pick through. Short-story collections like Aru Hi, Bakudan ga Ochite or Calling You could also work.

If she was a gamer, fantasy RPG–style tales like Zero’s Familiar or Record of Lodoss War or Slayers would fit well. In terms of worlds and characters that were easy to resonate with, maybe he should pick a modern-day youth romance like Toradora!, the Joto series, or Gakko no Kaidan. Or, if he wanted to focus on her distaste for regular novels, maybe a frenetic comedy like MM! or Baka and Test would dispel her notion that novels were tough going.

But she was a girl, too, right? Maybe she’d get deeper into a series if women were most of the main cast, like Maria Watches Over Us or Ryuketsu Megami Den or The Story of Saiunkoku.

“…If she likes mech stuff, she’ll definitely dig Full Metal Panic!… A Certain Magical Index and Shana are really exciting reads, too…hmm… This is hard…”

Ayane grinned at Itsuki, who had completely failed to realize he was now talking aloud to himself.

“You don’t need to put that much thought into it!”

“Oh, no, I want to. If I selected something, and you didn’t like it…”

“You can just lend me something else then.”

“…All right.”

Itsuki nodded, honestly relieved. That took a load off. But still, the first book was important. It could very well dictate the motivation she had for all future reads.

“You know, I’d like to read whatever you’re crazy about at the moment first.”

“…What I’m crazy about at the moment…?”

“Yeah!”

“…………”

Is that really the best idea? For a light novel beginner…? And my first recommendation to someone besides myself? Itsuki hesitated to press on, but regardless, he took out a volume from the series he was most looking forward to reading more of.

A Sister’s All You Need!

By Kasuka Sekigahara

This one had only come out two months before, and only Volume 1 was available for now. Itsuki hadn’t heard of the author before, but there was something so pure and blameless about the title that he bought it without reading the back-cover blurb. It turned out to be a great move.

As one could guess from the title, the book was a bright, bouncy romantic comedy featuring a little sister front and center—if it didn’t, the whole book would’ve been a fraud—who lived with her brother among a wild cast of other boys and girls. As far as Itsuki was concerned (not that he had anything to back this up with), if this book could get a second and third volume published, it could lead to a brand-new era in the industry. It just had that kind of aura around it, in his opinion.

He wanted more people to find out how wonderful this book was.

So, as one of the few chosen connoisseurs who had noticed the joys this author brought to the world, he wanted to spread the word and throw him some support. He needed to. But…

“A Sister’s All You Need…?” Ayane accepted the book, giving it a hard look. “Do you have a sister, Itsuki?”

“…No.”

“Did you want one?”

“……Maybe. A little,” he uncomfortably admitted.

This was the main reason Itsuki hesitated to recommend this book to other people. The title laid bare the fact that he was obsessed with the little-sister trope. Which was fine, since he didn’t have a real one anyway, but if someone who did bought this, and that sister found this on the bookshelf, what would happen to him? The mere thought made him shudder. Well, not shudder. Laugh a little, maybe.

“…It’s not that I like this book just because I like little-sister characters, though. I think the story content’s really excellent. The balance in the characters is really good, too. They’re pretty eccentric but still have their feet on the ground, and the weird twists in the writing might seem pretty childish at first, but it’s clearly got connections to the classic series Slayers, along with science-fiction giants like Alfred Bester and Yasutaka Tsutsui, and it’s got more than just visual impact; the readability is there, too; the writing might appeal to light novel veterans, but I think it’s still good enough to recommend to beginners as well.”

It sounded more like one long excuse than a synopsis. Ayane giggled.

“Okay, can I borrow this? I promise I’ll read it by next week.”

“…You’re coming back next week?”

“Is that bad?”

“…It’s all right,” he replied, trying to sound as curt as possible.

The two of them then spent the next couple of hours playing cards, Othello, The Game of Life, and so forth. He was worried that someone like Ayane, used to more modern types of play, wouldn’t have fun with these games—especially playing someone like him—but she seemed to enjoy herself, spirits rising and falling with each in-game development. Seeing her made Itsuki feel like he was having fun, too, and before long, he was laughing right along with her.

I don’t know how many years it’s been since I’ve laughed with someone like this…

It was fun, but at the same time, it was a painful reminder of how dark his regular life was. It was miserable.

A week later, Ayane Mitahora was back at Itsuki’s house.

“Hello, this is the Hashima residence,” he said through the intercom, deliberately keeping his voice calm.

“Oh, Itsuki? It’s your big sis Ayane!”

“…Please wait one second,” he said, trying to sound like a stranger even as he rushed over to the door.

“Hello, Itsuki! How’s the past week been for you?”

“…The usual.”

Ayane came inside, just like last week.

“Hey, can I use the bathroom one sec?”

“Huh? Sure,” he said, a bit confused as he showed her the way.

“I wanted to fix my makeup a little bit, so wait for me over in your room, okay?”

“Uh, all right.”

The word “makeup” made his heart skip a beat. A beautiful older girl, fixing her makeup in a house with only Itsuki in it. It felt so grown-up. So sexy.

So Itsuki restlessly waited in his room.

“Sorry to keep you!”

The door opened, and Ayane came inside.

“N-no, um…huh…?!”

The sight of her stunned Itsuki into silence. She was in a low-cut dress, a frilly apron, and a horseshoe-shaped headband—the classic maid outfit.

“…Wh-what’re you dressed like that for?”

Her open chest area and pale thighs were so vivid, he could barely keep his eyes on them.

“A friend of mine’s sister works for a company that makes these, um, ‘cosplay’ outfits? So I borrowed one from her. Otaku people like maid outfits, don’t they?”

“I—I—I-I’m not an otaku or anything!” Itsuki protested, shaken by this to-the-point accusation.

“Really?”

“Really! The term ‘otaku’ doesn’t just mean someone who likes anime or light novels; they seriously love some genre or other, supporting it, spending money to contribute to it. Me, I’m just buying ten or so light novels a month, and I go to used bookstores and libraries for the rest, so it’d be kind of presumptuous for someone like me to call himself an otaku…”

“Hmm… So you don’t really like maid outfits…?”

She looked saddened about this.

“……N-no, um, it’s…” Itsuki averted his eyes, speaking in a soft whisper. “It’s not that I don’t…”

“Well, great!” Ayane replied, beaming.

“…Um, but what made you want to wear one of those in the first place?”

“Hmm? Well, I really liked the book you lent me, so I figured I should pay you back somehow!”

“…!”

To Itsuki, Ayane’s words made him far happier than even the sight of a pretty lady in a miniskirted maid outfit. It sent his spirits aloft to surprisingly high levels. He had no idea making a recommendation and having the person love it would make him so happy.

“Is there anything you’d like this maid to do for you, Itsuki? Anything is fine!”

“Anything?!”

“Oh, but nothing sexy,” Ayane giggled as Itsuki’s eyes reflexively shot open.

“I—I wasn’t thinking that!” a blushing Itsuki replied. “Um…well… Would you mind wearing that outfit every now and then?”

This took Ayane aback for a moment. “Ha-ha-ha! Oh, you! You’re a little naughty, aren’t you?”

There was a twinge of red to her cheeks as she playfully tousled Itsuki’s hair.

Ayane Mitahora visited Itsuki’s house regularly for the next several months, talking about the books they read and playing games. They played Monster Hunter on the portable system Itsuki bought without his dad’s permission, and he even visited a karaoke joint, bowling alley, and video arcade with her. If his dad or Ms. Mitahora found out, they’d almost certainly scold them for it.

Itsuki kept lending Ayane light novels, and she repaid him by lending some of her favorite manga back. She wore that maid outfit again, as he requested, and even showed off some other cosplay—a bunny girl, a nurse, a police officer, Haruhi Suzumiya. Apparently, that maid thing had made her a fan of the whole cosplay scene. It was all thanks to this that Itsuki Hashima, never a boy with very good communication skills, developed a sort of immunity when it came to dealing with the opposite sex.

So there it was. An older girl who came by every week to see him, playing games and borrowing books and cosplaying for him.

It was only natural that the middle-school-aged Itsuki Hashima would fall in love with her.

By the time of his third year in middle school, Itsuki decided to make his feelings known to her.

Ayane had started coming over in an effort to cheer Itsuki up, but by this point, they were close friends, and Itsuki was back to being a laughing, smiling kid. If she didn’t like him, she wouldn’t have gone out of her way to be with him. She must have enjoyed his presence. The logic seemed airtight. It had to go well.

So Itsuki waited for the right moment to make his confession, already imagining life with Ayane as his romantic partner.

One day, though, Ayane seemed different. She sighed a lot, seemed down in the dumps, and generally had trouble focusing. Itsuki had to ask why.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’d hardly be a good big sister to you if you’re all worried about me…,” she said with a wry grin.

Another deep sigh. Itsuki resented being treated like a child but didn’t have any clever comebacks to dispel that notion of hers, so he just whispered “no, it’s fine” instead.

Seeing this, Ayane’s eyes teared up a bit. She all but forced her lips to turn upward in a smile.

“I mean, I told this guy at school that I loved him, and he just totally gave me the cold shoulder. I guess I’m still not fully over the shock from that, you know? Ha-ha-ha… Sorry if I made you worry.”

It felt like everything turned dark in front of Itsuki for a moment.

“…You loved him?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yeah.”

“………What’s he like?”

“Ooh, you’re asking that?”

Ayane giggled a bit.

“…He’s this boy in my class. We’ve been in the same homeroom since last year; we were lucky enough to get assigned the same one this year, too. He doesn’t stick out that much. He’s short, and he’s not, like, dashingly handsome, but…pretty run-of-the-mill, I guess. He’s part of the library committee, he’s on the badminton team… It all started last October or so. I spotted him reading a light novel on the bus back home, and it kinda piqued my interest. It was one of the books I borrowed off you, actually.”

“…!”

It was like a knife through the heart. Itsuki’s chest throbbed.

“…So I began keeping an eye out for him more. Like, while we were preparing for the school festival, or all the boys were goofing around with one another. He was a lot more serious-minded than all of them, I thought, working and cleaning and being really thorough with all the little jobs other people just go through the motions on. But sometimes, when his assigned work was done, he’d head straight home, even if other people weren’t done yet… Some people were like, ‘hey, that’s rude,’ but for better or for worse, he doesn’t like going with the flow. I think I really like that a lot…”

“All right!” Itsuki shouted, cutting her off. He couldn’t stand it anymore, watching her blushing a bit as she talked about this boy who had rejected her.

“Hey, you asked…”

Ayane smiled, looking ever-so-slightly perturbed. Itsuki glared back at her.

“…You know, I like you, Ayane.”

“Huh?”

Ayane stared blankly back at him, clearly not expecting this. Itsuki turned beet red, trying to keep the tears from falling.

“I mean, I do. I want to be in a relationship with you.”

“…………”

Realizing Itsuki was serious, Ayane peered intently at him, trying to put the news as gently as possible.

“…I’m sorry.”

The blood surged into Itsuki’s head.

“…Why not? I read a lot more light novels than that guy, and I’m short and not handsome and pretty run-of-the-mill, too, but I’m pretty confident I don’t go with the flow, either. Just the other day after school, we were talking about going to karaoke as a class, as kind of an icebreaker thing, and I just went right home instead.”

“Mmmm…it’s not that kind of thing…”

Ayane smiled gently at Itsuki’s nasal-voiced, half-teary self-introduction. Then her face turned serious.

“…But I’m sorry, Itsuki. I’ve always thought of you as my younger brother…and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to see you as anything else. I’m really sorry.”

She sounded like she really was, from the bottom of her heart. She had it hard enough, losing a chance with the boy she liked, and now she was trying to be as kind as possible with Itsuki.

We aren’t equals in her mind. She sees me as someone she needs to look out for. A younger brother.

It felt like this was all crashing into Itsuki’s mind at the same time. And that was what finally triggered the tears.

“……I’m sorry,” Ayane said again. Another heartfelt apology. “…I think I better go home today.”

Itsuki swiped at the tears with his sleeve.

“Then please, don’t come back again!” he shouted, turning his blurry eyes toward her.

“Huh…?”

Ayane’s face twisted into a mask of sadness. He hated himself deeply for making her feel that way. But Itsuki couldn’t stop himself from looking right at her and putting the words together.

The modern-day Itsuki, professional novelist, probably could’ve produced some harsher parting words like “You may treat me like a kid brother now, but someday soon, I’m gonna make you accept me as a man!”

But at the time, Itsuki was tragically lacking in self-confidence. All he could do was build a wall of rejection for her. Anything to protect whatever cowardly kind of self-respect he had.

“I don’t need a big sister.”

“Itsuki…”

He turned away from her sad eyes. They settled upon the latest volume, Volume 3, of one of his favorite series, which he had flung onto the bed earlier.

“A… A sister’s all I need. A little sister.”

“But you don’t have one…”

Ayane’s fleeting jab was something Itsuki chose not to reply to.

“…You should’ve gone to that karaoke meetup,” she said. Then she fled Itsuki’s room.

Itsuki flopped into bed.

“…Look at her. This beauty with big boobs, going crazy for some run-of-the-mill nobody just because he’s serious-minded and likes books?! Light novels?!”

And he rejected her for it. That asshole. As if anyone else would’ve loved him. Did he run into some kind of superhero girl instead? A magical sorceress keeping the streets safe at night? A blonde-haired elf from another world? The heiress to a powerful world-controlling conglomerate? A sword-wielding beauty fighting off a horde of monsters? A thousand-year-old vampiress who looked no older than fourteen? That sort of girl?

Itsuki had no way of knowing. To him, Ayane Mitahora was exactly like the heroes and heroines of his light novels.

If she was just another sub-character in the light novel of his life, then Itsuki was just a nameless member of the crowd. And a kid from a home watched over by the mother of the girl the hero just dumped? He probably wouldn’t even merit a one-sentence throwaway mention. The sheer size of the world, and his sheer tininess by comparison, overwhelmed him. And in the midst of it, one acute desire crossed his lips.

“…Goddammit… I wanna be the protagonist.”

Ayane texted and called him several times after that. Once Itsuki had ignored them long enough, the texts and calls eventually petered off. Ms. Mitahora was still beavering away at her job in the Hashima residence, the same as always. Ayane really must not have told her anything.

After that experience at lost love, Itsuki’s tastes began to lean deeper into the realm of little-sister novels, little-sister manga, and little-sister games. His grades notably dipped, but his father—despite all the lip service he used to give to the importance of academics—didn’t seem to pay it much mind for some reason.

Time flew by. Despite it all, he somehow managed to get into an above-average public university. High-school graduation was over, and in the interval between that and college, he was living his usual idle life. Then, in the latest volume of A Sister’s All You Need! (with a bright ad inside touting the upcoming anime version), he spotted a notice in the back for a rookie-author contest. The book’s author, Kasuka Sekigahara, was part of the judging team—and somehow, out of nowhere, as if receiving a divine calling…the thought came to him.

I should try to write a novel.

I’ll put it all in. The undying love for little-sister characters. His own burning desire for one. That love, and hope, and fantasy. That sweet yearning; the bitterness of lost love; the pain of failure; the sense of inferiority at being unable to do what everyone else can; his irritation with himself; his rage at a reality that never went his way; his anger at an irrational world; his misspent, gloomy youth; his longing to become a protagonist; his hope, his overwhelming desire to smash down all the absurd, outrageous things in his way; his dreams, his prayers, his shout from the soul! Everything inside him.

And if it went well, he’d be in the same world as his beloved Kasuka Sekigahara. Even if it didn’t, he felt like he’d discover something at the end. At the very least, he’d escape all the daydreaming he did at home and school.

Luckily, from all those worthless days he had spent alone, he had a treasure trove of vague ideas to draw from.

Just one book to start with. And if that’s not enough to satisfy me, I’ll write another, then another.

He had given up on the idea before as impossible for him. But now he knew he could. He could write tons of them. That confidence might’ve been based on nothing, but it was now fully sprouted in Itsuki’s mind.

So he took out his dad’s used notebook PC, a gift after he wrapped up his high-school entrance exams. The dull start-up sound seemed like the trumpeting of angels to his ears.

Look out, world.

I—yes, I—am gonna be the protagonist.

Thus, Itsuki Hashima the novelist was born.