It really is a manga artist!
As expected, it wasn't a surprise—well, not entirely. What was surprising, though, was that Eriri Spencer Sawamura only had one dream. Just one! And it wasn't even that impressive, only three and a half stars! Compared to Utaha and Kato Megumi, both of whom had two dreams rated higher than that… Eriri-san, you're slacking off way too much, baka!
Kasumigaoka Touji muttered to himself as he accepted her dream. But despite his teasing, he felt a familiar excitement bubbling inside.
He had once thought of bringing his music-related projects into the spotlight, to make them something bigger, something dazzling. Well, isn't this the perfect opportunity now?
Helping Eriri Spencer Sawamura fulfill her dream wasn't just for her sake. It was also to fulfill a long-held desire of his own.
And her dream—to serialize manga in top-tier publications like Shueisha, Kodansha, or Shogakukan—honestly didn't sound that impossible. Many of the works he knew had already been published there, after all.
Short task cycle. High rewards. And plenty of hidden benefits!
If the manga became popular, there'd definitely be a surge of manga fans following him, too.
It was, in every sense, a massive win!
Plus, if they collaborated on the manga together, wouldn't he get a cut of the revenue as well? Mangaka royalties were no joke. Once a series got hot, the merchandizing, licensing, and event appearances were endless! It was a gold mine!
As soon as he imagined the potential profits, Touji felt his blood ignite with motivation. Maybe he was still hyped up from the confrontation with Anjima, Masahei earlier—but either way, he sprinted through the remaining 300 meters of his run like a man possessed.
After registering for the tennis elective, he made his way to a vending machine by the gym. With a practiced flick, he dropped a few coins in, pressed a button, and grabbed a chilled can of cola.
"Psshhh!"
The tab snapped open with a satisfying click. Tilting his head back, Touji guzzled the icy soda.
"Gulp, gulp, gulp—haaa~"
His eyes fluttered with bliss as the carbonated rush cooled his throat. It was the taste of temporary victory.
...
"Kasumigaoka-kun, where are you right now?"
"Hmm? I'm on my way back to the classroom, probably."
"Could you come to the teachers' office for a moment?"
"Eh? Sure, no problem."
The dismissal bell had just rung. Touji ducked into the locker room, changed into his school uniform, slung his gym bag over one shoulder, and headed back to the main building.
Before he even made it up the stairs, he received a message from Kojima Kana-sensei. He figured it had something to do with the Anjima incident.
He shot off a quick message to Utaha, letting her know.
[Kasumi Utako]: "Eh~? Did my adorable little brother do something bad? He's actually being summoned to the office, ufufu~."
[Kasumi Utako]: "If they call for a guardian, don't come begging me, okay~?"
[Touji.]: "Oi. Can't it be a good thing for once?"
Touji pouted, sent off the reply, and reached the teachers' office.
As he pushed open the door—
Whoosh— A terrifying pressure hit him like a punch to the gut.
It felt like he'd walked straight into the territory of some apex predator. A chill crept down his spine. His hair stood on end.
"...Uwah."
This was unnatural!
He paused at the entrance, then cautiously stepped inside.
A quick scan of the room revealed only three people: Kojima Kana, the math teacher, and Anjima, Masahei.
It was deathly silent.
The math teacher, an aging man with thinning hair and a round belly, sipped his tea slowly from a thermos. An open textbook lay on his desk, half-filled with notes. Probably prepping tomorrow's lessons earlier.
Meanwhile, the aforementioned predator—Kojima Kana—sat in front of the window like a queen overseeing her domain. Arms folded, legs crossed elegantly.
The afternoon sunlight poured through the glass, wrapping her in a soft, golden halo. It cascaded over her silky black skirt, glinting along the curve of her long legs, subtly highlighting her commanding posture.
Her refined face, perfectly composed and doll-like, exuded both beauty and danger. From her chest to her cinched waist to those dazzling crossed legs—she was the very definition of adult allure.
Seriously… this teacher is lethal!
Compared to her, Utaha and the others were still just saplings. She was a fully ripened peach exuding rich fragrance. Irresistible.
Unfortunately, her cold expression and queen-like pressure were enough to make most students bow in fear.
Case in point—Anjima, Masahei sat across from her, drenched in sweat, head down, shoulders trembling. He looked like a baby chick caught in the rain.
"Kojima-sensei." Touji approached respectfully.
"Mn," she nodded slightly. Her gaze softened—just a little. "I've also called Sawamura-san. Please wait a moment."
"Understood."
Touji stood to the side.
A minute later, Eriri Spencer Sawamura stepped into the office, her schoolbag clutched tightly to her chest. Her large blue eyes widened as she took in the tense atmosphere.
She froze.
Then, hesitating for only a breath, she shuffled closer to Touji like a frightened kitten. Maybe she saw him as a dependable senpai.
"Sensei..." she whispered nervously.
"Mm."
Kojima Kana uncrossed her legs and set her hands on the desk, diving straight to the point.
"I've already heard the details from Takashi Kenji-sensei. Is that correct?"
Her voice was gentle but sharp, like the edge of a katana wrapped in silk.
She recounted everything Takashi Kenji had reported, word for word, to the trio standing before her.
The math teacher—balding, perpetually grumpy, and always sipping from a dented thermos—shifted in his seat, clearly uninterested in the drama but forced to endure it. However, when he heard Kojima-sensei's rundown of the events, even he shot a glare at Anjima, Masahei.
The atmosphere grew heavier.
After all, due to societal norms and repression, incidents involving sexual misconduct—even attempts—weren't taken lightly in Japan. They were considered shameful, disgraceful, and absolutely unacceptable.
And what Anjima had done, no matter how much he tried to deny it, crossed a serious line.
"This kind of behavior…" Kojimaa Kana's voice dropped an octave, coated in ice. "I will be contacting his parents, and this will be formally reported to the Academic Affairs Office. The punishment will be decided after further deliberation."
"No! Sensei, please! I know I was wrong!"
Anjima Masahei crumbled like a poorly constructed mech suit. His knees hit the floor with a loud thud, and he dropped into a full-on dogeza. Tears and snot mixed freely as he wailed in regret.
It was a pitiful sight.
"I was wrong, I really was wrong! Don't report it! Don't call my parents! Onegai shimasu!"
Kana-sensei's eyes narrowed, devoid of sympathy.
"Anjima-kun," she said sternly, "you must understand: there are lines that once crossed, can't be undone by simply saying 'gomen nasai.' Even if you didn't succeed, the intent was there. And intent matters."
She didn't yell.
But her tone—oh, her tone—was more effective than any scream. It was the tone of a goddess of judgment, doling out karma with surgical precision.
The air grew still. Even the math teacher gave a subtle nod of approval, muttering under his breath something like, "Good job, Kojimaa-sensei…"
He almost gave her a thumbs-up but remembered his own pride in time.
"You two may leave," she finally said, her voice softening just a touch as she looked toward Kasumigaoka Touji and Eriri Spencer Sawamura.
"Hai!" Touji and Eriri chorused politely and exited the office.
As they walked down the corridor, the mood gradually lightened. Eriri, still a little shaken, leaned toward Touji.
"Do you think he'll be expelled?" she asked, voice hushed like a shy kouhai.
"I don't know. But we probably won't see him around anymore," Touji replied nonchalantly.
"Eh? But if you don't know…"
Eriri blinked in confusion, her lips slightly parted.
Touji chuckled, unable to resist teasing her. "Even if they don't expel him, the social backlash alone is enough to force him out. His reputation is completely wrecked, you know? There's no way he could continue attending school here with that kind of label."
"Aah… sō ka~"
Her eyes lit up with understanding, and Touji found himself smiling. There really was something incredibly moe about slightly airheaded girls. No wonder they were popular in anime.
As they walked back toward the L-shaped school building connected by a breezeway, the afternoon sun painted golden hues across the courtyard.
"By the way," Eriri suddenly said, her voice softer, more sincere, "thanks for what you did earlier."
"You don't need to thank me," Touji said, waving a hand dismissively. "I couldn't just stand there and let it happen."
There was a brief pause.
"Also…" Eriri said, her eyes flicking to the side. "Your songs... they're actually pretty good."
"...Huh?" Touji blinked.
Eriri looked smug, like a cat that had just stolen a fish from a distracted vendor.
"Last night," she admitted, cheeks tinged a light pink, "I looked up your account online. I ended up listening to a bunch of your tracks. I made a whole playlist. Nine songs, actually."
Touji's eyes widened.
This… this Ojou-sama tsundere had just confessed to stalking his musical profile? What kind of dere-dere development was this!?
Eriri's smile grew more self-satisfied, clearly enjoying having the upper hand.
"...I see," Touji muttered.
He paused, then smirked.
"Well, your doujinshi… they're pretty good too."
"H-Huh!?"
Eriri stopped in her tracks, visibly stunned. Her face turned a delightful shade of crimson.
"How do you know about that!?" she sputtered.
"I do my homework," Touji said with a sly grin. "Mutual compliments, ne? You praise me, I praise you. Win-win."
"You… You!!!"
…