As it turned out, Eriri Spencer Sawamura didn't make her grand entrance at the Kasumigaoka residence until nearly eleven o'clock.
"Well, well. Arriving just in time for lunch? Perfectly calculated," Kasumigaoka Touji teased from his culinary command post in the kitchen. He was already in the thick of lunch preparations, surrounded by the savory aromas of simmering ingredients. Over a month of club interactions and collaboration had fostered a comfortable familiarity between them, allowing for such lighthearted, harmless jabs.
Kani Nayuta had ushered their guest inside, and now Eriri stood just past the genkan, her curious gaze sweeping over the cozy, lived-in living room.
"What do you mean?" she retorted, her attention snapping back to him. "I came as soon as I woke up and got ready!"
Her reply was reflexive, almost defensive, as if she'd anticipated the comment.
Her appearance today was notably different from her usual, meticulously crafted schoolgirl image. She wore a simple, pure green tracksuit, its casual fabric a stark contrast to her typical elegant attire.
A pair of sleek, black-rimmed glasses rested on her delicate, finely sculpted nose. Her face was free of makeup, revealing a natural, pale complexion, and her signature blonde hair—usually styled in precise twin tails—flowed freely down her back in a cascade of gold. The overall effect was less immediately striking, a softer version of herself, but upon closer inspection, her inherent beauty was undeniable.
"Hmm… you do have that 'freshly rolled out of bed' look about you," Kasumigaoka Touji conceded with an exaggerated, appraising nod. His eyes then dropped to the professional-looking document folder clasped in her hand. "Is that the first chapter?"
"...Yes." Eriri's acknowledgment was brief. Her attention had already begun to drift, subtly scanning the pots and pans on the stove, no doubt trying to deduce what culinary delights awaited her for lunch.
"I'll take a look at it in a bit. For now, Kashiwagi Eri-sensei, please make yourself at home." He then turned his focus to Kani Nayuta, who was hovering nearby with a cheerful expression. "Kazuko, could you play host for me? There's fruit and drinks in the fridge."
"Okay!" Kani Nayuta responded brightly, delighted by the implicit trust and the feeling of being part of the household operations. She turned to their guest with a welcoming smile. "Eriri Spencer-sensei, please have a seat on the sofa."
Once Eriri had settled onto the plush cushions, Kani Nayuta bustled into the open-plan kitchen. She fetched two glass tumblers from a cabinet, then opened the refrigerator. Her eyes lingered thoughtfully between two luxurious fruits: the famed, vibrantly colored 'Taiyo no Tamago' (Egg of the Sun) mango and a pristine Yubari King melon. She glanced back at the living room. "Eriri Spencer-senpai, would you prefer mango or melon?"
"Hmm… mango, I guess," Eriri replied after a moment's consideration.
"Got it!" Kani Nayuta gave her a cheerful thumbs-up and carefully extracted the magnificent mango.
The Japanese had a certain flair for dramatic, almost chuunibyou-esque naming conventions for their premium produce, and this mango was a prime example. Hailing from Miyazaki Prefecture, the 'Taiyo no Tamago' was legendary.
It was said they weren't even picked; each fruit was left to ripen perfectly on the tree until it fell naturally into a waiting net. This resulted in a skin of stunning, sunset-orange red. The one in the Kasumigaoka fridge was a gift from a kindly neighbor the previous afternoon—her relatives sent a batch every year, and this year they had generously shared one.
Kani Nayuta placed the glasses and a chilled pitcher of barley tea on the coffee table.
"Help yourself," she said warmly, feeling their growing friendship made excessive formality unnecessary. She then carried the prized mango back to Kasumigaoka Touji. "Winter-sensei, where's the fruit peeler?"
"Over there." He nodded towards the utensil resting near the knife block, his own hands busy sorting through vegetables.
Seeing Kani Nayuta proceed to take out a small ceramic plate and bowl from another cabinet, he asked, "Making a fruit platter?"
"Mhm." She moved to the sink, rinsed the mango under cool water, and patted it dry with a sheet of kitchen paper. Just as she was about to tackle the peeling, Kasumigaoka Touji silently squeezed a drop of dish soap, washed his hands, and gently took over.
"Here, let me."
"Ugh… this… I feel like you're looking down on me," Kani Nayuta protested, the peeler hovering in her now-empty hand. She pouted, fixing him with a look that mixed mock indignation with genuine amusement.
"Be more confident. Remove the word 'like' from that sentence," he deadpanned, already expertly slicing the mango cheeks off the large pit.
"Huh? So mean!" Her rosy cheeks puffed out adorably as she glared at him.
The standoff lasted only until he slipped the first, perfectly cut piece of glistening orange-gold fruit into her mouth. Her faux-anger instantly melted into delight, her eyes closing in bliss. Naturally, she promptly reciprocated, feeding him the next piece.
From her spot on the sofa, Eriri Spencer Sawamura took a slow sip of barley tea, observed this sugary exchange over the rim of her glass, felt her lips twitch involuntarily, and silently turned her head away to study a seemingly fascinating spot on the wall.
Once Kani Nayuta had delivered a small bowl of the succulent mango upstairs to Kasumigaoka Utaha, she rejoined Eriri in the living room.
"Is Kasumigaoka-senpai upstairs?" Eriri asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
"Mhm, she's working on her novel," the silver-haired girl confirmed, settling back onto the sofa and spearing a piece of the chilled mango with a toothpick. She popped it into her mouth, and her eyes immediately curved into happy crescents.
The 'Taiyo no Tamago' lived up to its reputation—the aroma was intensely fragrant, the flesh was luxuriously smooth and juicy, and the flavor was profoundly sweet and rich. The chill from the refrigerator made it even more refreshing.
It's incredibly delicious!
"The third volume?" A keen, almost competitive glint flashed in Eriri's eyes. While their personalities often clashed, she was, in secret, a dedicated fan of Kasumigaoka Utaha's work.
After hearing rumors that Love Metronome was loosely based on Utaha's own relationship with her brother, she had bought the first volume out of sheer curiosity. She was promptly hooked, devoured the newly released second volume, and was now eagerly awaiting the third.
"Mhm mhm." Kani Nayuta nodded around another mouthful of mango. She set her toothpick down and extended a graceful hand toward the document folder on the coffee table. "Now, let me see your manga."
Given their shared creative pursuits and growing camaraderie, there was no hesitation. Eriri readily picked up the folder and handed it over. As she did, she asked a question of her own, her tone casual but interested. "Speaking of which, how's the progress on the second volume of your Silvery Landscape? Is it finished?"
She was, after all, also a fan of Kani Nayuta's poignant, emotionally resonant writing.
Kani Nayuta, who had been eagerly opening the folder to pull out the crisp manuscript pages, froze mid-motion. Her gaze suddenly became evasive, drifting toward the ceiling. "It's… it's coming along, I guess…"
Her voice lacked its usual conviction. "Anyway, submitting it before the deathline won't be a problem!"
"No, no, no! You clearly do have a problem!" Eriri immediately waved a hand, her expression one of seasoned recognition. This posture—the vague answer, the shift in terminology from 'deadline' to 'deathline'—was all too familiar to a fellow creative who was herself an expert in the art of last-minute, caffeine-fueled, all-nighter crunches, often euphemistically referred to as 'focused, closed-door creation sessions.'
She leaned forward, her illustrator's intuition piqued. "Just how much have you actually written?"
"…About… twenty thousand words, I guess," Kani Nayuta admitted after a moment's reluctant thought. She realized with a pang that most of those words had been written before she met Kasumigaoka Touji. Her productivity since then had… significantly declined, replaced by other, far more delightful distractions.
"Only twenty thousand words?!" Eriri's eyes widened behind her glasses. "What's your actual deadline?"
"The twenty-third of this month…"
Eriri did a quick mental calculation. Today was the tenth. "That's only thirteen days away!" A standard light novel volume was roughly 100,000 words. Thirteen days to produce 80,000 words meant an average of over 6,000 words per day—a daunting task even for a full-time writer, let alone a student attending school.
"No problem! The submission deadline is one thing, but the real deathline is another," Kani Nayuta waved a hand airily, as if brushing away a trivial concern.
Eriri considered this. Their situations were different. In the doujin circle, submission deadlines were often absolute, hard 'deathlines' with no wiggle room. For a commercially published light novel author like Kani Nayuta, the initial deadline likely included a buffer for editorial revisions and adjustments. There was probably a later, more critical internal cutoff.
"…I hope it's not a problem," Eriri finally said, deciding not to press the point, though her tone was deeply skeptical.
"Relax, relax," Kani Nayuta assured her with a breezy confidence that seemed only partially feigned. Then, as if to physically change the subject, she decisively lowered her head and began to immerse herself in the first inked pages of Tokyo Ghoul, leaving her own looming word count temporarily forgotten.