Chapter - 3
After closing the stall and returning home, Ryuo Tenshin used the leftover ingredients to prepare a simple supper, just enough to take the edge off his hunger.
"Mizuki, go take a bath first," he said.
Mizuki lay on the hard sofa, her little face clearly tired, but she pushed herself up anyway.
"Brother, I'll soak the kelp first and then take a bath, so Mom can go to bed early when she gets back."
They hadn't known how to soak kelp before. It was always their mother, Yuiga Hanae, who came home from the late shift, soaked kelp at night to make soup for tomorrow's oden, and woke up early to prep ingredients.
"I'll soak it. You take a bath," Ryuo said, already moving to the sink.
It didn't take two people to soak kelp. Mizuki relented and headed to the bathroom to run the water.
For Japanese families, even when money is tight, a proper bath is non-negotiable.
By the time Ryuo finished, Mizuki stepped out of the bathroom in loose, slightly worn pajamas, damp hair falling over her shoulders.
"Brother, go shower while the water's still hot."
This time, Ryuo didn't refuse. He grabbed his pajamas and went into the changing area.
Mizuki's clothes were piled in the laundry basket, underwear on top. Ryuo glanced down and frowned. The cotton vest looked clean but so stretched out it had lost its shape—most girls wouldn't keep wearing something like that.
He sighed. Another reminder to make money, fast.
He tossed his clothes into the basket and stepped into the bath. After a quick rinse, he sank into the cramped, single-person tub, finally letting himself relax.
He pulled out his old, thick-bodied phone and opened LINE.
A few messages flashed in the [Sobu High School Service Club] group chat. He ignored them. Technically, he was a member, but the family stall kept him from joining club activities. He'd joined only because the fledgling club needed numbers to satisfy the student council, and in return he'd managed to request a portion of the club funds—then became a "veteran" of a club he'd never actually helped.
Instead, he opened a livelier chat: [Yukino Tokyo Library Newcomer Exchange Group].
There were nearly 200 members—mostly newcomers, with few seasoned writers. Only a handful spoke often, but they were good to listen to, and the chat always had a cozy atmosphere.
[NuclearPowerCoder]: The Newcomer Award contest is basically ready. Have you all finished your manuscripts?
NuclearPowerCoder was a fellow newbie. Not much hands-on writing, but he could outline theory—character arcs, plot beats, beginnings–middles–ends—so clearly that people half-understood yet felt motivated.
Inevitably, [SouthOfHokkaido] would pop in:
[SouthOfHokkaido]: Talking theory to newcomers again, NuclearPower?
Veins practically popping, NuclearPower would argue:
[NuclearPowerCoder]: Solid theory is the foundation! How can anyone be perfunctory about writing?
Then he'd cite famous works, and the group would burst into laughter, the timeline filling with easy banter.
[SouthOfHokkaido]: The Fuzugawa Bunko audition results are out. Looks like someone here took the Silver Prize.
The lurkers perked up like sharks scenting blood.
[KantoMoonlight]: Someone from our group won Silver? For real?
[Apia]: In past years it was always veterans with 2–3 years here. Who is it this time?
[MiyukiSakura]: Picture.jpg — Not a veteran. It's the newcomer Kasumigaoka Utaha.
[GrassrootsTeam]: It really is Kasumigaoka Utaha—congrats! Suddenly I want to go pester you again.
Miyuki Sakura, the group owner, had debuted with Shogakukan two years ago. She shared submission tips on her small YouTube channel, which was how Ryuo had found the community in the first place.
GrassrootsTeam came from a well-off family but was always joking about being broke after buying bass gear and albums; she often envied others' royalty checks.
[ShikokuKiri]: Could be a name overlap. @KasumigaokaUtaha, mind confirming?
Mentions piled up until the newcomer finally replied:
[KasumigaokaUtaha]: It's my work—got lucky. And, ahem, Grassroots, please don't come "play" with me again.
Even if Fuzugawa Bunko was only a second-tier imprint, a confirmed Silver Prize set the chat ablaze—congrats, teasing, and playful envy flooded the timeline like a festival.