Chapter 5: Hoshino Ai — The Mysterious Person Writing the Diary Must Be My Fan
In a wuxia novel, Renji Miyauchi's new state would be described as that of an Innate Master, carrying with it a thousand percent bonus damage against demons and evil. With his new toy, he spent the morning testing every possibility. He picked up stones, infused them with Ripple Energy, and skipped them across the river, watching how the Ripple affected their distance and spin.
By the time the sun neared its peak, he reluctantly returned home. Even his blunt older sister, Miyauchi Komari, noticed her younger brother's good mood. As for little Renge, about to begin elementary school, she trotted up to him with her wide eyes and flat voice, asking where he had gone that morning. Renji laughed and scooped her up into his arms.
Yesterday, he had been too busy adjusting to his Pure Yang Body to spend much time with her. Today, he intended to make up for it. "Renge, Brother found something amazing. How about I take you to the river this afternoon? I'll show you something incredible."
He wanted his sister to witness the Ripple's simple marvels—starting with water skipping. Since he already planned to write the Ripple Breathing method into his diary for the others, he wouldn't hide it from family. For ordinary people, Ripple Breathing was mostly health-preserving; just learning to draw Ripple outward would take years.
The only problem was his older sister Komari. She was talkative, quick to show off, and soon to join him in Tokyo for high school. If she accidentally revealed her training, it might expose him. He decided she could wait a little longer. Renge, though—she was trustworthy. She could keep a promise.
That afternoon, Renji stood on the river, stone in hand. He infused it with Ripple and cast it. The rock danced across the surface, skipping dozens of times before vanishing. Renge gasped, her expression uncharacteristically wide-eyed. He demonstrated more—simple Overdrives, rippling water, energy flowing through his hands.
Finally, he placed his feet on the surface of the river, standing as if it were solid ground. "Renge, do you want to learn this? If you do, I'll teach you."
Her response was immediate and absolute. She nodded so fast her hair whipped around her face. Renji crouched down and lowered his voice. "But you must promise me: until you're ten years old, you can't use this in front of others, and you can't tell anyone. Can you promise me that, Renge?"
Renge counted carefully on her fingers. She was six now. Four years—an eternity for a child. But she nodded, solemn as always, and extended her pinky. Renji hooked it with his own, smiling at her determination.
"Good. Now, it might feel strange at first, but if you follow your breathing, it'll get better."
He placed his palm gently against her stomach. A trace of Ripple coursed into her, stirring her blood and lungs, circulating with each heartbeat. This was the same method Baron Zeppeli had once used to help Jonathan Joestar feel Ripple for the first time—forcing the body to expel all its air and then recalibrate the diaphragm. Renge's face flushed slightly, but soon warmth spread to her hands. Half a minute later, her breathing had found the rhythm. She had begun.
For the rest of the afternoon, Renji guided her patiently. She wasn't a prodigy, but she was steady. With months of practice, she would adapt to the breathing. More advanced techniques could wait for summer breaks, when he would have time to teach.
That night, Renji organized his thoughts. He would quietly persuade his parents to try the breathing as well, disguising it as an old method found in the Miyauchi family's warehouse. Their family had lived in Asahigaoka for over a century; among the dusty scrolls and journals were even rumors of demons. Claiming Ripple was an old breathing technique would not be questioned.
At seven in the evening, the diary holders across Japan opened their books to find his new entry—a lengthy, illustrated guide to Ripple Breathing.
[Yesterday's reward was Ripple Breathing. After practicing, I now understand its effects. In the spirit of sharing, I've decided to pass it on. If you're not interested in youth and longevity, then ignore this. Otherwise, here are the basics…]
The entry went on for thousands of words, explaining rhythm, posture, and method. His hand ached from writing, but he was satisfied. "After all that, the diary's reward tonight better be something good," he muttered.
The notification came:
[You got: Saekano: How to Raise a Boring Girlfriend, Volume 1. Author: Fumiaki Maruto.]
Renji blinked. On the cover was Eriri Spencer Sawamura. "Seriously? I can get manga as rewards too?" He flipped it open. Sure enough—an ordinary book, no hidden tricks. But the characters were real, people he would soon meet at Toyosaki High.
A mischievous thought formed. "If I slip this into Kasumigaoka Utaha's or Eriri's locker… and they recognize it… I'll know if they have the diary." He smirked. The enemy was in the open, he was in the dark. Advantage: his.
Meanwhile, in Tokyo, the girl most often mentioned in Renji's diary was wrestling with her own discovery. Hoshino Ai, once an overlooked idol, had been struck on the head by a diary three nights ago. At first, she'd tried to discard it. But no matter where she went, it followed her—even falling into her bath, completely unharmed, opening to a page that spelled out her death.
The words chilled her. Pregnant, betrayed, murdered by a fan at her doctor's hands. She wanted to laugh it off, but she couldn't. Because the diary didn't just threaten; it encouraged. It spoke of a fan who believed in her, who wanted her to live, to keep shining as an idol. For a girl who lived her life as a lie to please others, that single line struck deep: "I hope you can continue to be active as an idol."
For the first time, she felt she had a fan who wasn't ordinary—one who saw her not as a commodity, but as someone worth saving. She stared at herself in the mirror, burned the emotion into memory, and tucked it into her practiced smile. This was another layer for her "package of lies," a pose for the stage.
The diary warned her about Hikaru, the boy she had grown close to at the LALALAI Theater Company. Talented, kind, attentive—everything about him was easy to trust. Without the diary, she might already have stepped across that line. But now, she hesitated. She still wanted to experience love, motherhood, happiness. But the diary's warnings held her back.
Hiring a detective? Impossible. Her wallet was empty. So for now, she clutched the diary, torn between fear and exhilaration. Somewhere out there, someone believed in her. Someone wanted her to live.
A mysterious fan—hers alone.