— — — — — —
"Great generosity comes from great capacity."
Oikawa Tōru had always appreciated that idiom.
Especially the capacity part.
They really were… impressive.
"Cough. Cough."
"Aren't you supposed to be solving problems? I was just scrolling for a minute… okay, okay, I'm putting it away!"
Oikawa quickly shoved his phone into his pocket and raised both hands in surrender.
"..."
Kawasaki slid her workbook across the table. "Did I solve this one right?"
Oikawa glanced down and shook his head. "Your final answer's correct, but your reasoning's off."
"At this step, you need to prove those two angles are equal. Equal angles mean equal opposite sides, so that's how you conclude the sides match."
"You can't just assume the sides are equal from the start."
He tapped the page with his pen.
"Math is kind of like dating. If you want to undo a girl's clothes, you've got to win her heart first. Your method here is basically ripping them off by force. That gets you arrested."
Kawasaki slowly turned her head and stared at him.
"Cough."
"Maybe that metaphor wasn't ideal. But you get what I mean."
Oikawa cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Heh. Pervert."
Kawasaki went back to her exercises.
From time to time, she asked him questions. When she got stuck, Oikawa broke the concepts down piece by piece, explaining every detail until it clicked.
At the convenience store, he could afford to slack off.
Now he was being paid.
That changed things.
Oikawa respected work. He even kept track in his notebook of how many times he'd explained each concept.
Kawasaki's foundation wasn't bad. But when it came to math, most girls were at a natural disadvantage. Not incapable, just slower to shift perspectives.
Sometimes all it took was looking at a problem from a slightly different angle.
That tiny "shift" tripped up most people.
There wasn't a magic solution.
Some students just had a sudden "enlightenment".
But Kawasaki?
She was going to need sheer volume. Practice until her brain adjusted.
...
An hour flew by. It was time for her shift.
Kawasaki worked at a high-end hotel from six to nine in the evening as a bartender, earning 1,300 yen an hour.
"See you tonight."
"Oh, and if you get stuck in other subjects, you can ask me."
"Mm."
Kawasaki watched his back as he packed up and left.
She lingered a moment before walking out of the Literature Club room.
"Alright… this has to be a win. There's no way a major publisher like Dengeki would miss something this good."
He trusted the quality of Your Lie in April completely.
But now that the results were actually being released, Oikawa still felt nervous.
He refreshed the Dengeki Bunko website again and opened the Dengeki Prize page.
A bold headline appeared: {First Round Selection Results}
He clicked in.
Dozens of titles filled the screen.
His eyes scanned down the list.
Then they lit up.
— 06. Your Lie in April— Author: Copycat Transmigrator
"I'm in!"
He pumped his fist.
Next move: screenshot.
Open LINE.
Send to the contact named "Utako Kasumi."
No caption.
True masters let silence speak for them.
He executed the entire operation in one smooth motion.
Sometimes saying nothing was louder than shouting.
...
Riding his bike out of campus, Oikawa felt like the spring breeze was warmer than usual. Even the legs of passing high school girls seemed longer.
5:40 PM. He arrived at the convenience store.
"Oikawa, you're here."
"Yeah. I'll go change."
He stepped into the locker room, changed clothes, and went back to scrolling online. He wasn't stepping out front until six on the dot.
He opened the writers' group chat.
As expected, everyone was discussing the Dengeki first-round results.
"Anyone make it into the first round?"
"No way. Dengeki Prize only happens once every four years. It's brutal."
"Nope."
"Maybe I just don't have talent. I've failed four or five times already."
"Same. Maybe I should just focus on school."
"Don't give up! Where there's will, there's hope. Keep improving and you'll make it someday."
"No one in the group made it?"
Oikawa hesitated.
He'd planned to craft a humblebrag story about being rejected a dozen times before finally succeeding.
Inspiring. Encouraging.
But before he could type anything—
A discordant message popped up.
[Utako Kasumi]: @CopycatTransmigrator "He made it into Dengeki's first round. First submission, too."
…?
This was unforgivable.
Oikawa immediately tapped her cat-avatar profile.
"You trying to annoy me?"
"I have no idea what you mean. I just wanted to use your example to motivate everyone."
"I DIDN'T ASK YOU TO!!!"
His perfect moment to posture had been ruthlessly stolen.
Meanwhile, the chat exploded.
"?"
"We actually have a god among us?"
"We're all trash-tier writers and you pass first round? Does your conscience not hurt?"
"Which one is it? @CopycatTransmigrator"
"Wait, is it Your Lie in April? The author name matches!"
"Oh my god, that's him!"
Watching the flood of messages scroll by, Oikawa should have felt triumphant.
Instead, his mood fizzled out.
Then a notification banner slid down from the top of his phone.
{You have received a new email from: Dengeki Bunko Editorial Department.}
.
.
.