Time in the club room seemed to stand still.
Eriri Sawamura and Utaha Kasumigaoka held the pale blue folder, flipping through it page by page. The sound of turning pages was especially clear in the quiet room—swish, swish, like some solemn ceremony.
Tomoya Aki stood behind the table, nervously gripping the seams of his pants, his eyes behind his glasses fixed intently on the two girls' expressions, trying to gauge the outcome of the judgment from the slightest changes. Small beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. His shirt collar was still a little disheveled from running, but he no longer cared about tidying it up.
Megumi Katou sat on a chair by the window, quietly reading a textbook.
But her gaze occasionally lifted from the pages and drifted to the corner of the room, where Genji floated cross-legged, his deep indigo hunting robes glowing softly in the sunset afterglow. Whenever her eyes met Genji's, she would nod slightly, then lower her head to read again, as if that exchange of glances was just an ordinary greeting.
Genji observed as well.
He watched Eriri's expression shift from a frown to a gradually relaxing one as she read the plan. He watched the frequency with which Utaha pushed up her glasses—her habit when thinking seriously. He watched Tomoya's nervous gulping. He also watched Megumi Katou's almost uncanny calm.
The presence of this bob-haired girl was too faint. If you didn't look at her carefully, your eyes would naturally slide past her, as if gliding over air.
"Interesting," Genji murmured to himself.
Utaha Kasumigaoka gently tapped her fingers on the cover of the folder. "The overall framework is quite complete. The main storyline is clear, the characters have basic prototypes, and the pacing control is barely acceptable. Most importantly…"
She paused and looked at Eriri. "He was very honest about the budget planning. Out of the 300,000 yen starting capital, 90,000 is from his own part-time job savings, and the rest is planned to be covered by crowdfunding and outsourcing coding. No shouting about 'dreams,' but seriously thinking about 'where the money comes from.'"
Eriri looked up. The folder in her hand was open to the last page—there, Tomoya had written a line in bold red pen:
[I am mentally prepared. No matter how difficult it gets, we'll see it through to the end. If it fails, I alone will bear the responsibility.]
The handwriting trembled slightly, but each stroke was pressed so hard it almost pierced through the back of the paper.
Eriri stared at that line for a long time.
She remembered how in middle school, she had hidden her identity as an otaku, afraid of being isolated, and had even deliberately pushed Tomoya away. At that time, Tomoya had enthusiastically approached her with a newly bought game, but she had coldly said in front of a group of classmates, "I don't play such childish things."
She still remembered Tomoya's expression then. Not anger, not sadness, but a deep, incomprehensible confusion. As if asking: Eriri, why have you changed?
After that, Tomoya no longer took the initiative to find her at school. They became "internet friends" who only communicated online. Only when she became known in the doujinshi circle as "Eiri Kashiwagi" did Tomoya reappear, enthusiastically saying, "I knew you were amazing."
At that time, she had felt both happy and guilty. Happy that Tomoya wasn't actually angry at her, and guilty for having hurt him so much.
So when Tomoya proposed "making a game together," even though she was clearly very busy, knowing that this guy would most likely give up halfway, she still agreed to "consider it."
It was to make amends. To make amends for having been cowardly.
"It's passable," Eriri closed the folder, her voice very soft.
"Yes!" Tomoya immediately straightened up, like a new recruit waiting for a drill instructor's lecture.
"This plan," Eriri said slowly, "is qualified."
The air was quiet for a second.
Then Tomoya's eyes suddenly lit up, his face blooming with incredible joy. "Really?! Eriri, you agree?! You're really going to join—"
"I'm not finished," Eriri interrupted and held up a finger. "I have conditions."
"I'll agree to any conditions!"
"First, no more being late. For every club activity, you must arrive ten minutes early. If you're late once, I won't come for the rest of the week."
"Understood!"
"Second, you can no longer use empty words like 'destiny' or 'God's work' as excuses. Every discussion must have a concrete plan, solve problems if there are any, and no more empty promises."
"Understood!"
"Third," Eriri paused, her voice lowering, "don't overwork yourself. You wrote 'three to four hours a day'—change that to a maximum of six hours. If I find out you're staying up late to work, I'll quit immediately."
Tomoya was stunned. He looked at Eriri, opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end just nodded vigorously.
"I promise," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Thank you… Eriri."
Eriri turned her head away, the roots of her ears slightly red. "Don't be so mushy. I'm just doing this so I don't end up with half the artists suddenly dying and no one to draw the manuscripts."
A typical tsundere speech. But everyone in the club room understood the concern behind it.
Utaha smiled softly and adjusted her glasses. "Then let me say a few words too."
Everyone's gaze turned to her.
"I'll join," Utaha said succinctly. "But my reason is different from Eriri's—I'm here to repay a debt."
"Repay a debt?" Tomoya was puzzled.
"When the first volume of 'Love Metronome' first came out, the sales were terrible. The publisher almost canceled the series after the second volume."
Utaha spoke calmly, as if telling someone else's story. "You, Tomoya Aki, wrote long recommendation posts on major forums, went crazy on Twitter, and even bought books for your classmates out of your own pocket. Although your writing style was terrible and your recommendations were ridiculous, because of you, the book's reputation gradually spread, and the pre-orders for the second volume tripled."
She paused and added, "So the editor breathed a sigh of relief, and I kept my job. I've always remembered that debt."
Tomoya's face also turned red. He scratched his head and said sheepishly, "That's because 'Love Metronome' is really good! I was just telling the truth…"
"But you said it," Utaha interrupted. "And most people, even if they like something, wouldn't bother to say it. So I want to repay that debt."
She looked at Eriri, and they exchanged a glance.
"But I also want to make this clear in advance," Utaha continued, her tone returning to its usual calm. "The deadline for the third volume of 'Love Metronome' is three months from now. I'll be very busy during that time. I can only spend my spare time on scriptwriting. Don't expect me to be on call 24/7. And…"
She also glanced at Tomoya. "If your plot ideas are too bad, I'll rewrite them directly and won't save face for you. Understood?"
"Understood!" Tomoya nodded vigorously, his eyes shining like stars. "With Utaha-senpai writing the script and Eiri Kashiwagi-sensei doing the original art, we're sure to—"
"Stop," Utaha raised her hand to stop him. "First, set a small goal: make the first chapter. Don't get ahead of yourself."
"Yes!"
The conversation between the three came to an end. A brief silence fell over the room.
The sunset outside the window had deepened slightly, orange-red light streaming through the glass, casting long shadows on the wooden floor. In the distance, the whistle signaling the end of the baseball club's practice came from the playground, along with the faint sound of students packing up their gear.
At that moment, Megumi Katou, who had been quietly sitting by the window, gently closed her textbook.
"Um," she said, her voice soft but clear to everyone.
Everyone looked at her.
Megumi Katou stood up and walked over to the table. Her steps were light, almost soundless, her presence still incredibly faint. But at this moment, everyone saw her—or rather, finally "noticed" her.
"Why did you call me here? I don't know anything about game production. I'm not… particularly interested in anime or games either."
"Katou-san is the heroine of our game!"
"Huh?"
Eriri's questioning tone involuntarily rose, the ending clearly filled with disbelief.
Her blue eyes widened. She looked first at Tomoya, whose face was full of magnanimity and even excitement, as if he had found a treasure, then slowly turned to Megumi Katou, who had been quietly sitting by the window like a background.
The 'fateful encounter' at the Detective Conan event? Suddenly bringing a strange and unprecedented girl to the club? And now directly calling her the 'heroine'?
Tomoya, you… are you making this game just for this bob-haired girl?
Eriri said nothing, but a hint of schadenfreude stirred within her. She hadn't expected that a pure otaku like Tomoya could also be tempted. And he always said he wasn't interested in three-dimensional girls, tsk.
Well, he can do whatever he wants. I promised to help him with this, finish the illustrations, and repay what I owe. Once that's done, our relationship will be settled.
Utaha Kasumigaoka let out two extremely soft and ambiguous "tsk, tsk" sounds. Her crimson eyes flickered behind her silver-rimmed special glasses, darting quickly between Tomoya Aki, Megumi Katou, and the "empty" air in the corner of the room.
For her, Tomoya's passionate adolescent confession and his somewhat suspicious "heroine designation" were far less attractive than what was truly occupying her mind—Zen'in Genji.
Genji was handsome and spoke softly. He was not only a living legend but also a walking ancient library, holding infinite wisdom. The calmness and gentleness after weathering life's storms, the deep light in his eyes when pondering problems, and the noble character that transcended time—all these could satisfy this genius writer's intellectual curiosity far more than a high school boy's fantasy about a rough game.
In contrast, Tomoya's club was just a place for her to repay a personal debt.
Megumi Katou's reaction was much flatter.
She merely looked up slightly, her black bob swaying gently with the movement, her face still wearing that calm "what's going on?" expression.
She seemed to accept the title of "heroine" quite quickly—in other words, she didn't consider it a title worth making a fuss over.
As she had said, she knew nothing about otaku culture like anime and games, nor was she particularly interested. Tomoya's passionate talk of "destiny" and "masterpiece" probably sounded more like a language she couldn't fully understand, belonging to a different world.
The reason she stayed here, quietly sitting in this increasingly noisy club room, was likely due to a deeper motivation—the "special existence" in this room.
Her gaze once again drifted almost imperceptibly to the corner, where the boy in the indigo hunting robes floated cross-legged, a faint, observant interest at the corners of his lips.
The ability to see what ordinary people couldn't see, the chance to share a room with such an existence—this suddenly revealed other side of the world, far beyond everyday imagination—held a strange attraction for her, an "ordinary girl" accustomed to being ignored.
Lord Zen'in Genji touched her deep curiosity more than a game that hadn't even been born yet.
"Then, Katou-san agrees?"
"Mm," Megumi Katou nodded. "I'll join. But I'm only free after school. I might also have to help with housework on weekends. And if I get bored, can I go home early?"
"Yes! Absolutely!"
And so, the team was assembled.
Producer: Tomoya Aki. Original artist: Eriri Sawamura (Eiri Kashiwagi). Scriptwriter: Utaha Kasumigaoka (Utaha Kasumigaoka). Heroine prototype: Megumi Katou.
"Then, our club is officially founded!" Tomoya excitedly pumped his fist. "Blessing Software, let's go!"
"The name is really cheesy," Utaha complained.
"It's better than 'Fate God Production Committee,'" Eriri retorted.
"Um… actually, I think 'Blessing' is nice," Megumi Katou said quietly. "It sounds very gentle."
All three of them looked at her at once. Megumi Katou blinked, as if not understanding why everyone was staring at her.
"…Forget it," Utaha shook her head and turned her laptop back on. "First, make a short-term plan. Aki, go apply for permission to use the club room. Eriri, draw the first version of the heroine's design this week. Katou…"
She paused. "Try to come to the club after school this week. I need to observe your speech and behavior to refine the character's atmosphere."
"Observe?" Megumi Katou tilted her head.
"If you're going to be the heroine's prototype, I need to know how you usually speak, how you move, what your habits are," Utaha said naturally. "Otherwise, the character I write will just be an empty shell."
"I see," Megumi Katou nodded. "I understand. I'll try to cooperate."