After exchanging a few playful and undeniably narcissistic remarks, the tension between them melted away like snow under spring sunshine. With Nozomi's project script and extra character settings in hand, Eriri gave a tiny huff, sat down with resolve, and pulled out her drawing tools from her bag with a flourish.
"Alright! Let's see what this story of yours is all about," she muttered with her trademark pout, her twin tails swaying as she cracked her knuckles and began sketching.
Her plan was simple: rough out a few character designs to get a feel for the tone and vibe of the script. Meanwhile, Nozomi, having temporarily finished his part of the process, lounged nearby, eyes drifting lazily around the room.
Kamiigusa Misaki—the club's prodigy animation producer—was fully immersed in adjusting the CG effects from the game animation they had been working on earlier. She could handle everything from keyframe animation to post-production solo, a true one-girl army. And on the table beside her sat something unexpected: a colorful, slightly questionable doujinshi brought along by Kashiwagi Eri.
Or was it her resume?
Well, depending on who you asked, it could be both.
Nozomi, ever the curious type, reached for it. The moment he opened the doujinshi, he was greeted by an alien heroine with... physics-defying proportions. His brows twitched.
"Why do some people think bigger automatically means better?" he murmured under his breath. "Symmetry and proportion are true beauty."
With a sigh, he tossed the first one aside and grabbed a different volume, scanning it with practiced eyes.
Minutes ticked by.
Eriri, fully focused, had just finished the first sketch when she glanced over her shoulder—and immediately exploded.
"AHHH!! What are you doing?!" she shrieked, eyes wide with a mix of shock and mortification.
Nozomi raised an eyebrow. "Reading manga."
"I know you're reading! But why that manga?! Here?! In front of Misaki and me?!" she hissed, her face burning a brilliant crimson. Steam practically poured from her ears.
"Wasn't this one of yours?" Nozomi said innocently, holding it up. "I'm just analyzing the character composition and style. Perfectly professional."
"P-Professional my butt!" she snapped, shoulders hunched. She looked like a kettle about to whistle. "T-That's... that's one of my early ones, okay?! I didn't mean for you to actually read it in front of everyone!"
"Art is meant to be seen, right?" he said with a smirk.
*******
"Art is a moment. A flash. A fleeting spark of beauty that vanishes as quickly as it appears.
That's what makes it true art!
The instant something explodes — that sudden release, that impermanence — that is when it becomes beautiful.
People say art should last forever... like Sasori's puppets. But that's not art — that's stagnation.
Real art is dynamic. It lives, breathes, and then dies. Just like life itself.
My art is destruction. It captivates in a heartbeat… and then it's gone.
That is what makes it eternal in the hearts of those who witness it.
Art... IS AN EXPLOSION!!"
********
Eriri groaned and turned back to her tablet, grumbling under her breath. She wanted to call him out for being indecent, reading that kind of content in front of two pretty girls—but technically, he was just giving artistic critique. And, annoyingly, his tone was so calm and analytical that it was hard to argue.
Not to mention, it was her work.
Still, the way his eyes flicked between panels made her squirm.
Noticing her glances, Nozomi leaned a little closer.
"Sawamura-san, want to read it together?" he asked, smirking.
"AAAHHH!! Are you trying to get murdered?!"
"You kept glancing over, so I thought you were curious. I mean, you did draw it."
"I don't need to read it! I made it!" she growled, cheeks puffed out and eyes narrowed. "What kind of boy invites a beautiful girl like me to read that kind of thing with him, huh?!"
Nozomi blinked, genuinely puzzled. "We're co-creators in a studio. Discussing work is normal. Why would that be weird?"
"Ugh! Just shut up already! I'm not reading it with you!" she snapped, fists clenched on her lap as she tried to compose herself.
So embarrassing. Why was he so good at turning everything into a logical argument?
After a few minutes of comedic silence and sulking, Nozomi closed the book and stood up.
"I'm heading back to my room. Sawamura-san, when you're done, give me a shout. I'll walk you to the station."
And with that, he casually strolled out of the room, posture a bit too relaxed for Eriri's liking.
She stared after him, mouth agape. "What the heck? Couldn't handle the heat, huh? Then why read it in the first place, you shameless perv!"
Muttering under her breath, she refocused on her sketches. But even as her pencil danced across the paper, she couldn't shake her thoughts.
"He's totally the pervert here… right?"
If Nozomi could read her mind, he'd have raised a brow and retorted, "Who's the one drawing fanservice-heavy doujins, again?"
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Eriri finalized several character setting sheets for the project. Nozomi reviewed them thoroughly and, clearly pleased, nodded in approval.
"These are perfect. I'll use them straight away."
There was no urgent deadline for the extra story. Right now, all attention was focused on finishing the game, which would be released tomorrow.
Thanks to Misaki's connections with a distribution company—and her reputation as an animation savant—they didn't have to worry about the promotional side.
The game was sleek, polished, and bursting with creativity.
In fact, based on Misaki's recommendation, Nozomi had a new plan—write a light novel centered around the magical girl Misaki to further flesh out the characters and enrich the plot. It wasn't a particularly hard task for him. After all, he'd written tons of scripts before; this would just be a matter of rearranging ideas, adding flair where needed, and giving it that special Nozomi touch.
Once the novel was completed, they could release it alongside the game. Double the content, double the hype. And if things went well—which he was confident they would—there'd be room to launch merchandise. Posters, keychains, maybe even figures if the fanbase exploded.
Nozomi chuckled to himself. If it didn't work out… well, there was always the option to just throw more money at advertising. He'd make it work one way or another.
As the day wound down, Eriri packed her things and said her goodbyes. Nozomi walked her to the train station, making sure she boarded safely before heading back to Sakurasou.
But the moment he opened his door, he paused. There was a suspicious, human-shaped bulge under his blanket.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Don't tell me… Mashiro?"
Pulling back the covers, he found Shiina Mashiro curled up beneath them, her eyes barely open.
"Mashiro, why are you in my bed again?"
"Waiting for Nozomi," she said softly, blinking up at him.
He sighed, a small smile creeping up. "Did you need something?"
Mashiro sat up and handed him a rolled-up sketch. "This is fromMisaki-senpai. She wanted you to see it."
Nozomi took it, and his eyes lit up as he unrolled the illustration. "Whoa… this is amazing! Is this the magical girl concept art?"
Mashiro nodded. "Mashiro drew it. Do you like it?"
"Like it? It's fantastic! Say, Mashiro… do you want to officially join the Meow Star Studio?"
Animation wasn't something one artist could manage alone. With Mashiro's talent, the whole process would go faster and smoother.
"Misaki-senpai said, if you liked it, Mashiro could join."
"Then let's make it official. Also… I want to check out your manga draft. Let's go to your room."
Mashiro gave a tiny nod, and Nozomi led the way to her room on the third floor.
Thanks to Sayu's efforts, Mashiro's space was spotless—though a pair of panties haphazardly thrown on the bed definitely broke the tidy illusion.
"Ahem. Right. Let's focus." Nozomi awkwardly looked away.
"Here," Mashiro said, handing over her manga drafts.
He sat down and started flipping through them. The lines were clean, the characters vibrant. There was emotion in every panel, a softness in every expression.
Her manga was like a warm window into their world—showcasing daily life, magical elements, and heart-melting moments. Nozomi couldn't help but grin when he spotted a scene where the male lead—who looked suspiciously like himself—was helping the magical girl pick clothes or brush her hair.
It was cute. Wholesome. And a little… fanservice-y. But still very readable.
"You nailed it, Mashiro! This is good enough to submit."
"Really?" Her eyes sparkled.
"Totally. The key to a successful manga isn't always technical perfection—it's whether people want to keep reading. And this? I'd follow it."
Mashiro beamed. "Then Mashiro will go to the editor tomorrow."
"Good. And hey, thank you, too. You've been working so hard, but I know it's not easy. I'm really proud of you."
Her expression softened. Then, without warning, she leaned forward and nestled into his arms.
Nozomi blinked but gently wrapped his arms around her. "Hey, you've been doing great, Mashiro."
Mashiro's grip tightened slightly. "Thank you, Nozomi."
He exhaled slowly, brushing her soft hair.
She was getting really good at this… sneaking into his heart, bit by bit.
And with Rita, Mashiro's best friend, visiting soon… he couldn't help but wonder.
When Rita saw all this, what would she think?
Nozomi smirked, shaking his head lightly.
Well, whatever happened, he'd deal with it. One magical moment at a time.
**************
Have a nice week ahead guys!!
Do comment on anything story-related or regarding the translation so far...