The Izumi household.
Konata Izumi sat tapping away at her keyboard, clicking her mouse.
It was midnight. Her homework? Untouched. Not a single word written. And yet, for some strange reason, she felt perfectly relaxed about it.
"At this hour, Kanao should still be awake."
She glanced at the clock on the wall, then pulled back the curtain behind her computer. Her window faced her neighbor's—Kanade Higashino's room—so as long as his light was still on, she could just shout across and he'd hear her.
"Perfect. He's awake."
Sure enough, Kanade's light was still on. Konata grinned in satisfaction.
Because her desk was right by the window, she usually kept her curtains drawn. Kanade, on the other hand, always kept his half-open. His excuse? If he left it half-shut, he could keep sleeping in the morning light but still wake up naturally without oversleeping.
Konata could never do that. If she wanted to oversleep, she'd do it regardless of curtains. People were just different.
"Kanao, you asleep?"
She cracked open her window and kept her voice low.
"Kanao, you asleep?"
Volume +1.
"Kanao, you asleep?"
Volume +1 again.
"Kana—"
"What the hell are you doing yelling at night?"
The opposite curtain snapped open. Kanade leaned out, glaring.
"Don't you think midnight is the perfect time for… a homework study group?" Konata asked with an awkward laugh, scratching her head.
"…."
Kanade stared, unimpressed. Seriously? It was midnight. Everyone else was asleep, and this was what she wanted to say?
"Just lend me your homework. I haven't written a single word." Konata clasped her hands together, her big green eyes sparkling with exaggerated cuteness. "Pretty please, Kanao?"
"Humanity… forever repeating the same mistakes."
Kanade sighed deeply.
"That's because you're still a dumb kid."
Konata instantly fired back, continuing the Gundam reference—though from a different series than Kanade's.
"Catch."
Kanade tossed his notebook across.
"Thanks~! I'll give it back tomorrow!"
Konata slammed her window shut with a victorious grin.
"You'd better actually wake up tomorrow…" Kanade muttered, sighing again as her curtains closed.
Elementary school homework wasn't much. He could finish it in twenty minutes. Konata, though? She'd rather spend those twenty minutes reading manga or gaming. Homework? What homework? Can you eat it? Does it taste good? How do you cook it?
Kanade almost envied her carefree attitude.
Closing his own window, curtains still half-drawn, he went back to his desk and continued sketching.
The anime, comics, and games of this world weren't exactly the same as the ones he remembered from Earth. If he tapped into his "cheat" memory, he could probably recreate entire manga he'd once read. But he didn't want to. It wasn't about shame in "plagiarizing." He just wanted to tell his own stories.
If his manga flopped, then fine—he could always fall back on copying later.
Persistence? That wasn't really his style. Quitting early was shameful, sure, but practical. If "plagiarizing" could open an easy road to success, why chain himself to an original project doomed to fail?
Kanade was a simple guy. He wanted two things: money and women. Lots of money, and really beautiful women. Don't expect lofty ideals from him. If he had "higher" ambitions, he would've reincarnated into something dramatic like late Ming, Qing, or Republican-era China, not here.
"Kuso… I wanna kiss a cute Japanese girl. Or maybe… you know."
Kanade gazed out the window, sighing dramatically. Other reincarnators? Ten years in, they'd already had kids running around. Him? He'd barely become a mage.
Still… no rush.
He was a transmigrator, probably the protagonist of this world. He had a childhood friend—Konata Izumi. Just today, he'd met Shoko and Yuzuru Nishimiya. Unless the "author" of his life went off the rails, Konata was definitely the main heroine. If this world followed harem rules, Shoko might join in too. Yuzuru… maybe. Hard to say.
It was late, and with his body still that of a ten-year-old, his mind drifted into silly fantasies. Before long, drowsiness took over.
Glancing one last time at the manga draft on his desk, the kid who looked like a grade-schooler but thought like a middle-aged man—future mangaka Kanade Higashino—climbed into bed.
He hadn't done much today. Tomorrow he'd start fresh.
After all, as Lu Xun once "said": Success comes from hard work… so if you rest today and tomorrow, the day after will be just fine.
Clinging to that lazy philosophy, Kanade drifted into a peaceful sleep.
After all, he was only ten. No need to become a famous manga artist just yet.
Bzzzzz. Bzzzz-bzzzzz!
Danger!
Kanade's drowsiness vanished instantly. His green eyes widened in horror.
A mosquito!
In autumn!
Snapping on the light, he sat up. No mosquito coils—he didn't need them. He spread his spiritual energy across the room.
Got it.
His gaze sharpened. Hidden in the crack of a drawer, the mosquito was shredded into pieces in an instant.
Just then, his door creaked open. Kanade flinched hard.
"Kanao, you're still awake?"
A young-looking woman with long, straight black hair stood in the doorway. She looked maybe mid-twenties, though she was actually thirty-four—Ye Shu, Kanade and Suzu's mother.
"Uh… yeah. A mosquito woke me up." Kanade lied smoothly. He couldn't admit he hadn't gone to bed yet—otherwise he'd get scolded.
"There's mosquito coils in our room. Want me to bring some?"
"No need. I already killed it. I'm going to sleep now."
He flicked off the light.
"Alright. Sleep well. Don't kick off your blanket and catch a cold."
She gave a motherly warning, then left.
"…Yeah."
Kanade closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. Once her footsteps faded, he cracked an eye open—only to see she hadn't closed the door. His heart broke.
"Mom… close the door… you didn't close the door… the door…" His voice trailed off into a weak whimper.
Finally, with an angry groan, he stomped out of bed and shut it himself.
Why was she like this? Sometimes she'd barge in when he hadn't even called her. Other times, he'd shout for ages and she'd act like she never heard him. Then when he confronted her, she'd insist, "You never called me." Infuriating.
So infuriating.
At least it was night. If it were daytime, she'd throw the curtains wide open, the window too, and leave his door propped open for "ventilation."
That cursed word: ventilation.