Senya's father had recently been invited to appear on a television variety show about sake culture.
It was, without a doubt, a wonderful opportunity.
The benefits were numerous. Of course, there was the guest's honorarium, but that was secondary. The real gain came from exposure: appearing on television would expand his popularity, raise his public profile, and—most importantly—serve as free promotion for his bar.
Naturally, he wouldn't have had this chance in the first place if not for the reputation his own son had already built.
And so, after speaking for a while, Senya's father deliberately turned toward him, thanking him earnestly. His expression was sincere, but also tinged with paternal pride.
The three others present all turned to look at Senya at the same time, offering him warm smiles filled with affection.
Minamoto Senya found himself unable to handle the scene. It wasn't that he disliked it—it was just that he never knew quite how to respond.
The way he had been raised made him reserved, more inclined to keep things to himself. He rarely expressed emotions outwardly. Unless, of course, he couldn't help it. (For example, when it came to Tokika…)
He had lived with his father alone for years, and although there was always mutual care between them, neither had ever been good at expressing affection directly.
But now, after Junko and the sisters Rikka and Tokika had joined their family, his father had changed. He had become much more direct in showing his emotions.
It was a positive change… but if possible, Senya wished it wouldn't happen in front of him quite so often.
He could accept Junko-mama looking at him with kind, motherly eyes. But his father—who had been so taciturn and restrained for years—doing the same thing now? That was a little too much. A little embarrassing, even.
Thankfully, after announcing his news, they all chatted for a while before heading back to their rooms.
As Senya reflected on his father's situation, he felt genuinely happy for him.
The bar now had a branch location up and running. His father was slowly developing a sense of building his own brand, and the celebrity effect that had started with Senya had successfully transferred to him. Online, people even jokingly dubbed him the "Bartending Immortal." In short, he was becoming something of a minor internet celebrity. Business was booming.
At this rate, with the positive cycle continuing… could it be that Senya himself might really end up as a pampered rich second generation, coasting through life on his father's success?
He snorted at his own thought. Of course not.
No one should rely entirely on someone else's efforts, even family.
For now, the important thing was to keep writing, to turn knowledge into both wealth and recognition. Thinking about useless fantasies wouldn't help.
A few days later.December 7th.1:00 p.m.
Kasumigaoka Utaha had arranged to meet her editor, Machida Sonoko from Fantastic Bunko, at their usual café.
Machida assumed the reason for the meeting was the same as always: to discuss the storyline of the unreleased new volume of Love Metronome.
Or, if luck was on her side, perhaps Utaha had already finished drafting the outline and only wanted feedback.
But it turned out to be something entirely different.
"…Machida-san, could you please take a look at this?"
The moment they sat down, Utaha got straight to the point. She opened the slim laptop she had brought, turned the screen toward her editor, and handed it over with an expression that mixed nervousness with expectation.
Beforehand, she had already told Minamoto Senya about the meeting. It was he who had sent her the outline and the partially completed manuscript of Shiti. Since he'd given permission to share it, there was no problem in letting her editor read it.
Although slightly puzzled, Machida did as Utaha asked and began to read the screen.
A few minutes later, her casual demeanor tightened into focus. "…Kasumi-sensei, is this your new work?"
Utaha shook her head, choosing not to explain yet. "Please finish reading first, Machida-san."
Machida took a deep breath and set aside her coffee cup. She was clearly slipping into work mode.
Utaha waited patiently, unhurried.
Machida's reading speed was fast—as expected from someone who dealt with manuscripts every day. In just over ten minutes, she finished. Then she looked up, eyes wide with urgency.
"Kasumi-sensei, where's the rest of it?"
Seeing the astonishment in her editor's gaze, Utaha smiled faintly, relief blooming inside her chest.
If she alone had been impressed with Senya's novel, she might have worried it was just her personal bias. But if even her editor—so sharp and experienced—was so eager, so utterly captivated…
Then she wasn't mistaken.
It truly was good.
"More is being written," Utaha said with a smile.
"…Who wrote this?"
"A friend. Someone you know as well, I believe."
"Who?"
"Minamoto Senya," Utaha answered softly.
Machida froze, then blinked in disbelief. "…The kendo prodigy who once helped you?"
"Mm." Utaha nodded.
Machida fell into stunned silence. She downed the rest of her now-cold coffee, then stared hard at the laptop screen, struggling to calm the emotion on her face. She ordered another iced drink, took a big gulp, and only then regained her composure.
"Incredible… Such imagination, such a hyper-realistic sci-fi concept… If this continues at the same level, then maybe—"
"Maybe what?" Utaha leaned forward, unable to hide her eagerness.
"Maybe… it could be entered into the Hayakawa Science Fiction Award."
At that, Utaha's hands clenched beneath the table.
The Hayakawa Sci-Fi Award.
It was one of the most prestigious literary prizes in Japan, established by the veteran publisher Hayakawa Shobō. Many famous writers had launched their careers by winning it. It was regarded as the cradle of Japanese science fiction authors.
"Kasumi-sensei, you didn't call me here today just for feedback, did you?"
"…There are indeed some things I want to ask."
For Senya's sake, Utaha quietly explained her request.
3:00 p.m.
Senya left Saeko's dojo, wincing slightly. He wasn't sure how many matches they'd had without protective gear that day.
His own arms had been smacked a few times, but with his thick skin, he could handle it. Saeko, however, had taken a few heavy strikes to her thighs and hips. Each time, she had crumpled to the floor, trembling in pain.
Sparring without armor naturally led to such accidents. But Saeko refused to wear gear, insisting that without the risk of pain, she couldn't truly grow stronger.
Honestly, her father was to blame for introducing such a reckless training method in the first place.
Troublesome.
Back home, Senya as usual took over caring for baby Chiyo from Junko-mama, urging her to rest for a while. He then pushed the stroller and went shopping with Tokika at the nearby supermarket, picking up groceries for dinner and household supplies.
This routine had become a part of their daily life.
Tokika chose fresh fruits, vegetables, and fish while Senya pushed Chiyo, and afterward the three of them would stroll through the nearby park.
The park was shaded, clean, and lively in the evenings. There were sandpits, slides, swings, seesaws, and rocking horses. Though Chiyo was still too little to play alone, Senya or Tokika always carried her safely through the rides. Her laughter was pure joy.
Other young mothers often gathered there, chatting about family life and child-rearing. Tokika wasn't especially outgoing, but after visiting so often, people had grown familiar with her face.
Today, while she was taking photos of Senya and Chiyo on the swing, a cheerful mom approached.
"Hello!"
Tokika stiffened, then returned a polite "Hello."
The woman glanced at Senya and smiled. "You two look so young—and so handsome and pretty together! Don't tell me you married right after high school?"
Tokika's face went red. She waved both hands furiously. "No, no! You've misunderstood. We're siblings. Chiyo… she's our little sister."
"Oh, I see. That makes sense." The woman laughed it off easily.
But the misunderstanding left Tokika shaken.
Thinking back, it wasn't entirely strange. Their daily routine really did look like a young couple raising a child together.
On the way home, she wanted to tell Senya what had happened, but in the end she held her tongue. She was too embarrassed, and afraid his reaction would overwhelm her.
At the door, Senya received a phone call.
It was Utaha. She was with her editor and wanted to meet him right away to discuss Shiti.
"…Right now?" He glanced at Tokika.
Overhearing, she immediately said, "It's fine. Go ahead. If Mama is still napping, Rikka can help me with dinner."
Senya nodded, then spoke into the phone. "Send me the address. I'll come right away."
After kissing Chiyo gently on the forehead, he turned to leave.
"Be careful on the way," Tokika called. "If you want us to save you dinner, send me a message."
"Got it." He waved with a smile and left.
Tokika stood in the doorway, watching his back fade into the sunset. Her cheeks burned bright red like the evening sky. She slammed the door shut, pressed her back against the wall, and clutched her chest, heart pounding violently.
Little Chiyo babbled cheerfully in her stroller, stretching out her hands as if asking for a hug.
Half an hour later, Senya arrived at a traditional Japanese restaurant.
He slid open the door to the tatami room and bowed. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
"No, no—we just got here ourselves," Utaha replied quickly.
Senya carried himself with quiet dignity. His sharp features gave the impression of a sheathed sword, and even Machida found herself staring in a daze.
After brief greetings, Senya sat beside Utaha at her invitation. She happily poured him tea and offered him a hot towel, while Machida thought privately, Ah, youth…
Their connection had begun under unusual, almost novel-like circumstances—but today's purpose was far more serious.
After praising Shiti and asking a few specific questions, Machida cut to the point.
"Senya-kun, Utaha-sensei has already told me some of your situation. But I want to hear directly: what's your goal?"
"I want to find a reliable path to make my novel reach as many readers as possible. If along the way I can gain official recognition or even an award, even better."
In other words: he wanted to become known.
A natural desire. What writer didn't want that?
Machida nodded. "I see."
After the waiter served their dishes, she held up three fingers.
"In Japan, there are three main ways to achieve recognition as a writer.
"First, the traditional route: enter literary contests. If your work is strong enough to win, you leap forward instantly, and publishers will approach you themselves.
"Second, submit to established literary magazines or newspapers. If your work is accepted, it will be published or serialized. Over time, you build popularity that way."
(Utaha herself had followed this path—her debut Love Metronome was picked up after Fantastic Bunko held an open call.)
"Third, there's the internet. You can post on novel sites, interact with readers directly. It has almost no barriers, but it can take a very long time to succeed, and results are unpredictable."
Senya considered, then said, "I don't think the second or third methods suit me."
Machida had suspected as much. After reading Shiti, she understood his ambition. He wasn't aiming small.
His true desire was to challenge traditional literary awards head-on.
"In that case, I recommend the Hayakawa Science Fiction Award. It fits your work perfectly. This year's contest has ended, but submissions open again in May. Deadline is late July, with results in August. That gives you eight months—time to finish your novel and polish it for submission."
She even offered, "I know a senior editor at Shinchosha who's far more knowledgeable in literary fiction. If you'd like, I can ask him to review your manuscript."
It wasn't strictly her job to go that far. But her editor's instincts told her: this boy might truly grow into a literary giant.
"Eight months, huh…" Senya murmured.
Utaha, beaming, placed an oyster onto his plate. "Any problem, Senya?"
He thanked her, then shook his head. "It's not that the time is too short—it feels too long. I can finish the first part of Shiti in two months. Isn't there any sci-fi award sooner?"
Machida blinked. Reckless. Naïve. And yet… bold.
After some hesitation, she said, "There are always smaller contests, but their prestige is nothing compared to Hayakawa."
Utaha asked gently, "Are you really in such a hurry, Senya?"
"I wouldn't say urgent. But I have my reasons."
He didn't elaborate.
Machida tried to lighten the mood. "Well, there's also the Edogawa Ranpo Prize. But that's strictly for detective novels. Completely different from sci-fi."
Senya's eyes lit up. "When's the deadline?"
"…The end of this month. About twenty days left."
Both women froze.
"…Don't tell me," Machida whispered.
"Could you share the submission requirements with me?" Senya asked earnestly.
She nearly shouted. You're really going to attempt it?!
Yes, he was talented—kendo champion, skilled pianist, now an astonishing novelist. But crossing genres so drastically, from sci-fi to detective fiction, in less than a month? Impossible.
Still, his gaze was steady.
Utaha looked at him with soft, admiring eyes, serving him more food.
Machida sighed. She couldn't count on Utaha to dissuade him. Love had blinded her completely.
"…Then what about Shiti? If you focus on Ranpo, will you abandon it?"
"Of course not. I'll finish the Ranpo entry this month. Then in January, I'll return to Shiti."
Machida hesitated. Maybe letting him hit a wall wouldn't be bad. Failure might temper his sharpness and help him grow.
"…All right. I'll ask a friend for the submission details."
Soon after, she added Senya as a contact and sent him the full guidelines.
He read them carefully.
Must be an unpublished, full-length detective novel.
Only open to new writers with no previous novel publication.
Length between 120,000 and 240,000 words.
The word count, at least, fit his style.
The prize? ¥5,000,000—cut down from ¥10,000,000 due to the economy. But the real reward was prestige, and a book deal with Kodansha.
Machida added one last detail: "So far, more than four hundred manuscripts have already been submitted. Competition is tougher than ever."
Senya only nodded calmly, even offering her sushi with the communal chopsticks.
Machida could only pray silently: Please, don't let this boy be crushed by failure…