(Choosing a Publisher and the Sister-Conquest Gambit)
Before putting pen to paper—or rather, fingers to keyboard—the first critical decision was: which publishing house to submit to?
Becoming a light novel author wasn't a casual endeavor. Even with professional experience from a past life, Kuroha Akira couldn't just waltz in and dominate. This world's ecosystem was different.
The isekai (otherworld) genre hadn't yet exploded into the mainstream, largely because smartphones weren't ubiquitous and people hadn't developed the habit of reading novels on tiny screens. Serialization websites like 'Let's Become a Novelist!' hadn't entered their golden age. The path from web novel to published light novel remained largely untrodden; most online works were passion projects posted on forums or blogs.
This also meant opportunities for new authors to debut were even rarer.
The traditional path to becoming a novelist was to win a major or excellence award in one of the various 'newcomer' contests—a process identical to traditional literature, but with fiercer competition due to the younger author demographic.
The alternative was direct submission to a publisher, competing against a mountain of manuscripts for the slim chance of catching an editor's eye. Very few debuted through unsolicited submissions.
Shirai Shiori, however, had already won an award and had publishing experience. She would undoubtedly submit to a familiar publisher, drastically increasing her odds. From the starting line, Kuroha Akira was at a distinct disadvantage.
He immediately dismissed the contest route. Not only were there no suitable light novel awards currently open, but even if there were, the judging period of several months would far exceed his one-month deadline with Shirai Shiori. Plus, committee reviews were a crapshoot, vulnerable to a single editor's personal taste.
Therefore, Kuroha Akira's only viable path was the second: self-recommendation. Submit directly to a publisher and fight for that publishing slot.
Thus, choosing which publisher was a critical strategic move.
In truth, Kuroha Akira already had a target in mind.
During his earlier research for his (now-abandoned) plagiarism plan, he'd noted a relatively new publisher called Hurricane Publishing. Since its founding, it had actively scouted a large number of new authors, boasting a higher debut rate for unknowns than more established houses. As a newcomer itself, to carve out a niche, it had to either scavenge leftovers from the giants or continuously seek fresh blood.
Moreover, Hurricane Publishing's recent flagship title, "Unlucky Mikuji Don't Cry," was nearing its conclusion, with no clear successor in sight. Submitting now meant a higher chance of being noticed by editors hungry for the next hit.
Of course, Kuroha Akira didn't expect to immediately become their next pillar. But the absence of one meant editors were more receptive to interesting new works, more willing to take a chance on an unknown. It was the perfect window of opportunity.
He quickly found the publisher's address online and copied it into his notebook. All he needed now was to finish the manuscript and mail it there. Email submissions were possible, but a physical manuscript carried more weight—a superficial but necessary effort. If not for his dire financial straits, he'd have preferred to deliver it in person.
The submission process in this world is still so cumbersome, he mused. Once web novels took off, one could simply visit the publisher's homepage, fill out a form, and submit online. But by then, standing out from the exponentially growing slush pile would be a nightmare.
So, now was the rare, golden opportunity.
Next came the hardest part: deciding what to write.
This was the true crucible. A strong start required the right theme. Kuroha Akira's vast experience was a double-edged sword, leading to paralyzing indecision. He'd read too many excellent works across almost every genre.
Yet, each era had its zeitgeist. Being too far ahead would brand him an anomaly, a freak to be rejected, not appreciated. He needed to write something of its time.
After half a year in this world's Japan—Nihon, as it was sometimes called—Kuroha Akira had a feel for its social atmosphere. The people here weren't living in profound disillusionment. Perhaps because they hadn't experienced the bubble economy's brutal burst, the overall mood was still relatively positive and aspirational.
But honestly, he still couldn't quite pin down popular taste. The almost instinctive sense of trends he'd developed from a lifetime of consumption in his past life was useless here. What he found 'interesting' deviated from mainstream 'interesting.' As a transmigrator, he was fundamentally out of touch.
This was the core obstacle that had stalled his plagiarism plans. Write a power-fantasy leveling novel? An isekai transmigration story? They'd likely flop hard. The narrative appeal of those genres was often weak, relying on wish-fulfillment and illustration support. Without a pre-existing popular template, traditional editors would probably pass.
So, were there any perennial, evergreen themes in light novels?
Yes!
It's little sisters!
That's right—sister-complex novels were a surefire hit!
This type of youth-angst romance, woven with family drama, melodramatic plot twists, and a focus on complex character relationships, was guaranteed to capture public attention! Moreover, the work that ignited the sister-complex craze in his past world—Oreimo—didn't exist here. The market was ripe for the taking!
Though he'd read it during his student days and forgotten much of the later plot, he clearly remembered the iconic opening hook: a middle school sister who debuted as a gyaru, whose secret hobby was playing eroge, gets discovered by her older brother, leading to a clandestine 'relationship.' The brother starts finding otaku friends for his sister, meets other girls along the way, sparking the sister's jealousy, culminating in a transition from tsundere to full dere…
Oh, what a profoundly thought-provoking premise.
And tsundere wasn't outdated yet either. The thrill of slowly thawing a hard-shelled character offered deep immersion. That moment when they finally open up, showing a shy side reserved just for you—that made all the prior struggles worthwhile. The appeal of tsundere lay in that bittersweet, irresistible tension.
That was the essence!
Having consumed countless sister-themed works, Kuroha Akira could spot 'potential' from a mile away. It was about capturing that elusive, ambiguous, seemingly-close-yet-distant feeling that made readers' hearts itch, desperate to see what happened next.
Excellent. Theme confirmed.
With decisive keystrokes, Kuroha Akira typed into the blank document: 『Theme: Younger Sister』
Next step: the outline.
And thus began the true hell of creation…