"Zaimokuza, what are you drinking?" Shiro asked.
"Ah, just any juice will do, my liege."
"Got it."
Shiro decided to grab a lemon soda for himself. It was a shame this particular vending machine didn't have the milk tea he had been craving lately.
As his soda clattered down into the bin with a heavy thud, Shiro scooped it up along with a random cherry-flavored juice he'd picked out for Zaimokuza and walked back toward the other two.
"Here." He tossed the cherry juice to Zaimokuza.
"My gratitude," Zaimokuza replied with practiced solemnity. He caught the can and peered at the label, rubbing his thick chin in deep thought. It seemed he had never tried this flavor before either.
"Every new taste is like a new adventure into the unknown," he remarked, looking up at the sky with a dramatic sigh.
Seriously, stop acting like you're in an epic poem... Shiro thought.
PE was the first period of the afternoon, which meant there was only one class left before the end of the day.
If it were up to Shiro, he would have skipped it entirely. He fully understood the sentiment of those weary old generals from history: "I've fought wars for years; can't I just enjoy myself now?"
Exactly. I've fought through lifetimes of conflict; shouldn't I be allowed a bit of leisure?
However, his parents in this life had high hopes for him. They had sent him all the way from the countryside of Hokkaido to the Greater Tokyo Area specifically for his education. In the end, Shiro had chosen to enroll at Sobu High in neighboring Chiba.
The main reason? Tokyo's rent was highway robbery. Despite how anime protagonists always seem to live in nice apartments with no money, the reality of living in the capital was a financial nightmare.
While Shiro had technically achieved "financial freedom" through his writing and didn't need to ask his parents for a monthly allowance anymore, he still felt he owed them enough not to let a bad reputation reach back home. So, he begrudgingly followed the basic discipline of being a student. Whether he actually listened in class, however, was a different story.
Hachiman's strategy of getting single digits in science but ranking in the top five for humanities was something Shiro found highly worth emulating. It turned the already easy Japanese high school life into a total breeze.
After changing back into his uniform, Shiro returned to Class E. His seat was toward the back, though unfortunately not in the "Protagonist's Seat"—the second-to-last row by the window.
Shiro pulled out a notebook and began to write.
「"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."」
「My sister walked toward me, bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun. Because it was evening, her face seemed slightly flushed.」
「Or at least, I hoped there was another reason for it.」
「"Thank you for coming." The long wait had only made my resolve firmer. I looked directly at her, my gaze unwavering.」
「"..." Had she sensed something?」
「"I have something I must tell you." The words had to be said.」
「"I... I love you."」
「"I love you as a woman."」
「"..." She remained silent, just staring at me. Her eyes were wide—was it shock, or was it...?」
「"I want us to be lovers."」
「Love is a complex emotion. I had always loved her as a sister, but now there was a distinction.」
「"I've fallen for you." I chose a different word—not just 'like' or 'affection,' but a word that contained every fiber of my being.」
「...」
「"I've fallen for you too."」
「"In my heart, you are the only 'man.' Of course, I know that Father, the uncles, the boys in class... they are all men. But yours is the only love I want. No, I want to be the only one you feel this way about."」
「"I love you... I love you more than anything."」
Thump! Thump!
Two heavy raps on his desk shattered Shiro's internal immersion. He looked up to find the Physics teacher—a man with thick glasses and a glaring "comb-over" tonsure—staring him down with pure indignation.
Not only that, but the eyes of the entire class were fixed on him.
"Kagehiro-kun, please do not disturb the other students during my lecture."
"Yes... my apologies, Sensei." Shiro apologized sincerely.
The romance of teenage boys and girls was like a cringeworthy poem—itchy to the ears of listeners and unbearable to the eyes of onlookers. Shiro realized he must have been making some weird expressions or gestures while lost in his creative flow. Great, he had just added another "weirdo rumor" to his reputation.
Sigh...
In the end, he had chosen a "taboo" theme for his latest work. It was a decision based on the cold reality of the market. To cater to readers and the otaku demographic, he had to provide what they wanted. It wasn't just his own perversion at work here.
He put down his pen and closed the manuscript. On the cover, written in elegant, flowing calligraphy, were four characters: "Senren Banka."
He leaned back, trying to cool down his mind, which was still racing from the "cheesy" and "ambiguous" dialogue he'd just drafted.
If I keep writing like this, I'm going to end up winning another 'Adult Fiction' award like last time instead of a mainstream literature prize...
Shiro—known to the publishing world by his pen name "Shiro"—had become a sensation with his debut work, "Yosuga no Sora."
He could still remember the twitch in his editor's eye when he first submitted the manuscript. The look that clearly said: "The content is a bit... extreme. Please turn left and submit this to the adult department."
Resting his chin on his interlaced fingers, Shiro sank into thought. Maybe next time I should write a rom-com. Something like "My Youth Romantic Comedy is a Disaster" or whatever.
He wouldn't even need to do research. He could just use Hachiman's life as a direct reference.
On the podium, the Physics teacher was also sinking into deep thought. This kid...
Because the entire class was still staring at Shiro, his "The Thinker" pose was drawing far too much attention.
Sigh...
The balding teacher let out a mental sigh, decided to ignore the boy, and continued his lecture.
With the final chime of the bell, the school day officially ended.
Work time is over! It's leisure time!
Shiro felt a surge of excitement. He packed his bag with practiced speed. He was a staunch member of the Kitaku-bu (The Going Home Club). After a busy day, the most blissful time was the lazy hours spent lying on his bed at home.
"Hey, where are we going today?"
"A new cafe opened in front of the Chiba Shrine. It's pretty good, want to check it out?"
"Ehh~ that's too far."
"Come on, let's go!"
"I have club activities today, you guys go ahead."
None of this involved Shiro. He had no "clique" in class and wasn't part of any official club. He walked out of the classroom alone, weaving through the groups of chattering students.
His novel was almost finished. If he wrote any more, he'd probably have to switch to a more "specialized" publisher. All that was left was the "after-story" or some short extras about the characters having children.
Estimating his royalties, he figured if a game studio wanted to adapt it, he wouldn't mind writing a few more routes for the sake of the paycheck.
White. Yellow. Green.
The campus scenery under the afternoon sun looked as if it were viewed through a warm, nostalgic filter. Shiro liked it this way. A calm, peaceful daily life was, in his memory, a treasure worth more than gold.
"It is a good life we lead, brother," Shiro muttered.
"Huh? What are you talking about?" Hachiman asked, appearing beside him.
"..." Shiro pouted, his expression turning to one of pure disdain.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just feel like I wasted a perfectly good poetic moment on you."
Hachiman ignored Shiro's sudden "fit" and kept walking. Shiro followed; at least for this short stretch, they were heading the same way.
"Going to your club?"
"Yeah."
"I thought you didn't want to go."
"It's better than being dragged there by force," Hachiman muttered. It was better than Shizuka-sensei putting him in a headlock. As the saying goes, if you can't resist, you might as well get it over with so no one comes looking for you.
"Heh, I didn't think you'd actually start enjoying your 'youth'."
"!" Hachiman shot him a look that said: Are you out of your mind?
"I just go there to do my own thing and read. Whatever you call 'youth' has nothing to do with me."
"Sounds like a Literature Club. But doing things with someone else is completely different from being alone," Shiro said.
"If I had the choice, I'd choose being alone," Hachiman replied, ever the loner.
"Mhm, mhm. Well, you've finally taken the first step toward change. As your 'sworn brother,' I have something for you."
Hachiman let out a skeptical huff as Shiro reached into his bag and pulled out a book.
"What's this?"
"A novel."
"No, I meant..." Hachiman looked at the simple cover. It was a plain, healing shade of cyan. The title: "Yosuga no Sora."
Hachiman took it and looked at the author's name on the cover: Shiro.
"Actually, this is a light novel, but this version is the 'Original Manuscript'—the unedited, award-winning version! It's completely different from the commercial version they sell in stores with the fancy illustrations. You can't buy this anywhere."
Unfortunately, one couldn't have both the "raw" art and the commercial polish at the same time.
"Read it in your clubroom," Shiro said.
"Well... thanks, I guess." Hachiman turned the book over in his hands. He felt like he had seen this somewhere before. Or maybe heard of it?
Must be my imagination...
"Don't mention it!"
Shiro's voice was already distant. Hachiman looked up to see that the boy had already walked far ahead.
SLAM!
The sound of the book hitting the table echoed in the quiet room.
"Hikigaya-kun, could you please refrain from making so much noise?"
"No, I just..." Hachiman fell silent. He had opened the book and scanned just a few pages before slamming it shut.
The "Critical Hit" hidden in those first few pages had completely sunk his battleship.
"I'm going home," he decided. He would finish this in the safety of his own room.
Yukinoshita Yukino didn't stop him from leaving. Stopping someone whose heart was clearly no longer in the room was a futile effort. Though, as a proper club member, staying until the end of the allotted time was basic etiquette.
Yosuga no Sora... I think that was the name.
Yukino thought about her club member's strange behavior as she walked home. Living alone meant she didn't have a family driver to pick her up. Taking the train and walking had become her daily routine.
As she passed a bookstore she often frequented, her peripheral vision caught a slightly faded poster on the glass.
It was a fleeting glimpse.
A white-haired boy and a frail, white-haired girl sitting on a suitcase.
The debut work of the genius author, Shiro. Take a trip back to those summer days in the countryside, under the distant sky, on the paths and porches you once walked together.
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