“Huhhh?!”
Itsuki’s eyes opened wide, his voice cracking. Miyako kept her gaze on him.
“Because the person I want to edit for the most isn’t Nayuta Kani or Haruto Fuwa—it’s you. Itsuki Hashima. I’ve felt that way ever since I read that novel. And I want to see it published so it can reach more people than just Nayu!”
“W-wait, wait, wait. That really was a novel meant just for Kanikou…or a love letter, really. If anyone else reads it, it’s gonna look like a bunch of masturbatory garbage.”
“No it won’t!”
Miyako was sure of it, no matter how much Itsuki berated himself.
“I read that novel, and it had me by the heart. I love it the most out of anything you’ve written…or actually, out of any novel I’ve ever read. That novel made me want to become the protagonist of my story, too. And I’m sure lots and lots of people could use that novel, too.”
The gravity of her tone made Itsuki stare at Miyako intently.
“…You’re serious, huh?”
“Super serious.”
“Mm…” He let out an exhalation. “To be honest with you…I thought about releasing it, too. It was a love letter for one person, but I threw my soul and all my skill into that novel. To me, at least, it’s definitely the best thing I’ve ever written. And as a professional writer, it’s not like I’m not curious about how the general public would receive it…”
“So then…!” Miyako’s face lit up, her breath quickening.
“But I’ve got one condition!”
“Condition?”
“I sent that novel to Kanikou, so it belongs to her. You need to convince her first before you can publish it.”
“Okay… I hear you.”
“And before you publish it,” Itsuki continued, “lemme perform a round of revisions on it first. There’s actually a few big fixes I’d like to make.”
“Of—of course…but how big? What kind of fixes are we talking about?”
The novel, she thought, was easily a marketable product as it stood right now. How much room was there for large-scale changes?
“I…can’t tell you.”
“Uh… Well, can I decide on that after you make your revisions?”
“All right.” Itsuki nodded.
And so Itsuki Hashima’s forty-thousand-word, untitled love letter, written exclusively for his beloved, had its publication project underway. That…and it was also the birth of a duo who would later make a huge, indelible mark on the entire publishing industry.
Back in Tokyo after the resort trip, Miyako asked Nayuta about letting her publish the novel. She met with no resistance: “Yeah, sure thing! Like, it’s the masterpiece of the century! It’d be a huge loss to literary history if it didn’t get released!”
That’s Nayuta for you—Itsuki’s lover, and his biggest, most enthusiastic fan.
Miyako then made a beeline for the GF Bunko editorial department and asked Kenjiro Toki and Editor in Chief Godo if Branch Hill Bunko could publish one of Itsuki’s previously unreleased manuscripts.
“If Mr. Hashima agreed to it,” Godo replied despite the dour look on his face, “we don’t have any right to stop him.”
“Good luck on that,” Toki added, looking just as sad about it.
Finally, Miyako made the proposal to her peers at the next Branch Hill Bunko edit meeting. Her presentation wasn’t exactly extensive—just a really long wall of text talking about how awesome this novel was and how they’d understand once they read it—but Ayane still gave the okay nonetheless. “It sounds like fun,” she explained, “so let’s go for it!”
Thus the project was officially set in motion.
A month later, Itsuki had the second draft finished for the novel he was now calling I Want to Be the Protagonist, so Miyako read it at once.
The core plot was unchanged from the first draft, but there was indeed one major change. Toward the end, there was a section where the heroine was attracted to someone else after she broke up with the hero. In the first draft, this interloper was a popular actor, modeled after Yuma Takashina—an attractive guy on the surface but a womanizing brute when nobody’s looking. This personality, of course, was completely the work of Itsuki’s imagination, far removed from the real thing. Even Nayuta called this characterization “cheesy” and “self-serving,” the only criticism she had at all, and Miyako agreed with her. Still, she didn’t see it as a lethal problem—it helped set up the scene where the hero confronted this villain and punched him out, and that was too exhilaratingly entertaining to dilute at all.
But in the second draft, that handsome actor didn’t even show up in the story. He had been completely erased from existence. The heroine still grew attracted to someone else post-breakup in the story’s third act—but this time, the would-be paramour was Kei Kuroyama, a mutual female friend of theirs who appeared in the early stages of the story.
In the first draft, Kei was mostly a helpful supporting actor, appearing now and then to give the hero or heroine a hand with something, but the second gave her a lot more page time and offered much more of her internal narration. She was now a linchpin character, enough so that you could call her a third protagonist. The way she worked hard to support the wounded heroine despite her own troubles was incredibly attractive—the reader could absolutely understand why the heroine fell for her. There was even a scene where Kei and the heroine went skin-to-skin to comfort each other. If the actor from the first draft rounded third base with the heroine, Miyako didn’t think she could stomach that, but with Kei, it seemed oddly reasonable.
Once the hero and Kei began confronting each other, the result was real human drama, hearts and minds laid bare and clashing with each other—much deeper, more profound drama than some guy punching out his mean rival and saving the girl. It was a raw, sometimes painful depiction of questions that unite us all: What is love? What is happiness?
“Wow… This is incredible, Itsuki! I think this is so much better than the first draft!”
That was Miyako’s first reaction after reading the manuscript in Itsuki’s apartment.
“Heh… Right?” Itsuki smiled, obviously loving this.
“Ahhh…” The fever was clear in Miyako’s sigh. “I can’t believe Kei morphed into such an engaging character… When she first got introduced, she looked like this typical troubled girl you’d see anywhere, but she’s so kind, and honest, and passionate, and…not perfect at all but just so cool to experience… I think I might empathize with Kei the most in this novel!”
“…I bet you do,” Itsuki scornfully muttered.
“Huh?”
Itsuki looked at the confused Miyako as if beholding some strange fantasy creature.
“…Didn’t you pick up on it?”
“…? Pick up on what?”
“…I had a model for Kei Kuroyama.”
“Oh, you did?” Miyako replied.
Itsuki rolled his eyes. “Seriously…? You still don’t realize it?”
“Itsuki?”
“The model for Kei Kuroyama, this charming woman you went on about resonating with so much… It’s you. Miyako Shirakawa.”
“Huh?” Miyako’s mouth dropped open.
“There’s a lot of fiction in this, of course…but the personality and behavior and stuff is pretty much all you. Miyako Shirakawa, from my point of view.”
Miyako’s face glowed warmly. “Wh-what?! W-wait a minute, Itsuki! There’s no way I’m this cool and honest with myself!”
“You don’t think? Well, that’s how it looks to me. And I had Kanikou read this, and the first thing she said was, Whoa, you knew? …So I don’t think it’s just me, you know?”
“Uh… What did she mean by that?”
“Well, I assume she meant, You knew that I kind of love Miyako in a romantic way, you know?”
Itsuki’s delivery was so nonchalant, Miyako’s head spun even faster.
“Ah, wha—? Nayu feels that way? About me? Huhhh?!”
“You’re second to her after me, of course, but…”
Itsuki almost seemed a bit competitive about it.
Miyako flipped through the manuscript again, unable to calm her racing heart. Fragmented scenes of Kei danced before her eyes. Images of Kei laughing, crying, raging—all while looking exactly like Miyako—flashed through her brain.
“B-but I— I’ve never had sex with Nayu before! …Like, things have gotten pretty taut between us, yeah, but we never went all the way…”
“That part’s all fiction,” Itsuki replied, squinting. “Don’t let it bother you.”
Miyako thumbed through the novel again from the start, face reddening more. “…Do I really look that way from your and Nayu’s point of view?”
“Yep.”
“…It’s so hard to believe…”
“Well, why don’t we have Haruto and Kaiko read it, too? Because I’ll bet you anything they’ll know who she’s based on in one guess.”
Miyako sighed a bit. “If you think so…you’re probably right, yeah.”
Troubled in love, troubled with friendships, troubled with her dreams—Kei Kuroyama held the triple crown of young neuroses, but she still kept marching on. It was such a dazzling sight that even though Miyako could feel for her, there was no way she could see herself in the character.
Still, she thought, the idea that she looked this way to somebody was oddly encouraging. The real her was a total mess—just this weak, pathetic half person—but she wanted to have at least a little confidence in herself. Besides, if all these people thought she was this cool, attractive girl, she didn’t want to reject that out of hand.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Well, Itsuki Hashima, thank you for this excellent novel. You really are my favorite novelist.”
✦ ✦ ✦
The words were as heartfelt as they were totally spontaneous. Itsuki turned his head away, blushing out of embarrassment.
✦ ✦ ✦
