She gently closed her eyes, burying her face in her arms as the setting sun cast a veil over her. The wind slowed, brushing her ear, and the girl's lips subtly curved.
It's okay.
It will definitely succeed.
She prayed this in her heart.
…
"This damn rainy season…"
When Kiyono woke, the first thing he saw was the ceiling—and mold in the corner of the wall like skin shot through with greenish-gray veins.
But it didn't dampen his mood. Barely containing his excitement, he threw off his blanket.
Washing up.
Drinking in large gulps.
Grabbing his backpack.
When everything was ready, he slipped the amulet Yanami had given him into his pants pocket and patted it through the fabric—a small blessing.
With his sports bag slung over his shoulder, he stepped out of the internet café.
In the hallway, a made-up girl was practicing an idol's morning wink in a small mirror. Feeling his gaze, she shyly lowered the mirror, a clear blush rising to her cheeks.
Kiyono gave her a thumbs-up: very cute.
Outside, the sky was still overcast; the clouds hung low, pressing on the city skyline. The smell of damp earth rose from the cracks in the asphalt.
A cool breeze met his face.
Kiyono mounted his bicycle and pedaled at an easy pace.
"Even though the forecast said no rain, I have a weird feeling it's going to pour… Should I buy a raincoat?"
Near the restaurant's convenience store, he slowed and muttered. Just then, a familiar voice called from ahead.
"Junior!"
Kiyono braked and looked up.
"Yanami?"
He stared in surprise at the blue-haired girl waving in front of the store, a meat bun in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. Her pretty face glowed with a smile—silly at first glance, but the longer he looked, the more beautiful she seemed.
"What a coincidence," Yanami said, her expression the simple joy of meeting an acquaintance on the street.
"Why are you up so early?" Kiyono asked, still a little surprised.
"I was hungry."
She squinted and smiled, as if that settled everything—never mind that her home was half an hour away.
"Here, take this."
Yanami pulled a raincoat from her bag and tucked it into his bike's front basket. "I'm lending this to you, okay?"
She was always like this: appearing in the right place at the right time.
"Are you an RPG NPC waiting to give me a quest?" Kiyono joked.
"Yes, yes—brave Knight of Radiance, go defeat the Demon King and save the princess!"
Yanami tilted her head, smiling like a true princess.
Kiyono's heart stirred. He hummed an acknowledgment.
With a wave from the blue-haired girl, he rode on.
He crossed into Chiyoda. While waiting at a red light, he glanced up at an ad on a building. The slogan for a new light novel seemed to glitter: "Your story will eventually shine—"
He walked the same path as last time, the cold wind needling his forehead.
He stood beneath the tall building again.
It was still dazzling here—a convergence of money, dreams, passion, and hope.
Kiyono took the stairs toward the company, facing the character posters along the outer wall. He stopped, gazing quietly. Many were figures he'd recently read about—some he liked.
In a trance, their lines seemed to cross time and touch his heart.
—"Don't stand still."
—"Look at the present; everyone will notice your brilliance."
This isn't a fantasy world.
Kiyono drew a deep breath and stepped forward.
Yanami arrived at the restaurant early. Today mattered to Kiyono, and as a good friend, she had to see him at once—then choose her response based on the outcome!
Now, the blue-haired girl sat with hands clasped under her chin, expression serious—like a husband pacing outside a delivery room.
Creak.
The door opened.
He's here!
Yanami's heart clenched; her expression turned even more solemn.
She slapped the table and blurted, "Is it a boy or a girl!?"
"…What are you talking about?" Kiyono stared.
Yanami's cheeks flushed. She coughed lightly, hurried over in small steps, hesitated, then demanded, "I mean the result—the result!"
She fixed her gaze on his eyes, heart pounding.
"It passed the submission review," Kiyono said casually.
Eh?
Yanami's eyes widened slowly.
Which means—
So it is, so it is, so it is.
"It really succeeded? You really succeeded!"
A rush of feelings surged through her. She let out a small squeal and shook him, her eyes growing moist.
In that instant, a swirl of emotions she couldn't fully name kept rising, impossible to control.
One emotion was undoubtedly being moved.
Kiyono had been advancing toward his dream, and she'd watched from the closest distance. When his brilliance finally bloomed for others to see, the ache of being moved was indescribable.
Another was pure emotion.
The arrow he'd loosed with all his strength—though buffeted for a moment by strong winds—had struck the bullseye.
There was also something like worship.
He'd done what others couldn't imagine, surpassed her expectations, and was steadily becoming better—while she still treaded in place.
Why?
For a moment, she saw a future Kiyono.
A little more confident than now, his clothes still a bit unkempt.
Quitting his current job and meeting his editor in a café, trading light jokes to frame his opinions; then, under a cool, questioning stare, growing serious and resolute.
They would argue fiercely, reconcile, and finally create singular works that moved readers to tears.
She wiped her eyes, suddenly feeling Kiyono very far away.
Heisei 22 (2010).
Dengeki Bunko Newcomer Award—Results Announced.
A Gift for the God of Death won the Grand Prize (First Place).
Editor's comment: "A problematic work whose genre is hard to define. At first glance, one might even doubt its commercial value as a light novel. Rather than a light novel, it feels closer to literature—but I believe everyone who finishes this book will experience the same profound emotion."
—Publication approved.
…
Although the light novel succeeded—and even sparked small-scale discussion—at first glance he'd only put one foot into the middle class. Kiyono's life hadn't changed much: still shuttling between the restaurant and the internet café.
After all, the novel needed repeated discussions, proofreading, cover design, printing, promotion, sales… It would take at least three to four months to publish smoothly and for royalties to arrive.
Meanwhile, he still had to work part-time. Yet a shaft of moonlight had pierced the cloud cover. Life had a new direction, and today's hardships would be tomorrow's cherished memories.
In the past two days, he'd wondered whether he could ask his editor for a way to earn extra cash—maybe a quick-turn short story award. But they'd just met; he hesitated to ask.
Most important for now…
"I need to figure out my identity and bank card," Kiyono thought, staring at his laptop while raindrops traced the window beside him.
He'd submitted the forms using Yanami's family details—when he'd asked her before, she'd only teased, "Do you really want to become the Yanami family's second son?" But now that wouldn't do; it had to be formalized.
"I'll ask the editor how to handle it when I get back."
He scratched his head and glanced at the chat with "Xue" on his screen.
"Report! I've successfully conquered Dengeki Bunko—and accidentally took first place."
They'd fought side-by-side for several nights; the moment he won, he messaged Xiaoxue.
"Is that so? Congratulations." The reply was as cold as ever.
"Though Teacher Xiaoxue's hellish guidance hurt at first, all those revised details were praised by the editor. You made me better, so this first place belongs to you too. At this point I'm eagerly awaiting your sharp tongue like a girl in love!"
"Call me that again and I'll kill you."
A chill seemed to frost the screen.
"Moreover, this has nothing to do with me."
She paused.
Then said:
"Your worries and sorrows are pains you chose. The brilliance attained through that pain is yours alone."
"It's raining, isn't it?"
"It's raining."
Neon blurred across the window's dripping glass. Outside, the night was desolate. Yanami stood at the lobby's floor-to-ceiling window, her nose nearly touching the cold pane, her breath fogging into the rain streaks.
Kiyono, meanwhile, scrubbed at a stubborn oil stain on his apron.
It was already past nine. Only the two of them remained in the shop. The space was empty and silent, with only the rush of water—like the world had dwindled to just them.
Yanami playfully fogged the glass again, as if toying around—but in truth, she kept stealing looks at the young man's reflection.
Two days had passed since Kiyono's win. At first she'd worried the result would change things between them, but Kiyono behaved as usual, which reassured her—even if a flicker of anxiety still flashed now and then.
She drew a smiling face in the cloud of her breath.