Sumiya Ryouta rubbed his nose, still bandaged with a plaster.
"Damn, my nose still hurts. That punch really packed a wallop—almost knocked me flat… but I held my ground!"
He actually sounded kind of proud?
"By the way, Akira, how did you even land that punch? Have you trained in boxing?"
"Nope."
Kuroba Akira had never done any kind of boxing. As a corporate drone in his past life, he barely had time to jog, let alone pick up a sport like boxing.
That said, in an effort to get rid of his double chin, he had tried some cardio boxing for a few months… though calling it "boxing" was a stretch—it was more like aerobics.
"I mean, if you're swinging full-force straight at my face like that, anyone could dodge it as long as they can see it coming."
Sumiya Ryouta folded his arms and muttered, "I see… if you can see it, you can dodge it…"
Wait—don't tell me this is how his interest in boxing starts?
A guy with a Talent like [Boxing A] actually picking up boxing for real… Could this be the first step toward the birth of Japan's future boxing champion?
If one punch from me ends up creating a boxing legend, that'd be… kind of hilarious.
"Sounds fun! Let's hit the gym sometime!"
"No thanks. I've got more important things to do."
Kuroba Akira shot him down without hesitation.
"Like what?"
"Writing a novel. It's a Literature Club activity."
Akira made sure to emphasize the word our, clearly trying to provoke him. But Sumiya Ryouta, being the carefree guy he was, didn't take the bait—instead, he snorted.
"Oh, must be one of those dumb make-work projects that Shirai Shiori chick came up with. Didn't the Newspaper Club already take over all the Literature Club's activities? What's the point of writing a novel…"
So Ryouta was aware of the crisis the Literature Club was facing. Maybe he had originally wanted to join to help solve the problem. But now, that burden had fallen on Kuroba Akira.
"That stuck-up chick—she actually looks decent when she's not talking."
"You know her?"
"She's kind of famous in Class 3. Actually, even before school started, she already had a name for herself. Wrote a short story and won some newcomer award or whatever…"
Ryouta struggled to remember the details about Shirai Shiori, but he'd never been much into books. He couldn't recall the title or the name of the award.
"I don't really get the literary stuff, but some friends in Class 3 said her handwriting is really pretty. Just that her personality is trash. Not gentle at all. Total girlfriend repellent. Can't figure out how Hitomi even became friends with her…"
Fujiyoshi Michio added with a wry smile, "It was the Suiren Publishing Short Story Newcomer Award. Not as famous as the Naoki Prize or the Akutagawa, but still a well-known debut award in the industry. Every single past winner has gone on to publish as a novelist—some even snagged major literary prizes afterward. So yeah, it's a big deal in traditional lit circles."
"Whoa…"
"But what's really impressive is that Shirai-san was the first minor to ever win since the award's founding! That's basically historic."
"…"
Then, a little sheepishly, he added, "Actually… I read that story too. It was really good. Way beyond what a high schooler should be able to write. I'm sure she's going to be a big-name author one day. We're all still just kids, but for some people, the road ahead is already crystal clear…"
Fujiyoshi looked on with envy. Kuroba Akira, on the other hand, was deep in thought.
An unexpected info drop about Shirai Shiori.
So she's the real deal, huh?
Since Shirai hadn't joined the palm reading session—and wore those white lace gloves the whole time—Akira hadn't been able to confirm her Talent. But now it was clear. Her right hand must have a mark on it.
And probably a high-ranking Talent at that. Otherwise, there's no way she'd have won a literary newcomer award at her age.
Plus, if she'd won the award, that meant she'd already published something. No wonder she was so confident about their bet.
Still, the one thing she miscalculated was—she made the bet with a shameless bastard.
Kuroba Akira planned to drag her IQ down to his level… and beat her with sheer experience.
So what if she's a genius? I'll beat a genius fair and square!
That said, Akira's opinion of her had definitely shifted.
Originally, he'd figured that if Shirai Shiori failed to get published within a month, he'd just stretch the deadline a little, give her some extra time to succeed.
That way, they could call it a draw, and she'd still have an out.
Then he could hold it over her forever—jokingly blackmail her, poke fun at her smug face while she fumed but couldn't argue back.
But now, it was starting to look like she could actually get published within a month.
Which meant… this was a race.
He'd have to secure a publishing deal before she did.
Even if his opponent was just a high school girl, there was no room for mercy.
The class rep really has some terrifying friends, huh… So geniuses attract other geniuses, like Stand Users or something?
After chatting with the two for a bit longer, Kuroba Akira headed out the school gates and made his way home.
All the way back, he was torn about one thing:
Should he plagiarize a novel?
To be honest… the idea made him uncomfortable.
As someone who'd worked as a professional copywriter and scriptwriter, Akira still had some standards.
Taking inspiration was fine—but outright copying?
The "language barrier" excuse he kept using was really just a cover. If he really wanted to plagiarize, he could've started the second day after transmigrating using translation software.
The reason he'd put it off for this long… was because deep down, he couldn't get past the idea of stealing.
It felt like the moment he crossed that line, he'd be no better than a thief.
If Akira hadn't been a writer in his past life—if he didn't understand the blood, sweat, and tears that went into creating good work—he might've gone ahead without a second thought, enjoyed the fame and fortune of "his" stolen stories.
But because he was an insider, he knew just how much heart authors poured into their work.
Even though this world was a strange parallel version of his own, maybe those original authors still existed. Maybe they'd never write those same books here, maybe they'd never even become writers—but Akira didn't want to steal their possibility.
He also didn't want to "ruin the source material." After all, he didn't have a photographic memory. He could recall the general plotlines of books he'd read, but not every word.
Even if he plagiarized, it wouldn't be a perfect replica.
Sigh… sometimes, having a conscience is a real pain.
What's more, after making that bet with Shirai Shiori, the whole situation had changed.
If it were just about making money, and he was broke and desperate, maybe he could justify crossing the line. Money's money, after all.
But now? He was trying to win over a proud, talented girl—make her acknowledge him. Using someone else's work might get the job done… but she'd be admiring the story, not him.
Even if Shirai never found out, Akira didn't want to lie to himself.
Beating her with a plagiarized novel… that wouldn't be a real victory.
Thinking that, Kuroba Akira pulled out his student ID. Tucked inside was the bank card he'd brought with him when he transmigrated.
He didn't know exactly how much money was in it, but if he could withdraw the funds, it'd give him a decent cushion.
Now that he'd fully learned the language, if he really tried, he could figure out a way to access the account. Maybe even get in touch with his "family."
But he hadn't done either of those things—because of a different barrier in his heart.
One named not mine.
Even though he acted like he was adjusting fine, deep down, he still hadn't truly accepted this new identity. He still felt like someone else wearing the name Kuroba Akira.
So that money wasn't "his." It was money Kuroba Akira's parents had saved for their son—not for him, a stowaway in someone else's life.
Which was why he hadn't judged Shiginomiya for not wanting to use her father's money, either.
Because he felt the same way.
Besides, the Kobayashi family was providing room and board. With no survival crisis, there was no real need to touch that money.
Even though half a year had passed since he arrived in this alternate Tokyo, he still hadn't fully integrated into everyday life here.
But now… this literary duel seemed to be giving him a sense of belonging.
No matter where I am…
I'm still a creator.
A nerd who lives for stories.
That's who Kuroba Akira was now.
So it's time—walk your own path.
With your own skills—
Strip Shirai Shiori bare!