Yukinoshita is not going easy on Zaimokuza .

Opening the door to the clubroom, I caught a rare glimpse of Yukinoshita dozing of .

"Long night, huh?" I commented, but she continued breathing softly in her sleep. She was almost smiling, an expression quite different from her usual flawless mask, and seeing this new side of her made my heart race.

I started feeling as though I wouldn't mind watching her tender, sleeping face forever…her gently swaying black hair…her smooth, pale, almost translucent skin…her large, misty eyes, and her well-shaped pink lips…

"You surprised me. That face of yours woke me up completely."

Ack… That remark right there just woke me up, too. I almost let her appearance deceive me and lost my head. I'd like to send this girl to an eternal sleep.

Yukinoshita yawned broadly like a cat, raising both hands above her head and stretching high.

"From the look of it, you had a pretty rough night, too."

"Yes, it's been a long time since I last stayed up all night, and I've never read anything of this nature before… I don't think I'll be able to get into this genre."

"Yeah, me either," Yuigahama said.

"You didn't even read it. Read it now, come on!" At my insistence, Yuigahama groaned and pulled said draft from her bag. It was in mint condition without a single crease. Yuigahama flipped through it at an unnaturally fast pace. She read it like it was the most boring thing in the World, seriously. Leaning in from the side to watch, I opened my mouth to speak.

"Zaimokuza's draft isn't representative of all light novels. There's a lot of good ones," I said, fully acknowledging that I wasn't being very supportive of Zaimokuza.

Yukinoshita tilted her head and listened. "Like the one you were reading the other day?"

"Yeah, that one's interesting. I recommend Gaga—"

"When I get the chance." There is a law that says, People who say that will never actually read it. I keenly felt that law come into effect at that exact moment as someone knocked wildly on the clubroom door.

"Good morrow." Zaimokuza entered with an archaic salutation. "Now then, let me hear your impressions." He sat down in a chair with a thud and crossed his arms arrogantly. His expression had an edge of smug superiority, his face brimming with confidence.

Opposite him sat Yukinoshita, looking unusually apologetic. "I'm sorry. I don't really know much about this sort of thing…," she prefaced.

Zaimokuza's response was generous. "I care not. I wanted to ask the opinions of normal folk. Say what you will about it."

Yukinoshita replied with a brief, "Sure," took a small breath, and readied herself.

"It was boring. It was actually painful to read. It was boring beyond anything I had imagined."

"Gagh!"

She cut the poor bastard down in a single strike. Rattling in his chair, Zaimokuza was thrown back in his seat, but he somehow managed to right himself again.

"First of all, your grammar is all over the place. Why do you constantly put sentences in reverse order? Do you know how to use grammar? Did you not learn that in elementary school?"

"Nghh… I used a simple style in order to give the reader an impression of intimacy…"

"Don't you think you should be capable of writing basic Japanese before you think about that? Plus, there are so many errors in the kanji readings you're sticking in there. You don't read the characters for 'ability' as 'strength.' And how on earth does something written with the characters for 'illusory red blade flash' get pronounced as 'bloody nightmare slasher'—in English? Where did that 'nightmare' come from, anyway?"

"Geh! U-ugh… No! These days they come up with distinctive names for superpowers."

"This is just self-indulgence. Nobody but you will understand it. Do you want people to actually read this? Oh yes, speaking of getting people to read it, it's so obvious what's going to happen in this book that it's not in the least bit suspenseful. And why does the heroine take off her clothes in this part? There's absolutely no need for it in that scene, and it's utterly dull."

"Ergh! B-but you need…elements like that in order to sell, um…"

"And these other sentences are too long, too verbose, have too many characters, and are too hard to read. Or perhaps I should just ask that you not make people read an incomplete story. Before acquiring some literary skills, you first should acquire some common sense."

"Gyagh!" Zaimokuza threw out all four of his limbs and emitted a shriek.

His shoulders twitched spasmodically. His eyes rolled back to the ceiling, showing only the whites. His overreactions were starting to get annoying, and I thought it was about time for him to stop.

"That's enough," I said. "Laying that all on him at once is a little much."

"I'm still not done, but…fine, then. So next is Yuigahama?"

"Huh? M-me?!" Yuigahama replied in surprise. Zaimokuza turned to her and gave her a pleading look. His eyes were blurry with tears. Seeing this, and understandably feeling sorry for him, Yuigahama stared into space and tried to look for something to praise. "U-um… Y-you know a lot of difficult words, huh?" she squeezed out.

"So cruel—ngf!"

"You didn't have to finish him off there…"

Those words were practically taboo to an aspiring writer. I mean, saying that means there was nothing else praiseworthy about it, you know? It's something that people who don't really read a lot of light novels often say when asked to give their opinion, but saying that is basically the same thing as saying, That was boring.

"O-okay, you next, Hikki." Yuigahama stood from her seat and offered it to me as if making her escape. She sat me down directly opposite Zaimokuza and deposited herself daintily in a seat behind me and to the side. Zaimokuza had already burned himself out. He was all pale, and I couldn't stand to look him in the eye.

"G-gngh. H-Hachiman. You get it, right? You understand the world I created, the horizons of the book. None of these fools can comprehend it, but you understand the depth of my tale, don't you?"

Yes, I understand.

I nodded to put him at ease. Zaimokuza's eyes told me, I trust you. It would have made me less of a man had I failed to reply here. I took a deep breath and said kindly, "So what're you ripping off here?"

"Bfft?! Gerk… eergh…" Zaimokuza rolled around writhing on the floor, and when he hit the wall, he stopped and lay still without a twitch. His empty eyes looked up at the ceiling, and a single tear streaked down his cheek. His message of Oh, I guess I'll just die was abundantly clear.

"You're merciless. That was even crueler than me." Yukinoshita was quite taken aback.

"Hey…" Yuigahama poked my side with her elbow. She seemed to be saying, You have something else to say, right? What should I have said…? I

thought for a bit before remembered I'd forgotten to raise the most basic point.

"Well, the important part is the illustrations. Don't worry too much about the content."

***

Zaimokuza gasped in and out, going through some Lamaze technique to calm

himself before pushing himself to his feet, trembling like a newborn baby deer. Then he smacked the dust off his clothes and turned straight to me.

"Will you read my work again sometime?" I doubted my ears for a

moment. He repeated himself in a clearer, stronger voice. "Will you read my work again sometime?" He regarded both me and Yukinoshita expectantly.

"Are you—"

"—a masochist?" Yuigahama, hiding in my shadow, cast Zaimokuza a

loathing leer. It was as if she were saying, Die, you pervert. No, that wasn't his problem.

"You still wanna do that after having your book chewed up like that?"

"Of course. Your criticism was indeed harsh. I even thought that maybe I

should just die, because it's not like I can get girls, and I don't have any friends anyway. I was actually thinking that everyone but me should just die."

"Yeah, I'll bet. If someone said all that to me, I'd want to die, too." But

having taken all those hits, Zaimokuza could still say that.

"But…but even so, it made me happy. I wrote that because I wanted to,

and I'm glad I could have someone read it and give me their opinion. I cannot Say as of yet what I should call this feeling I have right now, but…having someone read my draft does please me," he declared, smiling.

It wasn't the Master Swordsman General's smile; it was Yoshiteru Zaimokuza's smile.

Oh, I get it.

He didn't just have M-2 syndrome. He was afflicted with a full-blown

writer's fever. Wanting to write because you want to write, because you have something to say…feeling happy when what you've written moves someone,

and then wanting to write over and over…carrying on even in the face of the

disapproval of others… I think that was what they called the writing bug.

I had to read it. Because, I mean, this was his goal: the result of his M-2

syndrome. This was the vindication of his struggle to give shape to his fantasies. Even after being treated like a sicko, being frowned upon and laughed at, he never yielded and never surrendered.

***

few days passed after that. It was sixth period. The final class of the day

was gym. Zaimokuza and I were, as usual, paired up. That was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Hachiman. What divinely skilled artist is popular these days?"

"You're getting ahead of yourself. Think about that after you've won that

contest."

"Hmm. 'Tis so. The problem is where I should make my debut…"

"Why do you keep assuming you're going to win?"

"If I get popular and it gets made into an anime, maybe I can marry a

voice actress?"

"Come on. Enough of that. First, write your draft. Okay?"

That was basically how Zaimokuza and I started talking during gym class.

If anything changed, that was the extent of it. It's not like we talked about anything important. Our conversations weren't especially uplifting, and we didn't burst into laughter like the people around us. The things we talked about were neither fashionable nor cool. It was nothing but pathetic nonsense.

Even I thought it was dumb. I honestly wondered what the point of these

c onversations was.

But, at the very least, I didn't hate gym class anymore.

That was basically i