Tokyo: Oreimo

Yosuke Kobayashi was the most composed of everyone. When he read an interesting passage, he would jot down a few notes in his notebook, always maintaining an expression of serious academic research.

Until he opened the one numbered D.

The pen stopped.

He stared at a particular page for a long time, so long that Asakura next to him couldn't help but glance at him sideways.

Then he took off his glasses, pinched his brow, put them back on, and read the page again from beginning to end.

"What's wrong, Kobayashi?" Asakura asked in a low voice.

"No, it's nothing."

Yosuke Kobayashi put down his pen, his voice soft, "I just feel like I've written all this in vain."

The voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for everyone in the quiet activity room to hear.

Tian Zhongxue suddenly raised his head, Okubo Shota paused, and Asakura Misaki covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide open.

"Um, Kobayashi-kun?"

Misaki Asakura spoke cautiously, the strawberry milk carton slightly deformed in her hand, "When you said 'it was all for nothing,' were you referring to your own work, or...?"

"Of course I'm talking about myself."

Yosuke Kobayashi closed his notebook, his face showing no sign of frustration, but rather a strange sense of relief. "After reading this, I feel like my novel is like building a house with matchsticks. Although it can form a shape, it's just a joke compared to a real building."

"Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?" Shota Okubo pushed up his glasses, his brow furrowing slightly. "Of these drafts, I think each one has its merits; it's not like any one one completely surpasses the others..."

"You haven't seen this copy yet, have you?" Yosuke Kobayashi interrupted him.

Then he held up the file folder in his hand.

The number above is D.

Chapter 242 Who else is there besides the president? (Combined Chapter)

Yosuke Kobayashi's words were like a pebble thrown into a calm lake.

The air in the activity room seemed to freeze for a moment.

Tian Zhongxue, who had been slumped over the table, slowly straightened up. He glanced at the folder marked "D" in Kobayashi Yosuke's hand, then looked down at the manuscripts spread out in front of him.

He hasn't read up to D yet.

He read in numerical order, starting with A, and has just finished C and is now preparing to look at D.

But Yosuke Kobayashi isn't the kind of person who would casually say "it was all for nothing."

This guy doesn't talk much, and when he does, it's usually about technical analysis. Anything that makes him take off his glasses and pinch his brow must be something special.

"What you're saying is making me a little flustered."

Shota Okubo pushed up his glasses and flipped the manuscript he hadn't finished reading face down on the table.

His personality is much more outgoing than Yosuke Kobayashi's, and he speaks more directly.

"I haven't read up to D yet, but since Kobayashi said so, I might as well skip ahead and read this one first. Anyway, there's no rule that I have to read them in order."

“You can do it at your own pace.” Yosuke Kobayashi put the folder back on the table, his tone returning to its usual calm. “I’m just expressing my feelings; it doesn’t represent everyone.”

But his fingers tapped lightly twice on the corner of the folder.

"However, be prepared."

Shota Okubo raised an eyebrow and reached into the stack of manuscripts in front of him, pulling out folder number D.

Misaki Asakura hesitated for a moment, then looked down and flipped through the stack of manuscripts in her hand.

Her reading order is similar to that of Tianzhong Middle School, starting with A and currently reading C. However, unlike Okubo, she is not decisive and simply makes a mental note of it.

She decided to watch D after watching C.

Tian Zhongxue took a deep breath, put aside the manuscript numbered B in his hand, and directly flipped to manuscript number D.

He had originally planned to read in order, but after Xiaolin said that, he couldn't stop himself.

Who cares about the reading order?

He turned to the first page.

……

About twenty minutes later.

Tianzhong Middle School has finished reading it.

He closed the last folder, placed it on the table, and rested his hands flat on top of it, staring intently at the number "D" on the cover.

His expression was strange.

It's not the kind of excited, table-pounding thrill you feel after reading a great piece of work. Nor is it the kind of feigned humility and secret delight you feel after reading something inferior to your own.

It was a mixed emotion that he himself couldn't quite explain.

He was just now confidently asserting that his work had a good chance of success. It wasn't blind confidence; he had genuinely put in two months of hard work.

But after reading D, my previous confidence felt like a brick had been gently removed from the bottom. The wall hadn't collapsed yet, but it was already teetering on the brink of collapse.

It's not that my work is bad.

This piece is written in a way that doesn't resemble fan fiction at all.

To be precise, it can no longer be called fan fiction.

Fan fiction tells a story within the framework of the original work, borrowing its characters, worldview, and settings, and then adding the author's own understanding and interpretation. Good fan fiction can be "more like the original than the original," and can make readers exclaim, "So this is another way to understand this character!"

But this piece, numbered D, doesn't borrow the frame. It punches a hole in the frame, and from that hole extends a completely new, complete, and independent hand.

It borrowed the framework of the Holy Grail War and the Magician's World from FSN, but wrote a completely independent story.

No, that's not quite accurate. It's like seeing a newly built building of a different style in the FSN plaza, which subtly makes the entire plaza feel wider and gives it a new dimension.

Tian has read at least several hundred fan fiction novels, and he has never seen anyone write fan fiction in this way.

His mind was in a bit of a mess.

Shota Okubo was the third to finish reading B. After turning the last page, he threw the folder on the table, leaned back in his chair, and looked up at the buzzing fluorescent light on the ceiling of the activity room.

"Depend on."

He only said this one word.

Yosuke Kobayashi chuckled silently beside him, as if to say, "See, I warned you to be mentally prepared."

Okubo ignored him and continued staring blankly at the ceiling.

As the person who wrote the most besides Tanaka, Okubo was well aware of how effortlessly the manuscript numbered D was written.

He was able to clearly explain the character's personality, background, and motivations in such a short space, and still have the writing power to discuss some things that he considered quite abstract.

Life and death, memory, existence, nothingness.

He also tried to explore these topics in his novels, but he always felt like he was using a knife that was too big to cut a very small vegetable, either cutting it to pieces or cutting his own hand.

But this paper, D, doesn't; it handles weighty matters with ease.

Shota Okubo closed his eyes, then opened them again.

"Who wrote this D?"

He didn't ask the question aloud, but instead glanced around the activity room.

Misaki Asakura was the only one still studying. She was holding B's folder, her fingers gripping the edge of the pages, her eyes shining.

Horiuchi Ayumi stood next to the whiteboard, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

The window was right next to her, and the afternoon sun enveloped half of her body in a thin halo.

From the time Tian Zhongxue started watching D, she had been observing everyone's expressions.

The complex silence when Tanaka put down the folder, the gesture of Kobayashi Yosuke taking off his glasses and pinching his brow, and Okubo Shota staring blankly at the ceiling.

As the only person in the room who had read all the scripts beforehand, she felt an indescribable emotion rising within her as she watched these reactions.

It's like you've seen a movie before anyone else has, and then you sit in the theater watching people around you get hit by the same plot one after another.

You knew that scene was coming, but seeing someone else get hit still makes your heart race.

She knew she shouldn't have a stance.

As the organizer of the vote, she had to remain neutral and not show any favoritism towards any particular manuscript.

These are rules she set herself. If even she doesn't follow them, then these rules have no credibility whatsoever.

But she couldn't control the corners of her mouth.

From the moment Tian Zhongxue put down the folder, the corners of her mouth began to involuntarily turn up slightly.

It wasn't because Ryosuke won, well, not entirely. To be more precise, it was because she bet correctly.

As early as last night, she leaned against the door frame of the copy room and opened the unsigned novel.

She knew from the first page that putting this piece alongside the other four was unfair.

Seeing other people's reactions now brings a sense of satisfaction, a feeling of "I knew I wasn't wrong," coupled with a strange sense of pride.

Because she was the first to discover how good the manuscript was, it was like discovering a treasure trove ahead of time, and then watching others exclaim in amazement one after another.

"Vice President".

Shota Okubo's call pulled Ayumi back from her reverie. She looked up and found that not only Okubo, but also Yosuke Kobayashi and Da Chu were looking at her.

"Do you already know the result?"

Yosuke Kobayashi stared at her face, a hint of a smile in his eyes. "Horiuchi has been standing there silently since earlier. He's usually quite talkative at times like this, and he'd definitely exchange a few words with the president. He's unusually quiet today."

"I'm just maintaining order in the voting." Ayumi said without changing her expression, suppressing the slight smile on her lips. "Speaking too much would affect the fairness of the vote, wouldn't it?"

Misaki Asakura gently closed the folder numbered D and placed it on the table.

She didn't say anything, but took out a pack of tissues from her pocket, pulled one out and dabbed it at the corner of her eye, then sniffed.

"Asakura-kun, are you alright?" Ayumi asked.

"Hmm." Asakura Misaki nodded, her voice still a little nasal. "I'm fine, it's just... that girl in Chapter Three, Asagami Fujino, she's so heartbreaking."