Chapter 228: Not Selected
Chapter 228: Not Selected
He returned home.
Akiko was still chattering away in his ear about —
The grand plan to kick Nanami and Mashiro out of the house, reclaiming the sibling world for just the two of them.
Himekoji felt his ears were worn out.
“Oh, Akiko. Weren’t you just saying you polished some amazing cooking skills at the Arisugawa Family? Then, tonight’s dinner is on you.”
“Onii-chan, don’t try to change the subject! Such childish tricks don’t work on me! I’m seriously, seriously talking about important things with you right now!”
Akiko took a step back, glancing up at Himekoji with a wary look, keeping her guard up.
“It would be really great to taste my little Imouto’s cooking, you know? I’ve been looking forward to it for a long time.”
“This isn’t the time for that!”
“Guys have no resistance at all against girls with great cooking skills.”
“Huh? Really? Including Onii-chan?”
“Of course.”
Seeing his sister had finally fallen for it, Himekoji breathed an inward sigh of relief and nodded.
“Then leave tonight’s dinner to me!”
Akiko immediately rolled up her sleeves with fighting spirit and eagerly dashed towards the kitchen.
So you see, tricking her into changing the subject? Pure genius, right?
Himekoji thought to himself, this move of his was probably practiced up to, what, Super S-rank?
“Akito.”
After sending his sister off, Himekoji suddenly heard Mashiro call his name.
The tip of the girl’s head peeked out from behind the bedroom door, her whole body hidden by the door, waving at him sneakily.
“What is it?”
“Come here.”
Mashiro blinked at him slowly, one beat after another.
“What’s this about?”
Mashiro didn’t explain, leaving Himekoji no choice but to ask again, puzzled.
“Come here.”
However, communicating with Mashiro really was too difficult.
The only two words the girl repeated over and over.
Himekoji shook his head wordlessly and walked over.
Stepping into Mashiro’s room, he was greeted by a world of pure white.
Clothes and pants strewn across the floor, printed manga sketches piled up like snowflakes, dyeing the room a stark snow-white.
It wasn’t just one or two sketches. You could tell just by glancing at the pile – there were easily several dozen, at the very least.
All new content Himekoji hadn’t seen before.
That’s it, he almost forgot. Wasn’t today the day the newcomer award results came out?
Mashiro had pushed herself to create so much all alone.
So then, the reason she called him into her room was probably—
Mashiro wanted to wait for the final result with him.
To share the joy with him, or maybe because she got nervous and overthought things alone at times like this, even though Mashiro had never shown that side of herself before.
“Is this… the final piece submitted for the judging?”
Himekoji reached out, picking up the stack of neatly organized manga manuscripts on Mashiro’s desk.
“Mm.”
Mashiro nodded.
Himekoji looked down at the manuscript—
Pervert Must Fall in Love.
Huh?
Wait! This title…
Himekoji suddenly realized something and hurriedly flipped open the manuscript.
Sure enough…
After reading for a while, thick, imaginary black lines couldn’t help but cover Himekoji’s forehead.
Every story, every scene in the manga gave Himekoji a strong sense of deja vu…
The heroine was a weirdo under a curse – she had to be perverted or she’d die. The hero was a naive fool, clueless about life, obsessed solely with the world of music. Their story began with them inexplicably starting to live together…
Wasn’t this just a flipped-gender version of “Himekoji and Mashiro”?
“How is it?”
Mashiro asked for Himekoji’s opinion.
“It’s… it’s interesting…”
From a purely story perspective, it was.
Drawing inspiration from reality?
Was that something Ayano taught her too?
Mashiro’s previous weakness – struggling with storytelling, plots feeling hollow and flat – was perfectly covered up here.
That way, the strong advantage of her drawing style came through really well.
Even though reading this manga made Himekoji feel incredibly awkward…
“Ayano said so too.”
“Did she?”
“Mm. She said there were no problems with the preliminary and secondary judging rounds. The final judging wasn’t certain, but at the very least, it would receive a Merit Award.”
If even the editor said so, it should be undisputed.
Himekoji was happy for Mashiro.
“When will we know the official result?”
“Seven o’clock.”
Himekoji lifted his arm to check his watch. Six forty-five.
Only fifteen minutes left. It was practically countdown time.
Knowing the exact time actually made Himekoji suddenly more nervous than Mashiro, even restless.
Though even the editor said there shouldn’t be an issue, with things like this, you only felt truly at ease after the results were announced.
Over the years, the total number of entries was usually over seven or eight hundred. The awards included one Grand Prize, one Golden Prize, one Silver Prize, and two Merit Awards. Sometimes prizes weren’t awarded, so frequently only three or four entries actually won.
It really was a scramble to break through.
The wait made time feel incredibly long.
Who knew how much time passed before Mashiro’s phone finally rang.
“Hello.”
Mashiro answered the call with mechanical motions.
Himekoji instinctively checked the time: 7:15.
It made sense that relaying the message would take some time.
Himekoji held his breath, wanting to press his ear close to Mashiro’s to listen to the voice from the receiver. But that would’ve been rude. He stopped himself.
So, what was the result?
Did she win? What prize?
Himekoji could only watch Mashiro’s reaction for clues.
However, Mashiro just repeated simple, meaningless words like “Okay,” and “Yes.” She uttered no sentences that gave Himekoji any information, and her expression revealed nothing.
Still… she must have passed the first round of review, right?
“Thank you very much.”
With this final phrase, Mashiro ended the call.
“How was it?”
Himekoji stared anxiously at Mashiro, who had fallen silent.
One minute, two minutes—
Mashiro’s hand holding the phone suddenly dropped.
“Ayano said… I didn’t pass.”
Didn’t… pass?
At that moment, Mashiro’s voice sounded so distant, like she was speaking in some unknown language.
Himekoji’s mind instinctively fought against understanding the meaning of those words.
“I’ll go back to my room.”
Mashiro stood up expressionlessly from the chair.
“But… this is your room, isn’t it?”
“Oh.”
Startled, Mashiro froze for a second, then sat back down stiffly, like a puppet.
“Shii—”
Himekoji wanted to comfort her but suddenly found himself at a loss for words.
No matter how desperately he searched his mind, a blank emptiness kept spreading. He couldn’t find a single suitable word of comfort.
Nothing. He couldn’t think of anything.
Mashiro, upon hearing the news, seemed calm at first glance.
But how could she possibly be calm?
Mashiro had worked so hard she’d resented sleep as wasted time. Just minutes ago, she’d held an unshakeable confidence in winning that Newcomer Award.
The more time, emotion, and anticipation invested, the harder it hit when things failed.
She hadn’t called Himekoji in to share the news of her failure.
Had Himekoji passed his bad luck to her?
Suddenly, Himekoji felt like a criminal.
Say something.
Say something, anything! Hurry up!
Himekoji frantically urged himself.
After struggling for what felt like ages, he finally opened his mouth. His lips felt as heavy as lead.
“Shiina…”
“I want to be alone.”
But the moment he tried to speak, Mashiro cut him off.
“Mm… ah… ah, okay.”
His heart heavy and complicated, Himekoji opened his mouth soundlessly again. No words came. In the end, he could only quietly leave Mashiro’s room.
His Social System had long been broken. So, naturally, comforting others was impossible.
He really was useless.
…
Mashiro didn’t leave her room the entire night.
Huddled inside her locked bedroom, she didn’t even eat dinner.
This can’t go on.
Standing worriedly outside Mashiro’s bedroom door, Himekoji felt he had to do something.
He pulled out his phone and asked Machida Sonoko for the number of Ayano, the editor in the manga department.
Though things had ended badly with that editor lady when he submitted “One-Punch Man,” this wasn’t the time for pride. He needed to know about the Newcomer Award evaluation. He could only bite the bullet and dial the number.