The afternoon classes passed in a comfortable blur for Kuroha Akira. With his printed outline safely stored in his desk drawer, he devoted his attention to his practice notebook, filling page after page with the developing story of "Sister's Journey." The teacher's voice faded into background noise—useful only as a deterrent against anyone noticing his secret activity.
During breaks, he exchanged only brief words with Fujiyoshi Michio behind him before immediately returning to his manuscript. The hours melted away like ice cream on a summer afternoon. By the time the final bell approached, he'd completed the prologue and half of the first chapter.
This wasn't just any progress—this was absurd progress.
Of course, this remained a rough draft requiring significant revision and polish. But the sheer volume he'd produced in a single afternoon surprised even Kuroha himself. The words had flowed like water from an unblocked spring, each sentence leading naturally to the next without the usual creative friction.
Inspiration surge! Writing frenzy!
The bonus from "Academic Ability A" was absolutely cracked!
For context, we weren't talking about web novel chapters that barely scraped 2,000 words. No, this represented roughly 1.5 chapters from a proper light novel volume—the kind with actual page counts and spine thickness.
Light novel chapter structures varied wildly between authors and publishers, but generally speaking, a complete volume contained no more than ten chapters. Five to eight was the sweet spot, including prologue and epilogue. In terms of raw word count, a standard light novel volume ran between 80,000 to 120,000 words. Exceed that, and editors would start swinging red pens like samurai swords—more pages meant higher printing costs and diluted narrative focus.
Kuroha's outline divided each volume into seven chapters, book-ended by a prologue and epilogue. The prologue hooked readers with intriguing content; the epilogue left them dangling from a cliff, desperately awaiting the next installment. Neither section would drag on too long.
Word count target? Just over 100,000 words. Substantial enough to satisfy readers, modest enough to avoid editor complaints about bloat.
Which meant that completing the prologue and half of chapter one in one afternoon translated to approximately 12,000 words.
Let that sink in for a moment.
Previously, even typing on a keyboard at maximum speed, Kuroha had topped out at around 5,000 words in four hours. Now, using handwriting—his not-exactly-calligraphy-quality handwriting—he'd achieved nearly 3,000 words per hour. His efficiency had more than doubled!
If he'd possessed this output in his previous life, overwork would have been a distant memory! Full performance reviews, year-end bonuses, promotions—all easily within reach!
Better yet, he could have quit entirely and become a web novel author, dropping 20,000 words daily on his readers like literary bombs. With that kind of update speed, readership would inevitably follow.
Numbers didn't lie.
Alas...
Kuroha Akira sighed deeply, his heart once again flooding with that familiar cocktail of envy and admiration that untalented people feel when confronted with genuine genius.
The Class Monitor's talent was simply too imbalanced. Not only did it apply across multiple domains, its effects were genuinely devastating.
"Academic Ability A's" bonuses to concentration and cognitive processing created perfect synergy with creative work. It let a writer immerse completely in their flow state without encountering those dreaded mental walls where ideas dried up and inspiration fled. More effective than any stimulant—and without the nasty crash afterward.
If this pace continued, he'd finish an entire volume's worth of content within the week. Revisions and adjustments could wrap up over the weekend.
This was honestly terrifying...
Kuroha gripped his right wrist, feeling the slight ache from hours of writing, and barely suppressed the urge to shout: "I'M GOING TO RELEASE THE POWER SEALED IN MY RIGHT HAND!"
Originally, he'd budgeted at least two weeks for the main content. Now that timeline had been cut in half, leaving three full weeks to develop contingency plans.
Not that Kuroha lacked confidence in "Sister's Journey." He genuinely believed in this story. But he also understood that securing publishing rights involved elements approaching mysticism—editorial tastes, market trends, timing, luck. Success required more than just quality writing.
Hence the need for backup strategies if this particular work failed to spark interest.
However, Kuroha wasn't planning to develop a second manuscript simultaneously. Writing two books at once was classic newbie mistake territory. More importantly, he doubted he could produce another work matching "Sister's Journey" quality in such compressed timeframe.
A half-baked manuscript wouldn't impress any editor, regardless of quantity. Better to pour all energy into perfecting one strong entry.
He needed to calm down. The speed was exhilarating, but it threatened to throw off his rhythm.
....
"Kuroha-kun, it's time for club activities."
"Coming."
Kuroha carefully stored his completed pages, mentally noting to transfer them to computer after dinner. Error correction, finishing the remaining half of chapter one—then today's mission would stand complete.
He joined Asato Hitomi at the classroom door, and together they made their way toward the Literary Club room. They'd arrived earlier than yesterday; neither Aizono Moe nor Shirai Shiori had appeared yet.
....
With time to kill, Kuroha decided to properly examine the club's book collection. He hadn't gotten a chance yesterday, and his curiosity had been building.
The Literary Club maintained an impressive library—nowhere near the school library's scale, but rich in popular and entertainment-focused works. Perfect for his purposes.
He wanted to find something suitable for Shinomiya to read at home. Also, he genuinely needed to better understand this world's popular entertainment landscape. His previous library visits had focused on academic references and classic literature; the manga and light novel sections had been disappointingly sparse, mostly educational comics like the Romance of the Three Kingdoms adaptation that straddled the line between entertainment and instruction.
In his previous life, Kuroha had read that famous manga—Yokoyama Mitsuteru's "secondary creation" that had achieved near-legendary status in Japan while remaining virtually unknown in Chinese communities. Funny how cultural transmission worked.
(Interesting tangent: many Japanese people genuinely believed the novel "Romance of the Three Kingdoms" represented actual historical record. Translations bore full responsibility for that misconception. Meanwhile, most Chinese people understood the Three Kingdoms period through the old TV series rather than the original text, except for a few school excerpts like "Borrowing Arrows with Straw Boats.")
Seeing that manga—which existed in both worlds—had sparked an important realization in Kuroha's mind. Perhaps the works he'd enjoyed in his previous life hadn't yet been born in this timeline. Or perhaps they'd missed their chance at existence entirely. But absence of evidence wasn't evidence of absence.
Now, scanning the Literary Club's shelves, his theory found confirmation.
Some titles he recognized from his previous life. Others bore familiar concepts with slightly altered names—parallel evolution, perhaps. But the majority—well over half—were completely unfamiliar works he'd never encountered before. They spanned different eras, credited to various authors, defying any obvious pattern.
The impact of world-line shifts truly exceeded mortal comprehension. Countless fate parameters had probably shifted in ways both subtle and profound.
Kuroha smiled, reaching for an interesting-looking volume. So much new "spiritual food" awaited consumption. His TBR pile had just expanded exponentially.
"Were all these novels and manga originally part of the Literary Club collection?" he asked, pulling a random light novel from the shelf.
Asato Hitomi glanced up from where she'd settled with her own book. "No, the manga belong to Moe. Those serialized magazines you see are also hers. She buys every issue of Weekly Shonen BOOM the moment it releases."
"Oh? That's unexpected." Kuroha examined the stack of magazines with new appreciation. "Aizono-san actually reads shonen manga..."
Weekly Shonen BOOM represented this world's equivalent of Shonen JUMP—Japan's best-selling manga magazine, the holy grail of weekly serialization. Kuroha had previously skimmed issues at convenience stores, but starting from middle chapters of ongoing series left him perpetually confused about plot developments.
However, he did recognize the current three pillar series. Mainly because their titles triggered intense déjà vu, and Kuroha had technically already "completed" them in his previous life. They were "One Piece," "Bleach," and "Naruto."
Sure enough. These three giants would achieve super-popular status regardless of which world they inhabited.
Some brilliance simply transcended dimensional boundaries. The fate deviations caused by world-line shifts couldn't diminish genuine genius. A true genius remained a genius everywhere.
Kuroha stared at the magazine covers, a thought forming.
He really wanted to see what their talents looked like.
What did "One Piece" look like when rendered by this world's Oda? What nuances distinguished this timeline's "Naruto" from the version etched into his memory? How did "Bleach" differ when filtered through another dimension's Kubo?
The possibilities sparked something between excitement and trepidation. Familiar stories told by unfamiliar hands. Beloved characters reimagined through different artistic lenses. The same genius, expressed through slightly altered circumstances.
Would they be better? Worse? Simply different?