A Budding Writer’s Unveiling

A profound stillness settled over the Literary Club’s meeting room, so deep that the whisper of ginkgo leaves stirred by the wind outside the window became almost perceptible.

Genji snapped back to reality, rubbing his eyes.

He glanced around, realizing the once bustling room now held only him and Himura Rin; the other Literary Club members had long since vanished.

He quickly rose, the haze of his recent immersion in the book dissipating, and looked at Himura Rin with a touch of embarrassment.

“Excuse me, senpai, where did everyone go?”

The petite Himura Rin sat by the window, the luminous blue glow of her laptop screen casting an ethereal light upon her pale face, making her appear exceptionally delicate.

She lifted her gaze, her tone level.

“A dinner gathering. They left an hour ago. You were too absorbed in your book to notice.”

Genji scratched his head, a sheepish smile gracing his lips.

“My apologies, I completely lost track of time.”

He glanced out the window, where the orange hues of the setting sun bathed the campus, and the dappled shadows of ginkgo trees swayed gently, clinging to the windowpane.

“Aren’t you going, senpai?” he asked casually.

“I don’t care for crowded places.”

Himura Rin replied succinctly, then lowered her head to sip the hot water from her thermos.

“If you wish to go, I can call Misaki for you; I imagine they’d wait.”

Genji hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.

“No, I’m not particularly fond of bustling crowds either.”

“Then you might as well head home early.”

Himura Rin stated blandly, “Overnight stays are not permitted in the clubroom.”

Genji nodded, preparing to leave, but halted after taking a single step. After a moment’s hesitation, he turned and resumed his seat.

He settled into the chair opposite her, meeting Himura Rin’s puzzled gaze.

“Is there something else?” Himura Rin lifted her eyes, her tone cool, tinged with a hint of impatience.

Genji rubbed his hands together, then mustered his courage.

“I was hoping to ask you, senpai… how did you manage to get published in a magazine?”

Himura Rin’s gaze subtly sharpened. After a few seconds of silence, an expression of ‘just as I thought’ flickered across her face.

She said coolly, “Just keep writing; there’s nothing particularly special about it.”

With that, she picked up her thermos, her eyes returning to the screen, clearly disinclined to elaborate further. She had encountered too many like Genji, who believed writing was merely a flash of inspiration, easily accomplished, ignorant of the true difficulty of genuine creation.

Such a flippant attitude, in her eyes, bordered on insult.

Yet Genji remained still, seated in his spot, and murmured, “I see… I’m actually writing something myself.”

Himura Rin set down her cup, looking up at him with a puzzled expression.

He offered an awkward, nervous smile, as if having made a monumental decision.

“If it’s convenient, would you mind taking a look at it, senpai, and perhaps pointing out any areas for improvement?”

His stilted tone betrayed his nervousness, and his hopeful gaze met Himura Rin’s surprised expression.

She paused, her slender fingers stilling on the rim of her cup, as if re-evaluating her junior. After a moment, she extended her hand, her tone softening slightly.

“Alright, let me see.”

Genji quickly pulled a notebook from his backpack and handed it over. It was the fruit of his recent efforts—Soliloquy on a Clear Day, a story about youthful adolescence and solitude.

He watched Himura Rin cautiously, half-dreading that she might open it only to toss it back immediately.

‘Surely not… The original was a recipient of the Akutagawa Prize.’

Himura Rin took the notebook, her eyes still impassive; such requests were commonplace for her.

She casually opened to the first page, her gaze sweeping over a few lines of text, and her initially nonchalant expression froze instantly.

“Before the twilight of sunset, I stepped into this home. From the left wall of the entrance, leading into the living room, stood a row of antique bookshelves, crammed with a myriad of books. Black and white spines mingled; some titles I recognized, but more were unfamiliar names. Stretching to the very end of the wall, the entire space resembled a small library, so profoundly quiet it deterred approach. I stood at the doorway, stunned for a long while, feeling as though the books silently watched me.”

Himura Rin’s fingers paused on the page, her fingertips unconsciously tightening around the corner of the paper.

She looked up, staring at Genji, a flicker of disbelief passing through her eyes behind her black-rimmed glasses.

“You wrote this?” Her voice was low, laced with an exploratory tone.

Genji scratched his head and nodded. “Yes, I did. What do you think, senpai?”

Himura Rin remained silent, lowering her head to continue turning the pages. The words flowed as lightly as the wind, yet carried a subtle, profound melancholy.

As she turned to the passage where the protagonist sat alone at a small table in the apartment, her eye twitched almost imperceptibly.

Himura Rin abruptly snapped the notebook shut, the force of her action causing the thermos on the table to wobble.

She looked up, fixing her gaze on Genji, a complex array of emotions—surprise, doubt, and even a hint of anger—registering on her pale face.

“You’ve truly never written anything before?” Her voice suddenly rose, an almost irrepressible excitement lacing her tone.

Genji was startled by her sudden reaction, staring blankly at her.

“I… I just wrote whatever came to mind. Perhaps recent experiences gave me some inspiration.”

“Impossible!” Himura Rin abruptly stood up. “You, a newcomer, could write something like this?”

Her voice echoed through the empty meeting room, like long-suppressed emotions finally erupting.

Genji had not anticipated such a reaction and could only sit foolishly in his seat, watching her helplessly.

‘Is this what Vice President Fujita meant by ‘a bit peculiar’ and ‘doesn’t talk much’? That doesn’t seem right, does it?’

Himura Rin took a few breaths, realizing her outburst, and slowly sank back into her chair.

She covered her face with her hands, took several deep breaths, and murmured, “I apologize, I got too carried away.”

“N-no worries, senpai, are you alright?” Genji responded cautiously. He couldn’t fathom what had agitated her so profoundly; it was as if a wound had been laid bare.

Himura Rin was silent for a moment, then lowered her hands, her gaze complex as she looked at him.

“Tell me honestly, have you secretly been writing for years?”

“Uh… I did write some things online before, does that count?” Genji scratched his head, a wry smile appearing on his face as he recalled those middle-school delusions.

“Online? Where?” Himura Rin frowned.

Genji waved his hands dismissively. “Just on some website forums. They were too childish; I don’t want anyone to see them.”

Seeing his resolute stance, Himura Rin found it difficult to press further. Her gaze upon Genji was complex and shifting, carrying a subtle, almost imperceptible hint of envy.

“What exactly is going on with you?” she asked in a low voice. “An inexperienced newcomer, capable of writing like this… Are you a genius?”

“I’ve just read a lot of books, senpai. Please don’t say that; you’re making me blush.” Genji dared not claim such credit.

‘He simply wanted to earn some prize money from a newcomer’s award; if he said that aloud, he felt his senpai’s emotions would become even more volatile.’

Himura Rin stared at him for a long while before finally sighing.

“Never mind. In any case, you possess this talent; it would be a shame to waste it. If you genuinely intend to write, then don’t give up halfway.”

She paused, then pointed at the notebook.

“However, there’s a slight issue with your protagonist’s emotional state. The opening passages carry a sense of sorrow, yet the subsequent story isn’t nearly as heavy, creating a disconnect. That’s why I doubted if it was truly yours… I apologize.”

Genji froze for a moment, suddenly realizing where the persistent sense of awkwardness in his own writing stemmed from. Ever since moving into Professor Sato’s apartment, his life had ceased to be as difficult as before.

The moment he recognized the crux of the problem, it was as if a mist had cleared.

He thanked her earnestly. “I understand now. Thank you for pointing that out, senpai.”

Himura Rin cast him a glance, a trace of reluctance lingering in her eyes, yet she still handed the notebook back.

“Once you’ve revised it, you can show it to me again. I… I don’t mind helping you.”

Genji took the notebook, feeling a measure of relief, and offered a shy smile. “Thank you, senpai. I’ll bring it to you again next time.”

Himura Rin turned her face away, muttering a few words that Genji couldn’t quite catch.

Soon, he gathered his belongings and stood up. “Senpai, I’ll be heading off now.”

“Mm.” Himura Rin didn’t lift her head. “Be careful on your way.”

Genji walked out of the meeting room. The moment the door closed, a soft sigh escaped.

The wind swept through, carrying a few falling leaves to swirl in the air.

Finally having made progress, Genji’s heart swelled with the excitement of immediately starting to write once he got home.

Rushing back to the apartment building, a message arrived on his phone. Genji took out his phone and saw it was from Professor Sato.

[I have an engagement tonight, won’t be home.]