Maybe I’m a Hidden Genius

After school, in the literature clubroom, Vice President Tsukinoki Koto sat smiling at the head of the square table, holding a cup of green tea.

Across from her, Komari Chika sat bolt upright, hands tensely placed on her knees, looking as though she were listening very seriously.

“Oh, Imaizumi, Yanami, you’re here.”

Tsukinoki looked up and greeted Imaizumi and Yanami warmly, a gentle smile on her face.

“Good afternoon, senpai.
Good afternoon, Komari.”

Yanami Anna responded gracefully and naturally took the seat beside Imaizumi Keita.

“Is the club president not here yet today?” she asked curiously, glancing around.

“Well, Shintarou today—”

Before Tsukinoki Koto could finish her sentence, the clubroom door was pulled open.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m late!”

Club president Tamaki Shintarou strode in briskly, wearing a bright, apologetic smile.

“I got dragged off by the library committee to help carry newly arrived books.”

He casually greeted everyone, then cleared his throat.

“Well then, since everyone’s here—”

Before Tamaki Shintarou could announce anything, Tsukinoki Koto cut in first.

“Alright, alright, president, sit down and have some tea to wet your throat first.”

Tsukinoki slid a cup of tea she had prepared earlier over to him, then stood up and clapped her hands, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Everyone,” she said, sweeping her gaze across the club members present.

“Today, I’ve called you all here to inform you of a matter that concerns the very survival of our literature club.”

“I’m sure you all know that because our activity results have been poor, the student council has issued us multiple warnings.”

Her tone shifted, becoming slightly helpless.

“In order to prove to the student council that we are indeed conducting proper club activities, after intense and prolonged deliberation and discussion between the president and myself…”

She paused, clearly enjoying the suspense.

“We have decided that this semester’s club activity task will be—”

She slammed her hand on the table and announced excitedly,

“To create our own original work and submit it to the Great Literary Master website to participate in their light novel grand prize competition!”

“Ooooh!”

The first to respond was Komari Chika sitting across the table.

Her eyes sparkled as she raised both hands above her head and clapped with all her might.

She looked as though they had already won the million-yen grand prize.

Imaizumi Keita’s expression didn’t change much.

Writing.

Submitting a work.

This happened to align perfectly with his own plans.

He turned his head and exchanged a glance with Yanami Anna beside him.

As expected, Yanami’s face was filled with confusion and shock that practically screamed, “Who am I, where am I, what are you people talking about?”

“W-wait a second!”

Yanami Anna snapped back to her senses and raised her hand to ask.

“Um… Tsukinoki-senpai, does that mean I have to write something too?”

Her voice carried worry and hesitation.

“I-I’ve never written a novel before!
I-even my book reports are a complete mess!”

“Oh my, about that, Yanami, you don’t need to worry at all.”

Tsukinoki Koto immediately put on a reassuring smile.

She walked over and gently patted Yanami on the shoulder.

“For this activity, the focus is on the ‘process,’ not the ‘result.’
Simply put, we’re putting on a show for the student council to let them know the literature club is actually doing something, so they’ll stop bothering us.”

She paused, her tone becoming earnest.

“Besides, trying to create a story of your own is, in itself, a very meaningful thing, isn’t it?
Whether it’s good or bad, it’ll be a valuable life experience.
There’s no need to write something popular or successful.”

Her reasoning was sound, successfully easing most of Yanami Anna’s worries.

“Um… I-I see.”

Yanami Anna nodded, half-understanding.

“So… it’s more about participation, right?”

“Exactly, that’s it!”

Tsukinoki Koto nodded in satisfaction and returned to her seat.

“Now then, in order to better support everyone in completing this creative task, and to provide an environment where you can focus and let your inspiration run free…”

“I’ve decided—this weekend, we’ll be holding a two-day summer writing camp for the literature club!”

“The location’s already booked.
It’s the Tahara Youth House.
They just happened to have vacancies this weekend!”

Imaizumi Keita finally couldn’t hold back and spoke up.

“Senpai, if you’ll excuse me for saying this,” he said calmly, looking at Tsukinoki.

“You didn’t really give us an option to refuse at all.
It’s one thing straight into the next.”

“Ah, you noticed.”

Tsukinoki Koto stuck out her tongue sheepishly, then immediately regained her confident expression.

“That’s why I said this is a ‘notification,’ not a ‘discussion.’”

She winked at Imaizumi playfully.

“After all, I’ve already booked the lodging using club funds.
If we cancel, there’ll be a cancellation fee, you know.”

With that, all possible escape routes were firmly blocked.

“That’s amazing!
A retreat!
Writing!”

Komari Chika was already completely immersed in her idealized vision of the camp and had started asking Tsukinoki and Tamaki what genres they planned to write.

Imaizumi Keita took a sip of tea from the table, then carried his schoolbag over to the window seat and took out his notebook and pen.

“H-hey, Imaizumi…”

Yanami Anna looked at the three people who had already started discussing enthusiastically and sat down beside Imaizumi with a troubled expression.

Resting her chin on the desk, she turned her head toward him and let out a long sigh.

“What should I do…
What am I even supposed to write?”

Her voice was full of worry.

“I really know nothing about novels at all.”

Imaizumi Keita didn’t lift his eyes from his notebook, his pen leaving smooth lines of text on the page.

Without looking up, he replied casually,

“Don’t you like eating food all the time?”

“Then just write a story themed around food.”

“Food?”

Yanami Anna’s eyes lit up briefly, but soon dimmed again.

“But I only know what tastes good.
I have no idea how to cook.
In all the food novels I’ve read, the main characters are amazing chefs, aren’t they?”

“Who says the protagonist of a food novel has to be a chef?”

Imaizumi Keita finally stopped writing and turned to look at her, sounding slightly puzzled.

“You could just write about what you ate and how it made you feel.
Wouldn’t that work too?”

“That’s way too sloppy!” Yanami protested.

She looked at Imaizumi Keita, who clearly had no intention of continuing the conversation, then glanced at the notebook in front of him, filled with dense writing.

A spark of competitiveness flared up inside her.

This guy… he’s actually taking this seriously.

Yanami Anna’s gaze drifted uncontrollably to Imaizumi Keita’s focused profile.

Sunlight streamed through the window, sharply outlining his features.

His long eyelashes cast a small shadow beneath his eyes, making him look… surprisingly handsome.

A thought suddenly surfaced in her mind without warning.

If I can’t come up with a story…

Then I can just write about people, right?

She looked at Imaizumi Keita, then thought about herself—

No, scratch that, she thought of Shioyama Lemon.

These were all ready-made, perfect sources of material.

Yanami Anna’s eyes grew brighter and brighter.

She could already imagine the opening of her novel.

A sports girl who suffers a crushing defeat in love, meets a sharp-tongued boy with a terrible personality, who always mocks her—but somehow always pulls her back up when it really counts…

Maybe…

Just maybe I’m actually a hidden light-novel genius!

A radiant smile full of confidence and vitality returned to Yanami Anna’s face.

She couldn’t help standing up from her seat, planting her hands on her hips and loudly declaring to the air,

“Alright!
I’ve decided!”

“Decided what, exactly?!
Don’t shout!
You’re messing up my train of thought!”

Imaizumi Keita turned around and lightly knocked on Yanami’s forehead as a warning.