Chapter 1 – The Weight of Words
A few days ago, Ryuo Tenshin experienced the greatest plot twist of his entire existence.
It happened behind the school gym.
He'd gone there to escape the noisy cafeteria, hoping to eat his convenience-store sandwich in peace. But instead, fate punched him in the face.
There, under the warm spring sunlight, a couple was making out like their lives depended on it—cherry blossoms swirling dramatically around them as if the universe itself was shipping them.
Ryuo froze mid-bite.
A single petal landed on his shoulder. Somewhere, distant violins began to play. His grip on the sandwich trembled.
> Why… why not me? Where's MY romantic subplot? Where's MY accidental confession under the cherry blossoms?!
The jealousy was so intense it could have powered a small city. And then it happened—
A BANG! erupted in his head, like a character unlocking a hidden final form.
Birds scattered into the sky. The wind roared. His eyes widened as an entire lifetime of memories came flooding back—his past life, his old world, the moment he died.
And just like that, Ryuo Tenshin, fueled entirely by unholy romantic envy, awakened his memories of a previous life.
---
When the mental storm faded, Ryuo leaned against the gym wall, breathing hard.
So… I really reincarnated into an anime-like Japan. Sobu High School, Yukino Yukinoshita… this is insane.
He pressed his sandwich back into its wrapper. There was no way he could go back to class like nothing had happened—not when his brain felt like it had just been struck by lightning.
If this world is real… then so are the possibilities.
And then, like a whisper in his mind, a strange interface appeared. Words floated before his eyes:
[Depression-Inducing Literary System Activated]
Details and functions poured into his head—how to earn Depression Points, how to exchange them for works, skills, or items.
Ryuo swallowed hard. "A system… so I'm not just a background character. I can actually… change my life."
The school bell rang in the distance, but Ryuo had already made his decision. He was heading home.
If the system was real, then his best chance to test it was now.
---
Later that afternoon
The sliding wooden door to Ryuo's small room creaked open, and a girl in a junior high school uniform stepped inside. She set down her schoolbag and spotted Ryuo hunched over a low table, scribbling across manuscript paper.
"Brother, are you really serious about… writing a book?"
Ryuo, still sitting cross-legged with pen in hand, glanced up at his younger sister, Yuiga Mizuki.
"Yeah. I'm almost finished. There's a newcomer award from Dengeki Bunko right now—I can submit in the next couple of days."
The difference in surnames existed for a reason. Mizuki wasn't his biological sister, and he wasn't the biological son of the Yuiga family.
Years ago, after Japan's economic bubble burst, the number of homeless people in the parks skyrocketed. Tragedies became frighteningly common—parents taking their children to burn charcoal on railway tracks, babies abandoned on the roadside.
Originally, the Takagawa family—Ryuo's birth family—had been the Yuigas' neighbors. But after the collapse, their home was seized as collateral for debt. In the end, his parents chose to burn charcoal inside the house.
Ryuo was the only one rescued.
He was adopted by Yuiga Hanae, Mizuki's mother and a close friend of Ryuo's late biological mother. Out of respect for his heritage, Hanae never forced him to change his surname. Over time, the Yuiga family grew used to it.
---
Mizuki hesitated, fingers tightening slightly. She knew about the newcomer award—she had even asked a classmate whose family ran a bookstore for details.
As long as the manuscript reached 100,000 words, it could be submitted. If chosen by the publisher, it meant a rare chance at seeing the book in print—and if sales were strong, maybe even an anime, film, or game adaptation.
Most importantly… top novelists earned real money.
She had once dreamed of entering herself, but her work was eliminated in the first round. In today's harsh economy, countless people were trying to escape hardship by writing. The industry was far more competitive than before.
"Brother… my classmates said being a novelist is one of the most competitive careers in Japan right now," Mizuki murmured. "So many people are chasing the same dream. It's hard to stand out if it's just on a whim."
Ryuo looked at her worn school uniform, and his eyes softened.
Mizuki was a good sister—beautiful, responsible, and diligent. She handled most of the housework without complaint, always putting family first.
"I know," he said. "But I want to try. If I manage to get a manuscript fee, Yuzuki's kindergarten tuition won't be a problem. I can buy you a new uniform, and Mom won't have to work herself to exhaustion anymore."
Their mother, Yuiga Hanae, worked afternoons to evenings at a women's lingerie store. In her spare time, she ran a small oden stall near home to earn extra money.
Mizuki nodded, thinking she could help proofread his manuscript later—her kokugo (Japanese language) grades were good. But before she could offer, the doorbell rang.
"Brother, that's probably a customer for the oden stall. I'll go first."
During Hanae's store hours, Mizuki and Ryuo watched the stall together. She decided she'd bring up proofreading after closing time.
"Alright," Ryuo said. "I'll finish sorting this out and join you. Call me if you need anything."
---
He carefully gathered the pages of his manuscript—titled "Your Lie in April." The story felt strangely familiar, like a masterpiece from a half-remembered dream.
In truth, it came from his Depression-Inducing Literary System. Before opening the system's beginner gift pack, he hadn't remembered the work clearly. He didn't retain every detail from his past life's world—only vague impressions of certain masterpieces.
The system's method was simple:
Publish works to collect Depression Points, then exchange them for new works, skills, or items to strengthen himself.
But there were no supernatural powers here—no Zanpakutō, no cursed tools, no monsters. This world was, for all intents and purposes, painfully normal.
When he first received Your Lie in April, guilt gnawed at him. Wasn't this plagiarism? Wasn't it shameless?
But the guilt didn't last.
Morality didn't feed a starving family. Backbone didn't pay kindergarten tuition. Only money could keep them afloat.
As one heavily made-up oden customer had once put it:
"In this damn world, survival is the only rule. You can do anything—just don't fool yourself into thinking you're a saint."
And besides… the original creators of these works didn't exist in this world at all.