With this determination, he was already far ahead of his peers; even if he failed, it didn't matter—he had plenty of time to strive in the future.
"No problem. This Great Emperor's Path to Enlightenment Scripture is perfectly suited for an ambitious person like Miss Yukinoshita Haruno to read," Kiyono said with a slight smile.
"Oh? So generous—sounds like it really is something serious…" The girl chuckled, then hopped behind him and patted the chair. "Move, move."
Kiyono shifted aside, and Yukinoshita Haruno sat down. She scrolled the document to the top and began reading carefully.
Gradually, her expression grew serious.
Kiyono's book title was a single word—"Moon." It read like a tribute to his predecessors.
Traditional Japanese literature often turns on mono no aware (the pathos of things) and loneliness, lingering over yearning and pity for fleeting beauty—like scattered cherry blossoms—and rescuing an ephemeral aesthetic from the river of life and death. Kiyono's writing carried a hint of this melancholic flavor, but only as a subtle undertone.
Rather than decadent resignation, he emphasized the strength to challenge fate—no matter how many failures—gritting one's teeth and fighting back instead of bowing to it… Am I doing reading comprehension right now!?
Haruno's feelings were complicated. She had read halfway through, and the classic fragrance of fine literature practically overflowed from the screen. The entire piece relied on simple yet profound descriptions; every line felt tempered a thousand times.
She recalled her own writing at his age. In terms of sheer literary skill, she could only be this boy's kid sister—of course, she still was now.
Even if someone put a gun to her head and claimed Kiyono wasn't a genius, Haruno would refute it outright—otherwise there was no explaining this. Forget middle schoolers; she hadn't seen the like even among high schoolers. Most great literary figures only become famous in their twenties.
However… even if he was a genius, he was a genius who grew up under the Yukinoshita roof—a genius tied to their family.
Haruno's eyes grew brighter as she recalled the Akutagawa Prize. The youngest winner was nineteen—and even that case was rather opportunistic. So would their family have… a twenty-year-old Kawabata Yasunari?
Yukino… just what kind of person did she bring home?
---
Seasons changed.
Another year passed.
By his second year of middle school, Kiyono already stood significantly taller than Haruno. His first literary work was complete, and he was considering moving out.
After all, as he grew older, it felt a bit inappropriate to keep living under the same roof as the beautiful elder sister. The Yukinoshita house was huge—bathroom mishaps or mixed-up laundry almost never happened—but his position was awkward. He was neither truly an adopted son nor truly family.
Once his novel was published, he could live independently. If he kept freeloading off the Yukinoshita family, he might really be forced into becoming the sisters' plaything!
He didn't mind the idea of marrying into the family, but he didn't want his feelings tangled up with too many vested interests.
Kiyono thought this as he revised the final manuscript.
April 20.
Chiba, light rain.
Auspicious for prayer, inauspicious for marriage.
Early in the morning, Kiyono curled beneath his quilt, listening to the slanted wind and fine rain hitting the wooden eaves and bluestone slabs outside, reluctant to get up for a long while.
Today was the day he would submit his work for the Akutagawa Prize.
Only when the rain eased did he finally rise, wash his face, brush his teeth, and put water on to boil. Returning to his room—feeling the warm gazes of generations of literary masters from the portraits on his wall—he perfunctorily lit an incense stick to create a little ritual.
Though he was about to submit, what came to mind was that day: cycling through Tokyo's pale-gray buildings, a blue-haired girl gently steadying him from behind.
"Yanami…"
He remembered the girl's clumsy prayers, her unspoken worries, the joy after his manuscript was accepted. First times leave deep impressions.
This time, he was steadier, more mature—but he wouldn't let her worry for him again. For his sake… well, there were still a few others. Not just one.
Kiyono picked up his vibrating phone, reading Yukino's message, a touch of nostalgia rising in his chest.
"This unpleasant sense of reality is indeed the kind of writing only Kiyono can produce."
"If you really can't find any flaws, you can just praise me,"
he replied, adding a panda-with-folded-arms emoji.
Yukinoshita Yukino didn't answer—tsundere as ever.
Kiyono smiled and sat at his computer—he'd submit electronically to the Akutagawa Prize. As a semi-member of the Yukinoshita family, he no longer needed to run around to save postage, and the magazine offices weren't in Chiba anyway.
He opened the Akutagawa submission email. Just as he was about to hit send, hurried footsteps sounded behind him.
"Wait, wait! Big Sister hasn't prayed yet!" Haruno, barefoot, ran over and pressed down his hand.
"It's fine. I already prayed on your behalf."
Kiyono gestured toward the burning incense on the side table. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he touched his throat with a frown… his voice sounded hoarse?
Haruno heard it too. Her face froze for a beat; then she leaned closer, hands settling on his shoulders.
"This is… puberty!" Her usually cool, clear eyes sparkled, as if she'd discovered a rare treasure.
Oh—he'd forgotten about that.
Since it wasn't a fever or a cold, Kiyono relaxed. He'd been through this once before.
But the short-haired girl gazed at him with a look both charming and inscrutable. Her eyes curved; a soft chuckle slipped out.
"Little Yukino doesn't know about this, right?"
—Don't speak in such a weird way!
The young lady, who always wore a perfect, elegant smile before outsiders, tilted her head.
"I know everything that happens to Kiyono. That's why we're true childhood sweethearts."
Haruno's tone was casual; her unique fragrance lingered in his ears. She didn't seem to be deliberately misleading—but that very pretend-casual teasing set the heart tingling with anticipation.
"Hey, call me Haruno. This unique voice of yours won't be around much longer, you know."
Kiyono quietly turned back toward the screen, the tips of his ears a little hot.
"Say it, say it," she coaxed, letting her usual image drop entirely in front of Kiyono.
"Haruno-nee, it's time to submit," Kiyono said solemnly.
She sighed in regret, then joined him in staring at the screen.
"Can it really work…? The Akutagawa Prize has never had a winner this young, you know." Haruno slipped into serious mode at once.
Conversely, if he succeeded, he would be rewriting history.
At the thought, even Haruno's heart thudded faster. She wasn't prone to unrealistic fantasies—but now, it truly felt possible.
"Don't overthink it." Kiyono released the mouse and smiled calmly. "Why don't you send it—so you get a sense of participation."
"Alright."
Like a sweet girlfriend, Haruno perched on half the chair beside him, then smiled and took the mouse he'd just held, slowly guiding the cursor to Send.
Her mood surprised even herself.
As the Yukinoshita heiress, she'd witnessed countless grand occasions and met several actual Akutagawa winners. Yet now her hand trembled inexplicably.
The fate of a future great writer… in my hands?
Haruno tilted her head and glanced at Kiyono.
Send.
---
Night deepened, and the mansion on the hillside glowed with light.
Should we give Kiyono a formal status…?
Mrs. Yukinoshita's thoughts drifted. Though she had long treated the young man as an adopted son-in-law, he was still in a probationary period. It concerned the family's future—and a girl's lifelong happiness—so caution was only natural.
So far, she felt very optimistic about Kiyono's prospects: intelligent, exceptionally charismatic, gentle and well-mannered, dignified in bearing, with a maturity beyond his years. She had observed him for many years—she wasn't mistaken. Sometimes she wondered if Yukino had received divine guidance.
But matters of the heart were delicate, especially with both Kiyono and Haruno at such a sensitive age. Too much rigidity would only harm the relationships. Hence her hesitation.
"Madam Yukinoshita, I hear you took in an excellent foster son a couple of years ago. When will you bring him to meet us?"
The teasing voice drew the kimono-clad beauty back from her reverie. She looked up, covering her lips with a small paper fan, and smiled without showing her teeth.
"The child is still young; give him another two years."
She was attending a diplomat's garden banquet. It wasn't large or ostentatious, and while the guests were not top-tier conglomerates, they were still elites.
People who traded pleasant smiles here might be bitter rivals in private—yet they still came. Such was the way of life across classes: everyone a fish in the same pond; unless they reached a certain power, no one could leap free.
As a family straddling politics and business, the Yukinoshitas had to cultivate relationships. It was every member's duty.
The speaker was an aristocratic lady who helmed a women-led household. Such families naturally formed small circles; women in similar positions shared an understanding.
A cluster of high-born, glamorous women naturally drew admiring glances, the most striking among them Mrs. Yukinoshita in traditional kimono.
Even with two children, time had left no trace on her face. She looked as if she had conquered time itself—and within that youthful delicacy lay a matron's dignity. Men of any age would be drawn to such a woman.
She was long accustomed to those looks, her expression calm. In truth, she disliked such gatherings, but having been born into such a house—and enjoyed an easy life—it was only right to fulfill her responsibilities. She believed in reciprocal happiness; Haruno should follow the same path.
"Oh, right, right."
Another charming beauty, hair in twin pigtails and also in kimono, smiled as she snapped open her fan.
"Have you been following the latest Akutagawa Prize? I hear a super amazing young writer has appeared! Everyone's praising him as the next benchmark, saying he'll bring a new summer to literature—like Natsume Sōseki."
Akutagawa Prize?
Mrs. Yukinoshita raised an eyebrow. She had once been a literary young woman herself; most of the family library had been organized by her own hands, and she had studied the literary scene because of Kiyono.
As one of the nation's most famous prizes, it was rare for someone truly young to win it today; even historical giants usually bloomed in their thirties.
Would Kiyono have a chance to achieve that…? she mused.
At this, the other women perked up. Women in this country often held a special reverence for writers—perhaps because the "aesthetics" in their works touched something emotional, or perhaps a notion inherited from the Heian age.
"How young, exactly?"
"I heard… he's only this old."
The hostess named a number, dead serious.
Silence fell over the little circle. Even these women, used to excellence, felt a touch of unreality.
"This… If only my family could recruit such a foster son-in-law to inherit the business."
A wealthy lady couldn't help blurting it out.
Not even in high school? Is there really such a genius? Mrs. Yukinoshita's heart rippled with shock. At that age… isn't it the same as Kiyono…?
Uh… uh?
A sudden realization.
---
In a room with the paper door half-open, the kimono-clad beauty knelt on the tatami, holding a book. Its cover, blue and black without ornament, carried a quiet depth—clearly the work of a master. The title font was just right; anyone could tell at a glance this was a profound work—and an Akutagawa winner.
She had spent most of the day reading it. The media and the literary world's praise was well deserved. Its beautiful prose, delicate psychology, and subtle emotions were like a clear sake with an endless aftertaste.
If this had been written by a middle-aged author, she would rank it among her three most revered favorites. But thinking of the author himself… how, exactly, should she define their relationship?
Clear spring flowed ahead; the empty mountains were serene. Her heart was neither.
Mrs. Yukinoshita set the book carefully on the low table and pressed a hand to her forehead, thoughts full of the details she had gathered these past two days—
An initial run of thirty thousand had sold out in half a month. The second printing followed, with media splashing headlines like: [Fastest in History!] The Empire's Genius Teenager Builds a "Literary Empire"!
At first glance, the sales seemed on par with a hot new light novel. But physical literary sales had long declined under the internet's impact. Apart from the classics, most Akutagawa-class works earned far less than some light novels.
Literary fame usually needs time to brew—and often depends on the broader social mood. But Kiyono had broken the rules and vaulted to the peak.
If it became a social phenomenon, then overseas royalties, film rights… both fame and fortune would follow. His social standing and income would far surpass light-novel authors.
In truth, the two weren't even comparable.
She instinctively picked up the little paper fan beside the tatami and tapped her palm, feeling momentarily dazed.
Is wandering the streets alone really enough to forge such character? Beyond that, she could not imagine where Kiyono had found such a sharp pen and rich experience.
At only fifteen, he had achieved this… what about later?
The youngest great writer in history… is the Yukinoshita family's adopted son-in-law?
Wouldn't the old fogeys of the literary world curse them to death?
The head of the Yukinoshita family sat caught in a sweet dilemma.
Just then, two sets of footsteps sounded along the veranda—one cheerful and playful, the other calm and steady.
"Mother, we're here." Haruno sat opposite her, lips curved, her smile three times brighter than usual—as if she had found solid backing.