Life is a Mess Ever Since My Mother Won an Ero-Novel Grand Prize - Chapter 5.2

Chapter 5.2

|| “Oh, hello, Shimomura? Do you have a minute? You see, I’ve got an idea. It’s about your challenge with Senri-Senpai. I know you haven’t decided what to write about yet anyway. I’ll think of something for you. Don’t misunderstand me, okay? It doesn’t matter to me if you win or lose…  What, you want me to get right to the point? What’s with that tone? Fine, I’ll just say it. The theme is family love, right? Then Shimomura, I think you should write a story about your own family… What? You’re already working on it? Someone gave you a hint? Who is that person?　That should have been my position!”

What position?

“I don’t know, but I’m busy writing anyway, so I’m hanging up now… Oh, now that sounds like a writer.”

“Shimomura no baka! Mou~ shiranai!”

“… Well, thank you. But Rinka. It’s good to hear your voice once in a while.”

“Wha! Is that so? You know, I also…”

Gachya…

Ah, I hung up the phone. Rinka was still trying to say something. I can picture her angry face, haha.

Oh well. I’m in the middle of a real writing phase. I’ve been unable to write at all for the past few weeks, but now I can write like a maniac.

But there’s nothing strange about it. After all, what I’m writing now is not fiction. It’s a story that is as close to reality as possible.

A pink-brained mother who talks dirty all the time.

A young lady type of little sister.

This is the story of a boy who aims to become a novelist while being pushed around by these two people.

I write, write, and I progress to the extent that even I am surprised. The keystrokes on the keyboard sound like music. And the characters started moving on their own in a way I couldn’t have imagined before. It’s a product of my imagination, but the characters are speaking for themselves.

Ah, the world isn’t something to be created.

The world becomes one on its own. I’m just a recorder who writes it down.

That’s why my writing never stops. Rather, I grind my teeth at the slow speed at which I hit the keyboard. I find it annoying that different kanji characters appear when I convert characters.

Too slow. It’s too slow. I’ll never make it in time. The world of my imagination is alive. The characters are taking new actions as time flies by.

Wait for me…

Don’t leave me here.

I want to spend time with you guys, too. I want to live at the same time as you.

Hey, please.

Take me to your world…

And there it is again, the ringtone.

“Damn, I was just about to…”

I grabbed my phone.

I was more surprised by the time than by who it was from. It’s 3 a.m.?

It must have been nine o’clock in the evening when I got a call from Rinka. 

When did six hours go by?

Anyway, the person on the other end of the phone was the editor in charge of Mating Press, Kamome Hanagaki.

“Yes, hello?”

“Is this Mating Press? This is Hanagaki. Were you asleep?”

“No, I was awake and writing.”

“I see. Then I guess I lost the bet.”

A bet?

“I’m having a drink with Kimeseku-sensei right now. He’s wondering what Mating Press is up to now. I assumed you were sleeping because you texted me back during the day.”

Yeah, that’s probably because of real Mating Press, my mother’s daily routine.

But Kimeseku-sensei sensed that I’m not the same person as the Mating Press, and he knows that I’m someone who can write all night.

“It was Kimeseku-sensei who proposed the bet, wasn’t it?”

“Hmm, you’re right.”

“Yes, I thought so.”

There was much of a gap in information. That bet was bogus from the start.

“Is that all you have to say? I’d like to concentrate on my writing…”

Everyone on the other side of the world is calling me. I have to keep track of everyone’s activities, and fast. That’s what being a writer is all about, that’s my life. I don’t have time to be involved in the unimportant stories of the real world.

“Wait a minute. I’ll let Kimeseku-sensei take over. He wants to say a few words.”

“Okay.”

There was a pause between shifts.

“It’s Kimeseku.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t come here.”

Oh,

I stiffen up with my mouth half open.

—Don’t be like me.

That’s right. Kimeseku-sensei is a writer who has become a resident of another world and can’t easily return to this one. I almost became one of them.

“Thank you…”

“Umu.”

Kimeseku-sensei hung up the call with those words. 

I looked up at the ceiling, took a breath, and closed my laptop.

Let’s go to bed.

A writer is a bridge between imagination and reality. You can’t be biased towards one or the other.

You must never disregard reality —the people around you.

I’ll be a writer who can take care of my family. So I went to bed and closed my eyes.

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