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397 Eriri’s Resolve
🕑 Added 2025-07-22 15:27:33 +0000 UTCWatching Eriri bounce back so energetically after just being on the verge of emotional collapse, Kosaka Akane couldn’t help but think, "Ah, ignorance is bliss."
But it was exactly that innocence that made Eriri the perfect point of attack for her plan.
Taking a deep breath, Akane suppressed the urge to continue trading barbs and shifted into the next phase of her plan.
“Exactly. Sawamura Spencer Eriri, you might one day become an artist who surpasses even me… but that’s only a possibility.”
Now free from Eriri’s interference, Akane’s demeanor lost all signs of femininity.
Her voice was sharp and cold.
“Even a genius needs time to grow. And if a genius doesn’t mature, they’re nothing more than a corpse. The real industry isn’t some kids’ playground.”
She spun around abruptly, arms spread wide as she gestured to the empty conference room.
“Look at this place! Can’t any of you grasp what this means?”
“Do you think starting an animation company is as easy as flipping a switch? Don’t make me laugh!”
“What happened today—getting blindsided while being completely clueless? That was merciful compared to what the real world dishes out. At least this disaster stopped before you wasted more of your time and energy.”
“Hah?! Do you even hear yourself right now? Mercy? You’ve lost your mind!”
Eriri slammed the table, her eyebrows shooting up in fury.
Next to her, Kasumigaoka Utaha clutched the “Operation: Defeat Hojou Kyousuke” plan tightly in her hands.
She knew the arrogant woman across from them wasn’t lying.
But even that wasn’t enough of a reason for Akane to act so brazenly in front of Kyousuke.
Utaha crossed her arms, tilted her chin upward, and spoke calmly.
“And what, you want us to join your company, get worked to the bone, and end up mentally broken—so traumatized by the sight of a keyboard that we vomit on the spot?
Have you already forgotten how many young, starry-eyed creators you’ve chewed up and spit out?”
“Do you remember how many slices of bread you’ve eaten in your life?” Akane still wore a perfectly calm smile.
“I’m not a doctor. I’m not their mother. I’m a creator—and so are they. We move forward by devouring our dreams.”
“I bring together people with talent. What path they take, what sacrifices they make for those dreams—that’s their decision.
That’s how it should be. It’s not my job to choose for them. Doing that would be an ethical violation.”
“Take you, for example—Kasumi Utako. You sit at your desk, jolted awake by the morning sun, realizing you pulled another all-nighter.
Do you curse your editor for constantly hounding you? Do you blame the readers who bought your books? Do you regret becoming a creator?”
There was a fanatical gleam in Akane’s eyes now—so intense that if Yukinoshita Yukino had been present, she’d have called it cult-leader energy.
Eriri and Utaha couldn’t help but think of those countless nights spent toiling under a desk lamp—nights where inspiration struck so hard their hands couldn’t stop.
The more exhausted they felt, the more alive their minds became, desperate to bring every last idea in their heads to life.
Still, Akane didn’t look at Kyousuke, who had been silently watching her.
Her eyes remained locked on Eriri as her voice took on an increasingly aggressive, almost cruel tone.
“This little make-believe company of yours—sure, maybe you’ve got the funding, the script, the voice actors, and just need to finish production to make your dream come true. But the second you get started, what if all your artists get poached?”
“We can sign contracts!” Eriri shot back, her usual tsundere pride now working as a real shield.
Even if Akane had a point, Eriri refused to accept it—and that resolve gave her strength, beating even Utaha to the punch.
Akane ignored her and continued painting a picture of despair.
“Let’s say you finish the storyboards and move on to recording… only to be told the equipment’s down. But in truth, a big-name studio snatched it for themselves.”
“We have our own recording studio!” Eriri shouted again.
Akane’s brow twitched.
If Eriri were one of her own employees, Akane would’ve taped her mouth shut by now. Still, she pressed on.
“Even if, through blood and sweat, you manage to finish your anime… the final product is so compromised it barely sells, not even enough to cover the production costs.”
“That’s impossible…”
Eriri reflexively tried to deny it—but her brilliant mind kicked in.
‘If the producer is spending all their energy managing disasters, how much focus is really left for the actual work?’
“You complete the anime. You secure a TV timeslot. But right before broadcast, you're told it’ll air during the worst time slot imaginable.
And even then, what does your dear Hojou Kyousuke do? He bows at a ninety-degree angle, thanking the network profusely.”
“No! Kyousuke would never— I wouldn’t let him!” Eriri shouted, her voice cracking into a whisper.
“And then the air date finally comes. The whole team gathers around a tiny TV, hoping that, even in a dead time slot, your passion will shine through. That this thing you all poured your souls into will finally reach people.”
Eriri’s heart fluttered with a tiny sense of hope. But then—
“But instead, what airs is a trash-tier drama nobody’s ever heard of.”
Akane’s smile turned demonic—her voice alone could drag someone into despair.
“And your producer? Back to groveling, vomiting bile in some dingy izakaya as he begs the station to reconsider…”
“No… no…”
“Then Hojou stumbles back to the studio, exhausted beyond belief. There’s you, Eriri, who hasn’t slept more than five hours in a single stretch for two weeks.
There’s Kasumi Utako, her hair dry and brittle, barely able to type another word. There are your friends, waiting with hopeful eyes.
But Hojou—he has no words left to lift anyone up. Just silence, and a shared plunge into the abyss…”
“No!!” Eriri screamed.
There was no way—no way—she could let Kyousuke end up like that.
She didn’t care about the project, or Utaha, or anyone else.
What mattered was Kyousuke.
He couldn’t be allowed to become that hollow shell.
He was their light.
Just looking at him made the world feel like it couldn’t end.
No matter what happened, he always gave people hope.
He was the sun.
He was a prince who shattered darkness.
‘She would not let that light disappear. No—she refused!’
Eriri’s chest heaved, her breath coming out in short, desperate gasps.
And Hojou Kyousuke?
For once, he didn’t step in to save her from Akane’s relentless barrage.
He just slid his left hand into his pocket and stared at the woman across from him, eyes narrowed and smiling faintly.
‘No sense of honor. You really think you can do whatever you want?’
Even if just one of those things Akane predicted came true—no matter who was responsible—Kyousuke had full confidence that he’d ruin their entire existence.
That’s the kind of man he was.
‘Me? Bow at ninety degrees and beg?’
‘Me, vomiting blood from drinking too much? Don’t make me laugh!’
‘If I ever bow like that, it’ll be because I’m standing behind you—ready to grab you by the jaw and crush your damn throat.’
Still, as Kyousuke listened to Eriri’s increasingly ragged breathing, he had to admit—Kosaka Akane was proving somewhat useful.
At the very least, she had managed to give that airheaded idiot a taste of the darkness lurking in the real world.
He actually agreed with Yukinoshita Haruno’s philosophy of "tough love." He just hated seeing people he cared about suffer for it.
Never forget—this was the man who once led the Rampaging Angels.
“Use your body to remember it well!”
That motto, famous in another world, worked just as well here—especially in kendo.
No matter how many times you rehearsed your forms, it didn’t compare to the trauma of getting your ass handed to you in a real fight.
Spar. Spar. Spar again.
Until just seeing the angle of your opponent’s grip triggered a phantom pain—and your body moved on its own to avoid it.
This world was far from kind. It was neither beautiful nor just.
And within the limits of what he could control, Kyousuke welcomed small setbacks for those close to him—because setbacks led to growth.
It was just like when he helped Shouko find a talent agency.
Aside from exchanging a few polite conversations with the president, he made sure not to ask for any special treatment.
He quietly kept tabs on her situation.
And when something went wrong, he didn’t rush to intervene—he just filed it away for future payback.
Now, with Kosaka Akane willingly offering herself up as a real-world lesson, she was the perfect crash course for Eriri.
From the way Eriri had acted at home, it was clear she deeply admired Akane’s status as a creator.
Maybe she had even dreamed, secretly, of becoming someone like that herself.
Sure, the girl was timid, easily flustered, and so soft-hearted she swayed like a dandelion in the wind whenever someone so much as raised their voice…
But beneath that fragile exterior was a pride and stubbornness that matched her talent.
Kyousuke would never forget the look on Eriri’s face when she drew—so focused, so alive.
He’d never forget the mountains of drafts stacked up in her room. And of course, he’d never forget those sharp glares she gave him through her thick glasses.
Yeah, she was a crybaby—but a strong one.
When something difficult came up, the golden-haired princess’s inner monologue probably went something like this:
Angry → Upset → Why is this happening to me?! → Cry → Angry again → Frustrated → More frustrated → Even more frustrated → Cry again → Screw this problem! Just die already!
The harder things got, the more her pride surged to the surface.
Now, watching Eriri lower her head in silence, Kyousuke was genuinely curious—what kind of transformation would she undergo next?
Kosaka Akane, unlike him, simply stared at Eriri, convinced she was moments from victory.
If she could convince Eriri, the rest would fall into place.
Kyousuke would follow, and so would Kasumi Utako.
Her heart thrilled with excitement as she threw her arms wide and declared:
“Whether it’s anime or games you want to make, Mars has the best resources in the industry!
If Hojou Kyousuke and all of you join me, I’ll assemble an elite team just for you. That’s how dreams become reality!”
…Yeah, on this point, Kyousuke actually agreed.
It was always easier under a big tree.
He never hesitated to poach people from other companies and had zero interest in nurturing talent from scratch.
If you had the resources, use them. Taking shortcuts was the most fun thing in the world.
And if anything could top that—well, it’d be a pie falling from the sky.
“Don’t put words in his mouth! Kyousuke isn’t the kind of pathetic guy you’re describing!” Eriri suddenly lifted her head, her eyes blazing with fury as she glared at Akane.
“You keep running your mouth—why not pick on Kasumi Utako instead, huh? Or do you just think I’m some idiot pushover?!”
“Don’t underestimate me!!”
She shouted with everything she had.
This woman this arrogant, heartless woman—didn’t understand anything.
“I’ve come this far because I carry a belief too! The world I want to create isn’t some fake, mass-produced kingdom like yours!”
“You wouldn’t understand, would you? That overwhelming urge to capture something beautiful, to preserve it and share it with the world—
That trembling of the soul, the scream caught in your throat, the tears brimming in your eyes…”
“The desire to turn the unspeakable emotions in your heart into something real. To pour all your shy, unspoken feelings into a work that shouts them out loud on your behalf.
You—who runs a sweatshop and crushes your creators—you’d never get that feeling!”
You don’t understand anything.
For someone like her, who had been ostracized for her foreign looks and blonde hair, who spent her childhood hiding at home.
Watching anime with her parents—
Manga, anime, and games weren’t just entertainment.
They were her window to the world.
Her escape from a boring, painful reality.
Her emotions rose and fell with every story beat.
Her perspective of the world changed with each frame of animation.
The first time she told her mother she wanted to wear twin-tails was because she saw a princess in an anime.
Her first time singing was because of an anime opening theme.
Her first broken leg was from trying to ride a bike down the stairs—because an anime made it look easy…
Her first understanding of what a “boyfriend” was—
Her first hazy image of what her future partner might be—
All because of anime.
Wanting to make anime with Kyousuke wasn’t because of some shallow reason like Akane thought.
It was the most romantic thing in the world.
Without Kyousuke—
Without herself—
The work would never be complete.
No, she would never allow such a version to exist.
She and Kyousuke—were each other’s one and only.
“Even if we’re slow… right now, we’re walking forward on our own two feet—step by step, with everything we’ve got!”
Although her words came out fierce—like she might jump on the table at any moment and grab Kosaka Akane by the hair, forcing her to bow and grovel—Eriri’s clear blue eyes were brimming with tears.
‘This idiot… she’d managed to move herself to tears with her own speech.’
Her small hands, trembling uncontrollably, had at some point quietly clutched the sleeve of Kyousuke’s shirt.
Facing Kosaka Akane head-on, she raised her voice, pouring her whole heart into her declaration:
“The works that Kyousuke and I make, will make everyone who sees them will be envious. They’ll think: I want to be a princess like Eriri too!
A stunning, unbeatable super-girl protected by a prince like Hojou!”
“If it’s about resolve—I don’t lose to anyone. And definitely not to some smug, trash-talking hag like you!”
From the moment she walked into the room, Eriri had been Akane’s punching bag—bullied, belittled, pushed around.
Now, it was like she was unleashing emotions that had been bottled up for over a decade, every word shining with unshakable determination.
Just like she said—when it came to resolve, she had never been lacking.
Whether it was learning to draw as a child, or making the bold decision to move into that shared dorm—it had always been the same.
Eriri was someone whose very being radiated resolve, every moment of every day.
Even though her grip had crumpled Kyousuke’s sleeve into a wrinkled mess, his expression was nothing but pure satisfaction.
‘Ahh... this is my princess.’
One day, she’ll stand tall atop a hill in a red gown, overlooking the world like a true queen.
A proud princess doesn’t crumble before hardship.
Everything that dares block her path only fuels her fire, makes her flame burn brighter—makes that golden hair of hers shine even more brilliantly.
Her pride wasn’t a mask to hide a fragile heart—it was the expression of her strength. It was her unyielding soul on full display.
Kyousuke couldn’t help the goofy, proud smile spreading across his face.
If the situation weren’t so tense, he would’ve filmed this moment and sent it straight to his mom and Aunt Sayuri.
‘Lily has really grown up. She’s become so strong.’
At this point, whatever Kosaka Akane had to say no longer mattered.
Hearing Eriri speak those words was enough to make Kyousuke feel it had all been worth it.
He would happily crown Akane the “Best Experience Boss of the Year.”
In fact, he was ready to throw out all the backup plans he’d prepared—Eriri had already grown so much in just these few minutes.
Then—
‘Clap, clap, clap—'
Kasumi Utako (a.k.a. Kasumigaoka Utaha) began to applaud, her dazzling wine-colored eyes glittering with admiration.
“Sawamura-san, I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”
This—this was one of the things she had always loved most about Eriri.
That resolve.
That unshakable, beautiful stubbornness when chasing something dear to her.
Just like herself.
…Though, honestly, that speech had way too much emotional overshare.
All that stuff about “hidden feelings” and “expressing them through art”? Come on. You basically just said it outright. Who wouldn’t pick up on that?
“As expected of our director!” Kyousuke chimed in, clapping with enthusiasm.
“That was so moving—we should write it down and hang it on the wall of this office!
No—on the front door of the company! Let every person who walks in see it. That’s what a real animation studio should stand for!”
