624 – The Happiness of 372

Students from Kyoto University were... something else.

Never mind the ones who clasped hands and rested them on each other’s shoulders to form a “table.”

There were even two guys who stacked themselves on top of each other like a Power Rangers Megazord, bowing in unison before shouting, “Hojou-sensei, please take a seat!”

Even someone as composed as Hojou Kyousuke couldn’t keep a straight face. If he actually sat on them, wouldn’t that mean his buddy’s head would be the seat cushion?

Fortunately, before he had to say anything, other Kyoto students promptly kicked away the self-proclaimed “Table-Chair Quartet.” Jokes aside, students from a top university still had a sense of decorum. And, honestly, anyone confident enough to bring a girlfriend to the Kamo River for a romantic stroll was already a capable man on campus. Because of that, this spontaneous fan meetup stayed surprisingly well-organized.

“Could you sign this for Hasegawa Akemi by the Kamo River? She’s my girlfriend — she really loves your work, but she couldn’t make it today.”

The guy at the front of the line bowed deeply.

Kyousuke took the photo from Sakura, wrote the dedication as requested, and handed it back.

When the student saw the picture, his eyes widened it wasn’t just any official photo, but a personal one.

In it, Hojou Kyousuke stood in a blue kendo uniform, his face cold and composed, bamboo sword raised high.

In front of him, a blurred opponent swung his sword, frozen mid-motion.

The shot was framed perfectly — so perfect that it carried a fierce, almost tangible killing intent.

“It was taken by Mitsuha,” Sakura said with a proud grin, fanning out a whole stack of photos like a deck of cards.

Kyousuke glanced over — they were all from that kendo training camp.

In some, he struck down one opponent; in others, two, three, four... and in one, an entire group.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Miss, I want that one — the one where Hojou-sensei’s standing over a pile of bodies!” shouted a girl, waving her hand.

Others craned their necks, shouting similar requests.

That particular shot showed Hojou Kyousuke single-handedly defeating Higashi, Kaijuu, Onizuka, and the rest all sprawled across the floor, while he stood tall and heroic, bamboo sword in hand.

“Nope, nope~ That one’s the special prize~”

Sakura said in her soft Kyoto accent, expertly shuffling the photos like a magician.

When she was younger, she used to play cards at the Hojou household all the time — with Kyousuke and his mother, the three of them made the perfect “Three-Player War” team.

Sakura always preferred these simple, brainless card games to complex ones like hanafuda.

The crowd quieted down again, lining up in order for signatures.

Sakura stood to the side, helping fans take photos with their phones, though she herself never appeared in any of the pictures.

Under the fading glow of the sunset, a strange sight unfolded by the Kamo River.

The couples who usually filled the riverside regardless of season, flaunting their love and tormenting single people, had all left.

The flattened grass finally stood tall again.

In their place was a long, snaking line of people — couples, singles sneaking into the line, everyone mingled together in chaotic harmony.

Sakura’s mischievous plan had been executed perfectly.

When Kyousuke noticed, he turned to her in disbelief.

She was staring at the crowd, muttering under her breath, “Boy-boy, girl-girl, boy-girl-girl…”

‘…Wait, was this part of her scheme too?!’

The brown-haired girl, satisfied like a queen surveying her domain, exhaled softly.

Then she turned toward him, caught his baffled expression, and smiled playfully.

“So, Sensei… are you satisfied with my little trick this time?”

Satisfied? Kyousuke’s opinion didn’t matter, but the fans certainly were.

Some of them had failed to win the official lottery for the Japan Mystery Writers Association Awards, where Kyousuke was set to appear.

They had been regretting missing their chance to see the legend in person — only to randomly run into him on a date.

Wait… a date?

Wasn’t tomorrow the awards ceremony? Then why on earth was Hojou-sensei in Kyoto, over 400 kilometers away from Tokyo?

Someone finally asked aloud.

“Hojou-sensei, isn’t the ceremony tomorrow? Why are you still in Kyoto? Did they move the venue?”

“Yeah, or are you boycotting it or something?”

“Boycotting? Didn’t the Association already reform?”

“…”

As one of the few universities still running student self-governed dorms, Kyoto University students were very passionate about things like “movements” and “reforms.”

Those dorms, independent from school management, were practically a breeding ground for activism.

Though, naturally, neither the school nor local authorities were thrilled about it.

Now these students were getting all fired up, already discussing forming a “coalition” to march on the Tokyo First Hotel tomorrow.

Panicking, Kyousuke quickly waved his hands.

“There’s no special reason I’m here,” he said with a calm smile. “It’s just that she wanted to see the Kamo River today.”

His eyes met Sakura’s.

‘Oh no.’

The crowd collectively winced as if struck.

Was that even something a human being says?

He was sixteen.

And he i about to receive the highest honor in Japan’s mystery literature scene the next day, and instead of nervously pacing at home, he was 400 kilometers away, taking his girlfriend to see a river.

“Now I see why Hojou-sensei has so many girlfriends…” someone muttered, clearly referencing the viral online “girlfriend poll.”

“I’m the childhood friend! Number One~” Sakura said cheerfully, flashing a peace sign.

“Thank you for the photo! If I’d known you were from Kyoto, I would’ve voted for you! Next time, I definitely will!” the guy said, bowing in apology.

The signing continued smoothly.

“Please write this,” someone said next, handing over a photo. “‘Not only can a year have over three hundred days a wife can weigh over three hundred pounds. Even at three hundred seventy-two, happiness still exists.’”

　　……

The moment he heard that request, Kyousuke’s pen froze midair.

Slowly, with a stiff neck, he looked up, only to meet a pair of eyes brimming with resentment.

“Ha… ha ha, sure, no problem,” he chuckled awkwardly, forcing a smile while carefully avoiding eye contact, afraid this die-hard fan might actually kill him.

This all started when he tried to stir up hype for his new book.

He left a teaser hanging, pulling a classic marketing move: first, he released a high-quality prequel manga titled The Blood and Dreams of a Corporate Slave, earning everyone’s trust.

Then, he dangled a “bonus manga” as a random prize for those who bought multiple copies of his new novel.

The name of that novel? The Happiness of 372.

At the time, fans were full of wild theories.

Some thought it meant the protagonist wanted to make up for all his lost, lifeless days—turning a year into 372 meaningful ones.

Others guessed it referred to the 372 days it took him to finish his masterpiece.

Naturally, everyone assumed the number referred to time.

It made sense, it’s close to the number of days in a year.

But when the novel finally went on sale, one particularly enthusiastic fan bought a hundred copies to max out the lottery chances and finally landed a copy of the bonus manga.

Without even glancing at the novel, he flipped open the special comic with trembling hands… and almost died on the spot.

On the very first page, the protagonist was a lean, gentle-looking man was holding hands with a woman three times his width.

No caption needed.

The instant that fan saw the plump heroine, he instantly understood what “372” meant.

For a brief, terrible silence filled around him, everything around him, the store clerk’s shouts, fellow fans’ chatter, the cars outside had faded away.

He could only hear one haunting line echoing in his mind:

“So, are you satisfied with my little trick this time?”

Kyousuke’s Twitter exploded that day.

Furious fans and curious onlookers flooded his mentions, condemning him for “betraying” his loyal readers with such deception.

Kyousuke’s only response was three words:

————————————————————————

“Did you like it?”

————————————————————————

Did they like it?

Of course they did.

If they didn’t, they wouldn’t just stop at yelling online, they knew where he lived and studied.

Sure, the heroine was… a bit on the heavier side.

But the couple’s daily life? Sweet enough to give anyone cavities.

Her round, smiling face became irresistibly adorable.

Let’s be honest: when it came to daydreams, Eriri was a professional.

This collaboration between two major manga artists was engineered to captivate readers.

The contrast between the heroine (and her supportive mother) and the ruthless award judges the male lead once faced made the story even more touching.

From the protagonist’s despair during the awards fiasco to the heartwarming bond with his 372-pound wife, the tale was both sincere and beautiful.

So fans cursed him while still reading every page.

They laughed, cried, and rolled around in emotional turmoil.

They were torn between being melted by the couple’s sweetness and being terrified that their sense of beauty was slowly being rewritten.

After all, how do you go from “Ugh, what a fat pig!” on page one to “Aww, she’s so cute!” by the end?

And if that’s where they were now… what would become of them in the future?

So, naturally, they flooded his inbox again, begging him to “draw a normal romance manga” to cleanse their eyes. “We don’t care about the plot,” they said. “Just make the heroine hot this time!”

But Kyousuke had already pocketed the money, why would he care about these clowns?

If anything, he figured he was doing society a favor.

Japan had plenty of overweight girls bullied at school, dropping out and isolating themselves, some even taking their own lives.

If his bonus manga could awaken even one person’s sense of acceptance and could inspire someone to truly love such a girl, then wasn’t that an act of mercy?

Come to think of it, both of his major mystery novels tackled women’s issues.

The Devotion of Suspect X delved into marriage and financial struggles; The Dream and Death of Writer K explored the psychological pain of women with body image problems.

He could practically campaign for the title of “Friend of Women.”

And it wasn’t just him who noticed.

Influential women in media and politics began to take interest.

Kisaki’s office received two interview requests from female legislators and three lunch invitations from feminist activists.

Kyousuke, however, declined them all.

He didn’t write those stories for fame.

He wrote them for one reason only—money.

Back at the Kamo River, after one fan mentioned “372 pounds,” the crowd erupted again.

“Hojou-sensei! Don’t tell me you also have a 372-pound soulmate!”

“Absolutely not!” Sakura raised her hand confidently. “I can vouch for that! Kyousuke’s cooking is amazing, but he always keeps it healthy and balanced. And between you and me, he’s been dragging me out for morning runs since junior year~”

Her bright, cheerful confession sent shockwaves through the crowd.

The female fans’ faces twisted with envy, while the male fans looked at the radiant, energetic Yamauchi Sakura, then remembered the giant woman who made them whisper “Love conquers all—even at 372 pounds.”

In that instant, they saw the cruel darkness of the world.

‘You bastard… How dare you? How could you?’

Feeling their murderous stares, Kyousuke decided he’d better explain before someone snapped.

“Well, life doesn’t always go your way,” he began carefully. “Even though Writer K suffered for years without winning an award.

He still overcame his numb, miserable past and found the path to his dream. Likewise, his wife though unconventional in appearance—”

“You do realize that’s not a normal person, right?!” one guy yelled, only to get punched in the arm by the plump girl standing behind him.

“Ahem. What I meant,” Kyousuke continued, “isn’t that inner beauty is better than outer beauty. It’s that people can’t expect perfection in everything.

The protagonist’s wife loved him wholeheartedly. He even had a supportive mother-in-law who helped his career. Isn’t that enough?”

He spread his hands in a helpless shrug as fans grumbled and continued queuing for autographs.

“‘Life rarely goes as planned…’” Sakura murmured softly, repeating his words.

Meanwhile, at the far end of the riverbank, a group of men carrying filming equipment began walking toward them.

Hideo Kusaka—a name not many might recognize, but one that was definitely familiar to Hojou Kyousuke.

He was the D-list actor who had gone viral months ago by jumping on Hojou’s infamous quote, “Are you satisfied with my trick this time?”

A single lucky moment of clout had catapulted him to fame—interviews, variety shows, nonstop appearances.

He was in Kyoto today for a TV shoot.

But when Kusaka saw that no one was paying attention to him, and instead there was a massive crowd lined up for someone else, his expression soured instantly.

What the hell? He was a rising celebrity now, how could he be ignored like this?

No way.

Hideo Kusaka might let it slide… but the fans of Hojou Kyousuke certainly wouldn’t!