The Story of a Manga Artist Who Was Imprisoned by a Strange High School Girl

Chapter 16: 15


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[ED : We will change the ‘liquid tab’ to ‘drawing tablet’.]

[TL: Also, you might be confused when the word ‘name’ is used,ネーム is rough representation of the frame division when drawing a manga, the composition, lines, character placement, etc. for each frame. So, I’ll probably name/manga/storyboard for now. Do comment which one is better and I’ll stick with it]

Today is a full day of reading.

I read the various resource books that arrived by express delivery in the morning.

I dog-ear every page that looks like it could be useful.

I can’t come up with a new plot yet, but I can feel the accumulation of unnamed parts that will become the seeds of creativity.

By analogy, it is a balloon before it explodes. Or like a manual car with a half-clutch.

“Food.”

The next thing I know, she is standing at the door.

“Ah, is it that time already? Looks good today too.”

I look up and close the book, tucking the bookmark between the pages I have been reading.

I then move it to the wall with the other books so as not to make a mess.

I also move the drawing tablet away from the cardboard and convert it into an improvised table.

Today’s menu is seafood pasta with prawns and clams and salad.

The aroma of rocky seaweed tickles the nose.

She places the tray on the cardboard and turns back to the kitchen.

Soon after, she returns with another tray.

It has the exact same menu as mine.

“You wanna eat here too?”

I ask, as if to confirm.

“I can’t?”

“No, of course not. Eating alone is also tasteless..”

The cardboard is turned from horizontal to vertical to make room for her tray.

I’m sure the girl made the food on her own, along with mine, even yesterday. Usually she would eat in the kitchen on that occasion.

And yet, today she is eating with me.

What kind of change of heart is this?

Can I assume that she has forgiven me?

“Is that so.”

She says a little happily, puts the tray on the cardboard and sits down opposite me.

She is sitting with a beautiful straight back.

“Itadakimasu.”

“Itadakimasu.”

We mutter almost simultaneously.

Then, the girl suddenly takes off her mask.

It is an ordinary gesture, but I can’t help but feel a thrill.

Because this is the first time, at this very moment, that I see her real face.

What appears from under the mask is a beautiful girl, just as I have imagined.

A well-defined nose and lightly pigmented cherry lips.

Her nose and mouth are there in a perfect arrangement, just like her.

“It’s delicious. The fish and shellfish broth is good.”

I concentrated on the food, trying to disguise the excitement in my heart.

“I’m glad.”

She brings the pasta to her mouth with the graceful use of a fork, as if she were Italian.

It is a gesture that somehow makes me feel that she has been brought up well.

“……….”

“……….”

Silence prevails.

Occasionally, the light sound of dishes and forks touching echoes.

‘As long as we are eating together, it is awkward not to have any conversation. I have to talk about something.’

“Um, I want to ask you something…”

I rest my hand on my fork and open my mouth.

“What?”

“We’ve met before, haven’t we? Well, before the day I collapsed on your doorstep.”

“Yes.”

The girl nods quietly.

“I knew it. Apparently, I thought I saw you in town.”

It seems I am not mistaken after all.

Before I was locked up, she and I had already known each other.

“……….”

“……….”

Again, silence comes.

‘What should I do? I can’t just ask her about my confinement, can I?’

Compared to the beginning of the confinement, I think we have become much more relaxed but I don’t know when a strange switch will be flipped.

There is still a knife firmly within her reach.

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“You look like you’re wearing a uniform, are you in high school?”

After some hesitation, I ask such an uninteresting question.

But since she herself shows up wearing a uniform, it shouldn’t be an awkward question to ask.

“Yes.”

[The girl uses 応:ou]

She nods unreliably.

“Are you sure you don’t need to go to school? You know, attendance and all.”

“I don’t know.”

Saying that, she looks away from me.

“I see. Do you like maths? You know, I caught a glimpse of you the other day when I was going to the toilet.”

“Not much…….In fact, it’s the subject in which I get the worst grades.”

So it’s because she’s not good at it that she is trying to overcome it.

This attitude seemsed very typical of her.

“Oh yeah. That’s a coincidence. When I was at school, I didn’t have a clue about maths either. Or rather, the only subject I was good at was art, hahaha.”

I mumbles and lets out an unnatural, dry laugh.

I feel pathetic at my lack of communication skills.

If there was a hole, I’d want to crawl in it.

“I envy you for being so good at drawing. It’s amazing”

“Oh, yeah? Thank you. You know, we all have at least one thing we’re good at, right? Do you have a subject you’re good at, too?”

“The subjects in which I perform best in tests are Japanese.”

“Japanese. I didn’t do very well in Japanese, but I like to read. I can’t read very fast. But, yes, I like Japanese.”

It’s true.

I have no problem with dictating kanji, but when it comes to writing, I am the type of person who reads too much into unnecessary things and gets stuck in a ditch.

“No, I’m not like that. I’m not good at Japanese.”

“But it’s a subject you’re good at, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I can do the written examinations. But in Japanese class, sometimes we have group discussions. I don’t have any friends…..”

The girl looks down and stops speaking.

“….”

Unsure of what to say back, she clamps her mouth shut.

I don’t know if it’s a bad idea to go into this any further.

Anyway, it seems certain that she feels some kind of rift with the school.

But still, I’m glad that today’s dish is pasta.

It doesn’t take long to finish eating.

We finish our meal before the awkwardness reaches its peak.

“Well, anyway, thanks for the food – today’s pasta was delicious. I bet it was hard work getting the sand out of the clams.”

“It’s fun watching the clams spit out the sand.”

“I see. At this rate, I can look forward to tomorrow’s cooking.”

“Yes.”

She nods and leaves the room with a tray for two.

‘…… I should have something a bit more decent to talk about before tomorrow.’

I lie down on the floor in a big heap and sigh.

Besides manga, I have a new assignment.

‘Then again, why did I get nervous when she took off her mask?’

She’s beautiful, but no matter how beautiful she is, it’s crazy to get aroused just by looking at her face.

‘─ ─ No, no. It’s not her face, is it? I felt sexualised by the very act of her 『taking off her mask』.’

Fetishism, they say, comes from concealing.

Without skirts, there would be no pantyhose and without the culture of shoes, there would be no footwear.

Not so long ago, there were hardly any people who felt eroticism towards masks.

But nowadays it is commonplace for everyone to hide their faces behind masks, so bare faces have become a rarity.

If I am not a special pervert, there must be a good number of men who feel the same kind of excitement for beautiful girls with their masks off.

Because they are hidden, we want to see them.

Maybe that is the truth of this world.

‘This could be of some use.’

Ping.

It’s been a while since my creative sensor has reacted.

‘But a manga that just gets me excited the moment a girl takes off her mask is too niche. ……。……。……。That’s right! How about a gag manga with a 『protagonist who sees everything as erotic, even things that aren’t erotic?』’

Emphasise and deform the faint anomalies felt in everyday life.

This is a technique described in a book on storytelling I read today.

‘Gag manga is a genre I have never tried before. However, the fact that I haven’t tried yet also means that I haven’t failed yet.’

Gag manga requires a unique sense of style, so I’ve always disliked it.

But if I can’t come up with anything, it’s not a bad idea to venture out on my own.

The editors are asking me to come up with a romantic comedy project, but if it’s funny even as a gag, they’ll give it a fair evaluation.

‘Fuu… Today I was able to talk to her more than usual, and I came up with a new story, so it was a very productive day. Oh, I’ll write it down before I forget.’

I turn the drawing tablet on in a hurry.

I run the pen over and over so that the ideas won’t run away from me.

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