Chapter Text
“High School Dragon-Slayer 4 has been flying off the shelves, Shimada-sensei,” Izumi said, pulling up a sales chart on her desktop monitor. “A best-seller on all the charts that rank light novels, too.”
“Hm.” Hanzo tapped his tablet pen against his agent’s desk absently.
“Now, about volume five...”
“This does not sound like good news.” Hanzo’s expression pinched. “Has it been rejected? Does it need more editing? I will do what is necessary.”
“Oh, not at all, Shimada-sensei, your work is as great as ever! But today we received a message from a new artist—who is very popular, very sought after—that they would like illustrate the upcoming volume.” Izumi smiled brightly and switched to a hyper-saturated webpage.
EROMANGA-SENSEI! the title screams in neon green text over pastel pink. A mint-colored chibi of Super Sentaiman lurks in the corner of the page, jumping to some imaginary beat. I’m EROMANGA-SENSEI and I’m Japan’s #1 Illustrator!
“They are the most popular illustrator in the industry right now, Shimada-sensei. To collaborate with them is a guaranteed success!”
The first post on the site almost makes Hanzo’s stony expression crack. It was Yoriko, the lead character in High School Dragon-Slayer, in a shredded and skimpy version of her school uniform, sensually posed in a classroom. I am Masashige Shimada-sensei’s number one fan! Yoriko-chan is so cute, don’t you think? The last battle between Yoriko-chan and the Great Dragon was amazing. I would love to draw for Shimada-sensei’s next novel!
“This art... is lewd,” Hanzo finally said, closing the page. “My works are not lewd.”
“Oh, they already sent us a portfolio of work. Here!” The next page Izumi brings up is drawn just as detailed as the last, but far less sexual—just Yoriko and her signature weapon, a massive sword. Following that illustration is a battle scene—all nine of the Dragon-Slayers, battling against a horde of the wraiths from the first book. “They said they didn’t want their pen name to scare you off!”
“Hm.” It was well-drawn, Hanzo had to admit. Beautifully drawn, really. His characters looked vibrant and lively. Their costumes were perfectly rendered, accurate to the last detail. “You said they were popular?”
Izumi nodded. A new page popped up on the monitor: sales charts, search term popularity, webpage views. “Eromanga-sensei’s book of original artwork was released earlier this year and has stayed at the top of the charts for seven months straight. Their blog is one of the most viewed art blogs in the country, and the most-viewed eromanga blog.”
It would be good for sales. Volume five of High School Dragon-Slayer was to be the conclusion of the series, and while an anime adaptation was being discussed, Hanzo knew it would never happen if volume five didn’t break his past sales records. He might be able to eke by financially this year without having to write constantly if he could just get that adaptation.
“I accept. Send Eli Nishkino-sensei my thanks for illustrating the past volumes so wonderfully, please. Thank you, Izumi-san.” Hanzo slid his tablet pen back into its holder, his tablet back into his bag, and bowed.
“I will message Eromanga-sensei immediately! Have a good day, Shimada-sensei!”
“You as well, Izumi-san.”
The house was, as always, quiet when Hanzo got home.
“Tadaima,” Hanzo mumbled as he toed his shoes off. He’d given up anticipating a reply many months ago, but he still trudged upstairs anyway, knocking on the door at the top.
GENJI’S ROOM, declared the little green bird-shaped sign on the door. It had been a gift from Hanzo’s father when Genji had moved in.
“Are you hungry?” Hanzo leaned against the door with a heavy sigh. The breakfast tray he’d left for Genji had been pushed against the wall, dirty dishes neatly stacked.
Two thuds echo on the near wall. Yes, in the knocking language that Hanzo had been forced to create when he realized that his new brother had no intention of ever leaving his room or talking to him.
“Okay.” Hanzo picked up the tray with a sigh.
Genji had lived with Hanzo for over a year now—since Sojiro Shimada had decided that he couldn’t care for his son after his second wife (and Genji’s mother) died, and that instead Hanzo, who’d lived on his own since he started high school, would have to take of Genji.
At their first meeting, Hanzo had been enthralled with his new brother, who was painfully shy and barely looked up from the floor, clinging desperately to the only thing that Sojiro had allowed him to take with him—a Sentaiman figurine. Genji had whispered his hello so quietly Hanzo had had to strain to hear it. He had just looked so small and young.
That enthrallment hadn’t ended, thought the slowly-building frustration wasn’t helping. Hanzo did everything for Genji, and in return Genji met him with silence and a locked door.
“Is there anything you would like for dinner?” Still, Hanzo couldn’t help hoping that if he just kept trying, eventually Genji would venture out.
A note slid out from underneath the door. Chicken curry.
“Fine,” Hanzo sighed, and headed back downstairs.
The blinking of the cursor was taunting him, Hanzo was certain. With a sigh, he clicked out of Word and pulled up his browser. If he couldn’t write, he could at least find out more about this Eromanga-sensei that he was going to be working with.
A flashing pop-up in pastel green met Hanzo when he opened the page. EROMANGA-SENSEI IS STREAMING RIGHT NOW! JOIN THE FUN?
Shrugging, Hanzo clicked on the link the pop-up gave.
The main video seemed to be of a drawing program, where Eromanga-sensei had started sketching out a few guidelines. In the corner, though, was a small video feed of a dark bedroom, where Eromanga-sensei themselves could be seen. Oddly enough, Eromanga-sensei was wearing a plastic Super Sentaiman mask over their face.
“—I don’t like drawing so much lewd stuff, you all just keep requesting I draw it!” Even more oddly, Eromanga-sensei’s voice was heavily distorted. “Perverts! Anyway, today I’m drawing Maki-chan from Masashigo Shimada-sensei’s High School Dragon-Slayer. She’s so cute, don’t you think? She was my favorite, I hate that Shimada-sensei had to kill her off, but it is a battle-based series, so I guess it had to happen. Oh, and yes, I did get the illustration position on the next volume!”
Hanzo huffed. Maki had been quite popular with the fans, but her death was motivator for Yoriko’s revenge arc in volume four. The comments in the chat that popped up over the stream seemed to have latched onto the mention of High School Dragon-Slayer.
Is Shimada-sensei really an old man?
Congratulations! I will be sure to buy it now!
I heard Shimada-sensei was actually a high school girl, is that true?
“I don’t know! I haven’t met him in real life. But with such a stuffy pen name, I bet he’s really some sort of career man who works in an office all day.” Slowly, Maki was taking shape on the main screen, posed on her hands and knees in a white bikini.
“I am not stuffy,” Hanzo mumbled to himself. Sojiro was stuffy. His mother—as much as he had loved her—was stuffy. He was… careful. Calculating. At worst, too safe. But not stuffy.
Did you get my present yet, Eromanga-sensei? Korean mail is so slow, sorry!
“Oh, yeah! Let me show the rest of you!” Eromanga-sensei stood up, out of frame. “Give me a minute!”
Hanzo zoomed his page in, trying to see what sort of room Eromanga-sensei could live in.
He froze.
There, in the background, on the floor beside the door was the same dinner tray that Hanzo had made his brother two hours ago.
“No,” Hanzo hissed. “No.”
But the tray even still had the little note that Hanzo had left for Genji on it, propped up by a now-empty rice bowl. I am going to the grocery store tomorrow. If you would like anything, please tell me. Love, your brother.
The entire room looked a little more familiar now, too—there was a promotional poster for High School Dragon-Slayer that Hanzo had given to Genji when Genji had asked him to pick up the then-most recent volume from the bookstore. There was Genji’s laundry in the blue basket in a corner. There, just barely out of frame, was the Super Sentaiman figure that Genji had been holding the first time Hanzo had ever met Genji.
Eromanga-sensei—Genji, his innocent younger brother—stepped back into view, holding another Super Sentaiman figure, this one posed dramatically mid-punch. “He was an exclusive variant at a Korean con—thank you, D.Va. He’s amazing.”
You really love Sentaiman, don’t you?
Aw you’re welcome! <3 It was no trouble.
Do you go to conventions?
You could a meet-up at Comiket for your fans!
“I don’t like crowds, you all know that.” Genji—Eromanga-sensei started drawing again, adding in color now. “But I signed some artbooks and prints that will be for sale at the Koizumi Publishing booth at Comiket, if you are going.”
Hanzo just watched his brother—his reclusive, innocent younger brother—draw, shell-shocked.
His brother was Eromanga-sensei.
His brother drew lewd artwork.
His brother drew lewd artwork and was famous for drawing it.
“There, all finished! Thank you all for talking with me. I’ll be streaming on Thursday, too, so leave some requests and maybe I’ll draw it—but nothing too lewd! Bye!”
But the stream didn’t end, and while the drawing vanished from the main screen and the audio was muted, Genji was still visible in the bottom corner, stretching as he stood up, back to the camera.
Genji unzipped the oversized green hoodie with a sigh, shrugging it off, and tossed the Sentaiman mask to the side.
“No,” Hanzo hissed again.
Genji tugged the hem of his shirt up, and there was his back—lean and smooth, finely muscled. Hanzo’s mouth was suddenly very, very dry.
Pervert, Hanzo thought to himself. Going to watch his brother—his cute, shy little brother who was apparently not at all innocent, if his artwork was anything to go by—strip like some terrible sister complex anime.
His brother. His brother who was stripping on stream, unintentionally. To an audience of thousands.
Hanzo’s dry mouth suddenly was the least of his worries.
He immediately bolted out of his room, nearly slipping in his socks on the wooden floor. “Genji!” he shouted. “Genji!”
He pounded at the door, panicking, falling to his knees. “Genji!”
Slowly, Genji opened the door, poking his head out. “Onii-chan?”
Hanzo collapsed against the wall with a sigh of relief. Genji still had his pants on, at least. “You’re still streaming!”
Genji blinked down at him, brow furrowing. “Hm?”
“You’re still streaming! On your blog!”
Slowly, realization creeped over Genji’s face, coloring him bright pink. “M-my blog?”
“Your blog—Eromanga-sensei.” Hanzo was still too out of breath to form full sentences.
“Eromanga-sensei?” Genji desperately looked around the hallway, searching for somewhere to rest his eyes. “I don’t know anybody called that.” He started to pull the door closed, but Hanzo leapt back to his feet and shoved his foot in the doorway before Genji could get it closed.
“Move!” Genji shouted, slamming the door repeatedly against Hanzo’s foot. “Move! Move!”
“Your work is excellent!” Hanzo said. “The illustration you just did was really cute.”
Genji froze, grip loosening on the door. “O-oh?”
It was quiet for a moment, just the two of them in a momentary truce.
Hanzo could feel his face burning, the finished illustration of Maki lurking in his thoughts. “Yes. Your work is….” He looked down at the floor. “You work was very sexy!”
“No!” Genji screamed, louder than Hanzo has ever heard before. “No!” With a surprisingly amount of strength, he slams the door closed.
“We are not done!” Hanzo yelled back. “I deserve answers!”
“Go away!” Genji’s voice was muffled by the door.
“Genji!”
“Go away!”
Hanzo has to admit, it was not an undeserved reaction. But how was he supposed to work with Eromanga-sensei now? How was he supposed to be a professional?
How could he even focus when half of his brain was still replaying the moment that his brother had taken off his shirt?
“Okay,” Hanzo sighed, and slowly started trudging back downstairs.