Parallel World Light Novelist

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Over the next two days, the media erupted into a frenzy of reporting regarding the results of the Ryugin Awards. Seizing upon the growing fervor of the community, various outlets leaned into the fans’ desires by intentionally linking the names of Haruto and the mysterious Warrior of Love in every headline.

[Haruto claims his name will define this April. Is he dismissing the creator of Puella Magi Madoka Magica?]

[Ryugin Award winner Haruto makes a bold declaration, sparking outrage among Warrior of Love’s devoted fanbase.]

[April 29th: With the Seika Awards for Best TV Animation and Best Animated Film on the horizon, will we finally see the Warrior of Love and Shiori Takahashi share the same stage?]

The media outlets were more than happy to fan the flames of controversy. They took a single phrase from Haruto’s acceptance speech at the Ryugin Awards and treated it as a scandalous slip of the tongue, dissecting it for every drop of drama they could squeeze out.

What they did not realize, however, was that this was exactly what Haruto and the organizers of the major animation awards wanted. By pitting the fans of the Warrior of Love and Haruto against one another, they ensured a solid week or two of engagement.

When the truth was finally revealed on April 29th, the explosion of shock and realization would generate a massive wave of traffic and prestige for Haruto that no marketing could buy. As the Ryugin Awards concluded, the Naoki Awards began their pre-show hype. Under the relentless barrage of media coverage, even people who had never set foot in the otaku subculture were suddenly seeing names like Haruto, Initial D, and Sword Art Online everywhere they looked.

These industry awards functioned as massive promotional engines for creators and their works alike. Whether it was the editors at Prime Manga or the team at Kiyozawa Library, no one was willing to let such a golden opportunity go to waste.

Soon, another Saturday arrived. While the awards season raged on, the weekly broadcast schedule for anime continued without interruption. It had been less than two days since Haruto’s fans had finished celebrating his Gold Medal win when the third episode of 7 Years From Now aired. The viewership ratings for the premiere of the third episode hit 3.87%. This represented a significant jump from the previous week’s numbers.

A time-travel narrative like 7 Years From Now relied heavily on word-of-mouth. Once the organic buzz from the fans began to saturate social media, even casual television viewers were easily swayed to tune in and see what the fuss was about.

Kazane was at home, waiting in front of her television right on schedule. She had her phone open to the Warrior of Love fan group chat, while her eyes remained glued to the screen. After the deceptively soothing and gentle opening theme finished playing, the third episode began, picking up exactly where the previous week had left off.

In the story, Dr. Ichiki had agreed to let the protagonist, Soraki, use his memory transmission device to return to a point two days in the past. This was intended to save their friend, Riku, who had been captured because of their attempt to investigate the suspicious medical institute. The best way to help a friend out of trouble, after all, was to go back to a time before they were ever caught.

Ichiki also promised to tell Soraki the identity of the person who had knocked him unconscious in the first timeline, provided Soraki fulfilled one condition. Before jumping back two days, Soraki had to agree to tell the past version of Ichiki the truth about his time-traveling abilities. Kazane watched the plot unfold, mentally mapping out the various timelines while simultaneously typing away in the fan group to discuss the episode’s logic.

”Why is Ichiki making things so complicated and roundabout?” one user asked.

”It is probably because time travel is still just a theory for Ichiki at this point,” another replied. ”Aside from Soraki successfully taking the medicine, it seems like every other test subject failed. That is why he values the protagonist so much.”

”Exactly. If Soraki goes back two days to the moment he takes the medicine and acts like nothing happened, Ichiki would never know the experiment worked. The deal is simple: in exchange for the identity of the attacker, Soraki has to prove the experiment’s success by revealing himself as a time traveler to the past version of the doctor.”

”To be honest,” another fan chimed in, ”I am starting to get a really bad feeling about what this medical institute is actually doing.”

”Like what?”

”Think about it. The institute refuses to save patients suffering from LMD, yet they keep gathering these orphans together in one place. Is it out of the goodness of their hearts? Charities do not just watch people die. Whenever you see a move that looks nonsensical or cruel, there is usually only one reason. Some person or organization you do not know about is profiting from that stupidity.”

Kazane read through the messages and typed out a quick response. ”Don’t keep us in suspense then. What exactly do you think the institute is up to?”

”Human organ trafficking,” the group member replied instantly. ”LMD patients only have failing lungs. Their other organs are perfectly healthy. Why did the protagonist get a heart transplant from Aoi? Isn’t it obvious? The institute intentionally let Aoi’s condition deteriorate without treatment, dragging her to the brink of death so that...”

Kazane felt her pupils contract as she read the words. Surely not. Could this anime really be going down such a dark and twisted path?

As the episode continued, the narrative seemed to lean into those dark suspicions. Soraki, now in the third timeline, returned to two days prior. Following the guidance of the Ichiki from the second timeline, he learned from the current Ichiki that the person who attacked him and Riku was most likely the head of security for the medical institute, a man named Chief Ishi.

Through their investigation and Riku’s memories, the two discovered a shocking truth. Their childhood friend Saki, whom they had always believed to be an orphan like themselves, was actually Chief Ishi’s daughter. Saki, who suffered from a heart condition, was scheduled to receive a heart transplant in the near future. Meanwhile, Riku’s younger brother, Kakeru, had reached the age of fifteen, which meant his LMD symptoms were starting to manifest and his body was rapidly weakening.

Soraki and Riku naturally connected the dots. They concluded that the medical institute was letting Kakeru die by withholding treatment so they could harvest his heart and transplant it into Saki. As for why the institute would go to such lengths for Saki? It was because of the influence of her hidden father, Chief Ishi. In order to afford the treatment for his daughter, he had raised her as an orphan within the institute while he did the organization’s dirty work, keeping their secrets buried in exchange for a chance at his daughter’s survival.

Watching Soraki and Riku piece together Chief Ishi’s crimes, Kazane felt a surge of righteous indignation. But that anger was quickly followed by a sense of hollow defeat. Was Chief Ishi truly wrong in a simple sense? He was deeply flawed and criminal, yes, but he was doing it all for his child. As a man, he was a villain, but as a father... he had spent ten years working for the institute, never acknowledging his daughter, working in the shadows just to wait for the one chance the organization would provide for her transplant.

However, Soraki and Riku’s deduction was only partially correct. While the institute had indeed been involved in such dark dealings, that was seven years ago. Following a major explosion at the facility seven years prior, a large portion of the staff had been replaced. Most of the people involved in the illegal activities had left long ago. Under new leadership, the institute had moved away from those practices.

As for the donor for Saki’s heart transplant...

”It is Honoka,” Chief Ishi said in a low, heavy voice. ”She voluntarily agreed to donate her heart to her friend Saki after she passes away.”

The fan group chat exploded.

”Honoka?”

”The childhood friend who appeared in episode two? That Honoka?”

”No way... why would she do that?”

”Wait, remember in the second episode when she asked the protagonist to take good care of Saki in the future? I thought it was just casual talk, but now it looks like that was her final request.”

”I am actually tearing up. LMD should not be a guaranteed death sentence, right? If this institute is not helping, why don’t they just transfer to another hospital?”

”With what money? They are all orphans. Even Chief Ishi did not have the money to treat his daughter, which is why he sold his soul to the institute. Even if other countries have a cure for LMD, these kids have no way to pay for it.”

”So... Honoka is giving up her tiny chance of survival. She is refusing treatment for LMD so she can die faster and give her heart to Saki?”

”Hold on, let me summarize. From what we know, Aoi, Honoka, and Kakeru have LMD. Soraki and Saki have heart disease. Riku is healthy, but he is in love with Saki. In this group of six friends, Aoi already died seven years ago after giving her heart to Soraki. Honoka has signed a terminal agreement to give her heart to Saki. Kakeru is bedridden and his lungs will fail within months. That is why Riku was desperate enough to steal hospital records to see if there was any way to save his brother. He wanted to know if a cure actually existed.”

”God, this plot... I am actually crying.”

”Why does it have to be this depressing!”

”But what are Saki and Honoka supposed to do? Saki has no idea her father is pulling strings in the background, planning to use her best friend’s heart to save her. And Honoka knows everything, yet she is still willing to die for Saki. This is just...”

”I knew it. I should not have trusted the Warrior of Love. The person who wrote Madoka Magica does not just pivot to pure romance. This is a soul-crushing psychological thriller. My brain is fried.”

”Holy crap... look at this scene.”

At that moment, a group member’s comment drew Kazane’s attention back to the screen.

Outside the room where Soraki and Riku were speaking with Chief Ishi, Saki, who had noticed their suspicious behavior and followed them, was standing behind the door.

She had heard everything. She now knew that Chief Ishi, the head of security, was her father. She knew he was covering up the institute’s dark past just to pay her medical bills and secure a heart for her. She knew the cost of her life was the life of her best friend. Saki’s expression was indescribable. It was a mixture of sorrow, shock, and absolute despair. Kazane felt a physical ache in her chest just looking at her.

Later that night, Saki sought out Soraki. She wore a smile on her face, just as she always did. She looked lively, cute, and as kind as ever, always thinking of others before herself.

”Hey, Soraki... you’re Honoka’s friend, aren’t you?” Saki asked gently.

”Of course,” Soraki nodded.

”Then, if Honoka ever runs into trouble, you have to help her, okay?” Saki stared at him intently. ”If she’s sad, you have to make her happy. You have to make sure she laughs.”

Soraki looked at Saki with confusion. Standing a short distance away, her silhouette looked incredibly lonely. The background music shifted into a mournful, somber melody.

”Please. Promise me,” Saki said, turning around with a bright smile.

”I will. I promise. But why are you bringing this up so suddenly?” Soraki asked, his voice low.

”Because... Honoka is my friend!” Saki said, turning her back to him once more.

By this point, Kazane knew something was wrong. The death flags were flying so high they were impossible to miss. In anime, when a character starts talking like this, something terrible is about to happen.

In the final minute of the third episode, two things occurred. First, someone intentionally set fire to Soraki’s house that night; he and his foster father narrowly escaped with their lives.

Second... Saki committed suicide.

As the ending theme began to play, Kazane sat there, completely stunned. Her heart felt heavy. Everything clicked. No wonder the second episode had spent so much time establishing the bond between Saki and Honoka, showing how they had grown up together in the hospital as more than sisters.

If Honoka was willing to give up her chance at life to save Saki, then Saki was equally unable to live with the truth.

She could not accept that her father, a man she hadn’t even known existed, was committing crimes and sacrificing her best friend’s life just to keep her heart beating.

To her, death was better than that reality. This was the ultimate choice these two girls made for the people they considered family.

The plot was devastating. It was only the third episode, yet the story had already reached a level of emotional intensity that left her breathless.

How could the Warrior of Love make a story this heartbreaking so quickly?