Otaku Translation: Absolute Number One C41

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Chapter 41: A Talented Pervert

"Isn't it time yet?" Nishino Sagiri lounged on the couch in her pajamas, her short hair still damp from a recent wash. She kicked her feet playfully while stuffing buttery popcorn into her mouth. "These late-night shows really go against human nature—I'm already falling asleep."

sat cross-legged in the middle of the sofa, her head wrapped in a towel like some sort of . She shot Sagiri an annoyed glance. "It's almost on. Stop eating so much—you're making yourself sleepy!"

"Free food is free food!" Sagiri replied nonchalantly, continuing to munch away like a squirrel storing nuts for winter. They were at Futazeno Seiko’s house, where Seiko's grandmother had made this particular batch of popcorn. Unlike the store-bought stuff, it was unusually delicious. With Seiko's parents working overseas, she lived with her grandmother, who had already retired to bed. The three girls felt comfortable and unrestrained in their conversation.

Aiko couldn't help but roll her eyes at her snack-loving friend. Impatient herself, she turned to look at Seiko, who sat quietly reading a book, her expression serene and focused. The soft light illuminated her beautiful face, giving her an ethereal glow—like , radiating both beauty and wisdom.

But Aiko wasn’t about to let that picturesque moment last. She snatched the book from Seiko’s hands, ruining the ambiance. "Seiko, we're not in school. You don’t need to pretend to be smart by reading all the time."

Seiko, also wrapped in a towel due to her long hair (which required extra care), frowned as the towel nearly slipped off when Aiko grabbed the book. Her face hardened slightly as she reached out to reclaim it. "Give it back. I'm not pretending—I’m actually reading."

"Yeah, right," Aiko scoffed. "If you read every day, why are your grades worse than mine?"

Seiko hesitated. It was true that neither she nor Aiko could match Sagiri’s academic brilliance, but that didn’t stop Aiko from pointing out the obvious gap between them. Without waiting for a response, Aiko shoved the book under her leg and declared, "No more pretending. Let’s talk… Was the last episode really that good?"

If it had been Sagiri, she would have lunged to retrieve the book, but Seiko, despite her icy exterior, was far too gentle-natured to put up much of a fight. After a brief pause, she admitted defeat. "Yes, it was really good."

"You said the same thing about the eight o’clock drama, but that show was dull!" Aiko countered.

In the past, any critique of her idol’s work would have set Seiko off, leaving her cold and angry for at least three minutes. This time, however, she hesitated before replying softly, "That series was still setting things up. You didn’t watch the earlier episodes, so it might’ve seemed boring. But is an anthology—it’s different. Trust me, it’ll be worth it."

"Fine, I’ll believe you one more time," Aiko relented, though skepticism lingered in her voice. "But if it turns out to be bad, you’re paying for it later tonight!" She leaned forward, pressing further. "So, was that perverted weasel really the main writer? Did you double-check the credits?"

It was hard to imagine someone with such a lecherous appearance penning anything worthwhile. If anything, he seemed better suited for sleazy adult films.

"The credit clearly listed his name," Seiko insisted. "I didn’t misread it." Then, frowning, she added, "And stop calling him names like ‘weasel.’ He’s incredibly talented, and what you’re saying is disrespectful."

"But he is a pervert!" Aiko shot back.

Seiko hesitated again, grasping for justification. "Maybe he’s just observing life for inspiration. We might be misunderstanding him."

Sagiri, having polished off most of the popcorn meant for the show, wiped her lips with a smirk. "No way. That look in his eyes when he stared at Neiko-nee? It screamed, 'I’m going to devour her whole without even bothering with soy sauce.' Face it—he’s a pervert, plain and simple."

Seiko struggled to defend him, but deep down, she knew Sagiri had a point. hadn’t exactly come across as a saintly figure. Still, she persisted, "People with talent often have a romantic streak. Maybe he fell in love with Neiko-nee at first sight. It doesn’t mean he’s as bad as you think."

Sagiri cut through the excuses mercilessly. "First sight? Have you ever heard of a man falling for an ugly woman at first sight? First sight is just a fancy way of saying lust. He’s a pervert, no doubt about it—just a talented one."

Aiko suddenly narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Seiko. "Why are you defending him so much? Didn’t you warn us about Hitomi-neesan being scammed last time?"

"That turned out fine!" Seiko retorted, her calm demeanor cracking as her cheeks flushed red. "I was just being cautious! I never called him a bad person!"

Aiko tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Something feels off…"

Sagiri chuckled mischievously, stoking the flames. "Looks like our old problem’s resurfacing. She thinks he’s talented, so she likes him!"

"I do not!" Seiko snapped, sitting up straight. "I’m just speaking fairly!"

Aiko’s gaze zeroed in on Seiko, and with a playful grin, she lunged forward, grabbing hold of her friend. "Look how much she’s grown this year—her butt’s bigger than when we were freshmen!"

"Totally ripe," Sagiri chimed in, laughing. "Probably ready to feed the wolves herself!"

"I am not! I am NOT!" Seiko protested, trying in vain to fend off her two friends. Despite her resistance, she was quickly pinned to the couch. Finally losing her temper, she shouted, "Enough! Keep going, and I’ll get mad for real!"

Aiko released her, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, we’ll spare you—for now. Remember, we’re a team. No more defending that pervert!"

Sagiri, who had already let go, chimed in cheerfully, "Exactly, Seiko. Don’t forget—men only come in two types: perverts and super-perverts. They’re basically all bad news. If you can’t remember that, you’ll end up getting eaten alive someday."

As if on cue, Sagiri glanced at the TV screen and exclaimed, "Look! The nighttime theater’s starting!"

Aiko instantly forgot about Seiko, turning her attention to the screen. Over the past week, Seiko had talked endlessly about this show, piquing Aiko’s curiosity. As for whether Seiko was truly upset, they weren’t too worried—after nearly two years of friendship, Seiko’s longest recorded bout of anger lasted seven minutes and forty-two seconds.

When they’d first met, Aiko had found Seiko difficult to approach. Her aloof demeanor, sharp features, perfect figure, and elegant black hair gave her the air of a —the kind who excelled academically, athletically, and socially. She seemed untouchable, like a mythical phoenix or peacock.

But within a month, Aiko discovered the truth: Seiko looked brilliant but was hilariously clueless. Worse yet, she fancied herself a literary enthusiast, forcing herself through dense tomes that left her visibly strained. Yet beneath that facade lay a sweet, unassuming personality. Once they got to know her, there wasn’t an ounce of arrogance. If anything, she resembled a clumsy, lovable deer rather than a regal bird.

Over the course of their freshman year, Aiko and Sagiri frequently teased Seiko, pinching her “plump” backside for fun. Even then, Seiko’s record for staying angry was a mere two minutes and forty seconds.

Of course, this playful bullying stayed strictly within their tight-knit group. Outsiders dared not try—if they did, they’d quickly learn that Yamagami the boar and Nishino the fox weren’t to be trifled with. Nearly two years together had solidified their bond; Seiko belonged to them, and she didn’t seem to mind. Her temperament remained as pleasant as ever.

True to form, Seiko smoothed out her rumpled pajamas, stewed silently for less than fifty seconds, and then directed her attention to the TV. The second episode of Tales of the Unusual began playing.

Seiko watched anxiously, fearing the show might follow the usual trajectory of dazzling openings followed by mediocrity—cheap thrills or gratuitous gore designed to shock viewers. Such declines weren’t uncommon. While the first three shorts had been exceptional, possibly the result of years of meticulous planning, creativity inevitably waned over time. When original ideas ran dry, quality suffered.

Seiko understood this all too well. She’d published a story in a magazine once—a tale she’d dreamed of since childhood. Writing it had felt exhilarating, and it received modest praise. But subsequent attempts fell flat. Multiple rejections left her disheartened.

Tonight, however, she breathed a sigh of relief. The second episode maintained the high standards of the premiere. Split into two segments totaling sixty-five minutes, it delivered engaging storytelling without sacrificing quality. Chihara Rinto truly was remarkable.

As the credits rolled, Aiko scrutinized them closely, muttering, "The writing team really does consist of just him. He’s the sole creator…"

Even Sagiri, who had been nodding off earlier, perked up after finishing the episode. Biting her thumbnail, she remarked, "It really was interesting. Guess he’s not just a pervert—he’s a talented one."

Seiko seized the opportunity to champion Chihara once more. "See? Stop calling him names. Someone this talented can’t possibly be a pervert."

Sagiri gave her a curious look. "Skill and character are separate things. Being a pervert has nothing to do with his ability to write great stories."

Seiko shook her head firmly. "Someone this gifted wouldn’t stoop to shallow behavior. It must be a misunderstanding."

Aiko turned off the TV, grinning. "You’re hopeless, Seiko. That pervert ogled Neiko-nee, remember? No more defending him. If you keep siding with him, we’ll have to teach you a lesson. Say it—he’s a pervert!"

Though Aiko joked, Seiko remained resolute. "I won’t say it!"

With Sagiri’s help, they dragged Seiko toward the bedroom, laughing. "Time to educate this stubborn fool," Sagiri teased. "Men are all rotten. You need to fix your thinking before someone takes advantage of you!"

Amidst giggles, protests, and flying pillows, the battle between raged on.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, critic Kameda Kanta switched off his TV with satisfaction. "Impressive," he murmured. "This writer continues to deliver. Truly a rising star." Though the network hadn’t given the show prime placement, its consistent quality spoke volumes. With proper support, Chihara could easily compete for accolades.

Kameda unfolded a sheet of paper, ready to draft another glowing review. Five stars, highly recommended. Supporting promising new writers was important, especially in a genre overrun with subpar content.

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