Rewrite Our Love? Too Late

Saturday. Sales Day.

A day where numbers would speak louder than words.

On this particular Saturday, Fujikawa Publishing had strategically released several high-profile fantasy fiction volumes—timed precisely to compete, or rather, to interfere. There was no need to match "Saekano" head-on in quality or innovation. Their aim was simple and petty: to be a nuisance.

Flood the shelves. Drown the visibility. Fracture the attention of readers.

With heavy marketing, flashy posters, and storefront banners, they tried to capture foot traffic, banking on the fact that most readers only buy one light novel at a time. If they could divert just a fraction of those choices, it would be a win in their eyes.

A desperate one, but a win nonetheless.

But Yukima Azuma wasn't bothered.

This was expected.

Once fantasy waned, the youth genre would inevitably rise to take its place. Fujikawa's actions were like those of a mosquito buzzing in a room full of moonlight. Annoying, maybe. Threatening? Hardly.

"Let them try," Yukima thought, reclining on his sofa, thumbing through his Twitter feed. "Let them waste their breath."

His timeline was buzzing.