128. Let's Cough Up Blood Together!
“Something like the concept art work that Sawamura needs to do, right?” After a moment’s thought, Jiang Yu tried to explain in terms the other could understand.
“Eh… so that means, Jiang Yu, for this game, you’re basically doing the work of yourself, Senior Kasumigaoka, and Sawamura all at once?”
The girl before him widened her eyes, her mouth slightly open with surprise. Clearly, her focus wasn’t so much on understanding what ‘assets’ meant.
Feeling a bit unaccustomed to her emotional reaction, Jiang Yu averted his gaze from Megumi Kato and replied, “Something like that… But since it’s an RPG—ah, a role-playing game—the focus is different from the galgame the club is working on, right? Especially since the game development software I’m using doesn’t require, nor support, me drawing the kind of exquisite art that Sawamura does. Although, to be honest, I couldn’t produce that level of art even if I wanted to.”
“But don’t you still have your own light novel to worry about? That’s like three jobs piled onto you. Plus one of them is three times the workload of the others… Can you really handle all that, Jiang Yu?”
Megumi frowned, clearly concerned.
“No need to worry. So far, I’m managing. After all, I don’t have much to do for ‘Steins;Gate’ right now. Most of my energy is focused on this game, ‘The Witch’s House,’ and my light novel,” Jiang Yu said, shaking his head as he pointed to the asset binder for ‘The Witch’s House’ in front of him.
Still, Megumi’s worries didn’t lessen much. After Jiang Yu’s earlier explanation, she had a rough idea of the entire game development process. It was obvious that independently creating a game from scratch was not as easy as she had initially thought.
Pursing her lips, Megumi’s furrowed brow remained tense, as if deep in thought. Jiang Yu looked on, puzzled by her sudden contemplation.
Glancing at the clock above the classroom, just as Jiang Yu was about to remind her that class was starting soon, Megumi’s furrowed brow relaxed. A faint smile reappeared on her pale cheeks as she said, “Jiang Yu, you’re pretty good at programming, aren’t you?”
Hearing this sudden question, Jiang Yu blinked in surprise, subconsciously downplaying, “I’m just average, really.”
“Well then, could you teach me? Programming,” the bobbed-haired girl said with a seriousness he had never heard from her before, making a solemn request.
“Ah?” Jiang Yu stared at her in disbelief, wondering if he had misheard.
Just then, the class bell rang. Megumi, about to say more, swallowed her words. Jiang Yu also turned around with confusion and prepared for class.
…
After class, having confirmed that his ears hadn’t deceived him, Jiang Yu looked at Megumi with a subtle expression and said, “So, it’s you, Megumi, who wants to learn programming?”
Megumi nodded calmly. “Well, since scriptwriting and drawing aren’t exactly easy to pick up, I figure, as a club member, I should at least do something. When I think about it, programming—something you’re good at—might be easier to learn.”
“Hmm… If you’re interested, it’s not too hard. But I’m not trying to discourage you, Megumi. If you force yourself to learn, there’s no guarantee of results, and it’s just not necessary. No one in the club thinks of you as a burden or anything…”
At the same time, Jiang Yu silently added in his mind: In fact, Megumi is so capable of taking control anytime, anywhere, that she’s really indispensable.
“It’s not like I’m forcing myself~ I’m genuinely a bit interested, you know? Also… can you really handle all the programming on your own?”
Just as Jiang Yu was about to assure her that he could manage, Megumi waved him off, signaling for him not to interrupt, and continued.
“Just listen to me. Even though I’m not very knowledgeable about this stuff, no game is perfected by just one person handling all the programming, right? Besides, you’re also working on another game, which makes your load even heavier.”
Hearing this, Jiang Yu fell silent. Although he had some experience in programming, handling two games’ programming tasks alone was indeed a stretch.
Moreover… seeing Megumi so earnest, he couldn’t find a reason to refuse. Whether she was motivated by club responsibility, personal interest, or simply wanting to help him shoulder some of the burden, he was genuinely grateful.
Sighing softly, Jiang Yu shook his head slightly and said seriously, “...It’s probably going to be tough at the start.”
Though, of course, it would only get harder after that.
“With you helping me, Jiang Yu, it’ll be fine,” the girl said with a light laugh.
So, Megumi, you’re showing way too much emotion today, aren’t you? Your character’s falling apart!
“If you give up halfway, it won’t mean anything, you know?”
“With you supervising me, Jiang Yu, it’ll be fine.”
“...Also, the process is pretty dull, you know?”
“With you pushing me forward, Jiang Yu-kun, it’ll be fine.”
“Heh… haha… Well then, let’s both bleed together!” Jiang Yu couldn’t help but let out a rare laugh, one that felt refreshing in both body and soul. Looking at the girl before him, whose eyes shone with unwavering determination, he exhaled and extended his right hand, uttering the welcome phrase once told to him by the senior who introduced him to programming.
Megumi also extended her right hand and grasped his. Slightly puzzled, she asked, “What does ‘bleeding together’ mean? Is programming really that grueling?”
“Ah, no… well, it basically means ‘working hard together, pouring our heart and soul into it.’ Just… just think of it as a special kind of welcome!” Jiang Yu let go of her hand, hurriedly explaining while making some meaningless gestures to help clarify.
“Hehe~ I know, I know,” Megumi chuckled, watching the flustered Jiang Yu with amusement.
Seriously, Megumi, you’re way too expressive today! Please go back to being the calm, unflappable Megumi Kato I know!
Jiang Yu could only helplessly laugh along with her. Discreetly, he glanced around the room and was relieved to see it was just a break after the first period. Many classmates were chatting about their own topics or catching a quick nap, seemingly oblivious to the small episode unfolding here.