Afterword
Nice to meet you. Or perhaps, sorry to keep you waiting. I’m the author, Saito Niko.
How did you find “She and I weren’t friends.”? This story is a web serial, and it’s also the recipient of the Encouragement Award from the Fourth Shueisha WEB Novel Grand Prix. I could’ve just repurposed the web version as is, but after considering various aspects, I decided to release it as a completely original written work. It took a little time, but I’ve ramped up the rom-com vibes compared to the web serialization days, and stuffed it full of those high school-style dilemmas and events. Whether you’re reading it for the first time or you were cheering me on during the serialization, I’ve aimed to make it something you can enjoy with a fresh perspective.
Now, changing the subject a bit, but I absolutely love afterwords—I’m the type who reads the afterword before the main story. So back when I dreamed of becoming a light novel author, I used to fervently daydream about “If I ever get a book published, what should I write in the afterword…?” However, becoming an author isn’t easy. More than ten years have passed since I started aiming to be a light novel writer, and it was only after finally winning a novel award that I could call myself a “light novel author”—but by then, my “afterword brain” had gone haywire. From overdosing on those imaginary afterwords, I ended up trapped in this terrifying delusion like “I’ve written afterwords hundreds of times already.” At the same time, I was thinking, “I can’t write afterwords anymore! I’ve got no ideas left!” Even though I hadn’t published a single book.
That led to a seriously dangerous situation when I was writing the afterword for my debut work—my hands froze over the keyboard. Even though I’d written so many afterwords before (I hadn’t), and they always flowed so smoothly (they didn’t). Unbelievably, I’d fallen victim to “afterword burnout syndrome” (which doesn’t exist).
It’s been about seven years since my debut now, but I still haven’t fully recovered. Here I am, writing in my afterword about how I can’t write afterwords. Even now, I’m squeezing out each word, one letter at a time. And yet, it’s a mystery how I keep finding so many typos—sadly, that’s a different issue altogether.
Lately, I’ve been having a lot of dreams. Scary ones. In them, this book becomes a massive hit, and my editor at Dash X Bunko, the (kind) Goto-san, emails me saying, “We’ve decided on a hundred-volume sequel series!”
Terrifying. Having to write a hundred afterwords? Way too scary. So if there’s anyone out there who wants to torment me, please wish for it to be a huge hit. I’ll be terrified because of the afterwords. Of course, if you want to support this work, wish for a huge hit too. There, now all readers are wishing for a big hit. Pretty amazing, huh?
By the way, even though I’m going on about how “afterwords are scary,” the truth is, I could just choose not to write one. Apparently, it’s up to the author whether to include an afterword or not. So, yeah, that’s that. Don’t ask any more about it. For any readers aspiring to be authors, please become splendid writers who don’t write afterwords like me.
Lastly, allow me to borrow this space for some acknowledgments. To Dash X Bunko, who awarded this work the Encouragement Prize. To my (kind) editor Goto-san, who supported me so carefully from the award to publication. To my friends who play online games with me and spark my ideas. To everyone involved in the production for both print and digital versions. And above all, to the readers who’ve supported this work from the web version onward—my heartfelt thanks to each and every one of you.
Turning the words pulled from my head into a creation with value isn’t something an author can achieve alone. It’s only because you found “She and I Weren’t Friends,” spotted that faint glimmer in it, and paved a new path for it that it can finally leap into a new world. I’m truly grateful for this opportunity.
I’ll say it again: none of this could be realized by one person alone, so every day, I write with gratitude toward all of you. I try not to get too grandiose, but even so, if this work can grow with everyone’s support and let me agonize over “What should I write in the afterword?” a few more times, I can’t imagine anything happier.
Oh, right! Afterwords are for talking about stuff like this! I just remembered, but I’ve run out of space, so I’ll wrap up this afterword here.
Finally, thank you so much for picking up this book. If possible, let’s meet again next time.
March 2025 Saito Niko
