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I just want to quietly draw manga Chapter 359
🕑 Added 2025-12-15 21:57:10 +0000 UTC[Note:- Sorry for the delay. I still had some symptoms from the infection, but I’m back to writing now. I honestly missed it a lot. In the meantime, I’ve mapped out the entire Volume 3, so there shouldn’t be any writer’s block going forward. I’m releasing two chapters right now, and the next two chapters will be released about 12 hours from now.]
A few days had passed, and it had been over one month since the last Code Geass episode aired. The vacuum left by Code Geass, and the lack of strong competing anime during its run, had pushed winter-released shows into the spotlight, their view counts rising as fans searched for something to fill the void.
Haruki was busy building the pipeline for his first anime with Masafumi and Wes. Sketches covered the work table. The three techniques were slowly merging into something coherent, but the process was exhausting.
One of the assistants appeared in the doorway.
“Muzishiro-san, Kazuya-san is calling for you.”
Haruki didn’t look up immediately. He finished marking an adjustment on the storyboard, then set his pen down.
“Tell Kazuya-san I’ll be there shortly.”
He organized the sketches into a neat stack and headed toward Kazuya’s office.
The door was already open. Inside, Shiori sat across from Kazuya’s desk, tablet in hand, her expression unreadable. Kazuya sat behind his desk, looking more tired than usual.
Haruki stepped inside. “What do you need?”
Kazuya let out a long sigh.
“Haruki, I saw the production plan for your first anime.” He leaned back in his chair. “I support you. Fully. But don’t you think you’re rushing it?”
“I know it will be hard,” Haruki said. “But you’re going to be there, right?”
Kazuya rubbed his face. “You really won’t let me catch a break, huh?” He shook his head. “I know you won’t be convinced, so I didn’t call you here to argue about the timeline.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Kazuya slid a spreadsheet across the desk. Red numbers filled half the page.
“Money,” he said flatly. “We don’t have enough to fund your anime and Code Geass Season 2 at the same time.”
Haruki picked up the sheet. It showed that with new staff hiring, salaries, and office expansion, they would need nearly 300 million yen more.
Shiori spoke up, her tone measured but firm. “I checked with the finance department. They confirmed we can’t sustain both productions. Right now we’re only doing training and pre-production for your anime, but even that is resource-intensive. If we move into full production while Code Geass Season 2 is running…” She trailed off, the implication clear.
Kazuya leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “So I was thinking we could invite a few investors. A lot of people want a piece of Evermark Studio now that Code Geass proved we’re viable. We could bring in shareholders, dilute ownership a bit, but secure the funding.”
He paused.
“Or, if you don’t want to give up shares, there’s always the option of a loan. But that comes with interest and repayment schedules.”
Haruki stayed quiet, thinking.
Inviting investors meant giving up control. Not much at first, but once shareholders were involved, their voices mattered. Board meetings. Quarterly reports. Pressure to prioritize profit over creative vision.
He could always leave and start fresh somewhere else if things went south, but that meant abandoning everything he’d built here. The staff. The pipeline. The momentum.
A loan was safer in terms of control, but riskier financially.
He looked up. “What about merchandise revenue?”
Shiori nodded, anticipating the question. “It’s strong. The Lelouch mask is still our best seller, and the Knightmare Frame figures are selling consistently. But—” She pulled up another screen on her tablet. “If you’re thinking of using that revenue to cover the gap, it would delay your anime by at least six months. Maybe more.”
Haruki’s jaw tightened slightly. Six months was too long. By then, there would be a year-long gap without releasing any anime.
He thought back to the Echo Shroud celebration. One of the executives, Board Director, had mentioned something in passing.
“What about serializing Code Geass as a manga?” Haruki said.
The room went quiet for a beat.
Shiori’s eyes widened slightly. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She set her tablet down, already calculating. “I was planning to serialize it after we finished airing Season 2, to maintain momentum. But if we start now, while the hype is still fresh…”
“Wait,” Kazuya said, holding up a hand. “Shiori, wouldn’t that affect its popularity later? We’re not making any sequel or spin-off to maintain that perfect ending. Would it really be a good idea to serialize the manga this early?”
“No,” Haruki said. “It wouldn’t affect it. I’m saying Code Geass will stay relevant whether we serialize it or not. The manga gives us funding and keeps the fanbase engaged between seasons. It’s not a risk. It’s insurance.”
“Echo Shroud,” Haruki continued. “But there’s a problem. Fullmetal is nearing its end, and I was already planning to start a new manga after that. If I also serialize Code Geass, they won’t give me a fourth slot. Don’t worry about serialization. I’ll handle it.”
Kazuya exhaled. “Alright. I’ll trust you on this.”
They stood. Shiori gathered her tablet, and Haruki turned toward the door.
As they stepped into the hallway, Shiori spoke, her voice quieter now that they were alone.
“I found a manager for you.”
Haruki glanced at her. “Already?”
“It took longer than I wanted,” Shiori said. “I was looking for someone who could handle multiple roles: agent, manager, legal documents. I didn’t want to flood your office with staff. Based on your output, if I hired freely, you’d fill the whole building.”
Haruki gave a faint, dry smile.
“He’s good,” Shiori continued. “Experienced. He’ll handle contract negotiations, schedule coordination, public relations. All the things I’ve been doing for you.” She paused. “Which, honestly, will cut my workload in half. So this benefits both of us.”
“When does he start?”
“Tomorrow. He’s coming in for a final interview, but I’ve already vetted him. Unless something goes terribly wrong, he’s yours.”
“Thank you,” Haruki said. “Managing the studio on top of everything else has been a lot.”
Shiori shrugged. “It’s my job. But yes, it’s been a lot.”
They reached the end of the hallway. Shiori turned left toward her office. Haruki headed back toward the production floor.
When he opened the door, Wes and Masafumi were still exactly where he’d left them, hunched over the work table, sketches spread out like a battle map.
Wes didn’t look up. “That took a while. Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Haruki said, sitting back down at the table. “Just money problems.”
“Aren’t they always?” Masafumi muttered, not pausing his sketching.
Haruki picked up his pen and got back to work.
Comments
Banana19
Money is a Basic studio issue.
