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I just want to quietly draw manga Chapter 26
🕑 Added 2025-04-17 16:13:49 +0000 UTC---
In the middle of the night, Haruki woke up, parched.
His head was still spinning. Sitting at the edge of the bed, it took him a while to piece things together—he'd gotten drunk. It was Kotone who had brought both him and Sora back home.
Thinking back on the so-called celebration that night, Haruki could only feel a bit ridiculous. He was a guy in his twenties, and Sora, someone who’d been in the industry for years, wasn’t exactly new to drinking either. Yet somehow, both of them had been completely knocked out by Kotone—the one everyone assumed was just a quiet, obedient girl.
But after drinking as much as she did and still having the presence of mind to get them both home safely... Haruki realized this kind of alcohol tolerance wasn’t something that could be trained. Kotone wasn’t just gifted when it came to manga—her talent for holding her liquor was just as terrifying.
So when Haruki opened his bedroom door and found Kotone still awake—curled up on his couch, watching late-night anime with interest—he honestly didn’t know what to say.
Her cheeks were still a little flushed, but her eyes were perfectly clear. She wasn’t drunk. The blush must’ve just been a natural physical reaction—clearly it hadn’t dulled her senses at all.
“Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?” Haruki asked, gulping down three glasses of water in quick succession before looking over at her.
He wasn’t surprised that she’d been able to get him and Sora back here. Kotone had been working as his assistant for almost two weeks now and had grown familiar with the place. Still, this was the first time she’d actually stayed the night instead of heading back to her own apartment.
His words carried two meanings. One: if she was tired, she shouldn’t hesitate to use the guest room. Two: if she didn’t want to spend the night here, he could walk her home. There was no way she could just stay up watching anime until morning—that’d be brutal on the body.
“I don’t really want to go home,” she said. “I reek of alcohol right now. If my grandmother noticed, she’d be upset.”
Then she added, “And besides, when I drink but don’t get drunk, I usually feel really energized. If you two are out cold, what else am I supposed to do? I might as well watch something.”
“Your grandmother?” Haruki raised an eyebrow. “What about your parents?”
“They passed away,” she said simply.
Maybe it was the atmosphere after sharing drinks together earlier, but Kotone seemed more relaxed than usual. Less guarded. Willing to talk a little more than before.
“I’ve lived with my grandmother since I was little.”
Parents... gone.
Haruki understood what she meant without needing more detail.
“You’ve got an insane tolerance,” he said, shifting the topic away. “Do you drink a lot normally? Like, on the regular?”
“No,” she replied casually, and didn’t elaborate.
Haruki figured she wasn’t keen on continuing the conversation, so he didn’t press her. But after a pause, Kotone spoke again.
“Everyone in my family has been a heavy drinker for generations. My grandfather, my great-grandfather, my dad… all of them were known in the area for it.”
“So you inherited their gift for it?” Haruki asked.
“No,” she said again, shaking her head.
“I was born sickly. I used to have cold hands and feet all the time. When I was little, my grandfather brought me to some old healer or fortune teller—I don’t even remember which—and they said I had a body full of negative energy or something. That alcohol was the only way to protect me.”
Haruki blinked. “You’re kidding…”
“Not really,” she said flatly. “So from when I was two, my grandfather would give me tiny amounts of sake. Just a little at first. Then more. And more.”
She shrugged, as if talking about something completely normal.
“I guess I did inherit their constitution. As I got older, my tolerance just kept increasing. Eventually, even my grandfather couldn’t keep up with me.”
Haruki was speechless.
There were eccentric old people, and then there were those who gave their two-year-old granddaughter alcohol in the name of warding off evil spirits.
“But a few years back…” she said, her tone softening. “My grandfather passed away. Same with my parents. It happened suddenly, and after that, I was in junior high. I started thinking more for myself, and I stopped buying into all that stuff.”
“Since then, I’ve barely drunk. Just occasionally, if I’m in a good mood or with someone I trust. And even then, I know when to stop—usually once everyone else is passed out.”
Haruki nodded slowly.
Yeah… people really weren’t always what they seemed on the surface.
---
Everyone at school thought of Kotone as the model student type—a quiet, well-mannered honor student. Who would have guessed she could drink grown men under the table, sketch manga with skill rivaling professionals, and even earn a living doing assistant work for others?
But… she said she only drinks when she’s in a good mood?
“You said you only drink when you're in a good mood. Does that mean something made you happy today?” Haruki asked, a little surprised.
Kotone glanced at him, her expression mildly incredulous.
“Why do you think I went to the party last night?”
“As a mangake , I’ve failed more times than I can count these past three years. Even though Rurouni Kenshin: Remembrance isn't my own series, just being part of a project good enough to be picked up for serialization in sora means the world to me. It’s the first time I felt like maybe… maybe I’m not completely wasting my time on this path. Even if no one remembers my name, maybe they’ll remember the work I helped bring to life. That’s enough for me.”
The way she said it—calm, but with a quiet conviction—left Haruki at a loss for words. Suddenly, his earlier question felt too shallow.
Compared to the depth of feeling she had for manga, his own motivations felt… flimsy.
He found himself blurting out, “Why do you want to make manga so badly?”
It was something he’d been wondering ever since she started helping with his work.
With her grades and natural talent, she could’ve pursued nearly any field she wanted. According to Sora , Kotone was even preparing to apply to university in Tokyo, That alone said a lot.
With all those choices in front of her… why choose a path so uncertain?
Kotone paused for a long moment, as if debating whether to answer.
“Maybe… it’s because of my father,” she finally said.
Haruki kept quiet and let her continue.
“He was a manga artist too. Ever since I was little, I watched him work. He taught me to draw, and I fell in love with it.”
That made sense—her draftsmanship had always seemed far beyond what most young assistants could manage.
“His dream was to one day be recognized in the manga world.”
She trailed off briefly, then added in a softer voice, “But… he never got the chance to see that dream come true.”
Haruki looked at her, unsure how to respond.
“But I’m not chasing his dream just because it was his,” Kotone went on, her voice steady. “After he introduced me to manga, I started loving it for my own reasons. As I grew older, what he wanted started to feel like something I wanted too. And before I knew it… I wasn’t just following him anymore—I was chasing that dream for myself.”
Haruki turned to the TV, watching the soft glow of an old animated film play out in silence.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
When he glanced back at her, the slight flush on her cheeks from earlier had faded. Her eyes were closed now, her body curled lightly on the couch. Her breathing was soft and even.
She’d fallen asleep.
Haruki got up quietly and went to the closet, pulling out a spare quilt and pillow. He placed the pillow under her head and gently draped the quilt over her.
He turned off the TV and dimmed the lights. Then, with a glance toward the guest room, he saw Sora sprawled across the futon, murmuring something incoherent in her sleep. At least she hadn’t thrown up.
With a sigh of relief, Haruki padded back to his room.
It was almost 4 a.m. on Saturday.
Now that everything had settled, a wave of sleepiness finally hit him. He climbed into bed and let himself drift off.
