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I just want to quietly draw manga Chapter 20
🕑 Added 2025-04-17 13:44:46 +0000 UTC---
By early November, the weather had turned brisk in Osaka.
On Friday morning, Haruki stepped into the classroom like usual. After a grueling week of nonstop work, he had finally completed the manuscript for Rurouni Kenshin: Remembrance two days earlier. Yesterday, he’d taken the afternoon off to catch up on sleep, and now, under the pale sunlight of morning, he actually looked awake for once.
It felt like a normal, uneventful morning.
At least, to Haruki.
In reality, people around him weren’t quite so calm—especially not Kotone, just a few classrooms away, who kept glancing down at her phone every few minutes.
Today was the day Kurokawa Publishing held its serialization meeting—the one where they'd select new works to fill upcoming vacancies in Sora and its sister publications.
Although Haruki was listed as the sole creator of Rurouni Kenshin, Kotone had been assisting closely on the project. Naturally, she hoped it would be chosen. More than that—she believed in it.
She had worked on the story firsthand, had seen the layered narrative unfold—a mix of samurai-era conflict, political intrigue, love, and bitter revenge. Even after working on it so intimately, the material still moved her.
Compared to many of the works currently running in Sora, Rurouni Kenshin had sharper artistry, deeper emotional resonance, and a strong narrative voice. It was a polished gem.
The only pity? Haruki had only finished three chapters of the manuscript in time for the meeting. That barely scratched the surface of the plot.
Kotone, however, had read further. Haruki had shared the rough outlines of the story up to Chapter 9 with her. She knew where it was going—and it was brilliant.
If Rurouni Kenshin didn’t get picked just because the opening chapters hadn't had time to develop fully, it wouldn’t be Haruki’s loss.
It would be Kurokawa’s.
---
At 9:30 AM sharp, dozens of editors—junior and senior alike—gathered in one of Kurokawa Publishing’s large conference rooms. The serialization meeting was about to begin.
Some of the editors were here purely out of obligation; they didn’t have any new works to submit. Those folks were relaxed, chatting idly while sipping coffee.
But most were serious, quietly reviewing notes or glancing at the stack of materials in front of them.
Among them sat Sora.
Over the past week, she had reviewed all nine chapters of Haruki’s Rurouni Kenshin outline, along with the polished manuscripts for the first three chapters.
To be honest, she had been floored.
Despite the short projected run—just sixteen chapters total—the quality was undeniable. It was easily one of the most compelling proposals she’d encountered in years.
The night before, bleary-eyed from work, she’d taken the manuscript home. She ended up staying awake till morning reading it cover to cover. When she finished the final page—Kenshin kneeling in the rain, sword in hand beneath a bloodstained umbrella—she just sat there, stunned.
That was the moment she realized something: she hadn’t truly understood Haruki before.
Up to now, she’d considered him a talented but green rookie.
Now, that word felt far too small.
---
Just then, Editor-in-Chief Daichi Torigoe and Deputy Editor Rika Hayashi entered the room.
“Looks like everyone’s here,” Daichi said briskly. “Let’s begin.”
He and Hayashi sat at the head of the table, wasting no time with formalities.
“We have a total of 18 submissions under review today.”
“Officially, we’re here to select a work to fill the upcoming serialization slot in Sora. However, if we come across multiple strong entries, we’re open to placing them in our other publications, like Inkbolt Series.”
Staff members began distributing copies of the submitted works to each editor—either printed names or, in some cases, full manuscripts.
“This isn’t your first time attending, but I’ll review the process briefly,” Daichi continued.
“You’ll have five minutes to review each entry. Afterward, you’ll rate it on the form in front of you.”
“Once we’ve gone through all 18, we’ll gather the top five scorers and enter the final discussion and vote.”
“In that vote: Editor-in-Chief and Deputy Editor votes are worth five and three points respectively. All other votes count for one point. Abstentions don’t count at all.”
Unlike some magazines where final decisions rested heavily on editorial discretion, Kurokawa’s long-standing tradition was a democratic one—at least when a high-profile slot was at stake.
It was rare to have a vacant serialization spot, and even rarer for it to be filled this publicly.
---
The first submission was placed in front of the editors.
No one spoke. Papers rustled softly as pages were turned. The silence was thick with tension.
Most of the submissions were strong. The kind of works that, under normal circumstances, would sail through to serialization. There were no obvious weak links. No unprofessional art. No clunky pacing. The bar was high.
An hour passed quickly.
Foreheads began to bead with sweat—not from stress, but sheer concentration.
As the stack of submissions grew thinner, Sora found herself growing more and more confident.
Some of the other entries were quite good—one or two even exceptional. But in her eyes, none came close to Rurouni Kenshin.
Some creators had even submitted full manuscripts, much like Haruki had, skipping the proposal stage. But their work lacked that spark—that unshakable conviction behind every brushstroke.
Haruki’s story didn’t just tell a story. It made you feel it.
And Sora was beginning to sense that the others in the room were starting to feel the same.
---
Time passed, and when the staff brought out the next manuscript to present, the atmosphere in the meeting room changed instantly.
It wasn’t the name at first that drew attention—it was the artwork. The first page alone caught the eyes of nearly every editor in the room.
The title: *Hidden Girl*.
“…This art style?”
“It’s so familiar…”
“Wait, the author is—”
“Yuna Takahashi?!”
The room erupted in murmurs.
“Takahashi-sensei?! Are you serious?!”
“She’s a major name at Hoshikawa Publishing!”
“I heard her contract with them recently expired, and she didn’t seem in a rush to renew it. But still… why would she come to Kurokawa?”
Yuna Takahashi—formerly one of the star artists serialized in Hibiki Monthly, a prominent shōjo manga magazine under the Hoshikawa Publishing.
In Osaka, the big three manga magazines were Sora (under Kurokawa Publishing), Hibiki (under Hoshikawa Publishing), and Karyū (under Tatsuryu Publishing). Each represented a major pillar in the manga industry, each with its own loyal readership and editorial flavor.
Takahashi had been serializing in Hibiki for nearly eight years, with her previous series Heart Riddle holding the top ranking in the magazine for 45 consecutive weeks. She was undeniably one of the top shōjo manga creators in the industry.
The editors looked crushed.
A creator of her caliber joining Sora meant that if she wanted a spot in the magazine, it was practically guaranteed. They’d cut an ongoing series if they had to. So why even put her through the serialization selection?
It felt unfair.
Who could realistically deny her a spot?
If they did, her fans would probably flood social media with outrage by the morning, maybe even protest outside the company headquarters.
And yet, there was one person in the room smiling Rika Hayashi.
he’d known exactly what would happen when Takahashi’s new work appeared in this meeting.
Sure, he could have arranged a direct serialization for Hidden Girl. But he chose not to.
Instead, he deliberately entered it into the serialization conference—just to crush Sora’s hopes.
After all, he'd heard that Sora had been working hard these past few weeks, hoping that the new work by the author of The Garden of Words would stand out.
Rika didn’t believe that a rookie could compete with the works submitted here, not in a field of this caliber.
Still, it never hurt to be cautious. Most serialization decisions came down to him and Daichi Torigoe. And Sora—unlike other journals—left some room for the editors to vote. That left a slight chance for surprises.
But even if something unusual happened, there was no way a newcomer’s work could outshine Takahashi’s.
...Right?
But then something unexpected happened.
When Sora saw *Hidden Girl* with Yuna Takahashi’s name signed on it, his brows furrowed. she read through it carefully… and then, his expression relaxed. Almost—disapproving?
That caught Rika off guard.
he’d read the manuscript. The visuals, the tone, the storytelling—it was all up to Takahashi’s usual standard. As strong an opening as Heart Riddle, if not better.
So what was with that look?
Could it be… the rookie’s work was actually stronger?
he chuckled to herself.
No way.
Five minutes passed. The editors reviewing Hidden Girl closed their manuscripts with a quiet sigh.
Of course it was good. Too good. There was no contest between it and the earlier submissions.
No one could argue with the outcome.
Soon after, the next submission was passed out.
Even though everyone in the room had silently accepted that Hidden Girl would be given the serialization slot, they still reviewed the next manuscript out of a sense of professional duty. If a promising title showed up, there was always a chance to place it in a sister magazine, or reserve it for a future serialization.
“Rurouni Kenshin: Remembrance.”
The manuscript was a complete original. Author signed: Mizushiro.
“Here we go,” Rika said with a calm smile.
he leaned back, waiting to see how this supposed trump card of Sora Aizawa’s would compare to the heavyweight work they’d just seen.
