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I just want to quietly draw manga Chapter 144
🕑 Added 2025-05-25 18:07:28 +0000 UTCLooking at it now, this series was definitely one to watch. With Rindou behind it, it was hard to imagine it not making waves.
Rindou had long been a major figure in Tokyo’s manga scene. Before Airi Tanaka’s rise, he and Jin Takami—the author of Ashes of Tomorrow—had fiercely vied for the top spot in Shroud Line. Ashes eventually pulled ahead with a stronger narrative, but Rindou’s work remained a top-three contender for its entire run.
After finishing that series, Rindou vanished. He went abroad, dropped out of the spotlight, and hadn’t released a single update in over two years. No one expected his return to come through this very serialization conference.
As his new manuscript circulated, editors began turning toward Toma.
Even without reading the full draft, they knew—one of the four coveted serialization slots was as good as taken.
After all, Rindou’s return—after two years of silence—was unlikely to flop.
Still, eyes quickly turned to the manuscript itself: a new title called Xtreme Boys.
Set in the fictional Wind Chime City, the story revolves around underground crews obsessed with extreme sports.
In real life, their stunts would seem reckless—dangerous, even unhinged. But in the stylized logic of manga, it worked. The adrenaline-charged action was electrifying.
The protagonist? A teenager with a rare neurological condition—he can’t feel fear. One day, he’s pulled into this underground world and, to protect a friend, agrees to a brutal downhill bike race where brakes are allowed only once. Use them more than that, and you lose.
The artwork is gripping. Each frame is filled with tension and movement. The danger feels real.
According to the story, speeds can reach hundreds of kilometers per hour without braking. Yet the protagonist navigates every twist and turn with inhuman control. Blood spatters across his face, wind rips through his clothes and hair—but his expression remains calm, even when a single crash could be fatal.
Despite the surreal premise, the execution was sharp enough to sell it completely.
“I heard Rindou got into extreme sports after his last series,” someone muttered. “Makes sense—the shift in tone really shows. The pacing’s tight. Some of those panels gave me chills.”
“Yeah,” another editor nodded. “Extreme sports are trending lately—even if most people wouldn’t dare try them. This could really hit.”
Toma smiled.
He had high hopes for Xtreme Boys. The slot was basically secured. What mattered now was the level of push it would get post-launch.
But then he glanced at Haruka—and felt a flicker of unease.
She wasn’t surprised. Wasn’t rattled. Not even impressed. Just calm. Focused. Detached.
Toma’s smile faded slightly. If even this didn’t shake her, then whatever she had brought today... it wasn’t ordinary.
It might actually rival Rindou’s return.
The meeting moved on. One by one, new submissions were presented. Discussion grew more animated as the afternoon wore on.
Then, another manuscript began circulating—this one titled Initial D.
Unlike most entries, which came with three chapters, this one included four fully inked chapters and a six-chapter name draft. Clearly, the author wanted everyone to see the entire opening arc.
“Reading time is twenty minutes,” Editor-in-Chief Katsumi said, sipping his tea. “Pace yourselves.”
Heads lifted. Everyone understood what that meant—only top-tier works got this kind of treatment.
Initial D? A strange title. But titles could be changed. What mattered was the story.
Then someone spotted the credits.
Author: Mizushiro.
Proposed by: Haruka Sato.
A ripple went through the room.
Mizushiro was already a rising star at Echo Shroud. Not even twenty, and his debut had exploded in popularity. His ongoing series, Natsume’s Friends Book, currently ranked third in Shroud Line’s reader polls.
So why bring in a second series?
Most mangaka could barely keep up with one serialization at this level. Even Airi Tanaka needed breaks. Was Mizushiro seriously aiming for two at once?
And more importantly—should he be allowed?
“Editor-in-Chief Katsumi,” someone finally said, “Mizushiro’s already serialized in Shroud Line. If he takes another slot—”
“Read first,” Katsumi cut in, calm but firm. “Then we’ll talk.”
The editor hesitated. “But—”
“Read.”
Silence settled in. Pages turned.
The story opened quietly—introducing Fujiwara Takumi, his friend Itsuki, the gas station manager, and Takumi’s father.
Then came the Akagi Redsuns. A professional-looking street team. They arrived to challenge the local drivers on Mount Akina.
Tension built.
That was why Haruki had submitted ten chapters. The story’s hook didn’t truly land until the first major race. With only three chapters, the impact would’ve been lost.
But when the race started, the room’s atmosphere shifted.
The Redsuns, led by Keisuke Takahashi, easily humiliated the locals. A rematch was scheduled for Saturday.
Then came Takumi.
On an early morning tofu delivery run, Takumi crossed paths with Keisuke’s FD on the mountain—completely unaware of the REDSUNS’ challenge from the night before.
At first, Keisuke ignored him—just another driver from the losing team.
Until the AE86 stayed on his tail.
Especially through the curves.
Then came the drift.
Keisuke braked hard for a sharp hairpin. The AE86 didn’t.
It slid through the turn—tires screaming—cutting the inside line with surgical precision.
That panel—Takumi at the wheel, mist swirling around the car, his expression cool and focused—drew an audible breath from more than one editor.
Everyone leaned in.
This wasn’t just a strong submission.
This was a statement.
A disruption.
A turning point.
---
Unlike editors like Haruka Sato, who approached things with a calm, grounded mindset, many of the male editors at the table couldn’t help but get a little fired up. Who hadn’t fantasized about tearing through mountain roads, behind the wheel of a dream car, leaving everyone else in the dust?
Even those stuck in weekday traffic at 40 kilometers an hour had, at some point, raced the car beside them at a red light—if only in spirit.
So when the manga showed a mysterious driver in an AE86 dominating mountain roads, a ripple of excitement spread through the room. Takumi Fujiwara hadn’t been named yet, but the hints were unmistakable.
Chapter two of Initial D ended there, but the impact lingered.
The impromptu race between the yet-unseen Takumi and Keisuke Takahashi wasn’t just a display of elite driving skill—it was revenge. The local gas station crew, humiliated by outsiders, finally had their pride restored. For readers, it felt like justice. That pent-up frustration? Gone in an instant.
And now, the story was building toward a Saturday rematch against the Akagi REDSUNS.
That was the cliffhanger. And just two chapters in, any hesitation the editors had about Initial D was replaced with anticipation for what came next.
Earlier, many of them—including Toma—had quietly hoped to push the series out. With only four serialization slots available, the idea of Mizushiro occupying two felt excessive. They were ready to lean on “industry norms” to argue against it.
But now? That argument was fading fast.
The next scene jumped to race day. Keisuke arrived at the gas station, expecting a seasoned driver behind the wheel of the AE86. Instead, Takumi stepped out—young, quiet, and completely unexpected.
As the race kicked off, Keisuke’s high-powered FD dominated the straights. But in every corner, the 86 caught up—and then passed him.
Then came Akina’s infamous five consecutive hairpins.
Takumi didn’t brake.
He dove into the inside lane, full throttle, and overtook Keisuke with a move that looked physically impossible.
At that point, every editor watching had the same reaction: That’s insane.
Keisuke, with his 350-horsepower FD, was utterly destroyed by a humble 150-horsepower AE86—on skill alone.
Takumi’s message to the Akagi REDSUNS was loud and clear: This is our mountain.
Still, a few editors were puzzled. How could the 86 grip the inside lane like that on a hairpin? Was this just exaggerated “main character luck”?
But then the story explained it. Ryosuke Takahashi, Keisuke’s older brother, showed up and broke it down step by step. As he spoke, the room’s eyes widened.
Wait… that’s actually possible?
It sounded absurd—but plausible. The explanation wasn’t just technobabble. It was grounded, technical, and real enough to pass the gut check.
Someone muttered under their breath, “Either we know nothing about driving… or this author knows way too much.”
And for the racing-savvy editors in the room, it was obvious—the techniques were real. Drawn from actual drifting strategy. Not fantasy.
Even readers who didn’t care about cars could follow the action. And that was the genius of Initial D—it made you care.
Katsumi had given them twenty minutes to read. It took nearly thirty. No one wanted to look away.
When the editors finally looked up, a strange silence filled the room.
Sure, Mizushiro publishing two series in Shroud Line still felt like a stretch…
But after reading Initial D, it was hard to argue against it.
None of the other proposals—Xtreme Boys included—had sparked this kind of energy. Rindou’s new series tried too hard. The main character was intense to the point of parody, and the pacing felt off.
By contrast, Initial D had a natural rhythm. From the REDSUNS’ challenge, to Takumi accidentally embarrassing Keisuke on a tofu delivery, to getting roped into a rematch over a box of gas and a date—it all flowed effortlessly.
Takumi never sought fame. He wasn’t trying to win. But he stole the spotlight anyway.
That kind of effortless cool resonated more than any character trying to force it.
The only hiccup was Natsuki’s introduction.
Unlike Haruka, who was sharp and self-possessed, Natsuki’s first appearance—showing up with her “father”—was enough to raise eyebrows. Most of the male editors immediately caught on.
And their reactions weren’t great.
As Haruka feared, Natsuki’s portrayal rubbed some people the wrong way. Takumi’s motivation to race—for gas money and a date—felt weak. The implication about her “father” didn’t help.
Still, despite that stumble, Initial D was clearly the strongest pitch on the table.
“Everyone done reading?” Katsumi asked, breaking the silence.
“It’s time to start discussion. Speak freely.”
The editors looked around, unsure who’d go first. Eventually, one raised the old objection.
“Is it really appropriate for Mizushiro to serialize two works in Shroud Line? It just seems... off.”
“Inappropriate?” Haruka asked, calmly. “Is there a rule against it?”
“Well, no... but there’s no precedent either.”
“Then maybe Mizushiro’s creating one,” she said. “If future authors can match his skill and stamina, they’re welcome to try.”
She paused, then added, “And besides—none of this matters if the work isn’t good. This is a serialization conference. Shouldn’t we be focused on quality?”
She turned to Katsumi.
“Don’t you agree?”
Katsumi hesitated, then nodded. “You’re not wrong.”
And just like that, the room went quiet again.
Even the skeptical editors understood—if Katsumi had wanted to block Mizushiro, he would’ve played neutral.
But he didn’t.
Which could only mean one thing:
Katsumi was on board with Initial D.
Comments
Dhvaj Patel
He’s not doing the whole Natsume series—just the most memorable and emotional stories. It’s going to be finished in about 5-6 months.
Klein Pendragon
I have a question, Natsume has almost 120 chapter and Initial D has 720 chapters how is he going to do something else?
Banana19
Thanks for the chapter! Damn need to wait until tomorrow 😭.
