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I just want to quietly draw manga Chapter 136
🕑 Added 2025-05-21 18:01:52 +0000 UTC“This is where things stand for now.” Haruka’s tone was calm but firm. “I haven’t seen much from your two new one-shots yet, but unless Kazanami Animation takes a real interest, an anime adaptation isn’t likely.”
She glanced at him. “I could reach out to a few smaller studios if it comes to that, but they’re not exactly known for quality. The result might be… underwhelming.”
After a pause, she added, more frankly, “Honestly, I think you should focus on Natsume. It’s got more potential right now than either of the others.”
“Jin’s going on hiatus once Ashes of Tomorrow ends. That opens a temporary slot in Shroud Line. The likely contenders are Dream World and Dragon Soul. But if Natsume keeps gaining traction, it could sneak into the top three. I know it sounds opportunistic, but landing third place in the flagship magazine this early? That could set you up for a real career.”
She smiled faintly. “Not that I should say this as someone from Echo Shroud, but with numbers like that, no publisher in Japan would dare overlook you.”
Haruki nodded, letting her words settle.
Third place?
It was flattering, but he wasn’t convinced. Natsume was quiet and slow-paced. It hadn’t been running long, and he didn’t have name recognition. The magazine favored big, fast, high-stakes stories—his didn’t fit the mold.
Which was exactly why he wanted to launch a second series.
Natsume needed time to grow. Years, maybe. And time wasn’t something he could afford to waste.
Luckily, he’d just pulled Initial D from the system.
Haruka probably thought juggling two series would stretch him too thin. But Haruki had a different plan.
Initial D was a cult hit in that other world—edgy, niche, built for adrenaline junkies. He could use it to grab attention and grow his profile quickly.
But he didn’t say any of that. Haruka might try to talk him out of it. So he just nodded again and let the conversation end.
She left soon after, name draft in hand, promising to push for serialization within three weeks. That might be enough, but he knew clean chapters would strengthen their case. He set a goal: finish the first three chapters in time to give her a stronger pitch.
“Man… this is piling up,” he muttered.
He still had Natsume to draw, high-quality pages to prep for Initial D, research to do on cars, racing culture, and driving mechanics. At minimum, he needed a driver’s license—he couldn’t fake a racing manga without knowing how a car felt.
And beyond that, there was Five Centimeters per Second and Voices of a Distant Star still waiting in the wings... not to mention school.
Classes were as dull as ever, but he still wanted to graduate. Last semester had been a disaster—he’d barely passed thanks to lenient grading and some group cramming sessions.
This time, he got smarter about it. He tracked which professors cared about attendance, showed up for roll call, and skipped everything else.
Even so, the workload was brutal.
He was a published mangaka now. Shouldn’t things be getting easier? Instead, every day felt like sprinting with no finish line. He hadn’t even seen a movie in weeks.
Meanwhile, Naoya and Kenta had gotten pulled into the chaos too.
They’d just read the Initial D name draft—and unlike Haruka, they actually cared about cars. They were hooked from the start.
Their main job was helping with Natsume, but Initial D reawakened something in them. They missed drawing fast-paced action.
Haruki stuck close to the source material, but the art needed updating. He refined the style, polished the designs. Takumi stayed low-key, but the supporting cast—especially the girls—got subtle overhauls. Natsuki’s exaggerated proportions were toned down.
He just couldn’t bring himself to draw clunky characters and call them “pretty.” He was fine with realism—but not with dissonance.
After a few days, they found a solid rhythm. Even when Haruki didn’t skip class, they wrapped up work by 7 p.m.
Class, draw, repeat. That was the routine.
Until one morning—
Haruki walked into his usual classroom, sat in the back corner, and pulled out a stack of flyers from local driving schools. Student reps handed them out like candy; he’d collected a dozen.
As he flipped through them, someone slid into the seat beside him.
He frowned.
The desks were two-seaters, but plenty of them were still empty. No one ever sat next to him—he made a point of keeping to himself.
This was... odd.
“You’re Haruki Yuuki, right?”
The voice came from a girl—on the heavier side.
Bluntly, she was overweight.
“Uh… Yuzuki…?” he guessed.
“Misaki Mei,” she said flatly, clearly unamused.
There were only eight girls in the class. For him to still not know her name near the end of the year? Not great.
“My cousin’s Ryuko Mei,” she added, popping a snack into her mouth.
Haruki glanced sideways—Ryuko’s face flashed in his mind. The contrast between them was... stark.
Being overweight really does change how people see you.
But why bring up Ryuko out of nowhere?
And how did she know he’d even met her?
Haruki’s guard went up.
He and Ryuko had agreed to keep his identity quiet. The last thing he needed was classmates connecting him to Mizushiro. He had no energy for fan theories—or worse, demands to rewrite endings.
Ryuko had never told Misaki anything directly. But she had been bribing her monthly with snacks, asking her to keep tabs on one classmate: Haruki Yuuki.
From Misaki’s perspective, it made no sense. Her glamorous cousin—now the voice of a breakout anime lead—asking about some guy who skipped class and gamed all day?
Was Ryuko being dragged down by some loser?
But the more Misaki watched, the more confused she got. Haruki barely showed up. As far as she could tell, they didn’t even speak.
So how had they met?
She’d been puzzling it out—until two days ago.
One of Misaki’s favorite things, besides eating, was binging anime and manga. Naturally, she kept up with the show Ryuko starred in. It was still weird hearing her cousin’s voice come out of someone else.
That’s why she paid attention when Kazanami held a public panel for Anohana. A video of it had gone viral. Curious, she clicked.
She barely made it two minutes in.
There, on stage with the production staff—Haruki Yuuki.
His name was announced. Haruki, credited scriptwriter.
What?
Back in college, barely showed up. Even the homeroom teacher had given up on him.
And now here he was, sharing a stage with Kazanami’s producer?
She looked up “Mizushiro,” the name listed under the script, and fell into a rabbit hole.
Author of Rurouni Kenshin. Aurora Manga Award winner. A rising name at Echo Shroud. And now, a lead creative on one of the year’s biggest anime.
Some fans even claimed Mizushiro had personally recommended Ryuko for the role.
No wonder her cousin was interested.
For two days, Misaki said nothing. But the curiosity finally got her.
“This is you, isn’t it?” she asked, holding up her phone.
Paused on screen: Haruki, mid-sentence at the panel.
“Huh? Who’s that? Kinda looks like me,” he said, straight-faced.
She raised an eyebrow.
“…You really think that’s gonna fool me?”
“…”
“Well, since you already know, why ask?” he muttered.
He’d braced for this moment—but not from her.
“Honestly? It’s just wild. The Mizushiro—in our class? I had to see it with my own eyes.”
“You’ve got too much time on your hands.”
She smirked. “Maybe. But seeing as no one else has caught on, I’ll keep your secret… if I get to ask one thing.”
Haruki sighed. The last thing he wanted was to become school gossip.
“…Fine. Ask.”
Misaki leaned in. “You and Ryuko... are you dating?”
Haruki blinked.
“…What?”
“Why else would she be so into you? Bribing me with snacks every month just to spy?”
“I’ve barely spoken to her,” he said flatly. “Dating?”
Misaki stared, trying to read his expression.
But he didn’t flinch.
Eventually, she looked away.
Maybe the rumors were just that—rumors. Some fans insisted Ryuko only got the role because of Mizushiro, but judging from his reaction… it didn’t track.
Not that she thought Ryuko would cheat her way in. But still, it was a relief.
If they’d been dating, things would’ve gotten awkward fast.
The silence stretched a little too long.
“…So, uh, the flyers—are you getting your driver’s license?” she asked, fumbling for a change of subject.
Haruki blinked. “Yeah. Why?”
“No reason. Just wondering.”
She lingered for a second, then turned back to her desk.
“Anyway, don’t worry,” she said with a sly grin. “I’m basically famous for keeping secrets.”
Comments
Jetos
Thanks for the chapters!
