Alioth
patreon
I just want to quietly draw manga Chapter 134
🕑 Added 2025-05-20 17:30:55 +0000 UTCHaruki finally pulled his thoughts away from the three manga series.
Yesterday’s wrap party had been such a mess that he barely got any sleep. He shuffled into the kitchen, grabbed something quick from the fridge, and started getting ready for the day. Not long after, his two assistants, Naoya and Kenta, arrived at his apartment.
Since they were all together, Haruki decided to share what had been on his mind.
“I’m thinking of starting a new series,” he said simply.
Kenta paused, exchanging a glance with Naoya before asking,
“You’re serious?”
Neither of them seemed too surprised. They’d been working with Haruki long enough to know he handled most of the heavy lifting—storyboarding, final drafts—while their role was relatively light. Helping with Natsume was more about support than constant grind. That probably explained why they never showed up before 11 a.m.
Even if Haruki took on another series, their day-to-day wouldn’t change much. Still…
Plotting and illustrating two different manga every week? That was a huge commitment. Could he really pull it off?
“I’ll be fine,” Haruki said, brushing off their concern. “It’s not set in stone yet. I still have to run it by the editorial team at Echo Shroud. I just wanted to give you both a heads-up.”
Naoya leaned forward, curious. “So, what’s the new project? What kind of story are you thinking about?”
Both assistants looked intrigued. It wasn’t every day Haruki, talked about doubling his workload.
Haruki scratched the back of his neck. “It’s a racing manga.”
“…Racing?” Naoya and Kenta exchanged surprised looks.
That was unexpected.
So far, Haruki’s works—The Garden of Words, Rurouni Kenshin, Natsume—had all been emotionally grounded stories, focused on human drama, introspection, and sometimes romance. A racing manga was a sharp turn toward adrenaline and action.
Haruki had a growing reputation in Tokyo’s manga scene, especially among the younger generation. He wasn’t at the very top yet, but he was clearly a rising star. That also meant expectations were high—and if this new project flopped, critics wouldn’t hesitate to pounce.
“You both look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Haruki said dryly.
“…Are you really going with racing?” Kenta asked carefully. “Not to discourage you, but racing manga usually don’t do well. The pacing’s tricky, there’s a lot of technical stuff, and audiences lose interest fast.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t another genre be safer if you want to switch things up?” Naoya added.
Haruki shook his head. “I’m not doing a racing manga about pro leagues or F1 circuits. It’s not that kind of story.”
Kenta blinked. “...Then what kind?”
“Underground street racing,” Haruki said, eyes brightening. “Fast, raw, tense—no flashy sponsors, no international tournaments. Just drivers pushing themselves to the edge on mountain passes and back roads. Trust me, it’s exciting.”
That gave the assistants pause.
They weren’t fully convinced, but Haruki’s confidence was hard to ignore. In the end, they just nodded.
“I’ll talk to Haruka about it soon,” Haruki added. “If she’s on board, we’ll prep the first three chapters for review alongside the weekly Natsume drafts. Just be ready.”
“Got it.”
“Understood.”
With that, they returned to finalizing background art for the latest Natsume draft.
Two days later, Haruka stopped by Haruki’s apartment.
“You’re really planning to launch a second series?” she asked.
She didn’t seem surprised. Haruki had been hinting at it for months.
But when he mentioned it was a racing manga, her expression shifted.
Haruka had been in publishing long enough to know how those usually went. Plenty of racing manga came and went over the years, but few left a lasting impression. It wasn’t that Haruki couldn’t be the exception—but history hadn’t been kind to the genre.
Still, she didn’t dismiss it outright.
“Do you have a draft ready?”
“Of course.”
Haruki disappeared into his room and came back with a neatly bound set of name drafts.
“It’s called Initial D,” he said.
Haruka raised an eyebrow. “Initial D? What’s the title mean?”
Haruki leaned back, trying to sound casual. “The D stands for ‘drift.’ It’s about this street racing where drivers use a technique called drifting to take tight corners at high speed.”
He only knew because the system’s notes had explained it—but he spoke like it was second nature.
Haruka waved a hand. “Alright, don’t explain the mechanics. Just let me read it.”
She sat down and opened the draft.
At first, her expression was neutral. Gradually, her eyes sharpened.
It started with a quiet teenager named Takumi Fujiwara, a high school student who seemed unremarkable—working part-time and helping his dad’s tofu shop by delivering orders early every morning.
But there was a twist: he made those deliveries in an old Toyota AE86, a boxy hatchback most racers wouldn’t even glance at. And yet, Takumi had unknowingly mastered advanced drifting skills by driving those steep, winding mountain roads for years.
As the story unfolded, Takumi found himself pulled into the world of illegal street racing on mountain passes. He began outdriving flashy sports cars and professional racers without even realizing how good he really was.
Then there was his mysterious father, Bunta, once a legendary street racer himself, who secretly trained Takumi through the tofu deliveries. There were rival teams from other prefectures, each with their own modified cars and aggressive styles. Every race felt like a life-or-death battle under moonlit skies, tires screeching through tight corners with inches to spare.
And then came the moment—Takumi overtaking a sleek Mazda RX-7 on a downhill pass with his “outdated” AE86, using pure skill, instinct, and precision.
The pacing was measured, but magnetic.
Haruka had a simple rule: if you finish one chapter and immediately want the next, that’s a good sign.
By the time she reached the end of chapter three and realized there was nothing more, frustration bubbled up—she needed to know what happened next.
That told her everything.
This wasn’t just good.
It was very promising.
Comments
Ethan medabot
Please tell me he gets deja vu
