Became a Manga Artist

The silence of waiting was often louder than any sound. For Junichi, the days following the mailing of his manuscript for "She and Her Cat" to Shinsei Comics were a test of patience he hadn't anticipated. Each morning, checking the mailbox became an involuntary ritual, a tiny flicker of hope ignited and then extinguished by the sight of empty space. He tried to focus on his studies, on improving his drawing, on the mundane rhythm of work at the convenience store. But a part of his mind, a nervous, expectant hum, was always attuned to the distant possibility of a reply.

He knew rejection was the most likely outcome. He was a complete unknown, self-taught, with a story drawn simply with pencil and paper. The manga industry in Nihon was a brutal, Darwinian landscape, churning out hundreds of new titles every month, only a handful of which ever truly broke through.

The Eight Kings, the Four Emperors, and the mythical One Emperor at the apex of the industry weren't just titles; they were monuments built on the crushed dreams of countless aspiring mangaka. He admired their skill, their dedication, the sheer mastery evident in every panel of their published works. He thought of the legendary creators from his past life – Oda Eiichiro whose One Piece had captivated millions, Isayama Hajime who redefined narrative with Attack on Titan, or the timeless genius of Akira Toriyama and his Dragon Ball. These were the benchmarks, the titans whose shadows loomed large even in this parallel world, albeit with different titles and slightly altered histories. He was just a single, unproven grain of sand in a vast desert of talent.

Still, he persisted. At school, he remained the quiet observer, the enigma in the back row. Hayashi Mikami and Yano still occasionally tried to bait him, their taunts hollow echoes from a past life he was trying to shed. But Junichi's indifference was a more potent weapon than any retort. He simply ignored them, his focus unwavering. He was a ghost in their social hierarchy, unconcerned with their petty power struggles, which now seemed utterly trivial compared to the grand aspirations churning within him.

His bottomless appetite continued to amaze his coworkers at the convenience store. Manager Kobayashi had even installed a small, custom-built shelving unit stocked entirely with Junichi's preferred high-calorie, low-cost snacks, half-joking that it was "Aoki-kun's personal pantry for maintaining sales." Mika-san continued to bring her homemade treats, always ensuring there was a double portion for "our growing boy," her kind eyes reflecting a genuine concern for his well-being. Uncle Tanaka would sometimes share extra rice balls from his own meager lunch, a silent gesture of camaraderie that Junichi deeply appreciated, a bond forged in the quiet hours of night shifts.

"Kid, you eat like you're trying to recover from a famine," Uncle Tanaka had grunted one night, watching Junichi polish off three large instant ramen cups in rapid succession, the steam rising around his focused face. "You got a second stomach, or what? Are you sure you're not secretly training to join the Nihon Competitive Eating League?"

Junichi just shrugged, a slight smile. "Just trying to grow big and strong, Uncle Tanaka. Gotta keep the energy up for… creative endeavors." He left the 'creative endeavors' vague, knowing Uncle Tanaka probably imagined him building elaborate dioramas or composing epic haikus, not sketching manga.

He poured his remaining energy into his drawing. He devoured every new Youth Youth magazine, dissecting panels, studying character expressions, analyzing pacing. He researched new techniques online, poring over digital tutorials even though he still worked with traditional tools. He imagined himself mastering complex perspectives like Takehiko Inoue or crafting intricate psychological narratives like Naoki Urasawa from his past world's history of mangaka. He knew he had the raw ideas, the unique perspective from his transplanted mind, but execution was everything. He sketched tirelessly, filling notebook after notebook with studies of human anatomy, architectural backgrounds, and the intricate details of Jūketsu's fur and expressions. Each stroke was a deliberate effort to bridge the gap between his vision and his hand.

One afternoon, a week after mailing his manuscript, Junichi came home from school. The air was warm, smelling of distant blooming flowers and the faint exhaust of passing cars. As he approached his apartment building, he noticed something taped to his door. A small, square piece of paper, folded neatly.

He pulled it off. It wasn't an envelope, not yet. It was a note, scrawled in hurried, yet elegant handwriting:

"Aoki Junichi-kun, please call me. This is Gō Shōen from Shinsei Comics. My number is [redacted]. Urgent."

Junichi stared at the note, his heart giving a startled leap. Urgent? That was usually a bad sign, or at least, a neutral one. They were either returning the manuscript or had a query. Hope and dread tangled in his gut, a cold knot tightening in his stomach, momentarily overriding even his constant hunger. He grabbed his phone, his fingers suddenly clumsy, fumbling with the keypad.

He dialed the number. It rang once, twice, then a smooth, professional voice answered.

"Hello, this is Shinsei Comics, Editorial Department. Gō Shōen speaking." The voice was calm, measured, giving away nothing.

"Uh, Gō Shōen, this is Aoki Junichi. I got your note." Junichi's voice felt strangely high-pitched, betraying his nervousness.

"Ah, Aoki-kun! Thank you for calling back so quickly," Gō Shōen's voice was warm, almost cheerful, an unexpected tone that immediately started to unravel the knot of dread in Junichi's stomach. "Regarding your manuscript, 'She and Her Cat'… we were quite impressed."

Junichi blinked. "Impressed?" He hadn't expected that word. He'd braced himself for polite rejection, for constructive criticism, but not for impressed.

"Yes, indeed. Your storytelling is… remarkably mature for someone your age. The emotional depth, the quiet narrative, it truly resonated with our editorial team. We particularly liked the unique perspective and the nuanced portrayal of the main character, Yukine, and her bond with Jūketsu. It's quite unlike anything we've seen recently in the slice-of-life genre. It reminds me of the quiet charm of something like 'Moominvalley' or the gentle introspection of 'Natsume's Book of Friends,' yet with its own distinct flavor." Gō Shōen paused, a brief, thoughtful silence that felt like an eternity. "Your art, while still a bit rough around the edges, shows immense promise and a unique style. We believe it has significant potential, and with the right guidance, it could truly shine."

Junichi's breath hitched. He hadn't dared to dream of this. This was more than just a compliment; it was an affirmation.

"Therefore, we'd like to offer you a contract, Aoki-kun," Gō Shōen continued, his voice now crisp and professional, cutting through the haze of Junichi's shock. "We want to serialize 'She and Her Cat' in Shinsei Monthly. Of course, this would involve a significant commitment from your end: weekly deadlines, adapting to our editorial schedule, and working closely with an assigned editor. Are you interested?"

Junichi's mind reeled. Serialize? In a prominent monthly magazine? His first ever attempt, drawn simply with pencil and paper? This was a dream. An improbable, incredible dream that felt too big for his small apartment, too grand for his borrowed teenage body. He tried to keep his voice steady, to sound like the calm, collected individual he now was.

"Yes. Yes, I'm interested, Gō Shōen. Very interested. It's… a huge opportunity."

"Excellent! We're thrilled to have you. We'll send over the detailed contract to your address immediately, outlining terms, payment, and responsibilities. In the meantime, I'll be your assigned editor, so feel free to call me with any questions. We'll schedule an initial meeting at our offices next week to discuss the series outline, character designs, and future chapter plans. We'll also talk about the support we can offer you as a new mangaka, including potentially providing digital tools if you prefer that workflow."

After Gō Shōen hung up, Junichi stood there, phone still pressed to his ear, staring blankly at the wall. The hum of the refrigerator, the distant rumble of a car, the quiet tick of his old clock—all seemed amplified. He had done it. His first step onto the brutal, exhilarating battlefield of Nihon's manga industry. He'd barely drawn a straight line a few weeks ago, and now… he was going to be a professional mangaka.

A wide, uncharacteristic grin spread across his face, a raw, joyous expression he hadn't worn in years. It wasn't the cynical smirk, or the dry amusement that often colored his features. It was a genuine, unrestrained smile, the kind that reached his eyes and made them sparkle, the kind he hadn't felt since… well, since securing that year-end bonus in his old life, before everything changed.

"The System," he murmured, a newfound respect and understanding in his voice. "You really are a cheat code, aren't you? Not just for knowledge, but for… accelerating everything."

He still had so much to learn, so much to improve. The real work was just beginning. Deadlines, editorial meetings, the pressure of a monthly serialization—it would be a baptism by fire. But for the first time in this new world, Aoki Junichi felt truly, unequivocally alive. He wasn't just living his predecessor's life; he was forging his own path, armed with a hidden advantage and a story begging to be told. The beast wouldn't walk alone for much longer. It was about to take center stage.