Became a Manga Artist

The sun dipped low, casting long, purple shadows across Momiji Park. Aoki Junichi watched Shirahashi Yukine from a distance, her small frame silhouetted against the fading light, an almost ethereal presence. Her dark hair, usually meticulously kept, was ruffled by a gentle breeze, and her simple, pale dress seemed to glow faintly in the twilight. Jūketsu, the fluffy orange tabby, purred contentedly in her lap, its tail occasionally twitching, a small, vibrant splash of color against Yukine's muted world. The air grew cooler, hinting at the approaching autumn, and Junichi could almost feel the subtle chill in his own bones, a phantom echo of the loneliness he'd observed in her.

He had been watching them for a while now, a quiet routine he'd fallen into since the incident with Rika. Guilt still pricked at him—a deep, inherited ache that resonated with something he couldn't quite place in his own new history. It wasn't just guilt over his predecessor's actions anymore; it had evolved into a more profound empathy. He thought of the times he'd seen Yukine recoil from loud noises or shrink from aggressive glances, a silent vulnerability that tugged at something deep within him.

He remembered a fleeting thought from his past life, a forgotten memory of a scrawny, abused stray dog he'd seen once in a back alley. Its eyes, wide with terror and starvation, had haunted him for days. He'd been a powerless salaryman back then, caught in his own endless struggles, unable to intervene, unable to offer comfort. The memory was sharp, a pang of regret. But here, with Yukine and Jūketsu, he felt a chance to set something right, to protect a fragile peace, to be the person he couldn't be before. It was a silent promise he made to himself, a new anchor in this unfamiliar existence.

Yukine looked up suddenly, her gaze sweeping the park. Her eyes, even without her hearing, seemed to sense him. She offered a small, shy smile, like a blooming plum blossom in winter, quietly defying the cold. The simplicity and genuine warmth of it caught him off guard, chasing away the lingering shadow of the past. He returned it, a gentle nod, and began to walk towards her, Jūketsu already pricking its ears, sensing a familiar presence.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft, not wanting to startle her. Jūketsu, recognizing his voice or perhaps his scent, leaped from Yukine's lap and rubbed against his leg, purring loudly, its rough fur surprisingly comforting against his trousers.

Yukine pulled out her phone, her fingers moving gracefully over the screen. "Jūketsu likes you." Her eyes were wide, earnest, reflecting the park lights.

"Seems so," Junichi chuckled, bending down to scratch behind the cat's ears. Jūketsu kneaded his leg, a clear sign of affection. He straightened up, gathering his thoughts. "You know, I've been thinking… about Jūketsu. It's getting colder. Nights are dropping below ten degrees soon. And… my apartment is small, but it's warm. And Jūketsu seems to like me." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, trying to convey genuine concern without overstepping. "Would you… would you consider letting Jūketsu stay with me sometimes? Just until it gets warmer, or if you need a place for her to be safe? I live alone, so she'd have plenty of space, and I'm usually home after school."

Yukine's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise, then something akin to overwhelming relief flooded her features. She typed rapidly, her previous shy demeanor replaced by a rare urgency. "Really? You… you would? You wouldn't mind? She can be a lot of trouble sometimes."

"Yeah," Junichi confirmed, a reassuring smile on his face. "I mean, it's a manga artist budget, y'know? But I can afford cat food. And Jūketsu seems pretty easygoing. Doesn't talk back much." He winked, hoping to lighten the moment. "Plus, it gets lonely sometimes." The last part was only partly a joke. His life, for all its new purpose, was still largely solitary. Jūketsu's chaotic presence would be a welcome addition.

She typed again, her expression softening into that gentle plum blossom smile. "Thank you, Aoki-kun. That would… help a lot. She means so much to me." Her words, though silent on the screen, conveyed a depth of gratitude that made his chest ache. For her, Jūketsu wasn't just a pet; it was family, a lifeline in her quiet world.

And so, Jūketsu found a second home. Junichi imagined the soft thrum of purrs, the playful pounces, the unexpected warmth on his futon. It was a small act, but it felt monumentally significant. A tangible connection, a responsibility he welcomed.

Meanwhile, far across the city, in a brightly lit meeting room at Shinsei Comics, a different kind of decision was taking place. Ten senior editors, veterans of the industry with decades of experience in the cutthroat world of manga, sat around a long, polished table, their faces grim, serious. The air was thick with the scent of coffee, stale cigarette smoke, and the unspoken tension of a pivotal moment.

"Alright, last round of votes for the New Talent Award," Kuroda Rintarou, the Editor-in-Chief, announced, his voice steady, carrying the weight of his position. He was a man in his fifties, with sharp, discerning eyes that missed nothing and a reputation for spotting raw, unconventional potential even in the roughest diamonds. Beside him sat Gō Shōen, a rookie editor in his late twenties, his knuckles white as he gripped his pen, observing. He wasn't allowed to vote yet, but his entire career felt like it hinged on this moment. He'd poured his heart into promoting "She and Her Cat," convinced it was a masterpiece waiting to be discovered.

"First up, 'Dark Heart.' A psychological thriller, strong art, but a slightly convoluted plot. All in favor?"

Three hands went up, belonging to editors who favored complex narratives and dark themes. Rintarou scribbled on his notepad, his pen scratching against the paper, the sound amplified in the hushed room.

"Next, 'Love and the Like.' A shojo romance, beautifully drawn, with a compelling, if familiar, storyline. Very popular with younger readers."

Four hands rose, from the editors who leaned towards more commercial, heartwarming fare. A murmur went through the room. 'Love and the Like' was a strong contender, a safe bet for immediate popularity.

"And finally, 'She and Her Cat.'" Rintarou paused, his gaze sweeping the faces around the table, a slight enigmatic smile playing on his lips. "An unconventional slice-of-life. Raw art, but undeniable emotional resonance. All in favor?"

Three hands rose, slowly, hesitantly. Among them was the hand of an older editor, known for his appreciation of classic, quiet narratives, and another who always championed artistic individuality.

Gō Shōen's heart sank. 'She and Her Cat' was his discovery, the manuscript he'd championed with a fervent, almost desperate conviction. He'd seen the raw, unconventional genius in it, the quiet power that went beyond polished art and commercial appeal. He'd argued passionately for its unique emotional depth, its nuanced portrayal of loneliness and connection. But it seemed the others weren't convinced. They were looking for the next big hit, the guaranteed seller, not a slow-burn emotional journey.

The votes were tallied: 3 for 'Dark Heart,' 4 for 'Love and the Like,' 3 for 'She and Her Cat.'

A clear stalemate. A heavy hush fell over the room as all eyes turned to Rintarou, who held the tie-breaking vote, the ultimate authority. The fate of three aspiring mangaka rested on his decision.

He leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face, tapping his pen against the polished wood of the table. "Each piece has its merits," he began, his voice calm, measured, betraying nothing. "'Dark Heart' has intriguing themes, though the pacing is a bit erratic and the character motivations sometimes unclear. 'Love and the Like' is technically proficient, emotionally resonant, a safe bet for its target audience. It's well-executed and certainly deserves recognition. And 'She and Her Cat'… ah, 'She and Her Cat.'"

He picked up the manuscript for 'She and Her Cat,' flipping through the pages slowly, his gaze lingering on Junichi's raw, yet strangely captivating art. "The art is unrefined, certainly. The paneling is sometimes amateurish. The narrative is quiet, almost minimalist, lacking the explosive energy many of you prefer. But it has… heart. A unique perspective. It evokes a feeling. It speaks to a different kind of audience, one perhaps longing for subtlety amidst the noise."

Gō Shōen held his breath, every nerve ending tingling. This was it. The moment of truth.

Rintarou looked up, his gaze meeting Gō Shōen's for a brief, intense moment, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. "For the New Talent Award, the one that comes with the significant cash prize and immediate promotional push, the winner is… 'Love and the Like.'"

Gō Shōen's shoulders slumped, a wave of familiar disappointment washing over him. He'd expected it, a logical decision given the commercial appeal, but it still stung with the bitterness of a lost battle. He clenched his fists under the table, reminding himself that this was how the industry worked.

Rintarou, however, continued, his voice taking on a new, decisive tone, cutting through the murmurs of agreement. "But for the Rookie of the Year Serialization Contract… the one that provides an aspiring artist with a dedicated editor, mentorship, and a chance to truly develop their craft… I'm giving it to 'She and Her Cat.'"

The room erupted in louder murmurs. Some editors looked genuinely surprised, others exchanged knowing glances, recognizing Rintarou's characteristic long-term vision. This wasn't about instant sales; it was about investing in future talent.

"Chief?" one editor ventured, a veteran with a reputation for being pragmatic. "With all due respect, the art for 'Love and the Like' is far superior. It's ready for the market now."

Rintarou nodded, his expression firm. "It is. But the Rookie of the Year Contract isn't just about current skill. It's about potential. 'She and Her Cat,' for all its rough edges, shows a unique voice. A compelling and honest narrative. It's a story that needs to be told, and its creator, Aoki Junichi, has a compelling way of telling it. He needs guidance, yes, but the spark is undeniable." He looked directly at Gō Shōen, a rare, approving smile touching his lips. "Gō Shōen, you were the supervising editor for this one, yes? You saw something in it."

"Yes, Chief!" Gō Shōen replied, his voice a little shaky with renewed hope and a surge of pride. The disappointment vanished, replaced by exhilarating validation.

"Good work," Rintarou said, a nod of approval. "Contact the creator. Inform him of the contract. He'll need a mentor, a senior artist to guide him. And you, Gō Shōen, you'll be his dedicated editor. This is your chance to nurture real talent. Help him refine his skills. I have a feeling this one… this one will be special. He reminds me of a young artist I met years ago, fresh out of art school, with a fire in his belly and a unique vision no one else could see."

Gō Shōen felt a surge of adrenaline, his mind already racing with plans. "Yes, Chief! I'll take care of it immediately!"

He walked out of the meeting room, a spring in his step, already thinking of how to contact the young mangaka. The future felt bright. And in a quiet corner of the city, oblivious to the momentous decision that had just been made, Aoki Junichi was simply happy to have a cat purring, a soft, warm weight in his lap, a new companion in his newfound home. His world, in that moment, felt perfectly complete.