Became a Manga Artist

The Shinsei Comics contract had been signed, the state-of-the-art digital drawing tablet was humming on his desk, and the mentorship with Ryuji Kajiwara was in full swing. Life had taken a sharp turn, from aimless drifting to a relentless, exhilarating sprint. Aoki Junichi was now officially a professional mangaka, a title that still felt strangely heavy and exhilarating on his tongue.

His days were a blur of drawing. School became a background hum, a mandatory interruption to his true calling. He'd slip away during lunch breaks to make quick sketches in his notebook, or mentally plan panel layouts during Mr. Matsuda's droning history lectures. His classmates, including the lingering nuisances Hayashi Mikami and Yano, seemed even more distant now, their concerns utterly trivial compared to the looming specter of a monthly deadline.

Ryuji-sensei, as Junichi still instinctively called him despite the casual insistence, was an extraordinary teacher. He wasn't just technically proficient; he possessed an intuitive understanding of a new artist's struggles. Their sessions, initially twice a week, quickly expanded as Junichi's voracious appetite for knowledge became apparent. Ryuji would demonstrate complex techniques—dynamic poses, intricate perspective grids, the subtle play of light and shadow on digital brushes—and Junichi, with the System working quietly in the background, would grasp them with frightening speed.

"You're not just learning, Aoki-kun," Ryuji had said one afternoon, leaning back, a stunned look on his face as Junichi flawlessly recreated a complex, multi-layered background in mere minutes. "You're downloading. It's like you're tapping into some kind of artistic mainframe." He'd chuckled, dismissing it as a joke, but Junichi knew the truth of his words. The System was accelerating his muscle memory, refining his eye, streamlining his thought process. He was becoming a conduit for artistic knowledge, absorbing decades of skill in mere weeks.

The digital tablet transformed his workflow. No more smudged pencils, no more crumpled paper. Every line was crisp, every fill precise. He learned to manipulate layers, experiment with tones, and utilize digital brushes to achieve effects that would be nearly impossible with traditional tools. He often worked deep into the night, the glow of his monitor painting his face in stark relief, until the first light of dawn crept through his window. The hunger, of course, was a constant companion, but now it was a manageable beast, sated by the steady influx of funds from Shinsei Comics.

His first official chapter of "She and Her Cat" was due in two weeks. It was a daunting task. The draft he'd submitted was only a short manuscript, a proof of concept. Now, he had to expand it, to give it the depth and pacing suitable for a full serialized story.

He mapped out the plot for the initial chapters, discussing them extensively with Gō Shōen during their weekly phone calls.

"She and Her Cat" was a gentle, introspective slice-of-life manga, deliberately counter to the explosive action popular in Youth Youth.

"She and Her Cat" Plot Summary: The story revolves around Shirahashi Yukine, a quiet, seemingly isolated high school girl living in a sprawling, silent mansion. Her world is primarily composed of the hushed grandeur of her home and the subtle, often unheard, whispers of the outside world due to her severe hearing impairment. Her sole, whimsical companion is Jūketsu, an extraordinary orange tabby cat with an almost human-like intelligence and a mischievous streak.

The early chapters focus on their daily life: Jūketsu's playful antics and curious discoveries, which often act as a bridge between Yukine and the small, overlooked details of the world she struggles to perceive. The plot gently explores themes of loneliness, the beauty of unseen connections, and finding solace in unexpected companionship. While there's no grand external conflict, the internal journey of Yukine as she slowly opens up to her surroundings and finds quiet joys is the core narrative. Jūketsu, with his silent wisdom and comical expressions, acts as both her anchor and her unwitting guide, leading her to small moments of beauty she might otherwise miss.

The overall tone is melancholic yet hopeful, focusing on the profound impact of simple, everyday interactions. Gō Shōen suggested a slight expansion on the concept of Jūketsu's "inner world" or perspective, to add another layer of charm for readers.

Gō Shōen, surprisingly, encouraged the gentle pace. "Your strength, Aoki-kun, is in your ability to convey subtle emotion and create warmth. Don't try to force action where it doesn't belong. We have plenty of battle shonen. We want your story."

Despite this encouragement, the pressure was immense. Every line, every panel, every word bubble now carried the weight of expectation. He wasn't just drawing for himself anymore; he was drawing for Gō Shōen, for Ryuji-sensei, for the readers of Shinsei Monthly. And, in a quiet corner of his mind, he was still drawing for the ghost of his predecessor, hoping to bring some measure of peace to the lingering regret.

One evening, after a particularly grueling session with Ryuji focused on dynamic perspective, Junichi found himself staring at the screen, a blank canvas awaiting the next chapter. His mind felt strangely empty, drained of creativity. He needed a break.

He went to the convenience store for his shift, hoping the mundane routine would clear his head. Manager Kobayashi was, as always, meticulously counting change.

Mika-san was restocking the candy aisle, humming a cheerful tune. Uncle Tanaka was wiping down the coffee machine, a contemplative look on his face.

"Rough day, Aoki-kun?" Mika-san asked, noticing his unusually strained expression.

"Just hitting a wall," Junichi admitted, rubbing his temples. "Trying to figure out a new angle for a scene."

Uncle Tanaka grunted. "Creative work, huh? My nephew tried to write a novel once. Said he spent three months just staring at a blank page. Eventually just gave up and became a tax accountant. Much safer." He offered a dry smile. "Sometimes you just gotta walk away. Get some fresh air. It'll come to you."

Junichi nodded. Simple advice, but effective. He thought about it as he stocked the drink cooler, the cold condensation clinging to his hands.

Later that night, after his shift, Junichi found himself walking towards Momiji Park, despite the late hour. The city hummed around him, a constant, soothing drone. He passed a brightly lit electronics store window, where a massive screen was playing a highlight reel of famous manga scenes. He recognized a few from this world – a powerful energy blast from the legendary "Celestial Fist" series, the cunning deduction of the detective in "Shadow Weaver", the tearful reunion from the romance epic "Ephemeral Petals." Each one, masterfully drawn, was a testament to the sheer dedication and skill required to reach the top.

He walked deeper into the park, until the city lights faded and the quiet rustle of leaves took over. He found himself near the cherry tree where he'd often seen Yukine. He sat on the bench, pulling out his old physical sketchbook, the one that still smelled faintly of pencil lead and worn paper.

He began to sketch, not a new scene for "She and Her Cat," but something different. A lone figure under a vast, star-dusted sky. A silhouette, burdened but resolute. He thought of his own journey, the unexpected turn of events, the System's quiet influence, and the new purpose that fueled him. He wasn't a salaryman anymore, wasn't a delinquent. He was a creator. And for the first time, he felt truly ready for the challenging, exhilarating road ahead. The canvas was vast, and his pen was poised.