Became a Manga Artist

Days bled into weeks. Junichi's new life settled into a rhythm: school, drawing, and his part-time job. His rapid improvement in sketching was uncanny. What once felt like scribbles now began to take form—basic shapes transforming into recognizable objects, light and shadow dancing across the page. It was exhilarating, a silent testament to the system's subtle boost.

Compared to his classmates, he felt years ahead. His mind wasn't that of a typical sixteen-year-old anymore; it was older, more cynical, certainly more world-weary. But with that came a new kind of calm, a detached observation of the world around him.

He was still ostracized at school, but it didn't sting anymore. He was used to being alone. The occasional jeer from Hayashi Mikami or Yano bounced off him like harmless pebbles. He had bigger things to worry about, like mastering perspective or figuring out how to draw convincing hands.

He had started working at the local convenience store, a small, bustling place managed by Mr. Kobayashi Genzou, a round-bellied man with a perpetually stern expression that hinted at a marshmallow heart. The job was simple: stocking shelves, cleaning, helping out at the register. It was honest work, and it paid just enough to keep his endless appetite satisfied.

After his shifts, he often found himself walking to Momiji Park. It wasn't for exercise or fresh air. It was for her.

He knew she came here often, especially in the late afternoons, when the sun dipped low and cast long, gentle shadows. He'd seen her from a distance before, a quiet figure almost swallowed by the vastness of the park.

Today, he spotted her sitting on a bench near a large cherry tree, bathed in the warm glow of dusk. Shirahashi Yukine, with her soft white hair falling around her shoulders, crouched near a bush. In her arms, a small, orange tabby cat purred contentedly, rubbing its head against her hand. It was Jūketsu.

The scene pulled at something deep inside Junichi. For a moment, he forgot the lingering guilt of his predecessor's past, forgot his worries about money, forgot the loneliness that had become his constant companion. He simply watched her, mesmerized by the gentle, almost ethereal quality of her movements. The warm glow of the sun fell over them like a filter from a distant dream.

He stood far away, never close enough to intrude, never close enough to disturb. He just watched.

After a long while, Yukine slowly stood up, preparing to leave. She looked around, her gaze sweeping the park, briefly touching the spot where Junichi stood. She didn't stop. She didn't acknowledge him. But for a fleeting instant, he felt a connection, a silent understanding passing between them.

He knew she knew he was there. Even without turning around, Yukine could sense his quiet gaze.

As she walked past, heading for the park exit, Junichi finally made a move. He stepped forward, his voice softer than he intended.

"Shirahashi-san... H.. how have you been? "

She stopped, her back to him, then slowly turned. Her eyes, wide and a little wary, met his. She wore the new hearing aid he'd bought her, a subtle gleam behind her ear.

"Very… good," she murmured, her voice still a little shaky, her speech a little slurred, but clearer than before. She instinctively clutched the small notebook he'd given Rika, holding it close to her chest like a shield.

He wanted to reach out, to offer a gesture of peace. His hand twitched, but he stopped himself, remembering the flinch he'd seen in her eyes that day at school, the memory of his predecessor's cruelty a sharp pain in his own chest.

"I… I'm sorry," he said, the words catching in his throat. He bowed his head slightly. "For everything."

Yukine's gaze softened, a flicker of understanding replacing the wariness. She nodded, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. She didn't speak, but her silence felt like an acknowledgement.

After a moment, she turned and continued on her way, a little faster this time. Junichi watched her go, a strange mix of relief and lingering sadness in his chest. It wasn't about redemption. Not yet. It wasn't about forgiveness. He just wanted to make peace with the past, one quiet gesture at a time.

He returned to his usual spot, pulling out his sketchbook. The image of the girl and the cat filled his mind. A girl. A cat. A gentle story with a touch of melancholy. It felt right. This would be his first manga. Not because he liked her—not yet—but because of the guilt lingering from the memories left behind by this body's predecessor. Seeing her brought him a quiet sense of purpose, a way to make amends through creation.

His heart wasn't aiming to become a 'mangaka with cheat skills'—he simply wanted to tell a story that meant something. A story that could heal, even just a little.

He needed to earn more. His part-time job paid well enough, especially with the bonus Manager Kobayashi Genzou had given him for his diligence and efficiency.

"Good work, Aoki-kun," Manager Kobayashi had said, handing him an extra ¥5,000. "You're more thoughtful than my own son, honestly. Keep this up."

Junichi had just nodded, pocketing the cash. He knew his time was precious. He needed to sharpen his skills quickly—to be ready when the system activated again.

And now, as he sketched the outline of a girl and a cat under a cherry tree, he knew exactly what he was ready for.