"Youichi, you came?"
Seeing Youichi, Eriri's cheeks flushed slightly. She quickly set the sketchbook down on the chair beside her.
"You're feeling a bit better, right?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Youichi nodded weakly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, a lot better. Thanks for asking…"
"Don't mention it… By the way, I brought some nutrition supplements for you."
"You shouldn't have… I probably can't even make use of them in my current state," he said, his voice faint but polite.
"Don't say that. I believe you'll get better!" Eriri said firmly, hoping to lift his spirits, even a little.
Her gaze drifted to the sketchbook. "Youichi, did you draw this manga?"
Youichi's lips curved into a small smile. "Do you like it?"
Eriri nodded vigorously. "Yes, it's amazing!" Her praise was sincere—no flattery, no exaggeration.
Yet, the story had only two chapters. It ended just as the protagonist joined the training corps. Eriri's anticipation had barely begun to be satisfied. She desperately wanted to see what came next, but looking at Youichi's emaciated form, she knew he probably couldn't continue on his own.
Although the manga's opening was spectacular, it was still an incomplete work. In a manga-saturated country like Japan, a half-finished two-chapter story wouldn't stand a chance. It was truly unfortunate.
"Youichi… do you want me to see the rest?" Eriri asked, her voice catching slightly.
Youichi's eyes met hers, steady and earnest. "Yes."
Eriri blinked, stunned. Did she hear that right? "Your body… you really want to keep drawing? The doctor said—"
"I want to finish it. Could you… get me two more sketchbooks?" he asked, a small, hopeful smile on his face.
Eriri hesitated, seeing the desperation in his eyes. Her resolve softened, and she nodded. "Okay…"
She ran to the same stationery store as yesterday, returning shortly with two fresh sketchbooks.
Back in the hospital room, Youichi tried to sit up, bracing against the bed. His weakened frame made it nearly impossible.
"You should rest…" Eriri urged, moving closer to help him.
"I'm fine. I just want to draw. Please… help me sit up," he said, voice barely above a whisper.
Reluctantly, Eriri guided him carefully, afraid he might collapse. The faint scent of her perfume reached him as he steadied himself. His heart stirred. Once settled, he reached for the sketchbooks and pencil.
"Thank you, Eriri," he said sincerely.
"No need…," she murmured, sitting back down, her expression conflicted. She understood his determination but couldn't fully comprehend it.
…
[Use today's 2-hour extra conscious time?]
"Yes!"
Youichi activated the system in his mind and began drawing.
His pencil moved with astonishing fluidity, each stroke precise and deliberate. The scene unfolded as if a dragon danced across the paper—graceful, unstoppable.
Eriri watched, spellbound. She had never seen someone so absorbed in their craft. Youthful admiration stirred in her chest.
But soon, worry replaced that fleeting excitement. Sweat began to bead on Youichi's forehead. Drawing wasn't just mental—it was a huge physical strain. His frail body was reaching its limit. The system's extra conscious time only masked the pain temporarily.
Eriri's heart ached. She handed him tissues, which he accepted with a faint nod before returning to his work.
Time passed unnoticed. About forty minutes later, he finished twenty-plus pages, completing chapter three.
Just as he was about to start chapter four, the hospital room door burst open.
"Stop! You're risking your life!"
The attending physician rushed in, snatching the sketchbook from Youichi's hands.
"Doctor, I—" Youichi tried to protest.
"No talking. We'll discuss later. First, let's check your vitals," the doctor said firmly.
Several staff members entered to perform routine checks. Youichi had no choice but to remain silent, putting down his pencil.
The doctor handed the sketchbook to Eriri. "Sorry, can you step out for a moment? We need to check the patient."
Eriri nodded reluctantly, glancing at him with concern. Youichi returned a faint smile.
Then, a thought struck him. "Eriri… I have one more favor to ask."
"Anything!" she said immediately.
"I want you to publish this manga. As soon as possible. I want as many people as possible to see it."
The staff exchanged glances, puzzled. Was this his way of leaving final instructions? Perhaps it was natural—after all, he had only a few days left…
The attending physician sighed, focusing on the instruments rather than interrupting their conversation.
"Okay. Leave it to me," Eriri said firmly, meeting his gaze. "What's the title?"
"Shingeki no Youjin!" Youichi replied, then added quickly, "Publish it anonymously for now."
He knew it would become a hit. Using his real name could attract obsessive fans, who might track him down at the hospital and interfere with his work.
Youichi remembered—before crossing into this world, many manga artists had been threatened, harassed online, or even attacked by overzealous fans. Some had been targeted for their story choices. Among them was the original author of Shingeki no Kyojin, Hajime Isayama.
Youichi's time was short, and he couldn't afford any distractions from obsessive fans. That could cost him his life. Right now, the most important thing was simply staying alive. With the system's help, fame was a secondary concern—there would be plenty of time for that later.
So he decided to publish the work anonymously, keeping his real identity hidden from the public for the time being.
Eriri understood completely. She, too, used a pen name to protect her own private identity as a doujin artist. Only a handful of people in the world knew about her side hobby.
After agreeing to Youichi's request, Eriri left the room and sat on a chair in the hallway, waiting. Inside, the medical staff began performing thorough checks with various machines. The process dragged on for nearly an hour.
By now, Youichi's extra conscious time had run out, and he had drifted back into a deep sleep. The attending physician studied his condition carefully, his expression growing more serious by the minute.
"Yesterday's surgery didn't have much effect. The cancer is irreversible and has spread throughout the body. At best, the patient has less than a week to live," he said solemnly.
The staff present all looked visibly dejected. The thought of this young man's life coming to an end filled them with helplessness and frustration.
"Perhaps the latest gene-targeted therapy could save him," an assistant doctor suggested tentatively.
The attending shook his head. "That method works well abroad, but our hospitals don't yet have the technology or the specialized delivery equipment. Producing the targeted drug requires isolating T-cells from the patient, which takes time we simply don't have—even if we could do it here, it's too late."
A heavy silence fell over the room. "I guess we can only focus on minimizing his suffering," the physician sighed. The others nodded somberly.
After some discussion, the staff left the room one by one.
Eriri approached the attending. "Doctor… how is he?"
The physician exhaled, shaking his head. "It's not looking good. Spend these remaining days with him. Be there for him."
Eriri's chest tightened. She lowered her gaze, heart aching. The words were harsh, but she understood their truth. The doctor, feeling slightly guilty for the bluntness, tried to change the subject.
He noticed the sketchbook in her hands. "May I see what he's drawn?"
Eriri nodded and handed it over.
Japan was a nation of manga enthusiasts; nearly everyone, young or old, had read some manga. Even in his free time, the physician would read manga to relax. He flipped through a few pages—and was shocked.
"Incredible… he's a genius."
For the first time, he understood Youichi's obsession with drawing. A true genius valued his work as much as—or even more than—his own life.
Yet as a conscientious doctor, he had to maintain his principles. He could not allow Youichi to overexert himself. It would be a direct threat to his life.
Handing the sketchbook back to Eriri, he said firmly, "If you want him to live even a couple of extra days, don't let him draw anymore."
"I understand," Eriri replied, nodding. His reasoning was sound. She returned to the room.
Inside, Youichi was already asleep. After sitting quietly for a while and making sure he remained undisturbed, she left the hospital.
…
Eriri's own doujin works were usually handled and published by her parents. She wasn't very familiar with the mechanics of the publishing world herself.
Back at home, she discussed the matter with her mother, Sayuri. After reviewing Youichi's manga, Sayuri was impressed by his talent and decided to help this young prodigy.
"Hello… is this Editor Shimada? I'm Sayuri Kashiwagi, Eriri-sensei's agent. I have a friend who created a manga. I wanted to see if you could take a look. If possible, I hope it can be serialized or published…"
Sayuri contacted several editors and publishing contacts. Each time, the response was a refusal.
They all said Youichi, as a newcomer with no reputation, was too much of a risk. Publishing his work would likely be a loss, and it didn't follow the industry norms.
In Japan, breaking into the manga industry was notoriously difficult. Newcomers had to enter submission competitions and win awards before publishers would even notice them. Even after being discovered, they needed a period of apprenticeship before debuting. For a completely unknown creator like Youichi, no magazine or publisher was willing to take the risk.
Seeing her mother hit repeated dead ends, Eriri grew anxious. "Mom, what should we do? Should we ask Dad to step in?"
Eriri was strong-willed. She had promised Youichi to help publish his work quickly and had no intention of breaking that promise. Her father, a diplomat, had a wide social network and influence. She preferred not to involve him unless absolutely necessary—but for Youichi, she was willing to make an exception.
However, Sayuri shook her head. "Eriri, those editors are right. Even if your father intervenes, it might not help."
"What… then what do we do?" Eriri's worry deepened.
Sayuri paused, thinking carefully. "Why don't we just publish it online ourselves?"