The sun sank slowly below the horizon, and Tokyo's sky dimmed into evening.
Akiyama Satoru glanced at his watch, then quickened his pace toward the front entrance.
Today, he'd been sent out under the pretense of "going to buy manuscript paper," but he still had to return to the studio tonight to finish his assigned workload.
For Uesugi-sensei, buying paper was buying paper—the day's work didn't get reduced by even a single stroke. If Akiyama wasted too much time outside, he'd just end up pulling an all-nighter to catch up.
And the reason he had to endure being worked like a draft animal was simple—
His wallet didn't allow him to complain yet.
Right now, Akiyama was living under someone else's roof. Not only did he rely on the studio's pay to survive, even the apartment he lived in was under Uesugi-sensei's name—rent deducted straight from his wages.
When you're dependent on someone, you learn to bow your head.
Whether he could escape this life depended on the meeting he was about to have.
...
He passed through the front entrance without incident, took the elevator up to the fourth floor, and walked down the hallway—when a woman in high heels suddenly approached from the opposite direction.
Akiyama instinctively shifted aside to let her pass, but she stopped short and blurted out in surprise:
"Akiyama, Is that you? …What are you doing here?"
Akiyama looked up, puzzled.
Standing there was a woman with immaculate makeup and a striking figure, wearing a purple off-shoulder dress that was downright ahead of its time.
He skimmed through the original owner's scattered memories and finally found her identity.
Matsuda Yuki. Apparently… his ex-girlfriend.
They had been together, it seemed. Though in those memories, the "Akiyama" of the past had always been the one bending over backward, while Matsuda Yuki never even acknowledged their relationship in public…
And yet privately, they'd lived together for a while.
Until after graduation, when Akiyama came home one day to find she'd moved out—taking most of the furniture with her.
In fact, before the original Akiyama died from overwork, he'd sent her letter after letter—mostly just one question:
[…Why?]
None of them ever got a reply.
The old him couldn't understand it. From Akiyama Satoru's perspective, it was obvious.
He got dumped.
Only, to the original him, if she never said "break up," then maybe it didn't count as breaking up.
He didn't realize that in a woman's eyes, it could easily be: We were never together in the first place.
Akiyama had no experience talking to an "ex," and considering she'd clearly gone to great lengths to cut ties with the old him, this reunion probably wouldn't come with kindness.
So he decided to brush her off.
"Uh-huh. Hi."
"It really is you… Akiyama-kun! It's been so long!"
To his surprise, Matsuda Yuki was warm—almost overly so, as she stepped closer.
"I heard you were working as an assistant in a serialized mangaka's studio? So it's true!"
"I'm just an intern."
"What brought you here today? Haha, do you need help?"
'Please… do anything you want, just not here. This is the office.'
'Don't cause trouble right now.'
As she spoke, she prayed internally.
'Seriously, how did an apprentice even get in here? Was he here to corner me? Must not let Assistant Editor-in-Chief Yano see him!'
In Matsuda Yuki's mind, as long as she insisted they had never been a couple, she could smoothly switch their relationship to "old classmates." Even if Akiyama tried to make a scene, he'd have no leverage.
"I came to submit a manuscript today," Akiyama said.
"Submit… you?"
Matsuda froze. The smile on her face stiffened.
'So he's still clinging to that promise…?'
'How did he even know I became an editorial trainee?!'
Back then, they'd sworn some ridiculous dream together—
'You'll become a mangaka, and I'll be your one and only editor.'
But that was when they were in college and he was paying for everything including living expenses.
And honestly, was it really her fault?
It had been almost two years since graduation. She'd already become a trainee editor at Weekly Shōnen Jump, and she was about to push that bitch Kurokawa Aoi out and become the editorial department's only official female editor.
And him?
Still just an intern assistant doing errands for someone else.
He couldn't seriously expect to hold her back just because he once supported her, could he?
"Do you know which editor sits at the desk with a potted rose on it?" Akiyama asked. "That's who I'm looking for."
It was the marker the smoking woman had given him so he wouldn't find the wrong person.
"That person let you in?"
Hearing he wasn't looking for her, Matsuda relaxed—and then she let out a short sound:
"Pfft!"
She clapped a hand over her mouth, barely holding back laughter.
'Oh, so that's what this is.'
'Kurokawa… so you know you're about to get kicked out, and you're already grabbing at anything you can.'
'Accepting submissions from someone like him—an errand boy who didn't even qualify as a real assistant?'
'How pathetic.'
If Akiyama Satoru had actually been talented, he wouldn't have spent all those nights yelling "I'll definitely fulfill our promise," drawing until dawn—only to earn nothing, draining his wallet just buying original manuscript paper.
"What are you submitting?" she asked sweetly.
"Well, my manga is—"
"Oh, oh, that doesn't matter, Akiyama-kun."
Matsuda's bright smile returned. She lifted her hand and pointed enthusiastically.
"The person you're looking for—once you enter the office area, turn right. By the window…"
A bottom-ranked editor who was about to vacate her seat for Matsuda anyway…
And a useless loser she'd dumped…
Matsuda really wanted to see it.
What kind of "work" could come out of this?
"Oh, okay. Thanks."
Akiyama smiled, genuinely pleased.
Maybe she's not as awful as I thought.
"If you need anything else, just come find me anytime."
"No, this is enough," Akiyama said, then walked straight toward the office area.
"…"
Matsuda stared at his back, momentarily dazed.
'…That's it?'
'He just… left?'
She couldn't help but wonder.
Was it her imagination? He felt totally different from before.
She'd expected him to cling, to pester her, to drag this out.
But he was unexpectedly… cold.
Like she was just someone he asked for directions.
'…Whatever.'
Matsuda shook her head, pushing the thought away.
He's just preserving his dignity.
He's probably celebrating inside.
He wanted to succeed, then come crawling back afterward, just like always, naïve.
She'd fought hard to reach this position with Assistant Editor-in-Chief Yano backing her.
She couldn't let this guy ruin anything.
Ideally, he'd drag that fake bitch Kurokawa down with him and both of them would get thrown out of the department.
---
Kodansha Editorial Office – Work Area.
It was already close to quitting time, but the editorial floor still felt like a battlefield.
The air was thick with ink, cigarette smoke, and coffee. Editors rushed between desks, phones rang nonstop, and overlapping discussions rose and fell in waves.
Following Matsuda's directions, Akiyama quickly found the desk by the window.
A short-haired woman sat there, head down, working.
"Hello! I was sent by Miss Kurokawa—"
"Hello—yes, that's me~!"
The moment Akiyama sat down, she looked up.
And the instant he saw her face, he froze.
She wore shoulder-length hair, her bangs clipped aside to reveal a clean, pale forehead. Her suit was neat and simple.
She smiled gently at Akiyama.
A beautiful, intelligent, warm-looking editor.
But…
Why did she feel so familiar?
"Have we met somewhere before?" Akiyama asked.
"Maybe? When you came with Uesugi-sensei before, I saw you twice, you know."
"That doesn't feel right."
"That kind of thing isn't important, is it, Akiyama-san? What are you here for today? Are you delivering Uesugi-sensei's manuscript in person? I'm about to get off work, so let's be quick."
Kurokawa Aoi folded her hands and smiled.
"Oh right."
He almost got distracted.
Akiyama shrugged off his backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out a stack of manuscript pages wrapped in newspaper. He carefully unwrapped them and placed them on the desk.
"It's my submission."
"Mm~ Okay."
Kurokawa smiled and took the pages.
On the cover was the title—
Perfect Blue.
A horror-fantasy story.
An intern assistant. First submission. Horror genre.
Great. All the ingredients were here.
Another steaming pile.
This damned job really was nearing its end.
Kurokawa kept her polite smile, but inside, her mental state was right on the edge.
Mangaka these days—who knew what they were putting in their heads? And somehow, every "masterpiece" ended up on her desk.
Just this morning she'd finished reading a so-called sci-fi series that devolved into endless spear-and-weapon brawls, so maddening she'd gone downstairs and smoked half a pack.
And now—finally, a submission…
And it's this genre again.
That bastard Yano kept yelling that her numbers were bad and she should be kicked out.
Honestly, Kurokawa didn't care. There were plenty of homeless people on the streets—one more wouldn't matter.
This industry was on its last legs anyway.
She weighed the stack, about sixty to seventy pages. Long for a short one-shot.
Submitting manga was expensive.
At minimum, you needed professional B4 manuscript paper which is costly, around 300–500 yen per sheet—plus wasted pages, pens, ink, screentone sheets, all of it.
All told, for Akiyama to produce a submission-ready one-shot, the total cost had to be several tens of thousands of yen.
Yes.
A deluxe, gift-wrapped pile of crap.
"Kurokawa-san?"
"Hm?"
"Were you spacing out?"
"Hehe~ Not at all. Before I appreciate a teacher's work, I like to build up the mood a little~"
Kurokawa gave him a courteous, elegant smile and opened the manuscript.
Fine.
Since Akiyama-san hadn't gone around telling people he saw her smoking behind the building…
She'd at least read it properly and give him some real revision notes.