Connections with the Omaeda family— that wealthy noble house?
Mirai thought of Yoruichi Shihōin's sneaky smile for a moment, but then he shook his head.
Using a favor from a noble for this might cost more than money in the end.
Especially with that black cat. If he really asked her for help, she might drive him crazy later.
"I definitely don't have that," Mirai said.
Heizo Kasaki continued calmly. "The reason the workshop reserves machines for Seireitei Communication is because it's the official magazine."
"It represents the face of the entire Gotei 13 and the Seireitei."
"But if you want them to print for you personally…" He paused, stating the hard truth.
"You have to make them believe your book will definitely bring something big—coin, prestige, or both."
"It's true that The Loneliness and Arrogance of a Genius Youth has a good reputation and some fans. But whether it can sell 'big' is still unknown."
"For a wealthy noble house like the Omaeda family, a 'small gain' means nothing. It isn't worth their attention—or the time they'd spend tying up the presses."
"Instead of printing your novel, they would rather keep taking safer commissions: ornate family trees, ceremonial albums, and lavish picture books for other nobles. The return is steady, and the relationships are convenient."
Mirai's expression grew serious. He understood that Heizo Kasaki was right. Patronage—especially among nobles—was that realistic.
"It's not that I'm trying to stop you," Heizo Kasaki said, lowering his hand. His tone softened, just a little.
"But you need to show them something that makes the workshop say, 'Wow,' or even feel like they 'must' print it."
"Finally, there's the issue of distribution. But you don't need to worry too much about that."
"You're quite popular in Junrinan. The owners of the bars and shops there should be willing to help you sell it."
Mirai took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He replied quietly, "I understand. Give me a moment."
He stood up and went back to his room. From inside his clothes, he took out his manuscript.
He didn't bring out the original draft. Instead, he laid out fresh paper and began copying quickly.
The original draft carried the function of collecting "Spiritual Power," and it was the first "guide." He couldn't just hand it over.
As he copied, he made small changes to certain lines—tightening words, sharpening rhythm, strengthening impact.
An hour passed. Mirai returned to Heizo Kasaki with two sets of fresh pages. The ink was still wet.
"This is my new book, The Killer of Meteor City," he said, placing one stack of papers on the table.
"And," he added, setting down the other, thicker stack with a determined look, "this is the combined and rewritten version."
"Oh?" Heizo Kasaki was drawn to The Boy first.
After all, in private he was a loyal reader of "Aisuke's" stories. He picked up the pages and opened the first sheet with expectation.
But when he saw the new opening, his eyes widened. His usually frozen face showed a rare flash of shock.
[Mirror Realm] Part 1: The False Mirror
The lens warped the sky and turned it into a cage.
I smiled. I bowed. I played the humble servant—because that was the easiest way to hide what I really wanted.
Everyone loves a loyal subordinate.
Nobody watches the one who keeps their head down.
—Aisuke.
Heizo Kasaki's hand trembled slightly as he held the paper.
His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he only took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm.
Still, his quickened breathing betrayed his excitement.
This… this feeling—hiding ambition behind humility. It was on a completely different level from the "lonely genius" tone of before.
He pressed down his rising emotion and reached for the other manuscript: The Killer of Meteor Alley.
He read the opening titled "Blood Flower."
Part 1: Blood Flower
By the time you reach the end of that bone-lined river, you understand one thing:
Violence always comes first.
The "flower" people talk about is just what's left after.
—Asahana.
"!!!"
Heizo Kasaki's hand began to shake.
He looked up at Mirai. His voice came out rough, strained from holding back what he felt. His face remained stiff as iron.
"Good. 'River of bones.' 'Blood flower.' The contrast—beauty born from destruction… it's just—"
He set both manuscripts on the table and forced himself to steady his breathing.
Then he spoke, tone turning serious. "Listen, Mirai. We have to find a way to speak to the workshop—and the Omaeda house—in person."
"I think both of these works are good enough to be published. And they should be two separate books."
He pointed at the pages. "The Boy has layers. We can make it a full, premium volume."
"It will be for high-ranking Shinigami and nobles. If the price is right, ordinary squad members will buy it too."
He tapped the other stack. "The Killer of Meteor Alley hits fast. We can release a shorter version first to test the waters."
"With a low price, it'll spread through the regular squads."
Mirai stared at Heizo Kasaki, who had completely changed his tune. For a moment, he was genuinely confused.
"Old Heizo… you kept saying publishing was hard before. Why are you saying this now?"
Heizo Kasaki drew in a deep breath. He looked at Mirai, and his stiff expression softened—just a fraction.
"The difficulty I mentioned before was for ordinary novels."
He pointed at the two openings. "But what you brought this time is different. It sticks."
"Remember: in the Soul Society, people who take time with words instead of only staring at pictures—those people exist."
"Your previous articles had good plots, but they were too direct. People read them, enjoyed them, and moved on."
"But these new works have style."
"Whether it's the restraint in The Boy… or the brutality in the killer."
"People who get it will pay to collect them. And because these openings are easy to pass around, the buzz will spread faster."
He stood and patted Mirai's shoulder.
"Rest today. Get your energy back."
"Tomorrow morning, I'll go to the workshop with you. It's time to show the Omaeda house what a real bestseller looks like."
Mirai saw the light in Heizo Kasaki's eyes—so bright it almost broke through his iron mask.
Suddenly, Mirai felt that this publishing journey… might actually work.
"Then let's go tomorrow morning!"
"Old Heizo, don't forget to wake me up!"
As he spoke, Mirai had already slammed his door shut.
Heizo Kasaki said nothing. He only looked down at the opening pages again—and read them carefully, one more time.