Masashi Kishimoto held his copy of Weekly Shonen Jump, his mood a complicated mess.
Ever since discovering he had no talent for baseball, his ambition had shifted to becoming a manga artist for boys' manga.
Even though his short works were called boring by his younger brother and criticized by friends for ignoring the readers' feelings, Kishimoto's drive never wavered.
Maybe he loved manga even more than baseball.
He had more persistence when it came to manga.
In the Akamaru Jump rankings, his True Friends had come in third, losing to Kanzaki's Death Note.
Kanzaki's art style was similar to his own. Both leaned toward realism.
And both carried a touch of darkness and gloom that didn't quite fit the typical boys' manga mold.
In the world of shonen, that was undeniably a disadvantage.
He'd thought about changing his own style many times.
But today, reading Death Note, he was shaken in a way that was hard to accept.
Compared to the one-shot, the serialized version was on another level entirely.
It was interesting in a way he felt he couldn't surpass.
Light Yagami, holding the Death Note, and L, who could command detectives worldwide. Two people who had to find each other without knowing the other's name or face. And the one who got found first would die.
It was absolutely brilliant. Just reading it made him want to cheer.
"As long as a manga is interesting enough, it can run in Weekly Shonen Jump even if the art style is dark."
Kishimoto began to waver, wondering whether he should abandon his own strengths.
But soon, he firmed up his resolve. He would combine the best of boys' manga and mature manga to forge a style that was uniquely his.
After all...
'Death Note has already pushed unorthodox manga to its limit. No matter how hard I try, I'll never surpass Kanzaki on that front. My only option is to find a different path.'
"Phew..." Kishimoto let out a long sigh, lamenting how hard this road was.
"The seniors at Weekly Shonen Jump are all too incredible. There's barely any room left for someone like me. And when it comes to samurai manga, the masterpiece Rurouni Kenshin is already standing right there."
"Compared to a gifted guy like Kanzaki, I'm honestly pathetic."
...
Tears dripped onto the Weekly Shonen Jump, dampening Light Yagami's face.
Shin Horikawa didn't understand why, but after reading Death Note, he felt like crying.
The story wasn't sad at all. If anything, it was the kind of thing that made your blood pump.
But still, he felt a deep, genuine sadness.
When he first came to Tokyo from his hometown to chase his dream, had his wallet stolen, couldn't find a place to stay, and had to sleep under a bridge for a few nights, he didn't cry.
When he submitted his work over and over only to be rejected every time, ground down from his youth into middle age, still achieving nothing and remaining an ordinary assistant, he didn't cry then either.
But now, he was crying.
"Yeah. I get it now." Horikawa lifted his face.
"Kanzaki tried a little, never hit a wall, and effortlessly drew a manga like Death Note. And he made the serialized version even better in such a short time. That's what a genius is."
"Someone as ordinary as me, standing next to him... it's just sad."
He'd met Kai at Kazuki Takahashi's studio and gotten an initial sense of the man's creative talent.
Today, reading Death Note, that understanding deepened into something he could feel in his bones.
Kai was a young man in his early twenties, still carrying the rawness of youth.
In the manga industry, that was the age most people looked back on fondly.
Horikawa himself was someone who had been buried in this industry for over a decade.
The contrast hit him hard. It forced him to confront his own ordinariness, and the tears of frustration came on their own.
'The more I love Death Note, the sadder it makes me.'
The clock hit ten.
It was time to head to Takahashi's studio for work.
He looked at Light Yagami one last time, wiped his eyes, stood up, and left.
Time to keep grinding.
...
Death Note caused a massive stir the moment serialization began. From the very first chapter, this manga had shown extraordinary potential.
It wasn't just the newcomers who were stunned. Several veteran manga artists were shaken too, openly admitting that the new generation was fierce.
Yoshihiro Togashi, bored with his games and reading manga to kill time. Masakazu Katsura, who had recently started serializing I"s. Ryu Fujisaki, who drew Hoshin Engi. Haruto Umezawa, who drew Hareluya II BØY.
All of them felt a jolt of urgency. Compared to the one-shot, the serialized Death Note was in a completely different league.
The progress was visible to the naked eye.
Kanzaki, who was now drawing the manga that had shaken the entire industry, was only going to keep pushing forward. Who knew what kind of heights he'd reach?
Even now, he could already stand above the vast majority of them.
As long as the quality of Death Note held.
"Torishima-san saw the future before anyone else."
Masakazu Katsura was happy for Kazuhiko Torishima. "Maybe Kanzaki is the savior of Weekly Shonen Jump that the man has been searching for all this time."
...
Throughout Tokyo. Throughout Japan. There was no telling how many people were talking about Death Note.
Meanwhile, Kai himself, wearing a wrinkled shirt and shorts, slippers on his feet, walked into a supermarket.
"Could you heat this fried chicken cutlet bento for me?"
"Of course. Just a moment, please."
The cashier tilted her head and replied with a bright smile.
She picked up the bento, turned around, and placed it in the microwave.
The yellow light flicked on, and the machine hummed to life.
Kai waited, feeling bored.
Today was Monday, the day he'd set aside for storyboarding. But the storyboards for chapters two and three of Death Note were already done ahead of schedule, so he had nothing pressing to do.
His assistants wouldn't start work until tomorrow. Yuta was never home during the day. Kai couldn't be bothered to think about what to eat, so he'd just wandered to the supermarket for a bento. A little nostalgia trip back to the lean days.
Though he had grown. He'd reached the point where he could buy a bento without checking if it was on sale first.
"Ding."
The bento was ready. The cashier placed it in a bag and handed it to Kai with both hands.
"Here you are."
"Mm." Kai nodded.
He walked out of the supermarket, squinting immediately.
He'd been cooped up indoors for too long. His eyes weren't ready for direct sunlight.
"It's so hot."
Summer had arrived, and the cicadas were screaming.
"Time to go home."
...
He finished the bento in a few bites, took care of his hunger, and without pausing to rest, sat back down at his drafting desk.
He had no work today, but he still needed to study.
Right now, people recognized him because of Death Note's brilliant plot. But his drawing skills were still the weakest link.
He wanted the day to come when he'd be respected for his art, too.
Kai pulled out a professional manga textbook, turned to the page he'd left off at last night, and stared at the dense coordinate grids. His head immediately started to ache.
"I seriously don't get it. Why does learning to draw involve this much math?"
He was just complaining. Spatial geometry, perspective, shadow casting, all of it required precise control of proportion and scale.
Only when the dimensions of objects in a drawing matched reality could the art achieve a truly realistic effect.
Scratching his hair, Kai steadied himself and kept working until Yuta came home in the middle of the night.
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