While casual readers might still be debating the rits of Natsu's Book of Friends after its fourth episode, the editorial team at Echo Shroud Publishing already had their eyes on real-ti data.
The numbers spoke clearly.
At first, Natsu was just shy of breaking into the top ten—about 30,000 votes behind. The gap wasn't closing. If anything, it was widening.
Most had already written it off as destined for 11th place. But then ca the shift.
By midnight, Natsu had surged to tenth place with 280,000 votes—just 300 behind Curse of the Thorn Mage, a well-established mid-tier title.
For the editors at Echo Shroud, that narrow gap ant sothing. In a rankings-driven magazine like Shroud Line, even a single spot could an the difference between getting forgotten and being fast-tracked for ani.
The magazine's titles typically fell into clear tiers. At the top were the heavyweights: Kōen by Shūkyo, Dreamworld by Airi Tanaka, and Ryūkon by Rinseki. Each consistently pulled in over a million votes.
Beneath them sat the second tier—solid perforrs with 400,000 to 600,000 votes per issue. These were dependable series with healthy volu sales and a high chance of animation deals.
Then ca the lower top ten: works like Curse of the Thorn Mage, earning respect but rarely excitent. Anything that dropped below that zone faced the chopping block—quietly, but inevitably.
So when Natsu's Book of Friends, a series only three issues in, pushed its way into ninth place with 380,000 votes by the final count... people noticed.
In a high-rise apartnt overlooking the city, Airi scrolled through the vote results on her phone. Her lips curved into a small smile.
"I knew it," she murmured. "Anyone who can create sothing like Rurouni Kenshin there's no way they'd stay out of the spotlight for long."
By dawn, word had spread across the manga industry. And for so, it stung.
Several editors who had initially rejected Natsu's Book of Friends were now catching flak from colleagues. It had been Mizushiro's first stop before he took the project to Echo Shroud. Now, that rejection was becoming an industry punchline.
Missed opportunities were one thing. But public embarrassnt? That lingered.
As for Asami—who had criticized Mizushiro just weeks ago—she had gone silent online. Her latest work, The Three Sisters Next Door, was still holding steady, but now she faced a looming threat.
Both her series and Anohana, Mizushiro's next adaptation, were slated to air next February. If Anohana outperford her show, it wouldn't just be a rivalry—it would be a rout.
Back in his apartnt, Haruki leaned back, eyes on the screen.
"Ninth place," he muttered, exhaling. "Tokyo's a different beast."
Trying to recreate the sudden success of Rurouni Kenshin from his Osaka days was proving tougher than expected.
Ding! Ding!
His phone buzzed. The caller ID read: Kazuya Mori.
Haruki straightened up and answered.
"Producer Mori, good evening."
"Evening, Mizushiro-sensei. Sorry to call so late."
"No problem. What's going on?"
"We've got a planning eting in two days over at Kazanami Animation for Anohana. If you're free, we'd love to have you drop by. The team's hoping for your input as the original creator."
Haruki nodded, already reaching for his calendar.
"Oh, and you ntioned you might know soone who could handle the music? If they're available, bring them along too. We're looking to finalize a direction soon."
---
Haruki frowned slightly as he ended the call.
The studio wanted to hear the track in person?
He understood the importance of matching music to animation, but he wasn't a composer. The only reason he even had the song was because of the system. And now Kazuya wanted him to bring the songwriter?
That was a problem.
He couldn't just claim he'd composed Secret Base (Kimi ga Kureta Mono) himself. That would be absurd. Unlike manga—where he could pass off works like Rurouni Kenshin or Natsu's Book of Friends as his own thanks to the system—music was different. He couldn't even read a clef, let alone fake authorship.
Still, he needed a workaround.
With a sigh, Haruki accessed the system's data space again.
There it was—the full composition for Secret Base. Not just the lody, but complete sheet music, tempo changes, instruntal breakdowns… all organized in Japanese notation.
He exhaled. "Of course the system includes everything..."
With this level of detail, he could just hand over the sheet music to the professionals.
Over the next few hours, Haruki studied enough basic terminology to avoid sounding completely clueless. Then he transcribed the system data onto proper score sheets, formatting everything cleanly.
When he reached the composer's na, he paused.
He couldn't use Mizushiro—that would create a whole new problem. After a mont's thought, he scribbled down a neutral pseudonym that popped into his head:
Saisei.
No reason. Just forgettable enough to blend in.
The next day, Haruki quietly visited Echo Shroud's legal departnt to register the copyright under the alias. Better to make it official before the studio asked questions.
Haruka personally handled the paperwork. She looked mildly curious about his sudden pivot into music, but didn't pry.
She'd already gone above and beyond as his editor by connecting him with Kazuya. Getting more involved in production would risk overstepping her role.
Instead, she handed him the finalized docunts with a small smile.
"Good luck at the studio eting," she said.
Two days after the fourth episode of Natsu's Book of Friends aired, the buzz surrounding it was impossible to ignore.
The ani—and Mizushiro's na—had finally begun circulating more widely in Tokyo's manga and ani circles. Group chats, casual industry talks, and online forums were all bringing it up more often. Even manga recomndation threads online were suddenly full of praise for the show.
anwhile, Asami's social dia had been flooded with comnts from Mizushiro's fans for the past two days—mocking, defending, arguing.
To outsiders, it all looked like typical online drama. But people closer to the situation knew better.
This wasn't going away quietly.
---
That morning, Haruki took a cab to Kazanami Animation Studio.
A staff mber was already waiting at the front.
"You must be Mizushiro-sensei. Producer Mori asked to escort you."
Haruki nodded and followed him in.
It was still early, but a line had already ford outside a recording room. n and won stood holding scripts—clearly voice actors waiting to audition.
The staffer stopped in front of a side door. "Please head in. Producer Mori is waiting."
As Haruki stepped inside, quiet murmurs rippled through the line.
"Who was that? Why did he go in directly?"
"No idea. Looks too young to be staff."
"Wait—I think that's the author of Rurouni Kenshin! Mizushiro, right? He just won the Aurora Manga Award."
"He's that young?!"
The buzz grew louder.
But one woman near the end of the line stayed quiet. Her script was filled with handwritten notes.
Her eyes lingered on the door Haruki had just entered, thoughtful and unreadable.
Shout out to Alexander for joining my p-atreon! your support ans everything to .
(TL:- if you want even more content, check out p-atreon/Alioth23 for 50 advanced chapters)
Reviews
All reviews (0)