On Saturday, Haruki headed out alone, carrying his manuscript, toward the bustling downtown district.
The major manga publishers in Tokyo—seven of the biggest nas—seed to have a silent agreent, clustering their offices within the sa area. It was certainly convenient for artists like Haruki; no need to crisscross the city just to submit work.
That day, he had arranged etings with two publishers: Silent Parlour Publishing in the morning, and Graveleaf Publishing in the afternoon.
Hearing that Haruki, the recent winner of the Aurora Manga Award, was bringing in new work, both publishers were naturally curious.
At Silent Parlour's editorial office, Haruki sat across from an editor nad Nao, a woman in her thirties.
Two manuscripts lay on the table between them.
She flipped through them, beginning with The Anohana. After finishing, she looked slightly disappointed.
The opening felt vague to her. While the heroine, iko, was certainly endearing, she found it difficult to imagine how a story about a spirit and a living protagonist could evolve into a compelling romance.
Would it beco a ghostly love story? A supernatural cody, perhaps?
Either way, she struggled to envision a resolution that would feel satisfying to readers.
A romance where the leads could never truly be together?
It didn't seem comrcially viable.
Her perspective was firmly rooted in the conventions of typical romance manga. Anything outside that frawork, she found hard to grasp.
As for Natsu's Book of Friends...
It held her attention better, she admitted to herself.
If only, she thought, the "Nyanko-sensei" character transford into a handso young man who could form a romantic bond with Natsu... it might fit more neatly into their company's style and reader expectations.
But it was clear that Haruki had no such intentions. Natsu's Book of Friends wasn't a romance at all. It was a quiet, sentintal work built around short, self-contained episodes.
Silent Parlour mainly published shōjo romance manga. Haruki's stories—beautiful as they were—didn't quite fit their mold.
And besides, while Haruki's Rurouni Kenshin: Rembrance had gained attention for its intense emotional beats and battle scenes, it had been a short series. Whether he could handle the pacing and pressure of a long serialization was still uncertain.
Even winners of the Aurora Manga Award often stumbled after their first success.
Plenty of talented artists needed a few failures before they found their rhythm.
Nao had to be cautious.
After a short pause, she smiled politely and said,
"Mizushiro-sensei, I've looked over both works. They're very promising. However, securing a spot in Low Voice, our flagship magazine, would be very difficult. We won't have any open serialization slots for at least another two months. If you're interested in pitching these to one of our other magazines..."
Twenty minutes later, Haruki stepped out of Silent Parlour's building.
He grabbed a quick lunch before heading to his next appointnt at Graveleaf Publishing.
An hour after that, he was once again walking away empty-handed.
"Yeah... It was never going to be that easy," he muttered to himself.
Both companies had shown interest when they heard he had new material, but when it ca ti to offer a serialization slot in their flagship magazines, they had politely declined.
It made sense. Haruki's previous successes—The garden of words and Rurouni Kenshin: Trust and Betrayal—were short works. If he had co in with a continuation of Kenshin, perhaps they would have fought over him.
But these two new projects were original and untested. Anohana was delicate and unconventional, and Natsu's Book of Friends was almost too quiet for the usual manga market. Without a clear precedent for success, no editor was willing to gamble on him just yet.
And Haruki understood. In Tokyo, the center of the manga world, even veteran artists had to fight tooth and nail for coveted serialization slots.
When there was a rare opening in an ace magazine, dozens of seasoned creators would submit polished new works, hoping to snatch a spot. Many had been working for months—years, even—preparing for such a chance. As a newcor, even a Award winner like Haruki would have to join the long queue, competing at serialization conferences alongside everyone else.
He wasn't bitter. If anything, he respected the system.
If not for his award, he doubted he'd even be considered for the smaller magazines, much less the flagship titles.
Still... he couldn't help feeling a little frustrated.
If the quality is there, why should I have to go around in circles? he thought.
For now, it seed serialization in a general magazine was the best he could aim for. If the work caught fire, he could always move up later. But deep down, Haruki still wanted to do it in one shot.
With a sigh, he headed back to his apartnt.
Tomorrow's schedule was already set: a eting with Hollow Anthem publishing in the morning, and then an appointnt with Echo Shroud Publishing in the afternoon.
The next morning, Haruki arrived at Hollow Anthem publishing.
Compared to the reserved responses he'd gotten from Silent Parlour and Graveleaf, Hollow Anthem's editor was refreshingly direct.
They were genuinely curious about the future developnt of both Anohana and Natsu's Book of Friends.
Hollow Anthem had a more flexible lineup—whether it was action, horror, romance, or slice-of-life, as long as the work was good, they were open to it.
The editor even half-jokingly suggested that Natsu's Book of Friends could be turned into a monster battle series. Maybe Natsu could use the Book of Friends to command Nyanko into battle?
Or, for Anohana, he asked if Haruki planned to introduce evil spirits later, so the protagonist and his friends could band together to fight them.
Haruki could only laugh inwardly at their suggestions.
Still, when it ca to his real request—to serialize in Hollow Anthem's flagship magazine—the editor hesitated.
In the end, he was honest: Haruki's past works, while impressive, weren't enough. If this had been a new chapter of Rurouni Kenshin, they'd greenlight it without hesitation. But the style and tone of his new projects were so different that they weren't confident his existing fanbase would carry over.
At the heart of it, it was the sa answer he'd been hearing: You're promising, but still too much of a risk.
Still, Haruki appreciated the editor's straightforwardness.
Blunt words were better than false hope.
(TL:- if you want even more content, check out p-atreon/Alioth23 for 50 advanced chapters)
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