Ti passed, and July quietly faded into August.
For the past two months, Rei had poured nearly all his energy into building the character sheets, setting materials, and background visuals for "Tonight, Even If This Love Disappears from the World."
The original was a novel, it had a live-action film, but no manga adaptation existed in his world.
That ant Rei had to create nearly everything from scratch.
And today...
He stepped out of the taxi and walked toward the gated villa community where the Yukishiro sisters lived. The security guard, already inford by Miyu , politely confird his na and waved him in.
Rei had co here many tis before. The route was familiar.
He rang the doorbell.
The door swung open with a soft click.
"Oh, you’re here."
Standing there was Miyu, dressed in an elegant light-green kimono-style costu, her hair tied into an old-fashioned bun with a lacquered hairpin.
Rei blinked, caught completely off-guard.
It was the first ti he’d seen her dressed like this.
And then he recognized it.
A character from one of the year’s most popular historical fantasy manga.
Miyu smiled proudly at his stunned expression, stepping back and spinning once, her sleeves fluttering gracefully.
"I just got back from the comic convention. Haven’t changed yet. Pretty good cosplay, right?"
Rei couldn’t help laughing.
"It looks great. You’re enjoying sumr vacation more than anyone I know."
"I only submitted my manuscript yesterday!" Miyu said with sparkling eyes.
"So today I’m allowed to have fun. And I wasn’t alone."
Before she could finish;
"Ahem."
A cough echoed from behind her.
Rei looked past Miyu, and froze again.
A tall, striking figure stood there, a young woman wearing detailed battle-style armor, complete with ornate pauldrons and a faux blade. If Rei hadn’t looked twice, he would’ve mistaken her for a handso young man.
It was the male lead from the sa series Miyu was cosplaying.
And judging from the fabric and craftsmanship, the outfit was expensive.
Rei silently calculated: Even with the 60,000 yen he earned from ranking high with Five Centiters per Second, he probably couldn’t afford many costus like that.
"You’re here," Misaki said calmly, nodding once.
She didn’t seem self-conscious at all. After being photographed by thousands of fans at the convention, one teenager seeing her ant nothing.
Rei entered, changed into indoor slippers, and followed the sisters inside.
He had co for a reason.
Next Thursday, Mirage Weekly, one of Hoshimori Publishing Group’s second-tier magazines, would have an open serialization slot.
At least seven manga were already competing for it.
With Rei’s new work, that brought the number to at least eight.
Rei didn’t waste ti. He imdiately handed over the docunt envelope containing his manuscript.
"Tonight, Even If This Love Disappears from the World."
Misaki opened the envelope, reading the title page. Miyu leaned on her sister’s shoulder with unabashed curiosity.
"Such a long title! Rei, does this one also have so hidden aning, like Five Centiters per Second?"
Rei smiled.
"The title basically spoils the entire premise and ending."
Misaki clicked her tongue softly.
"Miyu, back to your room. This is soone else’s unpublished manuscript."
"Ehh..." Miyu protested, looking straight at Rei.
Rei sighed.
"It’s fine. Miyu helped a lot. I don’t mind."
Misaki paused, then let out a helpless breath.
She opened the manuscript. And the mont her eyes touched the first page, both sisters went silent.
Completely silent.
On the page lay an exquisitely detailed manga draft, backgrounds rendered with depth and light,, expressions subtle yet striking,, paneling elegant and cinematic.
Manga, as an art form, had a wide range.
So works, like ONE’s original One-Punch Man, were rough, almost childlike. Others, like Yusuke Murata’s remake, were polished to near-perfection.
Rei’s manuscript fell clearly into the latter category.
He had spent two whole months obsessively refining every line, and it showed.
The Yukishiro sisters felt themselves sinking into the visuals almost imdiately.
"Rei, you drew this?" Miyu asked, eyes flicking between the page and his face.
Her expression was almost disbelieving.
It wasn’t that she lacked the ability to draw beautifully. Given ti, she could match so of this quality.
But this level of detail, for a weekly serialization?
Absolutely impossible.
Miyu stared at Rei, her expression sowhere between awe, frustration, and disbelief.
"If you can draw like this, and your manga actually gets serialized, can you really maintain this quality every week?"
Rei thought for a mont, then nodded lightly.
"Should be fine. There are five Chapters here, and I drew them in under four weeks. If I didn’t waste ti reviewing for finals, I probably could’ve..."
"Enough, enough!"
Miyu threw up both hands, glaring at him.
The look on her face said everything: Do you even hear yourself?!
It sounded like he was saying drawing manga is easy, and Miyu, who spent every week pulling her hair out to et deadlines, felt personally attacked.
anwhile, Misaki’s lips twitched in a faint smile.
Just for a mont.
Then her editor instincts kicked in, and her focus snapped back to the manuscript before her.
She flipped to the opening page of "Tonight, Even If This Love Disappears from the World."
The manga began with an image of an extraordinarily beautiful girl slowly waking in a sunlit bedroom.
The first thing she saw: A whiteboard hanging next to her bed.
On it, written in thick black marker: I have mory loss due to a car accident. Please read the diary on the laptop.
Misaki’s expression sharpened.
Miyu’s smile faded instantly.
The two continued reading.
Before sleeping, always write your diary.
Do not tell anyone except your parents and Izumi.
Keep the laptop with you at all tis.
Line after line.
Misaki and Miyu fell deeper into the narrative.
Amnesia was a familiar trope in Japanese dramas and ani, but in the current manga industry, this type of psychological romance setup was almost unheard of.
The heroine, Māori Hino, had lost her mory years ago after saving soone in a traffic accident.
From that day on, her mories could not move forward.
Whenever she fell asleep, everything she experienced that day was wiped clean.
Her mind reset to the day of the accident.
Anterograde amnesia.
Every morning she opened her eyes, she had to rediscover her life all over again.
Every morning she had to read a diary written by her past "one-day selves," piecing together her relationships, her school life, and her current world like a stranger investigating soone else’s existence.
Accept the truth. Endure the pain. Stand up again.
And then, pretend everything was normal.
Misaki flipped to the next page.
Downstairs, Māori’s gentle parents tried to act casual as they made breakfast, smiling carefully, afraid of unsettling their daughter.
...
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