Just by skimming the first few pages, Miyu and Misaki both felt it: That sa suffocating lancholy they had experienced two months ago when reading the rough draft of 5 Centiters per Second.
A chill crawled up Miyu’s back.
"No way. Rei, is this another tragedy?"
She looked sharply at him, but Misaki’s fingers never stopped turning pages.
And soon, both sisters realized sothing was very wrong.
In the first Chapter, the heroine Hino’s condition is revealed, her mory resets every ti she sleeps. Only three people know the truth:
Her parents. And her closest friend, Izumi.
Then the Chapter’s structure suddenly shifts. The story is told backwards.
While sorting through her belongings at ho, Māori discovers a sketchbook, filled with pencil portraits of a boy.
Drawings made by her past self.
But when she asks Izumi why it wasn’t ntioned in her computer diary, Izumi dodges the question.
Then, the perspective shifts to Izumi. That night, Izumi takes out a notebook hidden deep in her closet.
A handwritten diary.
Miyu’s instincts as a manga artist burst alive.
Wait. If Māori truly relied on diaries, why use a laptop? A digital device can break, be corrupted, or crash. A girl whose life depends on mory notes would never rely solely on a computer.
Which ant;
Izumi has been rewriting Māori’s diary. Her mories have been edited. Her entire life has been edited. And Māori never knew.
Miyu’s fists tightened.
This was too cruel.
Misaki turned the page.
On the first page of the handwritten diary were large, forceful words, written in the sa handwriting as the sticky notes in Māori’s room.
Don’t forget Tōru!
The heroine had written the boy’s na as the most important reminder in her entire diary.
And now, she had completely forgotten him.
Who was he? Was he the boy in the sketchbook?
Miyu felt her throat tighten.
This was exactly the kind of emotional finesse that defined a master storyteller, no exposition, no explanations. Just visuals and subtle cues, pulling the reader into despair.
Page after page, the emotional weight increased.
The narrative rewound.
Māori, who has already forgotten.
Then Māori before she forgot.
Then Māori the first ti she t Tōru.
Then Māori slowly, timidly falling in love.
A girl who loses everything each ti she sleeps, falling in love again and again..., and forgetting again and again.
An hour passed before Misaki finally reached the end of Chapter five.
On the final page were lines from Māori’s diary:
Today, Tōru told , "I’ll make sure tomorrow’s you is happy."When I heard that, my heart fluttered.
For the first ti, morning doesn’t feel terrifying. For the first ti, I want to wake up.
Miyu’s eyes were red.
She looked devastated.
When she realized the manuscript ended there, a deep sense of loss washed over her.
"Hey, what about the rest?"
Rei scratched his cheek lightly.
"I haven’t drawn it yet. I only drew up to the fifth Chapter!"
"Then just tell directly, why did Maori’s friend, Izumi, take her diary? And why was everything else in the notebook normal, except only the entries about Toru were erased or changed?"
"I’m not spoiling that, If this manga gets a serialization slot, you’ll find out then," Rei said.
For Rei, spoilers were the greatest sin imaginable, and he absolutely refused to reveal anything.
But the real issue now was, Rei glanced at Misaki.
"Editor Yukishiro, what do you think?"
"It’s very captivating," Misaki said after a short pause, her voice gentle as she looked at him.
"It’s just... this manga seems to be the sa type of work as Five Centiters per Second, right?"
Rei smiled but didn’t comnt.
"How long is this manga?" Misaki asked.
"About eleven or twelve Chapters."
"So another short work?" she murmured.
"But it’s much better than Five Centiters per Second. At least this one goes beyond ten Chapters."
Misaki’s concern about the length was simply because a manga’s comrcial potential was heavily tied to its scale.
That said, Japan did have successful romance short stories of around a dozen Chapters, if the work was strong enough, they could still sell extrely well.
"So..." Rei asked.
"Did I pass?"
"You pass with . But next, it still needs to get through the serialization eting," Misaki said.
"Mirage Weekly’s serialization eting is next Thursday. And the following week, Atsukage Weekly will also have a series getting axed. If it doesn’t get picked next Thursday, there’s still another submission slot the week after."
"I understand," Rei nodded, though his expression tightened slightly.
"Rei, you don’t need to worry too much," Misaki said softly.
"Although this manga is a slow-burn story, the quality of both the art and the plot is undeniable."
"Plus, the tankōbon sales of Five Centiters per Second were excellent. That gives your new work a strong advantage going into the serialization eting."
"It’s just..." Misaki gave him a wry look.
"Your last two works both leaned toward the sad side. Your pen na Shirogane is still being cursed daily by angry fans."
"If this one ends on a sad note as well, you might face even more pressure."
"Don’t worry about things like that." Rei laughed lightly.
"I’m not afraid of being cursed."
A new week arrived.
On Monday morning, Misaki submitted the application for Rei’s new manga to enter Mirage Weekly’s serialization eting.
The higher-ups quickly reviewed Rei’s past accomplishnts and qualifications, signed, stamped, and officially gave his new work, "Tonight," the entry ticket required for the fierce competition of the serialization lineup.
Three days passed.
On Thursday morning, Misaki arrived at the office early, sorted through a stack of docunts, checked the ti, and exhaled slowly.
It was ti.
She stood, left her office, and headed toward the eting room at a brisk pace.
She had attended Sakura-iro Weekly’s serialization etings many tis.
But this was her first ti attending Mirage Weekly’s serialization eting.
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