Tamura looked at Tsukasa Higashino.
Tsukasa looked back at Tamura.
The two men held each other’s gaze.
The atmosphere grew heavy and painfully tense.
Koharu Hosokawa watched them, lips parting as she prepared to say something.
But in the next moment—
“Good luck.”
Tamura gave Tsukasa a small nod and quietly offered those two words of encouragement.
He seemed to want to give Tsukasa a polite smile, but the expression stiffened before it could fully form.
After hesitating for a moment, he merely nodded to Koharu as well and turned to leave.
Just before walking away, however, Tamura looked back one last time.
His gaze lingered on Urashima Publishing’s editorial department, his expression serious and filled with emotions too complicated to put into words.
Only then did he truly leave.
There was no screaming, no hysterical outburst, and none of the dramatic face-slapping reversals one might find in a novel.
Tamura neither argued nor caused a scene.
He simply walked away, as quietly as though he had never been there at all.
“What will Tamura-sensei do now?”
Watching the man disappear, Tsukasa suddenly asked.
Koharu clearly hadn’t expected the question.
She froze for a moment before answering, “He’ll probably find a part-time job or work as a manga assistant.
That’s how it is for manga artists.
Once you lose your serialization, you have to find other work to make ends meet.”
People were like that.
No matter what happened, life went on.
The only difference was how each person managed to live it.
After a pause, Koharu added, “Higashino-sensei, I hope what happened just now won’t affect your motivation to create.”
Ring had only just gotten started.
The last thing she wanted was for Tsukasa to become so shaken by replacing Tamura that he lost his drive and stopped drawing altogether.
After all, Tsukasa was the one whose series had taken Tamura’s slot.
Someone his age might naturally be more sentimental about something like that than an adult.
But to Koharu’s surprise, Tsukasa merely shook his head.
“I have no intention of giving up Ring.
And I won’t regret taking Tamura-sensei’s serialization slot.”
Koharu stared at him again.
Tsukasa really did look calm.
His voice was steady, and what had just happened seemed to have had almost no effect on his state of mind.
Of course it hadn’t.
Tsukasa needed this opportunity too.
Tamura had children whose school expenses depended on him.
Tsukasa had Chihaya waiting at home.
So no matter what, Tsukasa would never surrender this chance.
He might feel sorry for Tamura.
But he would never regret it.
Tamura’s departure was ultimately only a brief interruption.
Tsukasa and Koharu soon turned their attention back to the practical terms of Ring’s serialization.
Urashima Publishing had offered eleven thousand yen per manuscript page.
That wasn’t particularly high by Urashima Publishing’s standards.
After all, Urashima was one of Japan’s three major manga publishers, and countless creators fought desperately for the chance to serialize there.
At a smaller, less prestigious publisher, receiving even three to five thousand yen per page could already be considered fortunate.
The first chapter of Ring that Tsukasa had submitted contained forty-eight pages.
At eleven thousand yen per page, that came to—
And that 528,000 yen was only the payment for the manuscript itself.
It didn’t include potential future income from collected tankobon volumes, adaptation rights, anime scripts, or anything else that might come later.
As long as Tsukasa could maintain a stable serialization, saying that he had a promising future would hardly be an exaggeration.
He skimmed through the contract.
After finding nothing problematic, he signed both his pen name and his legal name.
With that, Tsukasa Higashino and Urashima Publishing officially reached an agreement.
Koharu, who had been watching him from the side, quietly breathed a small sigh of relief.
The truth was, she wasn’t nearly as composed as she looked.
She was still a rookie editor fresh out of university.
Naturally, she lacked experience when it came to handling matters like this.
However—
She was his editor!
And as his editor, she had a responsibility to guide Tsukasa!
With that thought, Koharu looked at him, softened her expression, and deliberately adopted a patient, reassuring tone.
“By the way, Higashino-sensei, is there anything about creating manga that you don’t understand?
You’re a new manga artist, so it would be perfectly normal if you weren’t familiar with some parts of the process.”
“Hm?
No.
Why?”
Tsukasa gave her a puzzled look.
He had still been organizing the details of the contract in his head when Koharu suddenly threw that question at him.
“Uh…
really?
Nothing at all?
Are you sure?” Koharu cleared her throat and put on her most editor-like expression.
“For example, perhaps you aren’t sure how to develop the story in Chapter Two of Ring…”
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that, Editor Hosokawa.
I already know how I’m going to draw Chapter Two.”
Tsukasa waved a hand dismissively.
If he was already stuck on the plot by the second chapter, how was he supposed to continue the series?
That would be ridiculous.
“You haven’t gotten stuck on the manuscript at all?” Koharu asked quickly, clearly unable to believe it.
Tsukasa was a complete rookie, just as she was.
How could he possibly be this dependable?
Shouldn’t something have gone wrong by now?
“No.
Chapter Two is almost finished already.
I’ll bring it along and show it to you next time I come.”
Tsukasa was thoroughly confused.
Why was Koharu suddenly getting worked up?
“Then do you need manga assistants?
Urashima Publishing can help you contact skilled assistants to handle backgrounds and things like that.”
Koharu really was getting anxious now.
She didn’t even know why.
Perhaps Tsukasa was simply too reliable.
His performance had been practically flawless, and somehow that made Koharu, the rookie editor who was supposed to guide him, increasingly restless.
I’m your editor!
I’m supposed to guide you!
How can you not give me anything to guide you on?!
“No, thanks.
I’m used to drawing everything myself.”
His primary skill, Empathic Projection, only worked on artwork he personally drew.
Because of that, he had little reason to hire assistants in the first place.
“Then…
is there anything else you’re having trouble with, Higashino-sensei?
Tell me.
Maybe I can help.”
Koharu couldn’t stop herself from asking.
This wasn’t right!
How could Tsukasa have absolutely no problems?
He needed to have at least one problem, didn’t he?
If he remained this perfectly capable, how was she ever supposed to become one of those legendary editors from television dramas who slapped a confused artist across the face and shocked him back to his senses?
Koharu stared at Tsukasa with undisguised hope.
“Uh…”
Tsukasa had been about to answer, “No,” but after seeing her expression, he had the distinct feeling that even if he had no problems, Koharu might manufacture one for him on the spot.
So he remained silent for a moment before smiling pleasantly.
“At the moment, no.
But the moment I run into any difficulty, I’ll call you immediately and ask for your advice, Editor Hosokawa.”
“Oh…
all right.”
The answer clearly didn’t satisfy Koharu very much.
She sighed with faint disappointment.
It seemed the road to becoming a legendary editor was still a long one.
She roughly organized the Ring manuscript, checked the time, and said, “Then let’s set your next manuscript deadline for around this time next week, Higashino-sensei.
Any problems with that?”
“No, that’s fine.”
Tsukasa nodded.
Chapter Two of Ring was nearly finished, and drawing Chapter Three wouldn’t take him too long either.
Naturally, the deadline posed no problem.
“Good.
Then that concludes the work for today.
But seriously, Higashino-sensei, if there’s anything you don’t understand, you really can ask me.
I’m an editor.
I know a lot of things.”
Koharu closed her briefcase, sounding almost reluctant to let the subject go.
At this point, she looked strangely humble—as though she were practically begging Tsukasa to come up with a question for her.
Once she finished packing everything away, however, she looked at Tsukasa again and recovered some of her earlier enthusiasm.
“Let’s go get something to eat, Higashino-sensei.
We can consider it an early celebration of our partnership.”
Apparently, this was something of a tradition at Urashima Publishing.
After establishing a working relationship with a new manga artist, the editor would treat the creator to a meal so the two could get to know each other better outside the office.
It was an undeniably adult sort of custom, and Koharu had always wanted to do something that made her feel like a proper working adult.
Naturally, she looked a little excited.
Until now, she had suffered from the fact that she had no manga artists under her supervision.
All she could do was watch her senior editors take their own artists out to eat—and envy them to death.
Now that she had finally gotten hold of an artist of her own, how could she possibly not take him out for a meal and strengthen their working relationship?
Impossible!
And then, in the very next moment—
Her excited expression collapsed.
Because Tsukasa answered:
“Sorry, but I still have some things to take care of at home, so I won’t be able to join you today.
Let me treat you another time instead, Editor Hosokawa.”
The response was so socially polished, tactful, and perfectly measured that Koharu nearly choked on it.
She stared at the mild-mannered young man in front of her and, for some inexplicable reason, felt that Tsukasa seemed far more like a seasoned working adult than she did.