After the Kousaka siblings left Kadokawa, Hayakawa Rumi returned to her desk, her face completely free of the worry that had clouded it before.
Securing Kyousuke’s promise that he wouldn’t go on hiatus was, for her, the best possible outcome.
Hattori Takuya had been just about to head to a meeting when he happened to catch her humming a cheerful tune as she settled back into her seat.
“You met with Sigsawa?”
“Yes, he’s already left.”
“So he came all this way to speak in person — was it something important?”
Rumi held nothing back, telling him in full detail about how Kyousuke had accompanied Kirino to submit a new manuscript.
Hattori Takuya let out a sigh.
“That’s the novel market for you right now — far less competitive than manga.
Still, even Sigsawa isn’t guaranteed to pass review.
If he doesn’t, that would actually be for the best.
He could focus his mind entirely on his novel.”
“Eh?
Editor Hattori, you have that little faith in Sigsawa-sensei?”
Rumi was surprised — just that morning, he’d been worried about Kyousuke getting poached by the neighboring department.
Hattori Takuya nodded.
“You’ve read that young man’s work.
The manga market’s primary audience right now is still younger readers, and ‘Kino’s Journey’ has, to some extent, already moved beyond what you’d call children’s literature.
His style may not necessarily land with Saito.
Not every novelist can effortlessly transition into manga scriptwriting.
From the very beginning, what worried me was that he’d lose his direction due to outside temptations and end up derailing his true path.”
In Hattori Takuya’s view, a young man who could write “Kino’s Journey” at his age was, without question, a creative prodigy.
If editorial negligence allowed him to lose focus, that would be a waste of his talent — a dereliction of duty.
“I think Sigsawa-sensei might actually pull it off.”
Rumi murmured the words quietly, but Hattori Takuya still caught them, his brow furrowing as he looked at her.
“A feeling?”
“Yes.
I have faith in Sigsawa-sensei!”
Rumi recalled her conversation with Kyousuke and the quiet confidence he carried — the kind that wouldn’t waver no matter who he was facing.
Hattori Takuya sighed inwardly and said nothing more, picking up his tea and heading straight for the meeting room.
Some lessons, he thought, would only truly sink in once this junior of his had experienced them firsthand.
He’d never put any stock in intuition.
An editor’s professionalism should be tied to their understanding of the market and their knowledge of the author — not to something as flimsy as a gut feeling.
If intuition were enough, what would we even need editors for?
….
Manga Editorial Department.
Saito Ritsu had returned to his private cubicle, the manuscript of “Cardcaptor Sakura” still in his hands, utterly transfixed.
His colleague Nomura Hideo, who was filling his cup with hot water at the tea station behind him, caught sight of the scene and couldn’t resist a teasing jab. Read the latest chapters at novelping dot com.
“Saito, with that lovesick look on your face — is snatching a best-seller that’s about to wrap up from Iori really worth getting that worked up over?”
The matter of Iori Setsuna had long since made the rounds in the editorial department and was no secret to anyone, Nomura included.
Everyone had assumed she’d ride “Lunar Witch Transformation” straight into a deputy editor-in-chief position, and plenty of editors had been cozying up to her before the public reprimand at the general meeting.
“Be careful.
Sure, Iori’s been put in the hot seat over what happened, but once the dust settles, she might still get that promotion next year.
That work you took off her hands has already been squeezed dry.”
Nomura settled into the seat beside him with his tea, lowering his voice in warning.
The two of them were close within the company and often traded whispered confidences.
“I know all that.” Saito Ritsu couldn’t help letting out a laugh.
“Iori Setsuna has that old bastard Yamasaki backing her up—”
Nomura hastily clamped a hand over his colleague’s mouth, exasperation written all over his face.
“You idiot!
Even if you’ve got issues with the editor-in-chief, keep your voice down!
This is exactly why you never get promoted!”
Saito rolled his eyes and swatted the hand away.
“So what?
I want to see just how long that old man can keep me down!”
Nomura gave a rueful laugh.
This guy hadn’t changed one bit over all these years — his personality was simply too blunt.
Nomura had joined Kadokawa and become a managing editor around the same time as Saito, close to eight years ago now.
Unlike Saito, his own abilities were unremarkable — he’d never developed a major hit, just kept plugging along in steady mediocrity.
But Saito was different.
The man had a sharp eye and formidable talent, having nurtured over a dozen best-selling works, yet he’d never been able to climb the ladder, all because of that unfiltered mouth of his.
Once you’d crossed the editor-in-chief, moving up within the company became exceedingly difficult, since the superior’s evaluation carried enormous weight in promotion assessments.
As a peer, Nomura found it hard to stomach, but his own influence was limited.
Neither of them had any connections to lean on, so keeping their heads down was all they could do.
“You idiot, all you’d have to do is swallow your pride a little.”
“And what, you want to see me grovel on my knees and lick that old man’s boots like Iori Setsuna?
Doing whatever it takes to climb the ranks — that’s not something I can do.”
Saito Ritsu’s brow furrowed, his face making no attempt to hide his disgust at the situation.
He knew perfectly well how rotten the company’s internal systems were — no matter how incompetent a superior might be, subordinates had to endure it, because those above held the power of life and death.
Why should that be the case?
Saito was determined to go against the grain.
“You…” Nomura Hideo pressed a hand to his forehead and abandoned any thought of continuing the lecture.
“It’s a damn good thing you’re so capable, or you’d have been kicked out of this company long ago.”
He meant every word — the best-selling works under Saito’s belt were his get-out-of-jail-free card, which was exactly why, no matter how much the editor-in-chief despised him, there was nothing he could do about it. This chapter was taken from novelping . com without permission.
Suppressing Saito Ritsu and blocking his promotions was the only weapon left at his disposal.
“This year, I might just have a shot at breaking through.”
Saito Ritsu patted the manuscript on his desk and winked at Nomura.
“Don’t joke around.
The proposal to wrap up ‘Lunar Witch Transformation’ has already been approved.”
Nomura Hideo was about to head back to his own desk, assuming Saito meant he was planning to help the author continue refining that same work.
He believed Saito had the ability to do it, but Iori Setsuna had already submitted the proposal before handing things over, and upper management had signed off on it.
Pulling it back at this stage was simply impossible.
“It’s not ‘Lunar Witch Transformation.'”
“Huh?” Nomura Hideo looked at him quizzically.
“Since when have you been working on something new?
As far as I know, there haven’t been any new authors assigned lately, and even if there were, they wouldn’t land in your lap.
Don’t tell me it’s a self-submission?
Did you just stumble into some insane luck?”
Saito Ritsu grinned, picking up the manuscript and waving it in front of Nomura.
“That old fart Yamasaki thought he was dumping a mess on my plate, but what he actually handed me was a treasure.”
At this, Nomura looked more closely and realized with a start that the manuscript in his colleague’s hands wasn’t the final chapter of “Lunar Witch Transformation” as he’d assumed, but a completely unfamiliar, brand-new work.
“‘Cardcaptor Sakura.’ That genius girl manga artist’s new series — and it’s still magical girl?”
Nomura Hideo’s voice carried a skeptical edge.
That genre had practically become bottom-tier for their department, and Saito had never shown the slightest interest in submissions of this type before.
“That’s right.” Saito Ritsu flashed the manuscript briefly, then immediately slipped it back into the document envelope.
“Hey, aren’t you going to let me take a look?
And who’s this CLAMP?
Never heard that name in the industry before.”
Nomura’s curiosity was fully piqued.
He trusted Saito’s judgment, and if this work had caught his attention, there had to be something special about it — otherwise his colleague would never have said what he did.
“Now you’ve finally asked the right question.
You’ll get your chance to see it at the monthly meeting.”
“Are you seriously stringing me along right now?!
You bastard!”
Nomura Hideo let out a curse.
Saito Ritsu merely raised an eyebrow at him, thoroughly enjoying the sight of his colleague on the verge of losing it.
Just wait, he thought.
Once that monthly meeting is over, old man Yamasaki is going to blow a gasket.