The world of Kyūshū differs from Earth in subtle but meaningful ways. While manga are often seen as childhood entertainment on Earth, in Kyūshū, they've long been celebrated as a respected art form enjoyed by all ages.
Over a century ago, manga storytelling emerged as a vibrant part of popular culture. Through decades of creative evolution and cultural openness, it blossomed into a central form of entertainment, education, and expression across the continent.
Today, manga artists in Kyūshū are as widely recognized as actors or musicians. Their works span every genre imaginable — from lighthearted comedies to deeply moving dramas — capturing the imagination of readers from every generation.
For students here, having a classmate become a manga artist is like knowing someone who's landed a starring role in a major film or drama. It's something to admire — a rare but not impossible dream.
Kanna, though the class monitor and top student, is also a passionate manga fan in private. In her spare time, she devours stories from all genres — which is why, when she spotted a manuscript of The Garden of Words in Haruki's desk drawer, she couldn't resist reading it.
"The Garden of Words..." she murmured, her expression unreadable as she looked over at him.
"Emi, could I borrow these after Hana finishes with them?" she asked casually.
"If you'd like to read them first, go ahead," Hana replied with a grin. "I'm not in any rush."
While Haruki napped at his desk, Kanna found her curiosity growing about his identity as a manga artist.
Earlier that morning, during the flag-raising ceremony, Haruki had taken the class monitor to the infirmary after she collapsed from low blood sugar. Now, Kotone — top of the grade for three years running — sat staring at her phone, anxiously refreshing Line app, checking if a certain message had arrived.
That same morning, Kurokawa Publishing held its regular serialization meeting.
Editor-in-Chief Daichi Torigoe and Deputy Editor-in-Chief Rika Hayashi sat at the head of the table. Around them, manga editors from the company filled the conference room, including Sora.
These meetings were routine, but behind the formality, the stakes were high. Only a handful of prestigious slots were available in the company's top journals, and every editor was hoping their proposed works would earn one. A successful serialization meant prestige, promotion, and better commissions — not just for the manga artist, but for the editor as well.
Because in any industry, where there are people, there's competition.
Of course, success wasn't based on artistic merit alone. Internal politics, influence, and timing all played roles.
"Let's begin," said Daichi, his tone sharp as he scanned the room. He looked to be in his early forties, stern-faced and respected.
One by one, he announced the results of the meeting — proposals that had been accepted, others that were cut.
Tension rose as the list progressed.
"Sora's proposal to serialize Black Magician in Inkbolt has been rejected."
Sora clenched her fists in silence. She had expected this, but the frustration still stung.
At the far end of the table, Rika glanced at her with a faint smile — the kind that only irritated him further.
For the past three months, Rika had shot down every proposal Sora submitted, often with barely veiled disdain.
Without Rika's opposition, works like Black Magician might have stood a chance.
"Also," Daichi added, "due to the declining popularity of Shadow Swordsman, it will conclude within the next three weeks. That opens up a spot for serialization in Sora."
A stir rippled through the room.
Everyone understood what this meant. Although Kurokawa Publishing ran several periodicals, Sora was its flagship. Distributed nationally, with weekly sales topping 350,000 copies, it was the gold standard for manga serialization.
Every time a slot opened up, it sparked fierce competition between editors and their artists.
It had been two months since the last opportunity — and now, another had arrived.
When it was approaching noon, a faint vibration from Kotone's phone caught her attention.
It was a message on Line.
Even though class hadn't finished, Kotone still discreetly took out her phone. This wasn't the first time this happened, but she still felt a nervous flutter in her chest.
"Sorry, the Black Magician serialization proposal was rejected during the meeting!"
Although her expression remained neutral, there was disappointment in Kotone's eyes.
Am I just not cut out for this?
Her phone vibrated again.
A new message popped up.
"Are you free tonight? How about grabbing a meal together?"
After a brief hesitation, Kotone typed back.
Later, as they were about to start dinner, Sora took a deep breath and offered a sincere apology.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Why are you apologizing, Sora?" Kotone asked, her confusion clear.
After a moment of hesitation, Sora explained the situation at the Publishing House.
Kotone listened carefully, her expression changing from confusion to understanding, then to calm acceptance.
"So, you're apologizing because you feel responsible for my proposal being rejected because it was handled by you, and that led to targeted negativity from your deputy editor?"
"Yes," Sora nodded. "I feel responsible for this situation."
Kotone was silent for a moment, then sighed.
"Don't blame yourself for this, Sora. It's not your fault."
"Thank you for understanding," Sora replied.
Kotone looked at her and smiled slightly.
"But honestly, the failure of the proposal isn't just because of outside factors," Kotone added. "It's because my work just wasn't strong enough."
"By the way, if I remember correctly, you're handling The Garden of Words, right?" Kotone asked, referring to the successful manga that had been gaining so much attention lately.
Sora glanced at her, surprised that Kotone knew about The Garden of Words.