The people around him broke one by one as time went on. At last, Tachibana found himself alone.
He built a weapon with his own hands. He considered cruder methods but feared hurting bystanders, so he spent weeks refining something more precise.
At the turning point of his life, he stopped being a victim and became a force.
...
In a prison cell somewhere in Japan, a former radical and filmmaker read the one-shot. He'd spent decades on the fringes, watching society rot from the inside. He knew what it looked like when a system failed the people it was supposed to protect.
"This young manga artist understands something most people don't want to say out loud. There are millions of families just like Tachibana's, living in a fog, drained by institutions that exploit their grief."
He set the magazine down.
"Someone will always strike back eventually. It's only a matter of when."
...
In the short manga event, with four manga artists participating, Kai only placed third.
Most readers weren't interested.
Japanese society didn't openly criticize religious organizations. A group with hundreds of thousands of followers could operate in broad daylight without anyone raising an eyebrow.
Where would that kind of critical thinking even come from?
Only a handful of works like Ultraman Tiga had ever subtly depicted the influence of cults.
"A lot of people support Tachibana, you know. Donations, letters, the works. I get it. Politicians talk and talk and never deliver. The economy keeps sinking. It's all their fault. If one of them gets taken out, good riddance!"
During the boom years of the sixties and seventies, people could overlook it. But now, in an era of stagnation, resentment ran deep.
Kai smiled faintly as he read the reader letters. He hadn't been widely understood, but he was satisfied.
After all, this wasn't borrowed. It was his.
If he could surpass just one person with his own work, that was enough.
...
The city was bright with lights, the streets packed with traffic. Kai stepped out of the car and walked into a high-end hotel.
The last time he'd been here was when he won the Tezuka Award.
Back then, he'd been the sole winner, the supposed protagonist of the evening, and nobody had spared him a glance. Just another small fry.
This time, he was attending the Shueisha annual meeting. Everyone was an invited guest, manga artists, editors, journalists, critics, all on equal footing.
But this time, Kai was the center of gravity.
People crowded around him. Some smiling. Some bowing too deeply. Some just hoping he'd look their way.
Representatives from TV stations, toy companies, and animation studios were all waiting for a word from him.
"Fujin, your 'Kenji Tachibana' was really something. I was deeply moved."
"Thank you." Kai raised his champagne. It was easy to tell he was just going through the motions.
They were saying what they needed to say to stay in his good graces.
Kai had truly become a hot commodity. Everyone wanted a piece. Securing a license for Death Note was like owning a money printer. Nobody minded flattering him a little for a shot at it.
"Fujin, have you considered adapting Death Note into a game?"
A middle-aged industry figure with an air of influence asked with a smile, champagne in hand.
"That's up to Torishima-san," Kai replied. "He has the final say."
He was suffering, deflecting one question after another.
Being the center of attention was worse than being invisible. At least as a nobody, he hadn't had to waste energy on pointless conversations.
Fortunately, Heishi arrived before long. The man was a natural at this. Without anyone noticing, he nudged Kai out of the spotlight and took his place, absorbing all the attention like a sponge.
Kai exhaled. Every job had its hardships.
Feeling hungry, he loaded up a plate with vegetables from the buffet and started eating in silence.
"Fujin."
Before he'd gotten far into his meal, Oda appeared at his side. This one was smiling too, but it was different from the sycophants. There was no pretense. If anything, Kai felt a sense of kinship.
"Oda-sensei, hello."
Kai swallowed his food and greeted him.
One Piece had been performing well from the start. Just one month after its first volume dropped, the initial print run of 180,000 copies was nearly sold out.
After Kai, Oda had become Jump's next breakout star.
In the reader rankings, One Piece sat behind only Death Note and Yu Yu Hakusho. Third in Jump. An undeniable pillar.
Oda was beginning to realize his talent, and One Piece's numbers were only going to get more absurd from here.
The thought put enormous pressure on Kai.
He suddenly didn't feel like eating vegetables anymore.
Meat sounded better. He picked up his plate and said to Oda, "Hold on a second."
He walked to the buffet and grabbed a sausage and a steak.
Oda didn't mind at all. When Kai returned, he picked up right where he'd left off.
"I wanted to enter the short story event, but I just couldn't find the time. It's a shame I didn't get to compete with you, Fujin!"
One Piece was no match for Death Note right now.
To win, Oda would need to find another angle.
But just keeping up with the weekly serialization was draining every drop of his energy.
"I'm sleeping three hours a night. Everything else goes to drawing. I honestly have no idea how you managed to serialize two works at the same time, Fujin. Just thinking about it makes my scalp tingle."
Kai chewed his beef and swallowed. "You get used to it."
Used to squeezing time out of a dry sponge.
It was almost like magic. Quite miraculous, really.
Oda tugged at Kai's arm. "Sensei, teach me."
Kai raised his hand to eat the sausage, but Oda was still hanging off his arm. He smiled helplessly. "Alright."
"Your One Piece is getting more and more dense. At the beginning it was clean, easy to follow, plenty of white space. But now you're drawing outside the panels. There are details everywhere. No room to breathe."
"If you trimmed some of that, you'd save a lot of time."
One Piece had started out simple and clear. But Oda was too ambitious. He wanted to present every corner of the pirate world to his readers, and so the pages grew more and more packed.
"That's not an option. I want to draw it perfectly."
Oda rejected the suggestion outright.
"Fair enough." Kai pulled at his arm, trying to free it.
"Sensei! Please!" Oda clutched Kai's arm against his chest, completely earnest. "You're the only one I can ask."
"Fine." Kai sighed.
"If you want to save time, stop using screen tones."
Screen tones were better suited for realistic art styles.
For something as distinctive as One Piece, you could abandon them entirely.
"No screen tones..." Oda mulled it over.
"Screen tones exist to reduce our workload. They save us from spending energy on repetitive linework."
"But..."
"They can also steal focus. They pull the reader's eye away from what matters. I want people looking at Luffy."
"Without screen tones, the images are cleaner and more direct. You skip the post-processing entirely. Drawing manga becomes simpler and more efficient..."
His eyes grew brighter and brighter.
"You're right. I don't need screen tones at all! One Piece is a fast-paced manga. Delicate screen tones actually weigh it down. They don't fit the story's energy at all."
He shot to his feet. "That's it. No more screen tones!"
Someone in the corner glanced over.
In the bustling annual meeting hall, this person was sitting alone, clearly someone who disliked crowds.
Kai, standing beside Oda, felt a wave of secondhand embarrassment.
He thought he heard the person mutter:
"So annoying, that Oda guy."
Sure enough. Oda was hated.
"Haha." Kai laughed.
"And that Kanzaki," the person continued.
"..."
Oda hadn't heard the complaint. He was fully absorbed in his own excitement.
"Kanzaki-sensei, you really live up to your name. You hit the nail on the head. So insightful. It really opened my eyes."
"There's still a long distance between us, Sensei."
"With you ahead of me and Shimabukuro behind me, it's really exciting."
Oda was a born protagonist. Always full of fire.
Shimabukuro Mitsutoshi was another young talent. His Seikimatsu Leader Den Takeshi! had also started serialization in 1997 and was currently sitting just below One Piece as Jump's fourth-ranked title.
Torishima hadn't been in charge of Jump for long, and he'd already unearthed three rising stars.
The man had a sharp eye.
Though Oda probably shouldn't be credited to him.
After all, Oda was staring at the newly arrived Torishima with a flat expression, and his smile had vanished entirely.
That round, serious face. Very hard to deal with.
"Fujin, enjoy the annual meeting."
Torishima had come to greet Kai.
He had perhaps long forgotten his promise to Oda.
"Apologize!" Oda stepped forward.
"As we agreed. Please say, 'I was wrong.'"
______________________
Bonus chapter at 750 Power stones
Support me at patreon.com/CulturedOne and read 50 Advanced Chapters