Maybe one day, Nozaki thought, he'd hear that Hirano had worked himself to death.
He couldn't help but think it. He didn't get where Hirano found the energy to keep pushing himself like that, but he couldn't deny a quiet respect for it.
Only someone who refused to accept mediocrity would ever become famous.
"To celebrate," Nozaki said, raising his left hand to his mouth as if holding a glass, "How about grabbing a drink after work? Your treat."
Hirano looked uneasy.
"Sorry, Nozaki-senpai," he said. "I've got something I need to do after work."
"Right," Nozaki said, not surprised. "Going to practice drawing, I take it?"
Hirano smiled. "Yeah."
"Typical," Nozaki muttered.
The guy barely spoke on a normal day, but when it mattered, he somehow showed everyone what he was made of. Nozaki found it strange, but wasn't sure how he felt about it.
By the time four in the afternoon rolled around, the restaurant was bustling with customers.
Stir-fried pork liver with chives, mapo tofu, braised chicken wings...
Hirano was running back and forth, weaving through the cramped space without a moment to rest.
He passed by Nozaki so many times that a sense of familiarity settled over him.
This, Nozaki thought, was the Hirano he knew.
---
The restaurant closed promptly at eight.
By the time they finished cleaning, the streets outside were empty and dark. After a long shift, Nozaki was drained, already thinking about stopping by an izakaya for a drink before heading home to sleep.
"Nozaki-senpai, I'm heading out now."
Hirano had his bag slung over his shoulder and a faint look of anticipation on his face.
"Got it," Nozaki said, smiling. "Take care."
Hirano disappeared into the night.
Nozaki watched him go, then muttered to himself.
"You'd better make it, Hirano."
"If someone who works as hard as you still fails, then I'll just give up on this world entirely."
---
Hard work doesn't guarantee success.
The reason Hirano could dedicate himself so single-mindedly to manga was because of the dozen or so works from his past life, each one a proven success. Since he already knew what readers loved, there was nothing to fear. He just needed to keep moving forward.
The harder he worked, the closer he got to success—and that feeling of progress was something he truly enjoyed.
Near his cheap apartment was a bookstore. It's where he'd bought his copies of Slam Dunk and Video Girl Ai to study storyboarding.
The store was still open at nine, with a few people browsing quietly.
Hirano looked around, and maybe because he'd started thinking of himself as someone who'd be creating something someday, he found himself seeing the place in a different way.
Not as a reader.
On the most prominent shelf right at the entrance, volumes of The Kindaichi Case Files sat in a neat row.
That was what market success looked like.
If Death Note could someday sit on a shelf like that after serialization, then he would have truly made it.
"I can't wait for that day."
Beside the display were bookcases filled with a wide range of items: manga, mystery novels, and literary works. All of them were bestsellers.
Hirano focused on the manga volumes. He spotted Detective Conan, Rurouni Kenshin, and Hell Teacher Nube.
These were the series that had filled him with joy as a kid, and someday, they would be his competition.
"Life's strange."
Deeper into the store, the sections shifted.
After asking a staff member for directions, he headed straight for the reference section. A brief search later, he found the professional books Heishi had recommended.
They were expensive—four or five times the price of a regular manga. But Hirano gritted his teeth and bought them anyway.
He left the store, stopped by a convenience store for a late-night snack, carefully stepped around a salaryman who had passed out drunk on the sidewalk, and made his way home.
His footsteps echoed against the metal staircase as he climbed to the second floor of his apartment building.
He opened the door to his fifteen-square-meter studio, where everything was in view in one glance.
There was no kitchen. The living room doubled as the bedroom. The bathroom was barely big enough to turn around in. Boxes full of used draft pages were scattered on the floor, nowhere else to put them, an eyesore that Hirano had long since learned to ignore.
It was suffocating. Just five tsubo of space.
But as far as Hirano knew, more than a few of his neighbors had been living in rooms just like this for years.
It was, after all, one of the few footholds they could find in Tokyo.
---
Without wasting any time, he pulled the stool out from under the desk.
A cool night breeze drifted in through the window, keeping him company as Hirano, feeling no particular loneliness, settled in and started reading through a book titled Japanese Manga Drawing Techniques, genuinely absorbing the information.
Time passed. Lights went out in the buildings around him one by one, the darkness deepening. His was the last light still on. Just before dawn, it clicked off, and he finally fell asleep.
This went on for several days. The books got thinner as he worked through them, and the pile of used draft paper on the floor quietly grew without him noticing.
Hirano continued filling in the gaps in his knowledge, waiting for word from Heishi.
The days on the wall calendar were marked with X's. It was now the eighteenth.
---
At the Chinese restaurant, Nozaki watched the last customer leave, his thoughts racing. He completely forgot about clearing the tables and turned to Hirano, unable to hold back his excitement.
"Did the Tezuka Award results come out yet? What happened? Did you make it?"
Normally, Nozaki didn't care about the Tezuka Award—he just read whatever entries piqued his interest. After Slam Dunk and Yu Yu Hakusho ended, he had pretty much stopped buying Weekly Shonen Jump, switching over to Weekly Shonen Magazine instead.
But this time, because of Hirano, he'd been following the Tezuka Award closely. Having inside information gave him a kind of satisfaction he couldn't quite explain.
Hirano shook his head. "Heishi-san said he'd let me know today, but it's only just past one. I probably won't hear anything until five or six."
"No way," Nozaki groaned, suddenly jittery. His usual calm was nowhere to be found as he paced around the restaurant.
Hirano, the one with something at stake, remained calm.
He sat down in a corner, spread out his draft paper, and started sketching the storyboard for Death Note: the story of Light Yagami, the model student who, upon acquiring the Death Note, transforms into something terrifying without hesitation.
It was a plot he knew by heart. After days of study and careful thought, the layout for the storyboard was clear in his mind.
Putting it down on paper should have been simple. Just a matter of putting pencil to page. But he hesitated, his mind drifting inward without him even realizing it.
"I wonder how things are going at Shueisha."
(Shueisha: Japanese publishing company)
---
In a conference room down the hall, Heishi sat, holding a file and staring blankly ahead.
From the next room came the sound of an intense argument. The judges for the Tezuka Award were all distinguished figures: editors-in-chief, famous manga artists. A small editor like him had no place in that room.
"God, I'm nervous," Heishi muttered under his breath.
۞۞۞۞
~ Push the story forward with your Power Stones