….
Masashi Kishimoto's small apartment had never felt quite so surreal as it did on this final morning of what had been the strangest week of his twenty-eight years.
Two drawing boards set up side by side, his own cluttered workspace where he had struggled with his ninja story for months, and the makeshift setup they had arranged for his unexpected mentor.
The sound of brush against paper filled the quiet space as Regal worked on what had become his morning ritual over the past seven days.
Each day, he would arrive early, settle into the cramped corner Kishimoto had cleared for him, and spend hours practicing techniques that Kishimoto had demonstrated with increasingly amazed reluctance.
Terrifying, Kishimoto thought, watching Regal's hand move with the kind of confident precision that had taken Kishimoto years to develop.
That's the only word for how fast this man learns.
When they had first met a week ago, Regal had claimed to have 'some drawing experience' but had been modest about his abilities.
That modesty, Kishimoto now understood, was either profound humility or a complete misunderstanding of what constituted normal artistic development.
Watching him work now, Kishimoto felt like he was observing someone absorb techniques through osmosis rather than practice.
It had all started a few months earlier with a knock on his door that had interrupted one of his increasingly frequent episodes of creative frustration.
Kishimoto had been staring at the same panel for two hours, trying to capture the exact expression that would convey his protagonist's internal conflict, when the sound had broken through his artistic paralysis.
Standing in his doorway was a young man about his own age, holding a bag of convenience store ramen and wearing an apologetic smile that immediately marked him as someone who understood the starving artist lifestyle.
"Kishimoto-san? My name is Nanami Kento. I am... Well, this might sound strange, but I have a friend who would very much like to meet you. He is interested in your work."
Kishimoto's first instinct had been suspicion.
Unknown people didn't seek out struggling mangaka unless they were selling something or running some kind of elaborate scam.
But Nanami's demeanor, respectful, genuine, and carrying food - had convinced him to at least listen to the proposition.
"Your story." Nanami explained after they had settled into Kishimoto's tiny living space. "Someone showed him some of your early manuscripts, and he believes it has tremendous potential. He would like to discuss... well, providing support while you develop it further."
The conversation had sounded too good to be true.
Wealthy benefactors didn't simply appear in the lives of unknown artists, offering financial support without demanding immediate returns or creative control.
Kishimoto had agreed to the meeting primarily out of curiosity and the recognition that his current situation offered little to lose.
Between agreeing to meet this mysterious 'Regal' and the actual encounter, Kishimoto had done what any responsible person would do in such circumstances -
He had researched both men as thoroughly as his limited internet access would allow.
Nanami Kento had turned out to be exactly what he had claimed: a voice actor about a year and a half into his professional career, with a growing reputation in the industry and connections that suggested genuine legitimacy rather than elaborate fraud.
But learning about Regal had been... overwhelming.
Kishimoto still remembered the moment when his research revealed exactly who had requested this meeting.
The name 'Regal' had initially meant nothing to him, but cross-referencing it with 'Hollywood director' had produced results that had left him staring at his computer screen in disbelief.
Two films.
One film already achieved that feat, while other is currently still running towards what Americans called the 'one billion dollar' mark at the global box office.
In Japanese yen, those numbers represented figures so astronomical that Kishimoto's mind had difficulty processing their meaning.
He had tried to calculate exactly how much money that represented in terms he could understand - how many years of living expenses, how many art supplies, how many decades of creative freedom such success could purchase.
The math had been staggering enough that he had initially assumed he had made some error in his research or currency conversion.
The Billion-Dollar Question.
Even now, a week after meeting Regal in person, Kishimoto found himself periodically attempting to reconcile the modest, genuinely curious person working quietly beside him with the entertainment industry titan that his research had revealed.
One billion dollars in Japanese yen is approximately 100 billion yen, he reminded himself for what felt like the hundredth time.
That's 100,000,000,000 yen.
Per film.
Two films.
The numbers remained incomprehensible no matter how many times he reviewed them.
Kishimoto's entire annual living expenses - rent, food, art supplies, everything, amounted to roughly 1.2 million yen.
Regal's films had generated enough revenue to sustain Kishimoto's lifestyle for...
He had given up trying to calculate the exact number of years because the result had seemed absurd.
And yet here was this monumentally successful person, sitting on a cheap cushion in Kishimoto's cramped apartment, completely absorbed in learning brush techniques that Kishimoto had assumed any serious artist would already know.
What had started as awkward attempts to explain basic manga drawing techniques had evolved into something resembling a genuine sensei-student relationship, though Kishimoto increasingly wondered who was actually learning more from whom.
Regal's questions revealed depths of understanding about visual storytelling that went far beyond what Kishimoto had expected from someone whose background was in live-action filmmaking.
When Kishimoto demonstrated how to use line weight to guide readers' eyes through action sequences, Regal had immediately grasped not just the technique but its underlying psychological principles.
"The thicker lines create emphasis that mimics how peripheral vision works." Regal had observed after watching Kishimoto work on a fight scene. "You are essentially directing attention the same way cinematography uses focus and composition, but through different visual mechanisms."
Kishimoto ignored Regal's slightly mispronounced words of Japanese and focused on what he said - he is already grateful Regal understands Japanese without need of translators around them.
Anyway, such insights had become common throughout their week together.
Regal would absorb a technique through observation, practice it until he had achieved competency that should have required weeks of development, then analyze its underlying principles in ways that often taught Kishimoto new approaches to his own work.
Despite spending a week in close creative collaboration, Kishimoto still felt like he understood very little about what was actually happening or why someone of Regal's stature had chosen to invest time and resources in an unknown manga artist struggling to achieve serialization.
The financial arrangement Regal had proposed remained almost too generous to believe.
Monthly payments that would cover all of Kishimoto's living expenses, plus additional funds for art supplies and professional development, with no immediate expectations beyond continuing to develop his ninja story according to his own creative vision.
"I am not buying your work." Regal had explained during one of their conversations. "I am investing in your development as an artist. The story you're creating has the potential to become something extraordinary, but only if you have the time and resources to develop it properly, without the pressure of immediate commercial success."
The arrangement included provisions for international adaptation rights once the manga achieved successful serialization in Japan, but those seemed almost secondary to Regal's genuine interest in the creative development process itself.
….
Days followed.
Tatami mats creaked faintly as Regal shifted his weight, cross-legged on the floor. A mug of green tea stood untouched beside his sketchbook, its steam long gone.
Opposite him, Kishimoto hunched over his low drawing table, mechanical pencil dancing in quick, precise motions. Paper scraps were scattered everywhere like fallen leaves - rough character doodles, panel thumbnails, and sticky notes scrawled in a hurried mix of kanji and hiragana.
Regal watched the pencil lines carve out another mischievous grin on the face of a boy in orange goggles.
"Do you always sketch on plain copy paper?" He asked.
Kishimoto glanced up, blinking. "Mm. It's cheaper, if I mess up, I don't feel guilty." He smiled faintly and went back to drawing.
It wasn't the answer Regal cared about - it was the pause, the flicker of defensiveness in the man's eyes.
This whole meeting was delicate. He wasn't here to impose, not outright.
Instead, he turned his own page and began scratching awkward lines, trying to draw what might have been a frog, or maybe an inkblot pretending to be one.
"God, this is awful." He muttered. "I think the frog's committing seppuku."
Kishimoto snorted unexpectedly. "You are holding the pencil like you are afraid of it."
"Maybe I am." Regal grinned. "I make movies, the pen doesn't move when you yell 'action' at it."
A comfortable quiet settled again, broken only by the soft scratching of graphite. Outside the paper screen, distant cicadas buzzed against the summer heat.
In truth, Regal's real aim wasn't to learn how to draw.
It was to let Kishimoto lower his guard.
Because trying to meddle with someone's story, especially someone as gifted as this, would only backfire if done bluntly.
Kishimoto wasn't famous yet, and Naruto wasn't even serialized, but Regal could already see it, the raw talent glowing through every page.
Genius, through and through.
And geniuses notice their own flaws.
They just don't always have the time or distance to fix them.
So Regal chose the indirect route: conversation, not correction.
"You always start from the eyes, huh?" Regal murmured after a moment.
Kishimoto didn't look up. "Yeah. Eyes first. If the eyes are alive, the character will follow."
Regal nodded as if absorbing a secret. "So… when you say the story is almost ready… how much is actually down on paper? The whole arc?"
Kishimoto hesitated. "Some of it, the first few chapters are in name form. Rough storyboards. But… after that it's only pieces, themes, rivalries. I am still figuring out the ending." He fiddled with his eraser. "That's normal, though. Editors say it's better to build as you go."
"Build as you go." Regal echoed. "Like weekly bricklaying."
Kishimoto smiled, more confident now. "Most manga start with just a one-shot. If it does well, Jump lets you serialize, but… weekly is fast. You don't have time to rethink everything once it starts."
Regal nodded slowly.
That fit what he had researched, first a one-shot to impress, then the brutal rhythm of weekly deadlines.
No wonder stories fail to be gripping.
He flipped through Kishimoto's scattered sheets.
Naruto was there in spirit - a loud, lonely boy with a demon fox sealed inside him, wanting to be respected.
There was a rival, dark-haired, brooding.
A pink-haired girl whose face was still mostly blank.
It was brilliant… and it wobbled at the same time.
"Mind if I say something?" Regal asked, still casual.
"Go ahead."
"Okay. So… this world you are building, it's huge. Clans, Chakra, Ninjutsu, Genjutsu, Taijutsu, Spirits, Demons." He traced a finger along a page. "But your hook - Naruto himself, kind of gets buried under it all."
Kishimoto frowned, considering.
Regal continued gently. "Readers need to cling to something simple at first. Like - why do they care if Naruto becomes Hokage? What does it mean to him? You have got the pieces… just not the thread tying them together."
Kishimoto sat back, lips pursed.
Regal sensed the door cracking open, so he went on, voice still light. "Also, right now there is no clear 'why now.' No main villain pushing the plot, just a lot of fun training and pranks. Which is fine, but… if you hint early that someone was behind the Nine-Tails attack, maybe even someone tied to Naruto's parents… that gives the story gravity."
"Hmm…" Kishimoto tapped his pencil against his teeth. "That… might work."
"And Sasuke-" Regal added quickly. "He is cool. But he is only cool, give him a purpose, a wound. Why does he want strength?"
Kishimoto's brows knit. "I thought about making his clan… all killed. By someone close."
"That." Regal said. "It is a goal that gives him drive."
Silence again, but this time Kishimoto wasn't defensive.
He waited, then, carefully, he nudged. "You mind if I ask something… not as a critic, just… as another storyteller?"
Kishimoto glanced sideways, wary but curious. "Go on."
"Well… if Naruto is carrying this massive demon inside him… wouldn't the village fear him more? I mean, right now in your notes they kind of… ignore him? They ostracize him a bit but still let him live alone and go to school like normal."
Kishimoto frowned. "You think that's… off?"
"Not off, just… light. If they hated him, they would do more than gossip. It might be interesting if he is more isolated, if the pain feels heavier. Then his dream to be Hokage hits harder."
Kishimoto slowly nodded, lips pressing thin. He made no note of it yet, but Regal could see the seed take root.
Encouraged, he added gently. "Also, power scaling. You said Kakashi teaches them teamwork, but… he is so much stronger than them that the stakes feel uneven. What if early on, the missions have more danger? Something where they scrape through not because of power, but creativity?"
Kishimoto tapped the eraser against the table. "Hmm… like… traps, or clever teamwork."
"Somthing similar. Not bigger explosions - just… cleverness."
They lapsed back into silence as Kishimoto went back to sketching. Regal let him.
You couldn't force genius, only coax it. This was how it had to be done, dropping thoughts here and there, never pushing, just offering. Because someone as brilliant as Kishimoto had already sensed these gaps himself.
It wasn't about teaching him anything. It was about giving him space, and the quiet assurance that if he wanted to push further, he had support.
Regal had the funds to make sure deadlines didn't kill the spark before it caught flame.
And maybe, with that gentle push, the story could become something even greater than what it once was.
….
After a while, Regal spoke softly. "You have got Naruto's voice down. And Sasuke has that rival energy… but what about the girl? Sakura, right?"
Kishimoto's pencil slowed. "Mm. She is the smart one, top of the class. Kind of… balances them out."
Regal tilted his head. "Does she have a personal goal?"
"She likes Sasuke."
A small, patient silence settled between them.
"Is that all?" Regal asked gently, not looking up.
Kishimoto blinked, like the question hadn't occurred to him. "I… guess, she's supported. She's the normal one."
Regal nodded slowly. "That can work… but if she is just the girl who likes Sasuke, people might not remember her. Especially next to two boys with monsters inside them."
Kishimoto gave a rueful half-smile. "I know, I just… I don't know what else to give her yet."
"Maybe think of her strengths that aren't just 'being smart'." Regal offered. "Something emotional, something only she can do for the team. If Naruto is chaos and Sasuke is in control, maybe she has empathy, or strategy. Something unique."
Kishimoto scribbled a small note in the margin, thoughtful now. "Empathy… huh."
Regal let the moment breathe, then added. "And, just as a thought, female readers will want someone to see themselves in. If she only exists around the boys, it might feel… shallow. Maybe she could want to be a great ninja on her own terms, not just because of them."
Kishimoto leaned back, rubbing his temple. "It's true… she doesn't really drive anything yet."
"Then give her something that scares her." Regal said quietly. "Something to overcome, fear makes people real."
.
….
[To be continued…]
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