Originally, the collected edition of Five Centimeters per Second had already been selling extremely well.
Even without knowing who the manga artist "Shirogane" really was, both long-time Sakura-iro Weekly readers and brand-new readers praised the story almost unanimously.
Then came the sudden, explosive push from Aira, the superstar manga artist, and everything accelerated.
Within a few days, a massive number of Aira's fans, manga critics, and industry reporters bought the tankōbon out of curiosity.
Then they experienced the infamous "train scene" themselves.
And soon enough…
Another wave of victims joined the battlefield.
Among Aira's fanbase, the manga spread in a strangely exaggerated way, as if it were some dangerous emotional virus.
People described the manga as: "a beautiful depression bomb," "a story that gives you stomach pain," "a book that keeps you awake all night," "a manga that makes you think about your first love even if you don't want to," "a reason to text your ex at 2 a.m."
Every dramatic complaint only attracted more curious readers, and the cycle repeated endlessly.
Major media outlets also began reporting on it. And as always, news headlines went overboard: "Genius manga artist Shirogane's debut stuns the entire industry, Five Centimeters per Second crowned this year's emotional masterpiece."
"A heartbreaking work that ruins your appetite for three days!"
"The falling speed of cherry blossoms is five centimeters per second. Multiply that by the thirteen years Takaki and Akari spent apart, and you get the distance from the North Pole to the South Pole, is this hidden symbolism?"
"An incompetent creator can't move readers in ten years.
A genius can move them for ten years with just five chapters."
"Will the High School Student genius Shirogane follow legends like Hoshizaki Aira and break into the six major magazines?"
"Five Centimeters per Second, still relevant ten years from now!"
As hype piled up from every direction, sales skyrocketed.
Several provinces that initially received small shipments went out of stock almost instantly.
Hoshimori Publishing's printing facilities were strong enough to refill shelves in two or three days, but the speed of sellouts still made editors nervous.
Early Friday morning, Rei found himself restless.
The tankōbon had been released last Wednesday. First-week data was compiled up to the following Wednesday. And according to Misaki, the official numbers would be available today.
The online buzz suggested strong performance, but until the number appeared, Rei couldn't calm down.
"Two hundred thousand is the minimum passing line. Two hundred fifty to three hundred thousand is ideal…"
He repeated Misaki's words in his head.
He was still a brand-new manga artist. Still a High School Student.
Five chapters couldn't prove his ability in long-term serialization.
So even if he matched veteran artists in impact, he was still at a disadvantage.
That meant the performance of Five Centimeters per Second's tankōbon would directly decide whether his next work, Tonight, Even If This Love Disappears from the World, could be submitted to the serialization meetings for Ametsukage Weekly and Mirage Weekly.
Or if he would have to remain in Sakura-iro Weekly, building more achievements and waiting for a future chance.
Everything depended on today.
After breakfast, Rei sat at his desk, drawing backgrounds while his mind drifted.
Then;
Ring
His phone vibrated loudly.
"Misaki"
Just seeing the name made his pulse spike.
This was it.
Without hesitation, Rei tapped the screen.
He tried to sound calm.
"Editor Misaki… how did it go?" Rei inhaled softly, unable to suppress the tension.
"What are the first-week sales for Five Centimeters per Second?"
There was a brief, two-second silence on the other end of the line.
Then Misaki let out a soft, breathy laugh, light, controlled, yet undeniably filled with admiration and relief.
"360,000."
Rei's expression stayed outwardly calm, but his fingers tightened around the phone despite himself.
Misaki continued:
"Rei, the first-week tankōbon sales of Five Centimeters per Second are three hundred and sixty thousand copies."
Her voice trembled just slightly, Misaki hated revealing her emotions, yet even she couldn't completely suppress her excitement.
"This result far exceeds our projections. With this, you are absolutely qualified to submit your new work to the serialization meetings for Ametsukage Weekly and Mirage Weekly in the next two weeks."
For someone as composed as Misaki, that was the equivalent of shouting with joy.
In her two years as a manga editor, among all the works she had handled, nothing came close to this number.
360,000 in the first week.
That practically guaranteed that the total sales would exceed one million copies.
And Five Centimeters per Second was only a single-volume manga.
That meant:
Average volume sales: 1,000,000+.
An achievement almost exclusively produced by the Top Six National Magazines. Only a handful of second-tier magazines ever achieved this.
For a third-tier magazine like Sakura-iro Weekly, even 600–700k total was legendary.
Yet here Rei was, surpassing one million with a debut short story.
Of course, it wasn't just the story's power, but also the public support from superstar manga artist Aira, plus a relentless wave of glowing reviews from critics and manga media.
Every factor converged at the perfect moment.
Misaki exhaled deeply.
"Rei, spend the next few days organizing the manuscript of your new manga."
Her meaning was unmistakable.
When Misaki ended the call, Rei finally let out a long, shaky breath.
He kept telling himself to stay calm…
But there was no way he could.
Just as he placed the phone down, It rang again.
Miyu.
Rei answered, and her bright, cheerful voice immediately filled his ear.
"Congratulations, Rei!"
There wasn't a trace of competitiveness, jealousy, or frustration.Only pure, genuine happiness.
"Thanks," Rei replied with a smile.
"My manga Lament still has two more weeks until it finishes," Miyu said lightly.
"So I won't be entering the serialization meetings for Mirage or Ametsukage this round."
Then her tone shifted, serious, intent.
"But you're different. You've been preparing your new work for months. Now that Five Centimeters per Second exploded like this, you will get into those meetings."
She paused.
Then, "Rei, don't lose.
You absolutely must not lose to the other candidates at those two serialization meetings. Your next work should aim exactly where Five Centimeters per Second did, straight for number one."
Her voice softened, yet carried a fierce fire.
"Then wait for me.
Once my new manga starts serialization, I'll be the one to drag you down from that top spot."
Rei couldn't help laughing.
"Then you'd better hurry up."
"What does that mean?" Miyu demanded suspiciously.
Rei replied with a mischievous tone:
"My next manga is longer than Five Centimeters per Second, but only a little longer. Technically, it's still a short series."
"If you don't move fast enough, my next work might finish before your new one even begins serialization."
On the other end of the line, Miyu fell silent for nearly half a minute.
Then, without saying another word, she hung up.
Rei lowered the phone and couldn't stop the amused smile rising on his face. He glanced at the manuscript pages of "Tonight, Even If This Love Disappears from the World" spread out across his desk.
He had confidence in these works, Five Centimeters per Second, Tonight, and the others he planned. In his previous life, they weren't just famous; they were animated, turned into films, acclaimed worldwide, battle-tested in the harshest markets.
If they survived all that, there was no universe where they wouldn't shine in this world's manga industry.
Right now, the pen name Shirogane still wasn't well-known across Japan.
But Rei believed firmly, that within two years, that name would echo through the entire manga scene.
Of course, before that could happen, there was something crucial he couldn't ignore.
Miyu had said it bluntly:
The competition after serialization didn't matter. Rei didn't fear readers, rankings, or popularity battles.
What he did worry about was, the serialization meeting.
Readers weren't the first gatekeepers of a manga.
Editors were.
If they didn't recognize the value of a work, if they couldn't see what made a story shine, then that story would never even be allowed to appear in front of readers.
Even in his past life, Attack on Titan had infamously been rejected before finding a home.
That alone proved something:
In the manga industry, nothing is guaranteed. Anything can be dismissed if the wrong pair of eyes is judging it.
Thinking of this, Rei still maintained a positive mindset and didn't allow himself to feel any pride.