Just by skimming the first few pages, Miyu and Misaki both felt it: That same suffocating melancholy they had experienced two months ago when reading the rough draft of 5 Centimeters per Second.
A chill crawled up Miyu's back.
"No way. Rei, is this another tragedy?"
She looked sharply at him, but Misaki's fingers never stopped turning pages.
And soon, both sisters realized something was very wrong.
In the first chapter, the heroine Hino's condition is revealed, her memory resets every time she sleeps. Only three people know the truth:
Her parents. And her closest friend, Izumi.
Then the chapter's structure suddenly shifts. The story is told backwards.
While sorting through her belongings at home, Māori discovers a sketchbook, filled with pencil portraits of a boy.
Drawings made by her past self.
But when she asks Izumi why it wasn't mentioned in her computer diary, Izumi dodges the question.
Then, the perspective shifts to Izumi. That night, Izumi takes out a notebook hidden deep in her closet.
A handwritten diary.
Miyu's instincts as a manga artist burst alive.
Wait. If Māori truly relied on diaries, why use a laptop? A digital device can break, be corrupted, or crash. A girl whose life depends on memory notes would never rely solely on a computer.
Which meant;
Izumi has been rewriting Māori's diary. Her memories have been edited. Her entire life has been edited. And Māori never knew.
Miyu's fists tightened.
This was too cruel.
Misaki turned the page.
On the first page of the handwritten diary were large, forceful words, written in the same handwriting as the sticky notes in Māori's room.
Don't forget Tōru!
The heroine had written the boy's name as the most important reminder in her entire diary.
And now, she had completely forgotten him.
Who was he? Was he the boy in the sketchbook?
Miyu felt her throat tighten.
This was exactly the kind of emotional finesse that defined a master storyteller, no exposition, no explanations. Just visuals and subtle cues, pulling the reader into despair.
Page after page, the emotional weight increased.
The narrative rewound.
Māori, who has already forgotten.
Then Māori before she forgot.
Then Māori the first time she met Tōru.
Then Māori slowly, timidly falling in love.
A girl who loses everything each time she sleeps, falling in love again and again…, and forgetting again and again.
An hour passed before Misaki finally reached the end of chapter five.
On the final page were lines from Māori's diary:
Today, Tōru told me, "I'll make sure tomorrow's you is happy."When I heard that, my heart fluttered.
For the first time, morning doesn't feel terrifying. For the first time, I want to wake up.
Miyu's eyes were red.
She looked devastated.
When she realized the manuscript ended there, a deep sense of loss washed over her.
"Hey, what about the rest?"
Rei scratched his cheek lightly.
"I haven't drawn it yet. I only drew up to the fifth chapter!"
"Then just tell me directly, why did Maori's friend, Izumi, take her diary? And why was everything else in the notebook normal, except only the entries about Toru were erased or changed?"
"I'm not spoiling that, If this manga gets a serialization slot, you'll find out then," Rei said.
For Rei, spoilers were the greatest sin imaginable, and he absolutely refused to reveal anything.
But the real issue now was, Rei glanced at Misaki.
"Editor Yukishiro, what do you think?"
"It's very captivating," Misaki said after a short pause, her voice gentle as she looked at him.
"It's just… this manga seems to be the same type of work as Five Centimeters per Second, right?"
Rei smiled but didn't comment.
"How long is this manga?" Misaki asked.
"About eleven or twelve chapters."
"So another short work?" she murmured.
"But it's much better than Five Centimeters per Second. At least this one goes beyond ten chapters."
Misaki's concern about the length was simply because a manga's commercial potential was heavily tied to its scale.
That said, Japan did have successful romance short stories of around a dozen chapters, if the work was strong enough, they could still sell extremely well.
"So…" Rei asked.
"Did I pass?"
"You pass with me. But next, it still needs to get through the serialization meeting," Misaki said.
"Mirage Weekly's serialization meeting is next Thursday. And the following week, Ametsukage Weekly will also have a series getting axed. If it doesn't get picked next Thursday, there's still another submission slot the week after."
"I understand," Rei nodded, though his expression tightened slightly.
"Rei, you don't need to worry too much," Misaki said softly.
"Although this manga is a slow-burn story, the quality of both the art and the plot is undeniable."
"Plus, the tankōbon sales of Five Centimeters per Second were excellent. That gives your new work a strong advantage going into the serialization meeting."
"It's just…" Misaki gave him a wry look.
"Your last two works both leaned toward the sad side. Your pen name Shirogane is still being cursed daily by angry fans."
"If this one ends on a sad note as well, you might face even more pressure."
"Don't worry about things like that." Rei laughed lightly.
"I'm not afraid of being cursed."
A new week arrived.
On Monday morning, Misaki submitted the application for Rei's new manga to enter Mirage Weekly's serialization meeting.
The higher-ups quickly reviewed Rei's past accomplishments and qualifications, signed, stamped, and officially gave his new work, "Tonight," the entry ticket required for the fierce competition of the serialization lineup.
Three days passed.
On Thursday morning, Misaki arrived at the office early, sorted through a stack of documents, checked the time, and exhaled slowly.
It was time.
She stood, left her office, and headed toward the meeting room at a brisk pace.
She had attended Sakura-iro Weekly's serialization meetings many times.
But this was her first time attending Mirage Weekly's serialization meeting.