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Chapter 5 : The Pitch [1]
When the phone rang, Alex was working on the final panels of Chapter 5. His pen nib was carefully cross-hatching the shadows of the chicken coop, rendering the dappled sunlight filtering through the wire mesh onto the dirt floor.
He paused mid-stroke, finishing the line before capping the pen and standing up.
Downstairs, he heard Sarah's voice. "...Yes, hold on. I'll get him."
Footsteps on the stairs. The door pushed open. Sarah held the portable phone, her expression unreadable. "It's the magazine. Someone named Sue."
Alex took the phone. "Hello? This is Alex."
"Mr. Walker," Sue Vance's voice came through the receiver. The background noise on her end was muted, professional. "The Second Round results are in. Is now a good time?"
"It is."
"Good." A brief pause. "Your manuscript passed the Second Round. The Editor-in-Chief reviewed it personally. He wants to bring it to the Serialization Committee."
Alex's grip on the phone tightened.
"The meeting is next Friday at 10:00 AM at our headquarters in the city," Sue continued, her pace brisk. "You need to bring the original manuscripts for the first five chapters, plus a detailed outline for the next two volumes. You will have fifteen minutes to present your pitch, followed by a Q&A session with the editorial board."
"Understood."
"There will be about twelve editors in the room. Most of them are industry veterans," Sue warned. "They will be direct. An agricultural slice-of-life story? With a slow pace? And a non-combat protagonist? You're walking into a firing squad. Be ready to defend your choices."
"I will be."
He heard the rustle of paper on the other end. "I've reviewed your outline. The direction is solid. But there are a few points you need to address: Hachiken's character arc needs to be sharper. He needs a tangible short-term goal early on to hook the readers. The supporting cast needs to be introduced faster, and their personalities need to pop immediately."
"Got it."
"And one more thing," Sue's voice dropped an octave, becoming serious. "Keep the paneling style exactly as it is. The Chief specifically mentioned it. Do not simplify it because you think it's 'too artsy' for a shonen magazine."
Alex blinked. "The Chief liked the paneling?"
"Yes. He said it has a 'cinematic quality' that sets it apart from the assembly-line garbage we usually see." She paused. "So, stick to your guns. That's your weapon."
"I understand. Thank you."
"I'll email you the details and the address to the account you provided. Confirm receipt when you get it. If you need travel assistance, let us know."
"Will do. Thanks, Sue."
"Don't mention it. Good luck."
The line went dead. Alex lowered the phone. Sarah was still standing in the doorway, wringing her hands on her apron.
"Well?"
"I passed," Alex said, exhaling slowly. "I have to go to the city next Friday for the big meeting."
Sarah opened her mouth, closed it, then asked, "What do you need to get ready?"
"Manuscripts. The outline. And... I probably need a suit. Or at least something that isn't flannel."
Sarah nodded, turning to head downstairs. "I'll go tell your father."
Her footsteps faded. Alex sat back at his desk, looking at the freshly inked Chapter 5. The lighting in the chicken coop looked good—he had captured the specific angle of the morning sun.
He opened his notebook to the outline page. He took a red pen and circled the points Sue had mentioned: Hachiken's arc. Supporting cast. Cinematic pacing.
The Serialization Committee.
In the manga industry, those words carried the weight of a death sentence or a coronation. It was the final boss for a rookie. Twelve editors sitting in a room, tearing your soul apart for fifteen minutes, followed by a vote that would decide if your dream lived or died.
He needed to be better than good. He needed to be undeniable.
The next morning, Alex woke up early. When he told John about the trip to the city, his father fell silent for a long moment.
"When do you leave?" John asked, staring into his coffee mug.
"Next Thursday afternoon. Meeting is Friday morning. I'll be back Saturday."
"Bus ticket?"
"Haven't bought it yet."
John reached into his back pocket, pulled out a worn leather wallet, and counted out three hundred dollars. "Take the express bus. Get a comfortable seat. And stay in a clean hotel. Don't cheap out on safety."
Alex took the cash. "Thanks, Dad."
"When you talk to them..." John cleared his throat, looking away. "Speak up. Look 'em in the eye."
He turned and walked out to the barn before Alex could reply.
Alex spent the morning refining the outline. He organized his scattered notes into a cohesive structure:
Volume 1: Adaptation to Agricultural High School.
Volume 2: Specialized Curriculum.
Volume 3: Graduation and Future Paths.
He planted narrative climaxes in each volume—the Pizza Party arc, the Pork Bowl arc, the Equestrian Cup. He made sure the growth curve was visible.
At lunch, Sarah asked, "What kind of clothes do you need?"
"Something simple. Button-down shirt, slacks. Nothing too flashy."
"There's a shop in town. We'll go this afternoon."
They drove to Oak Creek Men's Wear. The selection was limited to basics: white shirts, black trousers, beige trench coats. Alex tried on an ensemble and stood before the three-way mirror.
The reflection was strange. Seventeen years old. Healthy, sun-kissed skin from farm work. Clear, bright eyes. He remembered his past life at twenty-seven—dark circles under his eyes, pale skin from office fluorescence, a permanent slouch.
He looked different now. He looked capable.
"It fits," Sarah said, adjusting his collar. "You look like a professional."
"Thanks, Mom."
He paid for the clothes. As they walked out, Sarah spoke up. "Your father didn't sleep well last night."
Alex looked at her.
"Tossing and turning," she said, watching the sidewalk. "He won't say it, but he's nervous for you."
"I know."
"Just do your best. Whether they take it or not, just do your best."
"I will."
(To be Continued)
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