Chapter 35: Ichiban!
When Monday’s morning light, like a stern monarch, used its icy cold and just scepter to knock open the sleepy eyelids of Tokyo’s giant city, last night’s ceremony offered to the darkness seemed to have already dissipated without a trace.
The subway’s roar, pedestrians’ footsteps, office building coffee machine’s monotonous operation sound—everything had returned to its original order.
However, some things, once planted, would grow wildly like the most stubborn vines in the unseen soil depths.
In Suzuki’s Classroom, everyone was present, yet all seemed absent.
They sat in their own seats, their bodily postures those of work, but their souls seemed suspended in mid-air, waiting for that final feather to decide whether to ascend or fall.
The door was pushed open at this moment.
Ichiro Hashishita walked in, still holding that thin report that seemed to bear the fate of the entire classroom.
But today, his face lacked the ecstasy and madness of the previous days, replaced by a numbness unique to being repeatedly washed over by immense sense of happiness.
He walked to the desk, set the paper down, his movements as gentle as if placing a fragile porcelain piece.
The crowd gathered around, gazes sharp as torches.
“Late-night Animation《An Shizhi》, seventh week ratings: 4.22%.”
“Ratings level—top-tier!（Note: Record-breaking, number one in late-night slot.）”
4.22%.
Number one!
This number, this word, was no longer a drop of boiling oil, nor a clap of thunder.
It was like a silent holy light descending from heaven, gently yet irrefutably enveloping this small office.
No one cheered, no one shed tears.
Hoshi Minamimura slowly sat back in his chair, exhaling a long, long breath that seemed to carry away all the pent-up frustration and anxiety from his over twenty years of life.
Roji Hase walked to the window, looking at the pedestrians below still tiny as ants, feeling for the first time that he and they were perhaps no longer in the same dimension.
Yō Kitagawa stared dazedly at that number, her lips unconsciously curving upward in a smile pure as a child receiving the sweetest candy in the world.
The taste of victory is spirits at first sip, aged wine at second, and when intensely concentrated, returns to simplicity, becoming a cup of warm green tea, silently soaking your organs, making you thoroughly relaxed and floating in bliss.
4.22%.
Number one!
Kiyoto Suzuki looked at these two notations, all the wrinkles on his old face smoothing out like a chrysanthemum finally blooming toward the sunrise after wind and rain.
He knew that from today, as he walked these television station corridors again, those once pitying and contemptuous gazes directed at him would turn into awe and admiration.
In this world that speaks only through ratings, 4.22% was his scepter, number one his crown.
And granting him all this was that young person quietly sitting in the corner, seemingly oblivious to all the external glory and noise.
……
Meanwhile, in Jimbocho, hailed as the neon manga heart, inside Shueisha’s building like a gray fortress, a storm of paper and ink was quietly brewing.
《Weekly Shonen JUMP》 editorial department, here is neon’s place most touching boys’ dreams and hot-bloodedness, the air forever floating with a unique scent mixed from pre-deadline anxiety, ecstasy at discovering genius, and endless canned coffee.
“Did you all watch that last night?” A young editor opened the topic.
“My wife stayed up watching it, that story called《Contradiction》, she says she now answers friends’ calls with trepidation.”
“That’s nothing, I heard from colleagues in other departments that now all Tokyo taxi drivers are reluctant to take late-night rides to remote places, afraid of encountering ‘Bai Can’!”
“That《An Shizhi》 is simply addictive! I heard its proposal and original work are by Teacher Nohara who draws《Yu Yu Hakusho》 in our magazine!”
All gazes unanimously turned to the man sitting in the corner, carefully flipping through a stack of fresh manuscripts.
Masato Tadokoro.
At this moment, Tadokoro felt not seated in a chair, but on cloud nine.
He enjoyed the colleagues’ gazes mixed with envy and jealousy, feeling his entire career had never shone so radiantly.
He set down the manuscripts, his face carrying an experienced person’s profound sentiment: “More than addictive, it’s a miracle. But compared to《An Shizhi》, what I admire more is Teacher Nohara’s this manuscript.”
He spread the stack of manuscripts on the table like displaying a holy relic.
“Look, this is the opening of the Dark Tournament. This storyboard, this rhythm control, and this newly introduced character, the Toguro brothers… that overwhelming, despair-inducing power, captured in just a few strokes on paper. Can you believe it? This… this is what Teacher Nohara ‘casually’ drew in that hellish crunch at the television station!”
The editors crowded around, emitting gasps of cold air.
They were the industry’s top experts; they could see the terrifying talent and skill contained in these manuscripts.
It didn’t look like crunch work at all; every line, every screentone, seemed forged through a thousand refinements—precise, seasoned, filled with genius ingenuity after deep consideration.
“This guy… is he really human?” Someone murmured.
Just then, the editorial department door was pushed open; a middle-aged man in an impeccably tailored suit, hair neatly combed, but face unusually pale, walked in.
It was their group’s editor-in-chief.
The noisy office instantly fell silent.
The editor-in-chief’s gaze swept over everyone, finally landing on the spread manuscripts; he said nothing, simply walked straight over and picked up the manuscript.
“Editor-in-Chief, you…” Masato Tadokoro was somewhat nervous.
“I watched it last night too.” The editor-in-chief spoke slowly, his voice carrying a faint hoarseness as if just escaped from a nightmare: “That story called《Contradiction》 is quite interesting.”
He raised his head, looking at everyone; those usually eagle-sharp eyes now held a trace of lingering fear: “You say this《An Shizhi》 is Teacher Nohara’s work?”
“Y… yes!” Tadokoro hurriedly answered.
A shock heavier than all the editors combined flashed across the editor-in-chief’s face.
He lowered his head, looking again at the《Yu Yu Hakusho》 manuscript in hand, his gaze like beholding a national treasure capable of changing history.
He was silent for a long time before issuing a command in an unquestionable, decisive tone befitting a decision-maker.
“Tadokoro.”
“Here!”
“Starting next issue, on the《Yu Yu Hakusho》 serialization header, add a line for me.”
The editor-in-chief paused, then said word by word:
“—Super popular late-night animation《An Shizhi》 original work · proposal, genius manga artist · Hiroshi Nohara, latest masterpiece!”
“Miyamoto-sensei’s departure made many doubt our magazine’s future.”
The editor-in-chief’s gaze swept over every editor’s face, his voice resounding: “Now, we will use this way to tell all readers, all rivals—we lost an evergreen tree, but we have gained a far vaster forest!”
