"That is precisely why I came," Hirano answered.
He had drawn Death Note as a short story rather than a serialized series specifically for the Tezuka Award.
He needed to grow, to push his draftsmanship and storyboarding further. He also needed the prize money that would improve his living situation and support a potential serialization.
For a manga artist, daily serialization alone was never enough to earn real money. The page fees were essentially eaten up by the wages paid to assistants. Managing to save even a few tens of thousands of yen in a single month was already considered remarkable.
To make real money, you had to look to the collected volumes. But even a successful serialization was a long way from getting a volume published; you had to wait at least three or four months at minimum. By then, the moment would have long passed.
Heishi read through Death Note and found himself liking it more and more, unable to put it down. He suddenly realized that the young man before him might become his trump card.
Yugioh, into which he had poured so much effort, was delivering lukewarm results with an unstable popularity ranking. He desperately needed a hit series if he was going to make a push for section chief, and he needed one badly.
Heishi rose from his seat and asked in a mild tone, "What would you like to drink? Coffee or orange juice?"
"Coffee, please."
The cold, businesslike expression from earlier had vanished, replaced by a warmth that made Hirano uneasy.
Heishi stepped out of the reception room and returned shortly after carrying two cups of coffee. He set one in front of Hirano, then sat down and leaned forward, his manner that of a man ready for a long, candid conversation.
"Death Note is fascinating. It's a rare genre for Jump, but it has a truly free-ranging imagination behind it."
"The deductive plotting is excellent as well: internally consistent, drawn in a way that's easy to follow, never falling into the trap of becoming long-winded or convoluted."
"Set against the crowd of battle manga and school manga, it might just break through."
Death Note wasn't exactly a natural fit for Jump, but as long as a manga was interesting, that was what mattered. When a manga was compelling enough, the market would bend to accommodate it.
An ordinary manga artist studied the market and drew what readers would enjoy. A genius manga artist simply drew what he himself loved, and success followed. In Heishi's estimation, Hirano was the latter.
"You're right," Hirano said, unbothered by the editor's praise, calmly raising his coffee and taking a sip.
Heishi blinked in mild surprise and tilted his head to look at him.
Quite arrogant... no, his work genuinely is outstanding, so "confident" would be the more accurate word.
He cleared his throat. "That said..."
Hirano set down his coffee and sat up straight. Everything before this moment had been preamble; now came the substance.
"Your draftsmanship is quite ordinary. You have only the most basic foundation, and it isn't doing anything to bring the story to life. If anything, it undermines the atmosphere you've worked to build."
"Take this panel, for instance."
He flipped through the Death Note storyboard to the scene where Ryuk first appears.
"Kyōtarō has been tense for a long time. The moment he finally lets his guard down, the shinigami appears without warning behind him."
"Ryuk has protruding eyes and a bestial face. The feeling he should give the reader is one of dread and horror."
"But what you've drawn here falls well short of that."
"Ryuk's figure is misshapen, the shadows on his face are misaligned; he looks less like a death god and more like a clown."
He uncapped his pen, took out a notebook, opened it to a fresh page, and wrote down a list of titles. He tore out the page and held it out to Hirano.
"You should pick up these reference books and study them. They'll make a real difference. Especially this one, Techniques of Japanese Illustrated Animation on Paper; it covers space and perspective very thoroughly."
"Thank you. I will."
Hirano bowed slightly and tucked the page away with care.
"Good," Heishi nodded. "Next, storyboarding, and this point is crucial. The narrative rhythm of a manga is expressed entirely through the storyboard."
"No matter how interesting the story, if the storyboarding is incoherent, readers still won't warm to it."
Japanese manga storyboarding worked much like film: each panel was treated as a single shot, and those shots were comHeishied to construct the story and convey emotion.
A handful of panels assembled together could express an entire sequence of events. When a reader encountered a well-constructed storyboard, their mind would naturally begin playing it back like a film. That was the mark of excellence.
"Your storyboarding leaves a great deal to be desired," Heishi said without softening it. "The panels are rigid and monotonous, nearly uniform in size, which makes it impossible to emphasize what matters or convey emotion."
"Your command of camera language is also lacking. You haven't made confident use of high angles, wide shots, close-ups, low angles, and the like."
Heishi was a seasoned editor through and through.
Even without having drawn manga himself, his command of theory was comprehensive, and he laid out Hirano's weaknesses one by one. This only made Hirano more satisfied with the prospect of having Heishi as his editor.
Heishi spoke; he listened carefully. Time passed, and neither of them grew impatient. Close to an hour had gone by before their conversation finally drew to a close.
"Thank you very much, Heishi-san. I've learned a great deal."
Hirano expressed his gratitude. Listening to Heishi had been like a fog lifting: his understanding of manga had come into sudden, sharp focus. It was the feeling of clouds parting to reveal sunlight, of a long-blocked passage opening all at once.
"That's my job," Heishi said evenly. Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, "Hirano-kun, what is your goal? To be selected for the award? To get a serialization? Or..."
"First place in the rankings," Hirano answered without hesitation. "I want to be the manga artist ranked first in Weekly Shonen Jump, to surpass Morita Masanori-sensei, to surpass Watsuki Nobuhiro-sensei."
Heishi did not find this arrogant. He nodded with approval.
"That is exactly the conviction a manga artist signed to Weekly Shonen Jump must have."
He held out his business card. "My phone number is on here. Feel free to contact me whenever you need to."
Hirano promptly gave him his home phone number in return.
"Well then, that's that."
Heishi stood up. "The Tezuka Award results come out on April 18th. I'll be in touch with you that day."
For manga newcomer award submissions, there was a threshold called the final candidates list.
What Heishi was conveying was that Death Note would absolutely make the final candidates, putting it in contention for selection. He had every confidence in Death Note.
"I'll be in your hands."
Hirano shook his hand and walked out of the reception room.
Heishi remained where he was, eyes narrowing as he watched Hirano's retreating figure.
"What a dazzling rough gem, shining brilliantly before anyone has even begun to polish it."
"What good fortune, to have crossed paths with Hirano-kun."
He glanced up at the clock and stretched.
"Aah, looks like overtime tonight."
Furuta was still standing watch in the lobby.
When he saw Hirano, his eyes went wide with disbelief.
"You... where's your manuscript?"
Hirano gestured toward the reception room. "With Editor Heishi."
"Which means..." Furuta stared in astonishment. "You got an editor's approval!"
"You could put it that way," Hirano said with a nod. "I really am lucky, aren't I."
Furuta's expression grew complicated, a tangle of feelings churning inside him.
The classmate who had seemed so downcast just a short while ago had suddenly come into a bright future, and whatever sense of superiority Furuta had felt over him evaporated in an instant. The security uniform on his back began to feel very heavy.
"E-even if you have an editor's approval, there's still only... only a one-in-ten chance you'll actually get a serialization."
"I know. Thank you," Hirano said, giving a casual wave. "Goodbye, Furuta."
He paid it no further mind and took his leave at a leisurely pace.
At that moment, the front doors of Shueisha opened and someone walked in: a young man with a round face. He and Hirano exchanged a brief glance as they passed each other.
Then a voice called out from behind.
"Oda-kun, hurry up!"
"Y, yes, coming."
Hirano turned around. His eyes went wide with shock.
That's... Oda Eiichiro?!