However, in the following weeks, the inspiration was fleeting and never reappeared.
If the image wasn't on paper, Takumi would no doubt think he'd dreamed it. He was worried about how to regain that illusion, and he didn't even draw comics again.
He decided to send the first chapter first. Two days before the high school entrance exam, Takumi found information about comic book shipments in a bookstore, and two publishers caught his eye.
One was Tatsuryū Publishing, a full-service publishing company. He mainly published literary works and novels. Its comic book industry was also a giant, practically monopolizing all the renowned cartoonists. The second was Hinotori Publishing, which specialized in manga publishing. It was not as large or had as much of a market as Tatsuryū, but it offered the highest royalties to new authors.
Takumi sent the original manuscript to Hinotori Publishing. He assumed that Tatsuryū, with his abundant literary resources, would underestimate him. In addition, royalties were a key point.
Hinotori's editorial department was in Osaka, Japan's second-largest city. There was still time for them to evaluate the manuscripts. Takumi focused on the high school entrance exam in Saitama Prefecture.
The exam lasted three days. Thanks to his photographic memory, Takumi felt like a fish in water. I thought I could get the highest score in almost every subject, but I didn't want to draw too much attention. He deliberately left mistakes on every exam. None had a perfect score.
The language subject was scheduled for the last day. It was the most important subject in the country.
Takumi mentally reviewed his scores. They were still too high. He wanted to lower them a little bit, as long as he was allowed into most schools.
But then something unexpected happened. Shortly after the exam bell rang, a flash of inspiration came over him again.
At that moment, Takumi was writing his name. He felt his vision blur, and suddenly the entire content of the exam became clear, like a slow-motion image.
He even knew exactly how to respond. In that state of lucidity, he was moved. He couldn't help but start writing without stopping.
"Shua shua shua!" The rapid sound of the pencil caught the attention of one of the supervisors. He frowned and walked over. What he saw almost made his jaw drop.
Takumi's hands moved like a harvester. I didn't need to think. All the blanks were quickly filled with words. The supervisor, a language teacher, felt that the answers were so accurate that he thought he was copying.
He discreetly pulled out a portable scanner. He did not detect anything irregular.
"Wasn't I cheating?"
He looked again. Takumi had already turned the blade. His hands did not stop.
What kind of monster is this?
When Takumi came out of his "flash of inspiration," he had just put the end to his essay.
The other two supervisors approached. They looked silently over his shoulder.
"Ten... Ten minutes!" murmured one as he checked his watch and adjusted his glasses. "Are you done?"
It was a miracle. They had never seen a student finish so quickly. And without a trace of cheating. As if he had memorized the exam much earlier.
Takumi nodded calmly. "I'll turn in the exam."
He got up and gathered his things. Everyone else watched him in amazement.
Silence.
Takumi left the classroom. One of the supervisors reacted late and shouted:
"Hey, wait! It's not time to deliver yet!"
But Takumi didn't stop. In that world, delivering early was not penalized. The exam had a total of 750 points. Takumi estimated that he would get more than 650. It was enough.
—
A few days after the entrance exam,
June 18, at the Hinotori building in Osaka.
The editorial team of Weekly Shonen and Kurosawa, the new editor-in-chief, were looking at the report with concern. Sales were down. Weekly Shonen Comics was its most popular magazine, but it was still below the levels of Tatsuryū Publishing.
"Was I wrong in the strategy?"
Kurosawa had asked him this many times over the past few years. But once again he shook his head.
"No. I'm sure. Going for the original was the right thing to do."
Hinotori focused his editorial line on original comics. Tatsuryū preferred to adapt novels. By comparison, Hinotori had neither the funds nor the size of its competitor. Kurosawa believed that originality was the only way out.
But why were the results still so low?
"We lack mangakas. Mangakas with real talent."
Sighed. The rise of manga was recent, and that created inequalities in quality. The problem would only be solved with time.
Still, he couldn't help but get frustrated. The industry changed every day. More and more young people wanted to dedicate themselves to manga. In five or six years, the original would be trendy. But Kurosawa couldn't wait. I knew that he probably wouldn't be there when the recognition came.
"Why doesn't a genius appear now?"
As if the universe had responded, one of the editors suddenly shouted. He stood up abruptly and scattered the manuscripts he had in a box.
"Haha, Yamada-sensei! A cockroach again?"
The entire editorial office burst into laughter. They knew that this young editor, Haruki Suno, was so sensitive that even mice or bugs made him scream.
"No, no, I cleaned the whole house!" Haruki Suno blushed and picked up the manuscript excitedly. "Look, I found a genius!"
"A genius?"
"Isn't that the work of a new author? How could he be a genius if he's a beginner?"
The other editors did not believe him. Not even the editor-in-chief, Kurosawa. Even so, he said calmly:
"Show me."
Hinotori Publishing invests a lot of effort in training new cartoonists, but the reality is that every month they receive hundreds of proposals, and only a few catch the attention of a publisher. In time, even Kurosawa had ceased to have any illusions.
He took the manuscript held out to him by Haruki and frowned at the title:
Detective Conan
He was about to throw it in the trash. Popular children's comics now focused on action, and the detective genre had very limited space.
However, he kept his brow furrowed... and continued reading.
From the first pages, the plot exceeded all his expectations. The comic began with a young man known as Japan's best detective, and the way he solved the case was clean, witty, and orderly. In the end, everything led to a surprisingly dark turn.
That episode alone – a self-contained chapter – was enough to trap Kurosawa. The author's understanding of reader psychology was at the highest level. And the illustrations... they were impeccable. It wasn't something that could be achieved without at least ten years of dedicated practice.
The most shocking thing was the last panel. It was so strong that, according to Kurosawa, it could be displayed in an art gallery. And yet, it was just another page inside a comic book manuscript.
Kurosawa froze. After a few seconds, he stood up and rested both hands on the desk.
"This is... brilliant."
His shoulders trembled. It seemed that the dream she had been chasing for years had finally found a way to come true. Excited, he couldn't help but shout:
"Buy this! Buy the rights immediately!"
If another publisher came to that work first, Kurosawa would regret it for the rest of his life.
"Suno-kun!" He raised his voice and stared at his subordinate.
"Why are you still standing there? Give me the author's number!"