What Haruka said was true. The executives at Echo Shroud Publishing were stunned when they heard Haruki wanted to end both of his current manga.
Mizushiro, what are you thinking?
Two of the most popular series in the country, and you want to end both?
Don't you realize how much attention and income the ongoing serialization of these titles still brings?
Editor-in-chief Katsumi felt a headache coming on the moment Haruka brought him the news.
He'd seen this sort of thing before. Creators riding a wave of success suddenly deciding to drop their popular series—usually in the name of artistic ideals or chasing a new direction. Most of them ended up regretting it.
And yet... Haruki wasn't like most.
By now, Haruki's talent was widely acknowledged not just at Echo Shroud, but throughout the industry. Even while juggling two serialized manga, he had somehow managed to lead production on three successful anime.
Katsumi didn't doubt Haruki's ability to create another hit. But Echo Shroud was still a business. And businesses minimize risk.
Yes, he might succeed again. But what if he didn't?
The problem was, Haruki's contract didn't include any restrictions on when he could end a series. He'd been careful when he signed it. If he insisted on finishing both, there wasn't much they could do.
"I'm set to retire in a few months," Katsumi muttered, rubbing his temples. "And this is what I'm left with?"
He sighed and called Haruka.
"Haruki's request puts us in a difficult spot. Over half of our current readership follows his two works in Shroud Line. If he ends them both, it'll hit the magazine hard. But from what you're saying, he's firm in his stance… Still, he's young. Talk to him again. Try to convince him to reconsider."
"And if I can't?" Haruka asked.
"That's why I'm asking you to try harder," Katsumi said, looking at her.
"No… What I mean is—what if I really can't change his mind?" she pressed, her tone serious.
She hoped Haruki would reconsider, but deep down, she knew he likely wouldn't. This wasn't just about persuading him. It would shape their relationship moving forward and affect Haruki's view of Echo Shroud as a publisher.
The air grew tense.
Katsumi suddenly smiled and broke the silence. "Then what choice do we have? We're not going to make him an enemy."
"Let him go ahead. That'll be the next editor-in-chief's headache. I'm nearly out the door anyway. And honestly, with Haruki's proven track record, it's better to bet on what he might create next than cling to the old work out of fear."
"I'll put in a recommendation before I leave," he added. "But what the execs decide after that… I can't say."
"I understand." Haruka nodded with a quiet breath of relief.
Privately, she agreed with Katsumi.
As a professional, she had tried to caution Haruki. It made sense to maintain momentum, let both works run their course, then launch something new later.
But as a friend and someone who believed in his ambition she supported him.
If Haruki's aim wasn't just to dominate the ranks at Echo Shroud, but to reach something higher… then yes, ending Initial D and Natsume's Friends Journal was the right move.
Compared to the top-tier action titles in Gilded Lock and Chain veil, Natsume lacked the same punch. Initial D, while outstanding, still fell into a niche genre—underdog sports stories. The industry trend, both locally and globally, remained consistent: battle manga reigned supreme.
If Haruki truly wanted to leave a legacy, one that defined an era… then starting a new series possibly in the action genre wasn't just reasonable. It was necessary.
But... action manga was a brutal arena.
Even Dream world, created by Airi , struggled to stand out despite industry-wide praise. The editorial departments of Gilded Lock and Chain veil were packed with elite creators who dominated the category. Most other authors' action manga barely registered.
There was even a saying in the manga world:
If you want to be a good mangaka, go to any of the Top Seven Publishing. But if you want to be great, go to Gilded Lock and Chain veil,
Could Shroud Line with its more experimental, genre-diverse catalog really offer Haruki the platform to climb higher?
After all, the strength of Shroud Line was also its weakness. It embraced all genres, and while many first-class works were born there—romance, horror, detective, battle it rarely produced the kind of generational mega-hit that lived in the public consciousness for decades.
In the weeks that followed, Haruki threw himself back into work.
He wasn't learning animation techniques per se, but how to communicate clearly with his production teams how to convey intent and preserve nuance through every layer of the process. After all, every adaptation filtered his original vision.
Whether that filter strengthened or diluted his work… depended entirely on him.
Thankfully, Haruki still had a decent foundation in animation. While his grades had been average back in school, he wasn't starting from zero and Kazuya saw his effort and mentored him without hesitation.
Progress came quickly.
May slipped by.
Ryuko, meanwhile, had become busy after signing a voice-acting contract with T-Bone Animation. She hadn't seen Haruki in days.
She felt a twinge of regret. At her birthday party, she'd walked home wearing his coat and sharing his umbrella. That had given her two perfect excuses to see him again once to return the coat, once the umbrella.
Compared to her friends' experiences chasing romance, Ryuko's situation was... lonely. Other girls confessed, got rejected, and still made progress. Some even got together in a matter of weeks.
But Haruki? His hormones only lit up during games or anime. She could call his name three times and he'd still be lost in a scene.
If she didn't take the initiative chatting on Line, phoning him, inviting him to co-op games he'd vanish from her world for weeks.
Now, she'd been too busy to reach out for a few days… and he hadn't even noticed.
Am I really that forgettable? she wondered.
By June, Haruki had fully committed to manga and anime work.
Echo Shroud had sent over staff to try and dissuade him from ending his series, but Haruki politely reiterated his decision.
The two sides were at a standstill.
Meanwhile, production for Puella Magi Madoka Magica was progressing smoothly. After the success of 5 Centimeters per Second and Voices of a Distant Star, funding wasn't an issue.
Natsume's Friends, airing since April, still had three episodes left and was holding strong in the top rankings. Among all anime broadcast in the country this year, 5 Centimeters per Second and Natsume occupied the first and second spots in average views.
A new anime airing in June looked promising and might climb to #3, but it still had only a few episodes out. As of now, Natsume sat securely in third.
That meant Haruki was responsible for three of the top four anime this year—whichever way the numbers shook out.
No one dared underestimate his studio anymore.
Even if Madoka Magica didn't match the emotional resonance of 5cm or Voices, it would almost certainly land in the year's top ten. Plenty of creators would kill for the chance to join such a project and still couldn't get in.
Some media outlets were even jokingly calling this year "The Year of Mizushiro."
Of course, the real competition would ramp up in the second half of the year, when most studios released their biggest titles.
Still, every major studio had Mizushiro's name on their minds. Some even used his record-breaking average view counts as internal benchmarks.
By mid-June, production on Initial D's anime adaptation had officially begun.
The studio asked Haruki to act as a creative consultant which he agreed to.
Manga could only do so much in still frames. The animation team needed help understanding certain dynamic sequences. And while Haruki wasn't the original author, he knew the work inside and out. He'd watched the movie and series repeatedly in the system's inner world. Translating iconic scenes into animation was second nature by now.
Still, something about the production company felt familiar.
He checked the materials Haruka had sent. T-Bone Animation.
Right—wasn't that where Ryuko had just taken a voice role?
If Ryuko knew he'd remembered that on his own, she'd probably be thrilled.
Maybe she'd feel reassured he was paying attention to her work after all.
He kept reading.
Producer: Sayaka Yano.
Never heard of her, Haruki thought. But she sounded like a woman.
A female animation producer… not something you saw every day.
Haruki casually replied to Haruka's message. He agreed to stop by their office on weekends moving forward.
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