After that long and promising discussion, it was clear my editor, Sato-san, was thoroughly impressed. He wanted Parasyte to appear in the next issue of Weekly Shonen Jump as a one-shot. If the response was strong — which it obviously would be — then serialization was the next step.
"Can you please review the notes we made on your manuscript and get back to me by Friday?" he asked, glancing through the pages again with a spark in his eyes.
"Yes, of course," I replied confidently. "But I think I can revise everything and return it much sooner than that."
Sato smiled. "Good. If it's solid, the next step will be inking. Let's meet again next Wednesday, then."
He extended his hand, and I shook it firmly. "Next time, Sato-san!" I said with genuine enthusiasm.
He walked me to the exit, and I stepped out of the building with a satisfied grin. It was Saturday, so I had a few days to breathe — a small break in my grind.
Meanwhile, inside the building, Sato couldn't contain his excitement.
'I need to show this to the editor-in-chief,' he thought, practically vibrating with energy. 'This could be a turning point for Shonen Jump — a story with such a strong premise, depth, and insanely polished artwork? It's a goldmine!' His grin stretched from ear to ear as he power-walked through the hallway, muttering excitedly to himself like a man possessed.
His unusual behavior earned a few puzzled stares from coworkers, but he didn't care.
"Ahem…" Realizing he was getting too carried away, he composed himself, straightened his shirt, and headed for the editor-in-chief's office.
Knock knock
A gruff voice barked from inside. "What is it now? I'm busy! Don't waste my damn time!"
Sato hesitated, then entered with determined steps. "Sir, you have to see this. I think… no — I know this could be a revolution for the magazine."
The older man barely looked up from his cluttered desk. "What the hell are you rambling about now, Sato? Another wannabe genius? Just put it in the stack and get back to work."
"But sir, I really think—"
"I said GET OUT and stop wasting my time!"
Sato's shoulders slumped. Defeated, he quietly left the office, clutching the manuscript that could've been a historic moment.
But what the editor-in-chief didn't realize was that, in just a few months, everyone — including him — would be talking about Parasyte.
He would remember this day as the moment he let a revolution slip through his fingers.
And Sato?
He'd be the one who caught it first.
What Sato truly wanted was for the editor-in-chief to recognize Parasyte's potential — to give it the spotlight it deserved. With proper backing, it could single-handedly pull Weekly Shonen Jump out of its slump. Sales had been declining for months, maybe even years. Readers were tired of recycled plots and uninspired art. The magazine kept publishing the same kinds of stories, chasing nostalgia instead of innovation.
But with Parasyte, things were different. This wasn't just another shonen knockoff. It was fresh. Raw. Visceral. A psychological thriller with stakes that felt real — and the art? God-tier.
Yet without the editor-in-chief's support, Sato had no guarantees. The one-shot would get printed, yes, but it would be buried in the middle of the magazine with barely any marketing. No highlights. No buzz. And in a market already dulled by repetition, even gold could go unnoticed without the proper shine.
Still, Sato had no intention of giving up.
If the higher-ups wouldn't push it, he would.
As he sat back at his cluttered desk, a thought struck him — unconventional, risky, but potentially brilliant.
"What if… I promoted it myself?" he muttered aloud. "Social media… yeah."
It wasn't a guaranteed path. Twitter and other Western platforms hadn't taken off in Japan the same way they had in the West. Most of his colleagues barely used them, and the corporate heads certainly didn't take them seriously. But Sato had dabbled enough to know there were small communities of manga fans out there — both in Japan and abroad — hungry for something new.
"Yes, let's do it," he whispered to himself, gripping the manuscript tightly. "I've got nothing to lose."
He opened his personal Twitter account, cracked his knuckles, and began typing.
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"Finally home," I exhaled as I stepped through the door.
I entered with the spare set of keys and called out, "I'm home."
"Welcome back, Yu! How was your day?" my mom greeted me warmly from the kitchen.
I froze for a moment. I hadn't told her I was trying to become a mangaka. In this world where manga was so unpopular, I didn't wanna worry her — not when she was finally seeing her shut-in son walk out the front door.
"Sorry, I still haven't found a job," I said, putting on my best defeated voice.
She dried her hands on a towel and gave me a tight hug. "Don't give up, I believe in you."
That hit harder than I expected.
"It's okay, Mom. I won't give up," I replied, trying not to let the guilt show on my face.
I climbed the stairs to my room, only to lock eyes with my little sister on the way.
"Hmph," she scoffed.
BAM!
She slammed her bedroom door shut without another word.
Well… I guess I deserved that. From her memories — no, my memories now — I could piece together why she resented me. I had spent years shut in, ignoring everything and everyone, leaving our mom to carry all the weight.
Still, a part of me wanted to say: "Isn't this a bit much?"
But I didn't.
Instead, I sighed, walked into my room.
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Author's note: Please leave a comment, some things you don't like and things you like, have a great week !
Power stones too plsss, also a review !!