Takeda first focused on the art style. A new manga artist? There must be plenty of flaws in the art. I'll make a big deal about that later.
But after reading a few pages, his expression gradually turned serious.
It's impossible to find a flawless manga in this world, but the art in 5 Centimeters Per Second was clearly above the average for manga published in Sakura Weekly. In fact, it was significantly higher.
Unwilling to give up, Takeda continued flipping through the story.
As usual, he skimmed through the pages quickly, but this didn't mean he wasn't absorbing the content. Years of professional work had honed his ability to read both quickly and thoroughly.
He quickly understood the content with a single glance, and soon he had flipped through twenty-some pages.
When he reached the scene where Takaki, while transferring trains, accidentally pulls out the handwritten letter he had intended to give Akari face-to-face, only for it to be blown away by a gust of wind and vanish into the sky, and then lowers his head and begins to cry on the train platform—
The suppressed emotions that had built up throughout the previous plot began to prepare for an eruption.
"This level of narrative immersion and emotional tension... from a rookie manga artist?" Takeda's eyes brimmed with skepticism.
Indeed, the story so far had been relatively uneventful.
Makoto Shinkai's early works were never known for their complex plots. 5 Centimeters Per Second could be summarized in a single sentence: how a childhood sweethearts drift apart over time and distance.
There must be at least eight hundred, if not a thousand, Japanese romance manga with similar themes.
But the reading experience of 5 Centimeters Per Second, with its meticulous attention to detail and subtle foreshadowing, far surpassed that of ordinary works.
As Takeda continued reading, his heart stirred when he saw the girl in the waiting room, her head bowed, still waiting until the wee hours of the morning.
He was already in his thirties, with several memorable past relationships behind him.
A student who's never been in a relationship might find 5 Centimeters Per Second painfully melancholic. But for adults who've experienced failed romances, the pain and depression are amplified by memories of past heartbreaks. Yet, alongside the pain, they might also recall the beautiful moments from those failed relationships.
Just like the tears that fell onto Akari's hand as she clutched Takaki's sleeve in the current comic panel.
Not a single word was spoken, but Akari's emotions were clear: from the initial disappointment of thinking he had stood her up, the chance they'd earned through a year of exchanged letters slipping away, and the possibility that this missed opportunity might mean they'd never see each other again.
Then, the relief and joy of seeing him arrive, reigniting her hope.
Those tears must have been scalding hot.
Walking through the night, the bare cherry blossom trees, adorned with snowflakes, resembled the springtime spectacle of blossoms drifting down.
This echoed their initial agreement to see the cherry blossoms together the following year.
A kiss beneath the cherry blossom tree in the snow.
At the train station, Akari and Takaki bid each other farewell. But after the train departed, Akari pulled out an unmailed letter from her pocket.
At this point, Takeda sensed something was amiss.
The male protagonist had lost a letter at the station earlier, and now the female protagonist wasn't delivering hers. What was this implying?
If the male protagonist hadn't lost that letter, and they had exchanged them instead, what would have happened?
Would their subsequent story have unfolded differently?
Takeda continued reading. In the second chapter, "Cosmonaut," the launch of a space satellite served as a metaphor for life.
Alone, lonely, even traveling unimaginable distances in space, unable to touch even a single hydrogen atom.
Kanae's confession ended before it even began.
Knowing their relationship was impossible, she watched alongside Takaki as the rocket launched into outer space.
This rocket was about to embark on its loneliest journey.
And what about Kanae and Takaki?
By this point, Takeda's emotions were already off-kilter.
He forgot about his rivalry with Misaki and simply kept flipping through the next pages of the manga.
A hope had taken root in his heart: if even Kanae couldn't reach Takaki's heart, then Takaki would surely one day seek out Akari.
Such an unforgettable girl—no matter how much time passed, no matter how long they were apart, he would surely one day search for her, to see her again, right?
Clutching this hope, Takeda turned to the third part of the manga.
This section focused more on the inner monologues of the male and female leads.
Both had forgotten their meeting from over a decade ago.
Yet, they both dreamed of vague scenes and remembered their once-blazing passion.
Finally, Takeda saw the scene…
The railway tracks... He saw the two figures, separated by over a decade, walking toward each other across the tracks where cherry blossoms drifted.
He saw the final, frozen image: the train passing, leaving the opposite side of the tracks empty.
Takeda's expression remained calm, but inside he felt a profound sense of loss, an indescribable ache spreading through his heart.
He glanced at the other editors at the Serialization Meeting. He wanted to say something, to criticize the manga, but the carefully prepared words wouldn't come out.
Does it even matter what I think about this work?
Everyone here has discerning taste. Can't they see what I see?
The thoughtful, pained, and sorrowful expressions in the room, and the heavy, oppressive atmosphere, clearly told Takeda of the manga's emotional impact.
"Alright, now everyone can begin their critiques," Director Kaito said, then paused before turning to Misaki.
"The author of this short manga is new?"
"Yes. And still a high school student," Misaki replied.
A ripple of surprise ran through the meeting.
Everyone knew the company had been actively supporting exceptionally young manga artists in the past two years.
This was because several competing magazine companies had recently discovered a number of college manga artists, and by hyping them as manga geniuses, their works had achieved unexpectedly high popularity..
While the depth and themes of their works might not have matched those of established literary authors, their youthful age when they debuted had allowed them to achieve sales figures that even veteran writers could scarcely dream of.
High school manga artists, you know...
Moriyama Kaito pondered this for a moment. Then, with a subtle nod from him, the discussion on the content of 5 Centimeters Per Second officially began.
"Remarkable."
"I think it's excellent."
"The ending is too sad, though. It doesn't fit with the serialization style we've maintained in Sakura Weekly," Takeda remarked, the only criticism he could muster. But before Misaki could even respond, the other editors immediately jumped in to counter.
"Emotional romance stories with regretful endings are everywhere. We've serialized plenty where the popular supporting female character rises to the top, leaving the original female lead in the dust. There's no need to worry about that."
"Even though it's a short story, the ending is deeply moving, and the art is superb."
"I really like it. This manga is incredibly touching. It reminded me of so many things from my past."