I just want to quietly draw manga Chapter 120

Haruka sat behind the wheel, stealing glances at Haruki as they drove through Tokyo. Her expression was a blend of amusement and curiosity.

“You were different today,” she said at last. There wasn’t a trace of criticism in her tone—just interest.

Some people strike back immediately when provoked. Others wait, letting grudges simmer. Haruka didn’t care which kind a person was—so long as they weren’t spineless.

What Haruki had done tonight wasn’t just gutsy. It was a challenge, plain and public.

He’d drawn a clear line in the sand against Kiyoshi. And someone like Kiyoshi—well-connected, respected, and ruthless—wasn’t the type to take something like that lying down. The moment he saw an opening, he’d go for the kill.

But Haruki? He looked completely unfazed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s January. New Year’s is coming up. I said ‘next year’—that could mean two years from now. You really think I won’t catch up by then?”

He leaned back in the seat, calm and confident. “I’ve only been in the industry a little over a year, and I’ve already come this far. If I can’t surpass someone like Kiyoshi in two more, then maybe I don’t belong in this business.”

He let out a slow breath. After everything today, it felt good to say it out loud.

Haruka gave him a long look. “So? You hiding something? A new project strong enough to make you this confident?”

She’d been suspicious ever since he mentioned the idea of serializing two works at once. And after his boldness tonight, she was almost certain he had something.

But Haruki just shook his head. "Not yet", he thought. 'I haven’t even used that A-rank draw. What if I get something too niche? Or a genre totally out of sync with the market?'

He wasn’t about to make promises blindly. If the draw gave him something too sentimental, or a theme that wouldn't fly with readers, he’d rather leave the reward untouched than force it into publication.

Haruka narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, firm.

“…Fine,” she muttered. “But knowing you, if you're hiding something, you won’t be able to sit on it for long.”

Haruki just smiled.

She dropped him off at his apartment. “I’ll be watching,” she said simply, then pulled away into the night.

—

That night, clips from Haruki’s interview began quietly trending online.

The part where he openly said he’d surpass Kiyoshi lit up discussion threads.

Predictably, fans from both sides clashed in the comments. But Kiyoshi’s fanbase was much bigger, and Mizushiro’s supporters quickly got drowned out in a wave of mockery.

Haruki noticed the backlash, but didn’t engage. He quietly disabled comments on his Fend.

He wasn’t bothered by personal criticism—but seeing his fans overwhelmed and ridiculed did leave a bad taste.

To Kiyoshi’s followers, it looked like he was backing down. Running from the heat.

But Haruki didn’t care how it looked.

Let them talk.

Once his next project dropped—and the results spoke for themselves—there’d be nothing left to say.

But Mizushiro’s closing shot at Tatsuya still lingered online, stirring the pot.

Even those who weren’t Tatsuya fans thought it was a bit much. Mocking someone after a win? That didn’t sit well.

When the clip made the rounds, Tatsuya didn’t respond.

Mizushiro’s meteoric rise had earned him a reputation as a creative force. But that didn’t give you a free pass to bulldoze through the industry.

Disputes between artists usually happened behind the scenes. After all, this was a small world—Tokyo might be big, but the manga industry was tight-knit. Public rivalries were rare. And burning bridges could come back to bite you.

But Mizushiro didn’t seem to care.

Where did all this confidence come from?

Plenty of promising series had flopped before. He hadn’t even hit his peak yet, and here he was, talking about surpassing Kiyoshi in two years?

—

A few days later, New Year’s Eve arrived.

Haruki gave year-end bonuses to Kenta and Naoya, then sent them home for the holiday.

As for himself—no family nearby, no plans to travel—he stayed in Tokyo. It didn’t matter where he spent the New Year. Home was wherever his desk was.

They’d finished their drafts for the holiday weeks ago. There was nothing pressing left to do.

He ordered a full New Year’s Eve meal from a local place and had it delivered.

Sitting alone in front of the TV, watching the New Year’s special and picking at his food, he felt a bit like a retired old man.

The thought made him laugh.

Anyone on the outside would probably think he was some kind of shut-in. But he’d grown used to this rhythm—and honestly, he liked it.

No pressure, no obligations. Just the work he loved, on his own schedule.

The only thing that nagged at him was how fully his life revolved around manga. He was drawing almost every single day.

“Well, whatever,” he muttered, brushing the thought aside. “No need to overthink it.”

A half-decent show came on, and he leaned back to enjoy the rest of the night.

—

While Haruki rang in the New Year quietly, the team at Kazanami Animation was running on fumes.

They got two days off—then were called back to work on January 5th.

Yes, the overtime pay was generous. But frustration still lingered, until Kazuya, the project lead, promised everyone rotating holidays once the schedule calmed down. That helped… a little.

Anime production had long since evolved past the rigid seasonal model. Unlike the parallel world’s old core broadcasting blocks, most shows here launched online, with only top hits landing on TV.

Streaming was king.

Anohana, Mizushiro’s upcoming anime adaptation, was set to premiere on a Wednesday night in mid-February. It would stream on every major platform at once—something only a heavyweight like Kazanami could pull off.

But as the launch approached, Kazuya’s anxiety grew.

Twenty-two new anime series were debuting in February. Of those, seven were based on manga, ten adapted from novels, and five were original works.

One of the biggest threats was a sequel to an original anime that had exploded in popularity the previous summer.

Kazanami’s hope was to release Anohana early enough to go head-to-head with it.

Another major contender: Divine Sandbox, a dark fantasy based on a hit web novel.

The story followed Kane, a man who discovers his world is a fabricated illusion crafted by a dying false god. This god, once human, had stolen divine power and now spent his final years building a literal sandbox universe—shrinking civilizations down to miniatures and watching them rise and fall for his own twisted amusement.

Kane learns the god will reset everything in a year. The stakes? Total annihilation.

The novel had sold over a million copies and was known for its weighty themes. If the anime landed right, it could be a game-changer.

Then there was I’m Living Off My Sister’s Fame in Another World, a much lighter (and frankly absurd) isekai series. A teenage boy and his genius sister are transported to a fantasy realm, where she becomes the continent’s strongest magister—and he, well, coasts on her reputation.

The competition was fierce.

For Anohana, it was shaping up to be a tough season.