novelraw Chapter 2: Yamishibai
Chapter 2: Yamishibai
"I've got a royalty payment coming in for my manga — YuYu Hakusho. I've mentioned it to you before."
Hiroshi smiled.
As he spoke, he glanced at the clock on the wall and realized he was running short on time. He quickly shoveled a couple more mouthfuls of breakfast and reminded Misae, "So once I've saved up enough, I'll set you up with your own cafe. That's way better than working at Oyamada Bussan, don't you think?"
"Of course!" Misae's eyes lit up instantly, her cheeks flushing pink with excitement.
What girl didn't dream of opening her own cafe?
Elegant and stylish.
If she could pair it with a smart women's business suit that screamed sophistication, or a graceful, alluring evening gown—
Just thinking about it made Misae giddy.
But while Misae was lost in her excitement, Hiroshi's expression darkened ever so slightly as he kept his eyes on his food.
It was only a fleeting shadow.But he genuinely had no fondness for Oyamada Bussan.
'If I remember correctly, in the original story, Misae's only job was working as a stock clerk at Oyamada Bussan.'
'But she was groped by her supervisor and fought back in fury.'
'Then she quit.'
That was exactly where Hiroshi's dark mood and disgust toward Oyamada Bussan stemmed from.
Granted, the storyline was just a storyline.
But since he had already taken over as Nohara Hiroshi, and since the inertia of the plot had brought him and Misae together—
He had no intention of letting that revolting scenario play out again.
Especially considering Japan's notorious "pervert" culture.
Hiroshi was determined to eliminate every possibility of it happening.
Even back in his previous life on Earth, that culture had become little more than an anime meme — but if it happened to your own girlfriend or wife in real life, it would be truly sickening.
That was precisely why Hiroshi had rejected the idea of Misae working at Oyamada Bussan outright.
'But things are looking up.' As he ate, a grin formed in his mind.
He glanced at the drawing board and the artbook in the corner.
The corners of Hiroshi's mouth curled higher and higher. 'This world may have a manga industry just as thriving as Japan's in my previous life, but it's a parallel world after all. There's no Miyazaki, no Tezuka, no Toriyama, no Oda, no Fujiko F. Fujio — and no that old slacker Togashi, either.'
None of those manga artists existed here.
And naturally, neither did any of the masterpieces they'd created.
So during his university years, Hiroshi had tested the waters by submitting Togashi Yoshihiro's YuYu Hakusho to this world's Shonen Jump — and it had been picked up by an editor, launching a successful weekly serialization.
By now, he'd accumulated a tidy sum.
'Plagiarizing old Togashi — truly, not a shred of guilt!' Hiroshi could barely suppress his grin at the thought.
Perhaps it was a perk of transmigration — in this life, accessing his memories from his previous world was effortless.
It was like flipping through a slideshow.
So after picking up some basic manga drawing techniques, he had successfully recreated YuYu Hakusho down to the last detail.
And this time, tucked inside the artbook he'd carefully prepared, lay his trump card — the ace up his sleeve for his big move.
When it came to getting into Tokyo Broadcasting System, Nohara Hiroshi was brimming with confidence!
And when it came to changing his and Misae's destiny—
He was equally certain!
"I'm done."
Looking at Misae's adorable little face, gazing up at him with something close to reverence, Hiroshi felt a warm flutter in his chest.
He quickly polished off everything on his plate.
Then downed the last of his miso soup in one gulp.
Hiroshi gave the still dazed and teddy-bear-like Misae a quick, feather-light kiss on her small lips, then stood and swiftly changed into a sharp suit. Grabbing the artbook he'd prepared, he announced, "I'm off."
"Ah... Hai!" Misae snapped to attention and immediately dropped into a deep bow before him. "I wish you safe travels!"
"Of course." Hiroshi smiled, pushed open the front door, and left.
It was rush hour.
The elevators and the subway were both packed to the brim.
Or rather, absurdly packed.
'This is no different from Japan in my previous life. Public transit clearly can't keep up with the country's development.'
Hiroshi squeezed off the subway, clutching his artbook.
His suit was already a wrinkled mess.
He spotted the Tokyo Broadcasting System building in the distance — its broadcast tower had practically become a landmark of the Tokyo metropolitan area — and pushed forward against the tide of commuters flooding toward their offices.
But as he passed by a convenience store and caught a glimpse of his somewhat disheveled reflection, he frowned. 'This won't do.'
The Japanese valued etiquette.
Including attention to personal grooming.
Considering how hard he'd worked to get his classmate to arrange this introduction — a critical step in the entertainment industry career he was planning—
Hiroshi ducked into the convenience store and, under the pretense of making a phone call, quickly tidied up his appearance.
Once he confirmed he looked as sharp and put-together as when he'd left home—
Only then did he pick up the payphone receiver.
He dialed a number.
After all, in this version of Japan's timeline, it was still 1990 — the very dawn of the nineties. Mobile phones existed, but they were far from widespread.
The average household certainly couldn't afford one.
The number Hiroshi dialed was an office landline.
Ring... ring... ring...
After a few tones, the call connected. "This is Suzuki Kiyoto." A weary, middle-aged voice answered.
"Hello, Mr. Suzuki. My name is Nohara Hiroshi — your nephew Suzuki Kawa introduced us. I'm the author of YuYu Hakusho, currently serialized in the weekly Shonen Jump. I'm outside your building now."
Hiroshi gave a brief, concise introduction.
A subtle shift crept into the voice on the other end. "Oh, it's you — that up-and-coming manga artist."
"You're too kind," Hiroshi replied respectfully.
"All right, I'll send someone down to get you." Suzuki Kiyoto paused to think for a moment before making the arrangements. "We'll chat when you're up here."
"I look forward to meeting you, Mr. Suzuki." Hiroshi described his appearance and mentioned the artbook in his hand, then hung up.
After paying the convenience store for the call, he walked briskly to the front entrance of Tokyo Broadcasting System, artbook in hand.
He waited quietly under the suspicious gazes of the security guards.
It wasn't long before—
A young woman, around twenty years old, wearing a company uniform and an employee badge, came hurrying out through the main doors.
She spotted Hiroshi almost immediately — the handsome young man in a well-fitted suit, carrying a briefcase and an artbook.
She walked over quickly and asked, "Excuse me, are you Hiroshi-kun?"
"That's me." Hiroshi nodded.
"Oh, wonderful." The girl let out a visible sigh of relief, a sweet smile spreading across her face, complete with two little dimples. She gestured invitingly. "Section Chief Suzuki is expecting you. Please, follow me."
"Thank you for showing me the way." Hiroshi fell into step behind her. After a quick sign-in at the reception desk, they entered the impressive building.
They took the elevator up to the floor where Suzuki Kiyoto's office was located.
"Section Chief Suzuki, Hiroshi-kun is here." Through their brief conversation along the way, Hiroshi had learned the young woman's name was Kitagawa Yao.
"Come in." The same weary voice from the phone call drifted out from inside. Suzuki Kiyoto, sounding just as tired in person.
Hiroshi pushed the door open and stepped in.
It was a small room, roughly ten square meters, but it was crammed wall-to-wall with books and artbooks — including a fair number of weekly Shonen Jump manga magazines, the kind young people loved.
The whole room had a slightly chaotic feel to it.
And there, behind the desk in the center of the room, sat a somewhat balding man in his fifties, wearing glasses. His head was bowed as he scribbled furiously with a fountain pen.
"If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave, Section Chief Suzuki." Kitagawa Yao announced and slipped out of the room with a quiet acknowledgment from within.
Now it was just Hiroshi and the Section Chief.
"I know who you are, Hiroshi-kun. My nephew Kawa gave me quite a thorough introduction." Once Kitagawa Yao had left, Section Chief Suzuki — Suzuki Kiyoto — looked up, adjusted his glasses, and waved Hiroshi closer.
"Mr. Suzuki, I'm deeply grateful to Kawa-kun for the introduction, and I thank you for giving me this opportunity."
Hiroshi was nothing if not polite.
His tone was genuinely respectful.
"Mm." Suzuki Kiyoto seemed quite pleased by this.
After all, who wouldn't enjoy being treated with such deference by a manga artist who was already making a name for himself?
He set down his fountain pen and got straight to the point. "I mentioned to Kawa before that I'm planning to produce a horror-folklore anime, and you apparently have material along those lines — is that correct?"
"Yes, Mr. Suzuki."
Hiroshi nodded.
Then he held up the artbook and placed it on the desk in front of Suzuki Kiyoto with both hands. His voice brimmed with confidence. "This is a concept I developed previously. It combines horror elements with folklore motifs, and I've already prepared full storyboards — it's ready for animation production as-is."
"Oh? Sounds like you came well-prepared." A smile tugged at the corner of Suzuki Kiyoto's mouth as he picked up the artbook.
He slid out the topmost booklet.
His eyebrows rose ever so slightly.
Staring at the cover — rendered in the classic ukiyo-e art style — Suzuki Kiyoto read the title aloud, syllable by syllable:
"Yami... shibai?!"