Chapter 78: The Finalist Interview

Chapter 78: Chapter 78: The Finalist Interview

The platform scheduled the finalist interview three days before the final.

Haruki immediately hated the idea.

Not because interviews were difficult.

Because interviews created evidence.

Evidence lasted forever.

Every awkward answer.

Every nervous pause.

Every accidental statement.

Permanent.

The internet never forgot.

At least not when forgetting would be convenient.

The studio occupied the top floor of a media building overlooking central Tokyo.

Large windows.

Bright lights.

Too many cameras.

Haruki arrived twenty minutes early.

Aoi arrived twenty-two minutes early.

Naturally.

The rival sat in a corner reviewing notes.

Actually reviewing notes.

Not pretending.

Haruki found that mildly disturbing.

"Studying?"

Aoi looked up.

"Preparing."

Of course.

The distinction sounded important to him.

Before Haruki could respond, a producer approached.

"Five minutes."

Wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.

The interview format seemed simple.

Two finalists.

One host.

One live audience.

Nothing dangerous.

Which usually meant something dangerous would happen.

The audience slowly filled.

Creators.

Editors.

Industry observers.

Readers.

Haruki recognized several faces.

Mizuno.

Takeda.

Akari.

Even Kenji.

Interesting.

No.

Enough.

The habit needed professional treatment.

The host finally walked onto the stage.

The cameras activated.

The broadcast began.

The opening questions felt harmless.

Writing habits.

Career goals.

Creative influences.

Safe territory.

Both finalists answered comfortably.

Then the host smiled.

Haruki immediately became suspicious.

Experienced interviewers only smiled like that before causing problems.

The next question proved him right.

"What is your biggest weakness as a creator?"

The audience became noticeably quieter.

Good question.

Aoi answered first.

Without hesitation.

"I don’t collaborate well."

Interesting.

The honesty surprised people.

Aoi continued.

"I prefer controlling every stage."

A pause.

"That’s not always efficient."

The audience nodded.

Even Mizuno looked mildly impressed.

Then the microphone reached Haruki.

The obvious answer existed.

Missed deadlines.

Process issues.

Schedule problems.

All true.

Incomplete.

Haruki thought for several seconds.

Then answered.

"I chase too many things."

The words arrived naturally.

The audience listened.

"Tournaments."

A finger.

"Industry problems."

Another.

"Growth."

Another.

"Competition."

Then:

"Sometimes I forget the manga should be the center."

Kuroda’s voice echoed faintly in memory.

The manga is the main story.

The answer felt right.

The host seemed pleased.

A dangerous sign.

Because pleased hosts asked harder questions.

The next one arrived immediately.

"What do you think of each other?"

There it was.

The rivalry question.

The internet’s favorite topic.

Aoi answered first again.

"Haruki creates stronger emotional moments."

The audience blinked.

Apparently they expected hostility.

Aoi wasn’t finished.

"His characters stay with readers."

Another pause.

"That’s difficult."

Simple.

Honest.

Unexpected.

The microphone moved toward Haruki.

He looked at Aoi.

Then at the audience.

Then at the camera.

"Aoi works harder than anyone I’ve met."

Aoi frowned immediately.

Good.

Haruki continued.

"And he’s annoyingly disciplined."

The audience laughed.

Even Aoi.

Slightly.

The atmosphere relaxed.

For approximately thirty seconds.

Then the host launched a missile.

"If you lose the final, what happens next?"

The question hit harder than expected.

Because it mattered.

The room waited.

Aoi answered first.

"I write the next Chapter."

Immediate.

Certain.

No hesitation.

The answer earned applause.

Then Haruki’s turn arrived.

The old version of him would’ve said something inspirational.

Something dramatic.

Something designed to sound good.

Instead:

"I complain for a day."

The audience laughed.

Then:

"And then I write the next Chapter."

More laughter.

More applause.

The answer felt human.

Not heroic.

Human.

The interview ended shortly afterward.

Photos.

Handshakes.

Closing remarks.

The audience dispersed.

Industry people began networking immediately.

Naturally.

Haruki escaped toward the hallway.

Unfortunately, somebody intercepted him.

A woman in her late twenties.

Professional suit.

Publisher badge.

Not an editor.

Something higher.

The distinction became obvious immediately.

"Haruki Amamiya?"

He nodded.

The woman offered a business card.

"Yamashita Publishing."

A major publisher.

Much larger than expected.

Haruki accepted the card carefully.

The woman smiled.

"We’ve been watching Threadless Gate."

The sentence changed the atmosphere instantly.

Not because it guaranteed anything.

Because it made possibilities real.

The conversation remained brief.

Professional.

Polite.

Yet after she left, Haruki looked down at the business card several times.

The industry wasn’t watching anymore.

The industry had started approaching.

A meaningful difference.

Meanwhile, across the hallway, Aoi spoke with a different publisher.

Then another.

Then another.

Of course.

The guy attracted opportunities the way magnets attracted metal.

The final suddenly felt larger than a tournament.

Not because of rankings.

Because careers were beginning to move.

That evening, Haruki returned home carrying three business cards.

One sponsorship inquiry.

One interview invitation.

And several new worries.

Yui listened patiently while preparing dinner.

Then asked the only question that mattered.

"Did you finish today’s pages?"

Haruki paused.

"...mostly."

Yui pointed toward the desk.

"Then finish them."

The advice sounded suspiciously familiar.

Very suspiciously familiar.

The manga is the main story.

Haruki laughed.

Then sat down.

Opened Chapter Twenty.

And returned to work.

Because the final was coming.

The publishers were watching.

The industry was moving.

But Ren still needed his next scene.

And that remained the most important thing of all.