Rest

As night falls, the temperature at Lake Okutama drops rapidly.

The moisture mixed with the cold wind made people shrink their necks.

Yoshimura was waiting early in the porch of the main building of the clubhouse, wearing a thick black coat.

Seeing the two people walking along the gravel path, he immediately stepped forward and opened the sliding door.

"President Nakayama, Mr. Kurumada, it's windy outside, please come in. Dinner is ready."

The three of them entered the foyer, changed into wooden clogs, and walked along the smooth wooden floor toward the private room at the back.

The private room is a standard Japanese tatami room, offering excellent privacy.

A low table was placed in the middle, and the heater underneath had been turned on in advance, with heat rising straight out from the tablecloth.

After being seated, the waiter brought out hot towels.

Yoshimura skillfully took over the task of taking orders.

"Let's start with some of your restaurant's signature snacks to tide us over. Those two big ones we caught this afternoon, one will be sashimi, and the other will be salt-grilled. The rest we'll leave to the chef to prepare."

After giving his instructions, Yoshimura personally took a pot of warm sake from the copper pot on the charcoal fire.

"Gentlemen, this is a Junmai Daiginjo sake from the local Ozawa Brewery. It's just warmed to forty degrees Celsius, so drinking it will be perfect for warming up." Yoshimura filled their glasses.

The three clinked glasses.

The sake was smooth and mellow on the palate, and as it went down the throat, it warmed the stomach instantly.

Shortly after, the sliding door to the private room was opened.

The restaurant's head chef personally carried in two large wooden platters.

The two big crucian carp I caught in the afternoon were prepared differently. One was sliced into translucent sashimi and laid out on crushed ice; the other was classic salt-grilled, with a golden-brown surface and the skin still sizzling with oil.

The chef placed the wooden platter in the center of the table and then withdrew.

Masami Kurumada picked up a slice of sashimi, dipped it in soy sauce and freshly ground wasabi, and put it in his mouth.

He chewed twice and nodded repeatedly.

"The meat was firm and had absolutely no muddy taste. The knife skills were superb."

"Freshly caught and killed on the spot, it's all about freshness." Nakayama Takuya picked up a piece of salt-grilled fish. "It's grilled to perfection."

Yoshimura stood by, smiling, and occasionally refilling their empty glasses.

After a few jugs of sake, the atmosphere became increasingly lively.

Masami Kurumada's cheeks flushed slightly, and he unbuttoned one of the buttons on his collar.

He held his wine glass, and then he started talking non-stop.

"Looking back now, those years serialized in Shueisha were absolutely inhuman. Deadlines were constantly looming, and editors were always watching outside the studio. I had no time to think about whether the plot was reasonable or not; just being able to submit the manuscript on time was considered a blessing."

Masami Kurumada picked up a piece of tempura and chewed it in large bites.

"It rained heavily for a week straight back then. We were searching for inspiration deep in the mountains of Hokkaido, and we ran out of all the dry rations we brought."

In the end, we managed to get through it thanks to the few small cherry trout we caught. Thinking back on it now, the taste of that fish was even more unforgettable than the sashimi we have today.

Nakayama Takuya listened with great interest and picked up where he left off.

"Readers' tastes have changed. Plots that are hastily put together to meet deadlines won't fool people. So instead of working in isolation, it's better to get out and breathe some fresh air."

Masami Kurumada nodded repeatedly.

The two got into a lively conversation, bursting into laughter from time to time.

Yoshimura sat in the corner, watching the harmonious atmosphere, his heart pounding.

The script is wrong.

President Nakayama made it clear before he arrived that after a few rounds of drinks, they would get down to business.

They've already emptied five jugs of sake, why are they still talking about fishing and reminiscing about their youth?

Yoshimura cleared his throat, leaned forward, and tentatively began to speak.

"Mr. Kurumada, it's rare to get together with President Nakayama today. Actually, regarding the reboot of Saint Seiya— "

"Snap."

Nakayama Takuya gently placed the chopsticks in his hand on the chopstick rest.

The sound wasn't loud.

He turned his head and looked at Yoshimura.

"Yoshimura, go and check with the kitchen. Ask why that plate of fried shrimp hasn't been served yet. The skin won't be crispy if the oil gets cold."

Yoshimura's words were stuck in his throat.

Looking at Nakayama Takuya's calm expression, a cold sweat instantly broke out on his back.

"Yes, I'll go and urge them right away!" Yoshimura scrambled to his feet and left the private room.

The sliding door closed again. Only the two people remained in the private room.

Masami Kurumada was unaware of Yoshimura's unusual behavior; Yoshimura was already quite drunk.

He leaned back in his chair and let out a burp.

"Brother Nakayama," Masami Kurumada even changed his form of address, "I know what Yoshimura wants by bringing me here today."

He turned his head and looked at Nakayama Takuya.

"I know that as long as I nod my head, Sega's money and Toei's resources will come pouring in immediately."

Masami Kurumada rubbed his face vigorously with his hands.

"But I can't draw it."

He sighed.

My mind went completely blank. Those storyboards that used to excite me now just feel awkward no matter how I look at them. I can't possibly ruin my own reputation just to make a little money.

Nakayama Takuya didn't reply, but silently poured him a glass of warm water.

"So, thank you so much for today." Masami Kurumada picked up his water glass, his hands trembling slightly. "You didn't mention work, you didn't pressure me about deadlines, you just quietly fished for a fish."

He put down his water glass, leaned against the wall, his eyes half-closed, and his breathing gradually became heavy.

I'm really tired.

Nakayama Takuya looked at Masami Kurumada.

The past few days of probing and communication, coupled with the afternoon's fishing, have completely relaxed the master's tense nerves.

The original plan was indeed to bring up the topic while the alcohol was on their side.

Once inspiration strikes, everything else falls into place.

But now, Nakayama Takuya has changed his mind.

Masami Kurumada is exhausted.

This is not only physical exhaustion, but also mental depletion.

If we force him to speak now, even if he goes along with the conversation, it will only be to appease him.

What was squeezed out was not what Sega wanted.

Now that he's arrived at Lake Okutama and the defenses have been completely dismantled, let him get a good night's sleep.

If one day isn't enough, then two days; if two days aren't enough, then a week.

Until he voluntarily wanted to pick up a paintbrush.

When Yoshimura reopened the sliding door with the fried shrimp, Masami Kurumada was already leaning against the wall, snoring.

Yoshimura was dumbfounded.

He placed the plate on the table and lowered his voice.

"President Nakayama, how... how did he fall asleep?"

"Go and call his assistant over to help him back to his room." Nakayama Takuya stood up.

Yoshimura grew anxious and took two steps closer.

"But we haven't even mentioned the project details yet! Toei is waiting for me to bring back confirmation—"

"Yoshimura," Nakayama Takuya interrupted him, "The worst thing you can do before a fish takes the bait is to shout and yell by the water."

Nakayama Takuya straightened the hem of his windbreaker and turned to look at Yoshimura.

"The cable has already been laid. Pulling or yanking it forcefully will only break it."

He picked up the sake warmer on the table, poured himself the last half cup of sake, and drank it all in one gulp.

The wine glass was placed upside down on the table.

"Let him get a good night's sleep. I've already prepared the feed for tomorrow."

Nine o'clock the next morning.

Sunlight filtered through the pine branches outside the window, dappling the tatami mats.

Masami Kurumada rolled over and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. After a while, he suddenly opened his eyes, threw off the blanket, and sat up.

"Oh no! The deadline is here!"

He froze halfway through his sentence.

There were no scattered sketches, no ashtrays piled high with cigarette butts, and no pungent smell of Mark ink.

My nasal cavity was filled with the faint, pleasant fragrance of wooden furniture.

He rubbed his messy hair, and his mind gradually cleared.

This is a hot spring resort on the Lake Okutama Shore.

Last night, I drank Ozawa Brewery's Daiginjo sake with Sega Nakayama, and ate freshly killed sashimi and fried shrimp. After that, he doesn't remember anything.

Masami Kurumada scratched the back of his head.

Surprisingly, despite drinking so much sake, I didn't have a headache at all this morning.

What's even more remarkable is that the anxiety I used to feel, even when I was asleep, from dreaming about editors chasing me for my manuscript, completely disappeared today.

Two very soft knocks came from the paper sliding door.

"Teacher, are you awake?" It was the young assistant's voice.

"Come in." Masami Kurumada stretched his aching shoulders.

The sliding door opened, and an assistant walked in carrying a glass of warm water, placing it on the low table.

"What time is it?" Masami Kurumada picked up his water glass and took a big gulp.

"It's exactly nine o'clock." The assistant placed the neatly folded, clean bathrobe beside her.

Masami Kurumada put down his water glass and glanced out the door.

"Where's Managing Director Yoshimura? And President Nakayama? Where are they?"

Logically speaking, Toei should be in a real hurry, and Yoshimura should have been waiting at the door this morning with a printed proposal for him to sign.

"Managing Director Yoshimura was already loitering in the lobby at six o'clock this morning," the assistant reported truthfully, "but he didn't dare go this way. As for President Nakayama— "

The assistant pulled out a club-specific notepad from under the yukata and handed it over with both hands.

"This is what President Nakayama asked the waiter to leave for you this morning before he left."

Masami Kurumada took it.

There is only one simple line of text above, with elegant handwriting.

"The cherry blossoms by the lake are in beautiful bloom; let's go for a walk. See you at the men's bathhouse at 3 PM. Nakayama."

Masami Kurumada stared at the note for a full half minute.

Not a single word was mentioned about the project proposal, Saint Seiya, or the release date.

He just went off to admire the cherry blossoms by himself.

"Ha----" Masami Kurumada couldn't help but laugh out loud, shook his head, and casually tossed the sticky note onto the table.

"This President Nakayama is really an oddball."

Leaving aside one of Japan's most valuable manga IPs, they spend a fortune to bring people to this remote private club just to fish a few fish, drink a few drinks, and then go shopping and look at flowers.

Even if a knife were held to their throat, the editors at Shueisha would never do such a thing.

"Teacher, should we arrange breakfast?" the assistant asked.

"I'm hungry. Let's go to the restaurant." Masami Kurumada stood up and grabbed the clean yukata.

The clubhouse restaurant is built on the lakeside, with large floor-to-ceiling windows that directly face the shimmering Lake Okutama.

Masami Kurumada chose a seat by the window.

The waiter served a Japanese set meal.

Grilled salmon, tamagoyaki (Japanese rolled omelet), miso soup, served with glistening white rice.

He picked up his chopsticks and began to eat heartily.

Behind a load-bearing pillar not far away, Yoshimura poked half his head out, clutching a brown paper bag tightly in his hand.

The paper bag contained Toei's initial letter of intent, which they had rushed out overnight.

Yoshimura's eyes were dark-rimmed, clearly indicating he hadn't slept well the night before.

He watched Masami Kurumada enjoying his meal, and his toes twitched as he thought of going over to say hello. But then the words Nakayama Takuya had said the night before when he put down his glass suddenly flashed through his mind.

"The worst thing you can do before a fish takes the bait is to shout loudly by the water."

Yoshimura abruptly pulled his foot back.

He retreated into the corridor and beckoned a waiter over.

"Go and add a dish of natto to Professor Kurumada's table, and bring him a pot of hot tea. Don't mention it was my arrangement; put it on the room rate."

The waiter nodded and left.

Yoshimura gritted his teeth, grabbed the brown paper bag, and slipped back to his room.

Unable to afford to offend Sega, he could only choose to keep quiet and wait.

After finishing the last bite of rice, Masami Kurumada picked up the miso soup and drank it all in one gulp.

A long-lost sense of satisfaction.

No one was nagging in his ear, and no one was staring at him expectantly from across the room.

He wiped his hands with a hot towel, stood up, and walked out of the restaurant.

There weren't many people at the club in the morning.

Masami Kurumada strolled along the wooden corridor and unknowingly arrived at the club's lounge.

A fireplace burned in the lounge, and several rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stood beside it.

He casually pulled an old magazine from the bookshelf.

It was a 1995 monthly journal called "Natural Science".

He flipped through a few pages, and it happened to be an article introducing the Ancient Greece astronomical and astrological sites.

The print features several black-and-white photographs of the Acropolis of Athens and constellations in the night sky overlapping.

Masami Kurumada's finger, which was turning the page, stopped.

He stared at the photograph.

The Acropolis of Athens, a constellation.

Thirteen years ago, he drew the first sketch of the Pegasus Cloth in his cramped rented room, while looking at similar astronomical data.

What was I thinking at that time?

The image is of a young man who sacrificed his life to uphold his faith.

I was thinking of armor passed down from the mythical era, imbued with the power of the stars.

What about now?

Masami Kurumada closed the magazine and tossed it back onto the bookshelf.

He walked to the French windows and looked at the tree branches swaying in the wind outside.

In recent years, Saint Seiya has become a cash cow.

Toei wants high viewership ratings, Bandai wants to sell toys.

Every meeting revolves around designing more elaborate armor, giving the villains more screen time, and using the Twelve Temples theme again.

He himself fell into that assembly-line-like numbness.

Last night at the dinner table, he complained to Nakayama Takuya that his mind was blank.

That's the truth.

Because he had long forgotten the impulse he felt when he drew the first draft.

Cultural Heritage – Mythological Origins –

Masami Kurumada muttered a few words that Nakayama Takuya had mentioned years ago.

If we disregard Toei's viewership ratings and Bandai's toy release schedule...

If it's simply about telling a story about mythology, faith, and destiny.

Is the Hades Chapter really limited to what it was originally drawn to?

Masami Kurumada shook his head and sighed softly.

Having drawn comics for so many years, he knows himself too well.

When he first started out, he drew "Woman Strong Storm," then "Ring ni Kakero," and later "Saint Seiya." His initial intentions were not as profound as they seemed.

They're just a bunch of penniless young men who, for the sake of brotherhood and their beliefs, grit their teeth and raise their fists.

Deep down, he's a rough guy who loves to draw young people's passionate battles and unleashing their inner power.

Asking him to delve into those profound cultural and philosophical concepts is just asking for trouble.

The note left by Nakayama Takuya clearly stated. "See you at the men's bath at 3 PM."

That kid always leaves no room for error in his work.

Since they've brought people here, they must already have a well-developed solution in hand.

All this racking your brains trying to figure it out is completely unnecessary.

I'd rather not think about it anymore.

Let nature take its course.

Masami Kurumada clapped his hands and walked out of the lounge.