Chapter 6: C6: Reactive
The mangaka's eyes stung as he took in the sodden pages before him. His lifelong work was soaked and ruined at the hands of his manager Tatsu. As the water dropped onto the pages, so too did the mangaka's dreams. His face mapped with the highways of years lived fully and stories told, he rubbed his callused, ink-stained fingers together and noticed his muscle pain as much as he ignores when he draws. Despite biting his nails and muscle pain his head complains, and the water silently drops onto his manuscripts slowly.
Sitting across from him was the source of this destruction. Across the table is the man whom he is frustrated at, the man in his black tailored suit failing to conceal his cunning nature. Tatsu's narrow features wore a smug grin that chilled the mangaka more than any vulture's. Without warning, Tatsu struck it alight as the ink vanished swiftly and effectively with fire. With a slight whistle mockingly he puffs on his cigar.
"What can I say? I'm inspired." He glanced at the soaked manuscripts with a twisted smirk. Nagai gritted his teeth, barely containing his anger. How could Tatsu treat his lifelong work so casually? How could he say that he would abandon the work he did with passion? Now he'll never see his work again.
"Inspired, he says," Nagai hissed through a clenched jaw. "I am inspired to destroy decades of my life's work by using that damn skill of yours." Tatsu's head inclined in response, "So what if your ideas got rejected? It's only an idea. It can't hurt."
"You want me to think of something different, then what?" Nagai's temper began to boil as he readied himself for a confrontation. Tatsu was testing him. He sensed his inevitability. Tatsu shifted his weight, "Come now, it's just paper and ink," he smiled condescendingly.
"There's more than just that." Nagai spat the words with venom, "You ruined it with a fire, You could have just told it to me honestly and not burned my work-"
"You can always redo it again; this isn't going to sell," Tatsu spoke, ignoring the mangaka's protests. "I'm sure you know about Osaka Sensei's spin-off light novel in 1887. He thought he had a good idea, but he had a $200,000 debt to Professor Fuji at that time borrowing money for his living. It's as good a title as any of his works but somehow he has never been satisfied with it along with his relationship with the original manga creator, Ando. And allegedly his work contained some glimpse of their relationship with them in real life through the characters they wrote. After all, same-sex was still kind of illegal in Japan at the time, but Hiroshi Ando was a gay man who was already married. He couldn't explain himself and so he just quit the manga publishing scene all together." Tatsu shook his head, "he went mad after that."
Tatsu shrugged, "So what if it was some guy who fell in and out of love with this guy? It has nothing to do with me!" Nagai's blood boiled and he clenched his fists.
"I'm saying don't spill your heart out to your work. The readers don't care about reality. Do you think I care about reality?" Tatsu calmly glanced back and forth between the mangaka and the ripped pages of written reality. "That is the point I'm trying to make." Nagai could only just bite his lip.
"Besides, the real story is in here," he tapped the side of his head, "and here," he slipped his hand into his pocket, reaching for his wallet and pulling it out. Nagai shook, wanting to lash out but knowing it would do no good. Tatsu lived to provoke such reactions. "We're doing things to live; don't be absurd and just do things on your will. Mangas don't end until I say so, and this one." He picked up one piece of paper and erased the sketches. "The higher-ups don't like this. And my, my, it seems I've upset the darling mangaka." Tatsu just sneered and left Nagai alone with the ruins of his life's dreams and passions. Nagai sank to the floor, weeping into his hands. How could he have trusted that madman, even for a moment? The crumbled pages around him seemed a fitting metaphor for his shattered heart.
"Tatsu?" The door crashed open, and there stood Alessio's prized pupil, glimpsing the scene of ruin and spilling ink with eyes aflame. He immediately bent down approaching the man's state. Despite that, Nagai was overwhelmed by his sudden presence in his room. "Alessio? Why- why are you here?" Nagai choked, eyes up at the lad looking at him.
"I'm here to take the flight to get to America." he checked on the mangaka's exposed skin as his eyes scanned for any injuries. To Alessio's eyes at least it looks like the mangaka was hurt yet he doesn't seem to see any gashes or wounds on him. In an instant the man gave a sweeping glance around, noticing the remaining torn pages and the soot that had blackened the pages.
"On a first-class plane?" Nagai stood up as he shook Alessio's shoulders to pull him away from the door, closing it. "Did you sign the manga contract?" Alessio stood with flushed cheeks, furrowing his brow in confusion.
"What contract?" Alessio quickly pushed his hands away from his shoulders. "They just said they're finding extra passengers for this; they said your company can't pay just for a few authors to fly to the comic convention. So, I decided to help them. I'm going to America anyways."
"You're so casual about it! You don't even have any suspicion on that offer! My god Alessio!"
"-Never mind why I am here. What happened to you? Why are you crying?"
"I'm not- I'm not" Then Alessio's eyes saw a manga manuscript that was burnt.
"Nagai Sensei, tell me the truth. Who burned your draft?"
"It doesn't matter. I'll just do it again."
"Is it your manager?" His hands slipped and covered Nagai's hands with his own, its warmth met his work-roughened ones as it felt hot and oddly comforting on the mangaka.
"Nagai." Alessio clutched his hand as Nagai nodded. Alessio stood up as the plane moved unevenly because of air turbulence, and he slammed on the door of the other mangakas who were on this trip. He took his steps carefully as he reached the lounge area of the plane. The person in front of the door to the other part of the plane stood calmly despite the reminder of the pilot warning everyone, unaffected by the turbulence.
"Alessio." Alessio's eyes darkened as the man who stood unbothered spoke with a tone of familiarity. It was clear that he knew him.
"You know my name."
"Conveniently, I guess." His long ash gray hair swinging slightly with the movement of the plane as he turned around, he smiled politely slightly, eyeing a photograph on his desk that was signed, "Benedict Alessio." His eyes, of a hue in new spring leaves yet shadowed by a faint glimmer of the business kind of smile he wore, hinted at a hidden agenda. Alessio's curiosity grew as he wondered how this stranger knew so much about him.
"I know about your name and—"
"That's not my full name, though."
"Wait huh?" Alessio runs straight to his face and punches him. Though curiosity lingered in his eyes, impatience edged his tone - he doesn't like birds that flock like him. "I find talking to the likes of you boring. I could be classy and give ya time to talk all you want but," He hissed in annoyance. "I hate managers like you."
"You're that golden prodigy that people in the round table mentioned. Seems like they were wrong. From all the talks in our companies, you don't react prematurely... Yet you just did. Guess they're selling you out wrong." He picks up the champagne flute from the table taking a savoring sip.
"The round table? King Art—" He places the rim of the glass in Alessio's mouth and lets him get smothered with champagne. Alessio pushed his hand off spilling the drink on the floor which made the manager grin slightly. "That's just the name of our organization. Round tables are like your regular government where we discuss what we should do together and what we should not cross in the business industry" His eyes were barely seen with his smile, that same smile anyone could fake easily. "Mhm! A slip of my tongue." He playfully covered his mouth and smiled.
"Look I don't care if I'm being talked about in that King Arth-y thing you copied in some tales.
How disrespectful, the man in front of Alessio thought as he wheezed in his tiny laugh.
"Mr. Alessio, you've come across our sight."
"I guess I'm honored to be in your presence then. But do not forget the man whose artwork you just destroyed." Alessio said, an edge creeping into his voice as his eyes narrowed intently on the other man. "Nagai only needs an apology from you. Don't make it difficult for me."
"Apologize? Apologize? For what?" His eyes widened yet cluelessness is still there as if he's innocent of any wrongdoing. It's infuriating how oblivious he is to the consequences of his actions. "For what?" he repeated in confusion. "I must look over the works we show to the public," he replied. "You could have just rejected it and not burned it..."
"I could say the same thing to you. You could have just talked to me in a patient, non-destructive manner." He stared at the younger man with contempt in his eyes.
"You may not realize it, but your careless actions have caused significant damage to Nagai's artwork. Apologizing is the least you can do to acknowledge the impact of your negligence on such artwork." The turbulence struck again, forcing Alessio and his companion closer together in the small airplane cabin.
"You seemed too concerned about him, Alessio. I see, you and Nagai-"
"-He's my teacher, alright!"
"I see the way you look up to him. He must be a truly 'inspiring teacher' to a person like you..." Alessio tensed, gripping the adjacent seat. "He's done more for me than you know and don't imply anything that doesn't exist. " Nagai had been there to offer guidance and encouragement when all seemed lost. Without his mentor's belief and support, Alessio wasn't sure where he'd be today.
"Then I'm sorry about it."
"You're not going to apologize to me silly, apologize to Nagai" The turbulence struck again, Alessio's breath brushing on his nose as the plane placed them closer to each other. His arms were placed against the wall of the airplane cabin to avoid getting them even closer. Alessio then moved away from him.
"Look at you, 5'4... so tiny yet so strong." he chuckled, "If I was a woman right now, I'm pretty sure I'm already your love interest by complimenting you like that"
"that doesn't seem relevant to what is happening. Shut up. Just apologize to Nagai."
"Let's go." Alessio grabbed the manager's wrist and paced on the aisle as he swept the curtains away the mangaka walked out of the room grasping the wall with one unsteady hand dragging against the wall as he guided his faltering steps.
*THUDS* A woman looks at the mangaka and her eyes widen at the sight of him stumbling forward, knees hitting the floor as he drops.
"Vital signs," she muttered, springing swiftly into action though others were not near. While most relied on cries or touches to assess harm, her evaluation disregarded what her touches should be looking out for. Her face gauged how tenuously life clung where her body's subtlest shifts, where injury brought others only confusion without clear warning from within.
A device now took her fingertip, the sole means for her to feel the pulse and oxygen that told, more clearly than any other indicator, how closely the thread was stretched. Though her senses differed from all in this place, her care was no less exacting as she worked alone to unravel each threat, each measure that could turn the tide for this man so suddenly fallen while she traveled without companions to rely upon her unique insight. Only by such self-reliant means had she navigated a life when the guidance came not from within but by her hard-won understanding alone.
"Frick." Alessio ran towards him.
"Miss, what happened—what do you conclude about this? Are you a medical assistant?" Despite her slightly wavering fingers she once more looked for any signs on Nagai's body.
"No, I just noticed him falling as he got out of his room."
"But I am checking on his vitals through. Anything he was exposed to?"
"Burnt paper..." Alessio replied hesitantly.
"Huh. It's not that I'm suspicious about you but... I think it's not the only one that-" The woman looked to Alessio with concern in her eyes. "Your mentor appears to have collapsed from smoke inhalation or another cause. We must get him proper medical attention. I'm concluding exposure to carbon monoxide."
"How can you conclude that fast?"
"I'm a nurse currently studying to become a doctor."
A heavy sigh interrupted their conversation. The man Alessio punched sat still on the couch.
"If you're going to talk a lot then you are just similar to me, Benedict Alessio."
"Can you just shut up?"
The manager's eyes now focused on his friend in slight disgust.
"A golden prodigy... What a silly name for you. You can't even see what is in front of you." Alessio just rolled his eyes. The man covered Alessio's forehead but Alessio swatted it away.
"Champagne-drinking-bastard stop friggin touching me." He held his head even stronger as his lips muttered counting.
"You'll see what I'm talking about." As the man's fingers removed from his head, his vision appeared to swim before him, the surroundings were in a haze. Where before he had seen empty seats on the back of the flight two presences came into focus at the rear of the plane. Alessio blinked slowly, wondering if the lightheadedness was playing tricks on his senses. Yet as his gaze returned once more to the back of the cabin, the extra passengers remained, as if only visible to him.
"Haven't they been there before?"
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone