They always began in pairs. It no longer mattered that Billy had been acting for years; lately, he had started looking at performance with sharper eyes, beginning from the very way he himself acted. From the way he breathed life into characters and delivered those damned performances one after another. Yet within his silence, within his solitude, he found the most pleasant refuge imaginable: drawing, accompanied by small sips of wine, in a peaceful coastal town inhabited by only a handful of people who had already grown accustomed to his presence. There, all the childish ambitions he once carried toward acting fell silent beneath the morning sun, the winter winds, and the aching passage of festive time.
The coast itself became a source of inspiration. Sitting in a wooden chair, he weighed every great storyline he intended to build, igniting them in his own way, sketching with almost mathematical precision until the process filled him with a strange exhilaration. The series he had now begun shaping was Naruto. Using everything he knew, he elevated the ninja world into a true conspiracy-driven universe. The first thing he always did was create a massive guidebook, anywhere from one hundred to three hundred pages, depending on the scope of the story, dedicating one or two pages to the main characters, the supporting cast, and everyone else, while also using his understanding of structure and systems to expand every illustration with relentless rhythm.
He then used his notebooks to construct the world itself: three hundred pages dedicated solely to the Hidden Leaf Village, two hundred for the Sand Village, one hundred for the Sound Village, another two hundred for the Stone Village, and two hundred more for the Cloud Village. Alongside them came smaller guidebooks detailing the histories of various factions, isolated regions, and secondary characters—designs and personalities he continued sketching and writing day after day as the magnificent ninja world slowly unfolded before him. In time, he believed it would all come together perfectly. One Piece, Bleach, Hunter x Hunter, and Eyeshield 21 all possessed some of the largest production guides he had ever created, the result of a single year of work supported by something that felt almost miraculous.
He mapped out the Chunin Exams in exhaustive detail. He expanded the stories of countless characters, giving them richer treatment and more defined personal journeys alongside secondary casts, creating stronger talents and motivations for every generation while constantly shifting perspective and thematic focus.
The battles were intense, carrying a scale rarely seen in comics during that era. At the same time, he refused to limit himself merely to drawing the series with force; he gave complete life to every technique, every personality type, and infused ninja culture itself with a cynical edge completely different from One Piece.
For example, Sasuke requested early graduation twice but was denied both times because the elders believed he lacked the maturity necessary to protect himself from kidnapping, manipulation, or blackmail. That realism strengthened the character significantly. At the same time, Billy created parallel stories in which Sakura overcame her fears, studying day and night tirelessly to become the best, eventually turning herself into a true encyclopedia of knowledge. He also added powerful characters outside the major bloodlines—individuals who, at most, would reach elite Chunin or Special Jonin rank without interfering too heavily with the protagonists, though they would still leave meaningful impressions on the story.
His fingers moved restlessly as he reached the end of the second major arc, where Sasuke loses control under the influence of the Curse Mark. Rather than altering his chakra directly, it twists his emotions and ultimately drives him to kill one of his own comrades from Konoha. Sakura becomes the keeper of Naruto's secret, and that alone raises both the tension and the complexity of the narrative by several levels, creating biomes, rivalries, and battles that become essential to the entire series.
How did he accomplish it?
The answer was simple. He created detailed statistics governing every kind of character, drawing clear distinctions in every fight and every ability. He constantly adjusted the power system to feel believable while designing more intense battles for the Jonin, especially Kakashi, whom he elevated nearly to his Shippuden level, only slightly weaker when he first takes control of Team Seven. This allowed Kakashi to completely surpass Zabuza in combat, though Billy never allowed the spectacle itself to disappear. Instead, he filled the battles with layered strategies and unexpected tricks that created an epic atmosphere. After all, the series was called Naruto.
It reinforced the idea that with Kakashi around, nothing below the elite Jonin level could truly threaten him, unlike the children, who struggled immensely with the brutal realities of combat. Even an ordinary Chunin could still pose serious problems for them.
--I think you've spent the entire morning without even glancing at me once. - Monica said, standing in front of him, wrapped in a white bathrobe that exposed the elegant curves of her body. She was breathtaking to look at, the result of discipline, training, and the work she had devoted to moving with such natural grace.
--Writing becomes exhausting for me. - Billy commented, handing her Chapter 103, where the Chunin Exam battles reached a new level of intensity. It was simply magnificent.
She used the towel to dry herself slowly. Coloring the series had already become a major advancement, but there was still little left before the first arc reached completion. Then he would move on to the next projects, like Real and Yu-Gi-Oh!, both of which still required nearly two more years of work before they could be fully completed, while he simultaneously juggled several series at once to bring them toward their endings.
--So exhausting that you forget all the affection I usually give you. - Monica whispered.
She was at the absolute peak of her youth. At thirty-five years old, there seemed to exist no woman more beautiful.
--Exhausting because of the time it consumes. My time is money. And comics earn me very little. - Billy replied playfully.
The character designs rested piled in the corner. The ending of Chapter 105 was one of those chapters capable of leaving readers speechless. Yet the series he envisioned would eventually span somewhere between one thousand and nineteen hundred chapters. It was not disappointing—only exhausting. And he already knew that his responsibilities would continue piling onto his shoulders in a way that would eventually become unbearable.
--We have a filming schedule. - Monica whispered.
Now she would wear a red wig, and that alone transformed everything. The image carried a deeply revered quality to it, while everything else became a whirlpool of emotions. When Malena appears wearing the red dress in the film, it draws a line that society itself forced upon her.
--I'll be watching for you. - Billy said.
His scenes would not begin until the final third of the film, nothing more. His mind still churned violently with all the images he wanted to sketch and place onto paper: fifteen chapters of Naruto prepared for coloring, fifteen already complete, thirty chapters finished in less than two months, alongside two black-and-white chapters of Eyeshield 21 and twelve chapters of Bleach, accompanied by three different draft versions.
The two of them prepared themselves while the ocean waves moved in the distance. Barely fifty meters away stood the hotel. Nothing about it seemed remarkable at first glance, yet from there they would take a short ride to the studio aboard a small transport van that arrived within fourteen minutes. Storms usually swept through during the mornings, leaving the afternoons colder, though occasionally they were blessed with warm days that seemed to arrive more frequently as time passed.
--I asked them to prepare an American breakfast. - Monica said, fully aware of Billy's inability to work properly on an empty stomach. Hunger was undoubtedly his greatest weakness.
The place itself resembled the hotel—quiet, unassuming, nothing that immediately drew attention. Yet it almost looked ready to collapse at any moment. Still, the walls possessed a strange beauty of their own, and from the wood, the clay, the cement, and the architecture itself, the structure carried the feeling that it could survive another two centuries