Chapter 9: The Debut
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Three weeks after signing the contract, on a Tuesday afternoon, a courier truck rumbled up the long dirt driveway of the Walker Ranch.
The package was large and heavy. Alex sliced the tape with a box cutter, revealing twenty crisp copies of the latest issue of NextGen Manga Monthly.
The cover still featured the generic muscle-bound swordsman screaming at a dragon, but in the bottom right corner, a burst of yellow text announced:
NEW SERIES DEBUT: SILVER SPOON!
Alex picked up a copy. The glossy paper felt cool under his fingers. He flipped to the Table of Contents.
There it was.
Listed at number 15—buried in the middle-back of the magazine, exactly where rookies were sent to sink or swim.
Silver Spoon.
Author: Alex Walker.
His name. In print.
Just black ink on paper, yet it felt heavier than stone. He ran his thumb over the letters, feeling the slight texture of the cheap newsprint.
"Al! Is that the magazine?" Sarah called from downstairs.
"Yeah! Just got here!" He grabbed a stack and headed down.
In the living room, John and Sarah were waiting. Alex placed the stack on the coffee table. Sarah immediately snatched one up, flipping to the contents page, squinting.
"Right there," John pointed with a calloused finger.
Sarah leaned in, touching the name. "It's real. They really printed it."
"Let's see the inside." John opened the magazine to page 240.
Chapter 1: Enrollment.
The first page showed Yugo Hachiken walking through a crowded city street, head down, lost in a sea of faceless people. The lines were sharp. The screentones he had painstakingly applied were rendered perfectly. The ink didn't smudge.
John turned the pages slowly. He didn't speak. He just nodded occasionally, his eyes scanning every panel.
Sarah watched alongside him. When they reached the page where Hachiken milks a cow for the first time, she laughed. "That Holstein looks just like Bessie. You got the spots right."
Alex stood by the window, watching his parents read his work. The afternoon sun slanted across the floor, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The lines he had drawn in his bedroom, alone at 3:00 AM, were now mass-produced, shipped across the country, sitting in thousands of bookstores and convenience stores.
It was a strange feeling. Like he had taken a piece of his soul and put it on display for strangers to judge.
"It's good," John said finally, closing the magazine. "Real good."
Sarah flipped to the end of Chapter 1—the scene where Hachiken looks up at the night sky and says, "I never knew the sky was this big." She lingered there for a moment.
"Poor kid," she whispered. "He's got a long way to go."
Later that afternoon, Alex took a few copies into town.
Mr. Henderson at the General Store looked up when the bell chimed. "Well? Is it out?"
"Just got the author copies." Alex slid a magazine across the counter.
"Let me see." Henderson flipped straight to the back. He read more critically than John, his eyes darting from panel to panel, occasionally making a tsk sound.
"This layout..." He pointed to the low-angle shot of the tractor. "Interesting. Not like the usual superhero stuff."
"Think it'll sell?" Alex asked.
"Not up to me. Up to them." Henderson gestured to the empty store. "Leave 'em here. I'll put 'em front and center."
He pulled out a plastic display stand and set the magazine upright next to the register, right beside Captain Strong and Magical Mary. The cover of Silver Spoon—a simple image of a boy standing in a green field under a blue sky—looked starkly quiet next to the neon chaos of the other titles.
"Though I gotta ask," Henderson said, leaning on the counter. "Farming comics? You really think city kids want to read about shoveling manure?"
Alex smiled. "Let's find out."
For the next two days, life returned to its rhythm.
Morning chores. Drawing. Lunch. Drawing. Dinner. Drawing.
Chapter 5 was done. Chapter 6 was half-penciled. Sue Vance had emailed him, stressing the need for a three-chapter buffer. He was behind schedule.
But a knot of anxiety tightened in his chest.
On Thursday afternoon, he couldn't take it anymore. He rode his bike into town.
The General Store was quiet. He pretended to browse the candy aisle, stealing glances at the register. The stack of NextGen was still there.
It was two copies lighter.
"Sold two?" he asked Henderson.
"Yup. One to a high schooler, one to a commuter," Henderson said, stocking cigarettes without looking back. "Kid flipped through it, said 'no fights,' put it back. Commuter bought it. Said it looked 'relaxing'."
Alex nodded, saying nothing.
He walked over to the magazine rack. He pulled out a copy and flipped to the back—the Reader Survey card. Every serialized manga had a row where readers could rate it from 1 to 5, cut it out, and mail it back.
The row for Silver Spoon was blank. Of course it was. Nobody had mailed theirs in yet.
He put the magazine back and walked out.
The evening wind was cool. He walked his bike down Main Street. The diner was frying chicken, the smell wafting out. The barber shop was closing up.
It was such a normal scene.
(To be Continued)
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