Ob-la-di ob-la-da life goes on, brah, and welcome to my read-through of Bakuman Chapter 143 Money and Recycling in which we get the most obvious reveal on the planet and I say Neener Neener now because I promised I would

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Money and Recycling Summary

Comebacks

Eight months earlier, a young man asks his dad, the owner of Seven Peak Company, for money. He is committed to making manga for a living and will be the number one creator in the magazine.

His dad is not repulsed by the idea: he prefers mangaka over a part-time worker; he’s also mollified by the young man’s assurances that he’ll aim for the top spot.

Nanamine – I mean, whoever this kid is – asks his rich daddy for money. His dad’s surprised by the gumption: first he quits high school, and now this.

Yikes.

To himself, the youngster thinks that as long as he beats “them”, he’ll use everything he has.

Meanwhile, the Boys are discussing the previous chapter’s revelations: Panty Flash Fight is getting a short-run serialization, and three other veterans—Arai, Nangoku, and Yanagi senseis—are also getting one-shots run in Jump. Shujin thinks it’s unfair to the youngsters.

Saiko is more supportive: they never gave up on their dreams, and now they are being rewarded for their efforts; they’ve demonstrated guts.

Shujin reminds him that they are, uhm, old as shit, and that that’s disqualifying because they’ll never be able to understand young people and their interests. Shujin is reminded that Saiko’s uncle never broke through despite having both guts and determination.

Saiko is taken back by that statement, and Shujin quickly apologizes. Saiko agrees, though: Taro never came back, which is also why Saiko wants these creators to succeed. Shujin still thinks it’s impractical from an editorial perspective to have an older person get a breakaway hit.

He’s aware that Panty Flash Fight has earned its keep with its showing in Jump, but the decision to run three one-shots by former nobodies makes no sense. Arai might be an exception, but everyone else makes no sense.

Saiko thinks fair is fair: if they gave Azuma sensei a shot, it makes sense to give the others a fair shake if they have something to offer.

Shujin insists that Azuma should have been the exception, not the rule. The editors can’t shut out young talent like this. He’s aware that he’s being merciless, but has-beens who never made it are only going to harm the magazine. Saiko agrees: heartless!

Ehh.

Shujin persists: the industry is inherently brutal and brutalizing: you can’t make a hit, you’re done. Saiko still sits on the side of those who persist. They can always try again, and again, as long as they need to. Even Sasaki agrees with that one.

The boys find themselves at an impasse.

They decide to let Hattori make the call on it when he comes over, and choose to focus on other things.

Who came up with this?

At Eiji Co., Ltd., Eiji wants to know why Yujiro is still coming over. The answer is simple: he’s Eiji’s editor, and the editorial team wants Eiji’s new work as soon as possible. He’s there to work on it with him. Yujiro offers up either Chemical Symbol or Space Cockroach as potential ideas.

Eiji kills that idea in the cradle: He’s bad at science, so Chemical Man is out, and Space Cockroach is too cheesy to hit the top. Yujiro, hilariously deadpan, remembers Eiji’s ultimate goal and lets him do his thang. Eiji, surprisingly, asks for help; Yujiro doesn’t have to sit around and do nothing.

Yujiro thinks he just doesn’t have the skills that Eiji does. All he could decide was to add “man” to an insect or animal. Crow was basically that already, though. Eiji thinks it’s been done to death by literally every creator.

Yujiro asks about any battle manga that Eiji has enjoyed lately: Panty Flash Fight! Yujiro gets excited to hear that. Eiji thinks it’s a masterpiece. Eiji’s done it again; PFF got first place by a landslide. It’s the perfect story for Azuma to draw.

Whaaaa?

Eiji asks who wrote it.

After a beat for Yujiro to piece that together, Yujiro explains it was entirely Azuma’s doing. Eiji guarantees that is not the case. He doesn’t believe Azuma wrote it. At this point, having fully drunk the Eiji sixth-sense kool-aid, Yujiro believes he might be right.

The Team

At a fancy office building leased to “Shinjitsu.Com and Hibiki M.S/Hibiki M.K,” a savvy-looking businessman shows off the fruit of a group of people’s efforts. All the one-shots are approved for Jump, and not only that, but Panty Flash Fight has been fast-tracked for short-serialization at a ridiculous pace, faster than they expected.

The man – Hibiki, maybe? – reminds them that they are all aware of the disappointment of only getting ever so close to serialization; however, with their combined brilliance, they will create the most amazing manga ever. Getting serialized in Jump will be easier than ever!

This is a group of ghostwriters for the older writers (oh no); the company will provide resources for these ghostwriters to improve their skills and, in the process, help each other with their debuts. They are advised to make their best work possible totally free of editorial oversight.

Joy.

The man provides an update: Sugao Marui, a new client with experience in Monthly Hustle, has signed a contract with the condition that the company will make 60% of all future earnings on the work he submits. Despite his lack of success in manga, his art skills are superb.

Oy.

By his own admission, Marui would rather take the chance to make a hit rather than continue struggling (he could just get a writer but whatever). The man brings up Marui’s work to determine which story suits his style most.

On the second and third floor, a group of teens relish in their job of reading all the manga they want and free drinks. One thought it was a joke, but it’s such a cool gig.

Oh, you sweet summer children.

A girl thinks that the contract they signed is kinda sus (oh rlly), but another girl thinks it’s a pretty standard NDA. Another reader is thrilled that one of the boards they reviewed was printed in Jump. He couldn’t help but crack up when he saw that. Another thinks it makes sense that Jump would want the opinions of 200 high school students before publishing a comic.

An announcement comes over the loudspeaker. They want to know who the mystery speaker is (it’s Nanamine, but anyway). The speaker congratulates them on their success in the surveys and their second exam. He fills them in on the success of Panty Flash Fight and its subsequent short-term serialization. They’re all amused by the news.

They’re all thrilled to receive a wage increase of 30 yen. Plus, any “monitors” who provide useful ideas will be rewarded with double pay at 2000 yen.

….yikes

Their earnest participation is appreciated. Continue being honest and thorough. They thank him for the raise.

Quality of Work

On Friday, October 14th, Hattori approves the final draft for PCP and wants to move onto discussions for the next chapter, but Shujin has a question about the one-shots running through November: were they all created by veterans?

Hattori confirms that veterans who’ve never hit it big have been coming in lately, but he chalks it up to the success of Panty Flash Fight. There has been an increase in volume lately.

Saiko wants more clarification. Hattori explains that seven or eight people have submitted one-shots, of which three are being run in Jump. Shujin is concerned by this editorial decision-making and wants answers.

Hattori’s answer remains admirably simple: the work was good. That said, even many editors disagree with prioritizing the older mangaka. However, because the work was so good, the editorial team made an exception and plan to run three as a special event. Sasaki is eager for the results and might consider a change in approach if it goes well.

Saiko wants good artists to make it in the magazine regardless of age. Hattori thinks of the audience first and foremost. Plus, Veterans likely have the mettle to start strong and maintain a solid foundation, unlike some youngsters.

Shujin counters that they can’t improve as much as youngsters can. Hattori agrees, but that’s because they don’t need to improve as much. The art in Panty Flash Fight is amazing, as is its peak shonen material with a lot of anime potential as well. It’s not suitable for a prime time slot, but it’s still amazing. There are hardly panty flashes in it.

They both remember that and get a little more circumspect.

Hattori also points out that the manga, despite being a different flavor of non-mainstream, is similar to their desire for a dark hero story. PCP doesn’t have many battles, but its mental battles have made it a success. Azuma may be their rival from now on.

Recycling’s a Good Thing

The Following Monday, in Jump’s conference rooms, Hattori informs Azuma that despite the short serialization, Jump still wants him to sign a contract. Azuma is fine with that.

Hattori then brings up wages: they’re going to start him at a rookie’s wage regardless of his former earnings at other magazines, since this is his first time at Shueisha.

Unusually, Azuma is disappointed to learn of this and had hoped for a higher pay rate, but it’s not in his control. Hattori’s surprised and expected more humility, given everything else. But money can change things. He’s also been unemployed for a long time, which probably affects things as well. Hattori offers to discuss this with the higher-ups, but can only guarantee a rookie’s wages.

They then move on to discussing the fourth – and final chapter – of the short term serialization. Azuma’s already finished, much to Hattori’s surprise.

As Hattori leaves the meeting, Yujiro asks to get coffee and discuss. Over coffee, Hattori’s just as surprised to learn of the possibility of a separate writer. He’s sure that the authorship is Azuma Sensei’s own. Yujiro is less confident.

Hattori reconsiders and starts to notice some of the submission’s irregularities. Yujiro also points out that Azuma’s former work was famous for lacking substance.

Hattori wonders if this is Eiji’s prediction.

Yujiro tells him what Eiji said. Hattori—in the real world, at least—correctly points out that his speculation is not the same as fact; plus, Hattori can’t accuse Azuma of stooping to that level.

Yujiro knows, but he’s also suspicious of the recent spate of successful veterans submitting to the magazine. Hattori again goes with the logical-seeming answer of a boom created by Azuma’s success. They might have seen other publishers too.

Yujiro points out that would mean that those publishers turned down good work. Hattori chalks that up to ageism, citing the ageism at Jump as obvious evidence.

Yujiro remains unconvinced: the numbers don’t add up, and their talent has increased dramatically. That doesn’t just happen. Hattori starts to think that Yujiro may be on to something. It would also explain Azuma’s desire for a higher wage.

Hattori follows Yujiro’s hypothesis: it would only benefit Jump if that were the case. There’s nothing to lose by engaging with this. Yujiro grudgingly agrees: a hit is a hit.

Hattori thinks they’re reading too much into it. It’s just a coincidence, and it’s that simple. Yujiro hopes that’s the case, but given Eiji saying it…

Eiji also said: Recycling is a good thing, but tossing stuff right after using it is no good.

Hattori wonders if that means recycling artists. He privately wonders if that refers to how Jump treats its own creators, but he struggles to believe that Eiji would disparage Jump like that.

The Reveal….

The man, now revealed to be Hibiki, takes the ghostwriter’s storyboards for Marui’s potential one-shots. They will be submitted to the monitors for review; the best will win. The ghostwriters are dismissed.

Hibiki goes to the top floor and brings the president the new storyboards.

And our mysterious, ambiguously villainous anti-hero is…..

Nanamine.

Womp womp.

He thanks Hibiki for the hard work and gives him the two one-shots, not just the one-shots, but also Azuma’s chapters for serialization should it go forth.

Nanamine reviews them while Hibiki praises him for his ability to gather and utilize the skills of so many people to get such stellar results. Even Hibiki, who I just remembered was name-checked previously, would like their help getting a new job.

Hibiki asks for his opinion, but in true Nanamine fashion, he doesn’t read them and will defer to the monitors.

He vows revenge on Jump and on Muto Ashirogi as the chapter concludes.

Money and Recycling Reaction

It was Nanamine. Oh no. Anyway

Yeah, so, obvious twists are obvious, and this one was so obvious that I decided to make it a joke. I have been wrong many times, but I think you’d have to be totally oblivious as to how the story is written to miss this one.

So Nanamine was a rich kid, huh? Well, my *ahem* generous reconsideration of his character at the end of his first arc was slightly incorrect, in hindsight.

If I had to guess, this is a bit of a retcon since in his initial meeting, I think they wanted to commit to him being an overeager, thoughtless villain whose ambitions outstripped his sense of empathy, compassion, or basic decency. But he’s a spoiled rich kid now, so fuck it.

One of the things this part of the series highlights is the difference of wealth inequality in Japan. Nanamine’s a coddled rich kid, sure, but it seems that Azuma, at a minimum, has been able to survive as an unemployed mangaka, if little else. Before this retcon, it seems as if Nanamine was able to survive as a pizza delivery boy.

Seems like a pretty solid social safety net. Granted, some elements of Japanese culture make that safety net, uhm, Shameful, so it’s probably cold comfort to those experiencing it.

Regardless, Nanamine is our morally ambiguous Sigma. He’s going to “train” the boys with something that is ambiguously good but could be construed as evil. How is he doing so far?

So far, he’s actually kinda doing it

The one thing I’ll say about this so far is that, at least at this juncture, despite his abject hatred of ashirogi, it does seem like he’s providing a genuine moral quandary.

Granted, he’s doing it in the most manga way possible: by throwing gazillions of yen at the problem to fix it and building a literal company to do so. But the question of: should veteran mangaka get a second chance if their work is genuinely good, continues to be an interesting dilemma. Plus there is the added component of sucking up oxygen from young creators being a downstream effect of his ambitions.

And that provides for some genuine ambiguity: should people who have not succeeded the first time be given another chance?

The answer is less clear here than it is as to whether old people should have the chance to realize their dreams. Yes, holy shit, I don’t think I need to lay out why that’s a perfectly reasonable thing.

But I’d be lying if I said that Shujin’s logic is pretty on point here: the business is merciless, and if you don’t have what it takes, you will not make it. I do not like that; I’d love it if it were different, but you need guts and grit to get through in creative industries, as I continue to learn. The mechanics of commercial art are brutal in media because the audience has expectations of both A.) Quality and B.) Timeliness, which necessitates a certain degree of sacrifice. And the older you get, the harder it is to deliver on both of those reasonably.

But at the same time, and as importantly, Shujin is wrong about one thing: luck and timing play a role in creative success. Yes, the people who get creatively successful often have talent and ability, but they’re also in the right place at the right time.

So, for him to ignore Azuma, or Arai, or these other oldies because their time has passed is a bit underselling the importance of luck and the ability to capitalize on that timing.

But I digress, the moral question seems to have been framed by Eiji:

Recycling is a good thing

Now, I’ll be totally real with you. I know this is going to be the crux of this arc in some key way because of how Eiji is used in the series when he’s not playing the rival, but I could not, for the life of me, tell you exactly what it means.

After reading this chapter, I spent a good portion of time wondering what Recycling and Disposal mean in the context of this arc, and all I got was that they have to do with veterans somehow.

But since Eiji said it, and he’s a prophet in the series, it will have some larger ramifications for what I now realize may end up being a chunkier arc than I initially thought. Isn’t that fun?

So, how will it come into play in this arc? I…really can’t guess other than it has to do with the vets being used.

However, even though the arc is set up as morally ambiguous, I’m not quite sold on its being as morally ambiguous as this setup suggests.

Nanamine isn’t that morally ambiguous a character

I’d be lying if I said the moral quandary wasn’t legitimate. The best demonstration of this is during that conversation between Hattori and Yujiro about Eiji’s prediction.

It’s one of the rare cases in this series where the inherent unreality of the story fails its efforts to be real: if this were the real world, Hattori would actually be right, and Eiji’s prediction would mean nothing. It would likely just be a bunch of older mangaka trying to bask in the success of one of their own. That happens regularly in creative fields.

I’m dating myself, but I remember after the first Avatar film came out and literally every film for about two years had a 3D gimmick. When gold is struck, it creates a rush, simple as that.

But since this is a manga—and we know that Nanamine is behind all of this for the explicit reason of taking out Ashirogi—Hattori’s reasonable assertions are…not reasonable.

And because the heightened reality of manga obscures the reality of the situation, and where we are in the story narratively, the somewhat real dilemma being proposed is also somewhat undercut by it.

That extends to the premise we’ve been given: Nanamine is a morally ambiguous agent whose actions could be seen as good or bad, depending on our perspective.

I think that part, at least, is a ruse. And it stinks to high heaven.

Just like Nanamine’s reveal, this series usually has a pretty straightforward morality to it. Partially, as we’ve discussed at length, because of its status as a shonen manga, but also, more realistically, because it takes place in the “real” world, and in the real world, artists aren’t going to be so cut throat that they’re literally building megacorporations of ghostwriters to take out their opponent.

So, I think Nanamine is going to have a heel turn at some point, especially since he is a narcissist, and my opinion on that part, at least, remains totally unchanged.

And like, we’re not through this arc, and I could be totally wrong. I will admit that naming his company “Shinjitsu” – which, for those who don’t speak Japanese, means “New Method” – is about as on the nose as you could get. But also, it’s interesting that the new method isn’t actually that new outside of the monitors thing, which, I mean, they’re being paid poverty wages to read manga. But they’re also high schoolers.

I don’t know, man. I just don’t know. The whole method seems to be ghostwriting, but with a lot more steps and money.

But he wasn’t the only part of this comically dense chapter that we have to cover. There was also:

Saiko’s Emotionality

To the extent that this is a legitimate moral quandary, the fact that Saiko is quite emotionally invested in it is one of the most interesting angles of the whole thing. While the whole charade is being dealt with in Jump, they still want hits and are willing to do basically anything to get hits.

But Saiko has a good reason to want the vets to succeed and that’s….legitimately more interesting than the moral quandary itself.

The fact that Saiko is willing to risk his own future manga to let some old timers have their time in the sun is really sweet. And because he’s the earnest true protagonist, it makes sense that this arc’s emotional core centers around one of the most important relationships in the series: his and Taro’s.

And we don’t discuss how important that relationship is because it’s in absentia. It’s one of those character relationships that is extremely important, but is so important because of its absence in the narrative.

The fact that it’s coming back, along with Arai and some other players, only works because of that connection, though. I am warming up to this arc as a result. Maybe it’ll be a good one once it gets going for real.

Also Hibiki is a name I remember, but I don’t remember where from. Do you all remember where he was referenced? I cannot for the life of me remember who he is. Maybe he’s another character like Arai who just exists in the ether. Given how many other characters who have been brought up, I wouldn’t be surprised.

But let’s go into a little more detail about another blink and you miss it detail at the heart of this dilemma:

Space Cockroach will Never Be A hit

One of the things about this chapter that I appreciated most was that it highlighted the fact that Eiji wants to be the greatest, and sometimes, being the greatest means being cutthroat about which ideas you choose to pursue.

It actually speaks to the calculated side of Eiji quite a bit that he can shit out amazing manga, but then summarily know that it’s not the right manga for his goal. Intuitive my ass, he’s also a calculating writer.

Space Cockroach is a good place to explain that. It sounds like an amazing idea, but its appeal is limited by the fact that a.) it’s a cockroach and b.) it would have to be a gag manga.

Eiji knows that gag manga are often relegated to the back of the shelf, and even if they did have a longer lifespan because of their gag status, they would never reach the top.

This is where everything centers: Can you produce a hit? Can Jump see the potential for a hit in what you are making? Despite its fortune, there has to be some core element of potential success that would let Jump risk publishing it. Otherwise, they wouldn’t publish it.

Shinjitsu is being propped up as…well, somewhat Orwellian, honestly, but an attempt to make hits without all the personal work that needs to be done to ensure a hit. Instead of writing and writing and writing, Nanamnie still wants to game the system.

Which is what separates him from Ashirogi and Eiji.

The boys, god bless em, have been cultivating their skills and getting faster so that they can get another series, Eiji just makes manga because that’s what he does. And that is why those two get hits.

They’re good, but they want to be better.

That is the core of any success outside of luck. And if the veterans have that, then they could be successful. But most often their weakness holds them back. They don’t put in the work to get better.

They are desperate, so they’ve signed a deal with the devil. I can’t imagine it will end well for them, as a result.

But I guess we will have to see.

Until next time,

Peace