God is real, god is actually real, like really guys actually real and welcome to my read-through of Bakuman Chapter 145 Provide and Stop in which Nanamine makes a good point and a flashback makes me weepy.

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Provide and Stop Summary

Picking up directly from the previous chapter, Nanamine explains that he has demonstrated his perfect process so they know they’re doomed. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be any fun.

Delightful.

Saiko points out that Nanamine can’t even take credit for these works. Nanamine disagrees. He thinks Saiko is a sore loser (that’s rich) and none of the stories would exist were it not for him. He believes that Saiko is insinuating that, if Ashirogi loses, Nanamine can’t take credit.

Nanamine deigns to simplify this for his little peabrain: he’s like a film director. Directors rely on talented workers, the money of others, and screenwriters to make the best possible movie. At the end of the day, though, the Director gets all the credit. That being said, Nanamine can have all these works considered his.

This is…a reasonable take.

Saiko disagrees: Manga is the product of hard work between a mangaka and an editor. Nanamine thinks Saiko is missing the point: there are multiple ways to make manga (technically true, sort of). That method doesn’t work for everyone. So much talent has been wasted because of this outdated method. Look at Ashirogi; they’ve been “tamed.”

By which Nanamine means they’ve been tamed by Jump. During their early days – like The World Is All About Money and Intelligence – they were more provocative. Even Detective Trap, too. PCP is popular, though, so what does Nanamine know?

Very little, as it turns out.

Regardless of what the boys believe, the proof is in the pudding. Nanamine takes a moment to shit on Kosugi (lovely): he would never be able to progress with that bozo in charge of him. He’s a “joke of an editor” without a single hit to his name. He’d only keep Nanamine from realizing his true greatness.

In any event, nothing can compare with the work his company is doing. The fact that the boys are rationalizing Jump tells Nanamine how much they’ve been whipped. Nanamine believes he deserves…applause for creating opportunities for these artists to work for the industry and sharpen their skills. They’re paid to do so!

He’s also giving second chances to older, struggling artists (see has-beens). They have created a realistic path to publication in Jump, and the editorial staff should thank him as well.

He’s…not wrong.

Saiko correctly points out that no one will be okay with this once it’s discovered. Nanamine isn’t concerned: money talks. If the method creates amazing work, no one could possibly turn him down. Any decent editor will be on his side.

In fact, Nanamine suggests spilling the beans to Hattori on him just to see what happens. Regardless, he’ll make himself known to publishers to promote his work. They’re all in the market for hits, so he’ll be in demand.

Shujin reminds him that he still has to actually do that. He only has one one-shot that got first and a first chapter. That does not make a successful venture. Nanamine reminds Shujin that it got first in the one-shot and first chapter, which means Nanamine’s other pieces will naturally follow suit.

Okay, that’s not how anything works, but whatever, I’m getting my popcorn ready.

Saiko vows not to lose to him. Nanamine hoped Saiko would say that because he will make sure PCP doesn’t last the next few months with what he’s planned.

The boys stand their ground but Nanamine laughs it all off. The 16 ghostwriters and he believe editors don’t mean much so in that sense they’re nakama (that means friends/comrades). Not those stupid unrealistic friends that Jump promotes where you have common interests and care about each other because you’re not a literal psychopath. HA!

Man, that’s sad.

Nanamine will prove that his (dumb) version of friendship will win. He admits to being humiliated by his defeat, which has driven him to these insane lengths to beat Ashirogi. He will crush both of them!

Oh no…anyway.

Screws Tightening

The boys are driven back to the studio. Even though they talk a big game, Shujin thinks the system is well thought out and will be hard to beat. He’s still confident they’ll win, given that anything that runs on money and not creativity is bound to lose. Saiko thinks the whole thing is cynical, and Nanamine is not above unsavory means to get his victory.

Shujin thinks the best thing they can do is face the fact that he will be a real challenge to them, and they need to prepare for it. Shujin notices Saiko looking down and wonders if he’s so unconfident.

No, Saiko’s disappointed to learn that Azuma didn’t actually make the comeback of the century. Shujin asks what they’ll do when they’re 50, making Saiko more freaked.

Manga artists to the end, right?

They tell Hattori (lol)

On Friday, December 2nd, the boys are informed that PCP was in 6th due to the release of Panty Flash Fight and Samurai Batter, which got 2nd and 3rd, respectively. Even though neither have a series, it’s a big blow for them. Hattori also makes the guess that they will have a regular competitor in Panty Flash Fight as it is almost certainly going to be serialized.

Hattori asks why they’re so bummed about the news. Saiko asks about Arai and Nangoku’s one-shots. They are also likely to get good results, but that’s not a reason to panic.

The boys decide to do what Nanamine told them.

Hattori flips out at the news. Stunned. He takes a beat to think about it.

He admits that Nanamine has a point: the method can produce very good manga. The proof is in the pudding: the responses to each have been highly positive. Hattori has skin in the game and finds it distasteful as a literal editor, but he also has to admit Nanamine has them whipped with his method for now. He’s worried that Kosugi will take it the hardest.

Saiko points out that he’s unlikely to work with an editor either. Hattori also recognizes that controversy will soon follow once the editorial department inevitably finds out about this. But because of the results, they may allow Kosugi to not bother Nanamine.

Jesus.

Hattori recognizes that even if he doesn’t like it, the results are good, not to mention there have been net benefits: students get to read manga they enjoy, he’s advancing the skills of future creators, and he’s giving veteran manga artists an opportunity to work again.

Hattori brings up Eiji’s cryptic statement, “Recycling is a good thing.” They wonder if that’s referring to the veteran artists. Hattori posits that Nanamine is using the veterans to full advantage and that they can still be useful even in their advanced age.

Saiko agrees that it’s hard for the old guard to make a comeback after their popularity has waned. Hattori sees the Taro Kawaguchi of it all immediately.

Hattori recommends keeping this to themselves until further notice because Nanamine has said nothing yet. Hattori wants to speak to Azuma and the higher-ups when the time is right.

Uncle Taro’s Message

At Azuma’s apartment, Hattori asks point blank about the storyboard’s authorship. Azuma’s shocked but instantly apologizes and notes he’s pathetic. He needed the money and was running out of options (come back to this). When an opportunity arose, he jumped at it.

Hattori understands: Panty Flash Fight is an excellent fit for his style, and it’s well written. While understanding, though, Hattori wishes Azuma had been more forthright with him, given the nature of the arrangement.

He assures Azuma that he’s done nothing wrong and points out that plenty of artists specialize in just art. He’s also confident that Azuma would have been much more comfortable if he hadn’t kept this to himself.

Hattori then asks about Azuma’s relationship with Taro Kawaguchi. Azuma was his assistant.

Wat.

He assisted on A Hero’s Tragedy, a gag series in which peace has come to earth, rendering him useless (oy, that’s on the nose).

Hattori thinks it’s fate and lets Azuma know about Ashirogi’s identity—and Saiko’s role. Azuma’s shocked to hear about “Taka” again. Azuma never met Saiko personally, but Taro talked about him all the time.

Aw man.

Hattori relays that Saiko was thrilled to learn of Azuma’s comeback and equally disappointed when he learned the truth. Saiko sees his uncle in Azuma.

Azuma cryptically asks if Mashiro “Knows”. Hattori asks for the deets

The next day, Hattori relays Taro’s wish for Saiko to become a famous manga artist one day.

Saiko’s floored: he always thought Taro never wanted him near manga. Hattori thought so too, but Azuma has a message for Saiko specifically:

Taro’s Love

At the studio, while Taro is still alive, he thanks Azuma for his hard work. Azuma demurs: They’re the same age, and Taro is working just as hard as he. It’s inspiring for Azuma, who also wants to get into Jump.

Taro mentions his three cancellations, but he’s still motivated to continue breaking through no matter what.

Azuma’s confused: Super Hero Legend got an anime. It’s not remotely a failure.

Taro reminds him that it got unpopular and subsequently cancelled; his other two series got axed after ten chapters each. Pretty brutal. However, Taro can’t give up no matter what. He still wants to be a popular mangaka who can churn out a ton of hits. One that can wait for “Taka” with pride. He knows of Taka’s dreams of becoming a mangaka, and he can’t crush those.

Azuma asks after “Taka” and Taro proudly admits that he’s a genius artist and he’ll surpass Taro one day. Taro proudly shows a sketch of Super Hero Legend that Taka drew for him. Azuma’s impressed.

Taro wants to be a positive role model for his nephew, so he has to keep on making manga.

Fuck this is going to get me.

Taro admits that manga isn’t just any old career you pursue because of others. It’s also a brutal lifestyle and hard living. That said, if Taka should ever find his way to manga, he wants him ready to go, which is why he has the keys to the studio ready for Saiko.

Shujin cuts the tension a bit: he asked Saiko to do it in the end.

Hattori explains that Azuma and Taro remained close afterwards, and when Taro passed away, Azuma swore on his grave that he’d make it in Jump for him. He’d wait for Taka in his place.

Azuma earnestly wanted to keep that promise, but he was hopeless. If Saiko was unaware of Taro’s wishes, then Azuma wanted Saiko to know that Taro would be so proud and happy that he had made it this far. He’s looking down and cheering from above.

I’m gonna need a second.

Azuma includes himself in those well wishes. Shujin tears up. Saiko is struck.

On Friday, December 9th, while waiting for the final results, Shujin is ambivalent about the whole situation: He doesn’t want to lose to Nanamine, but he also wants Azuma to make it. Saiko plays it cool: losing to Panty Flash Fight is losing to Nanamine.

Shujin thinks Azuma is largely blameless here and wouldn’t mind Panty Flash Fight being in the magazine as long as PCP is over him.

They get a call about the final results, and Saiko scolds him to ask about the one-shots.

Panty made third, PCP made fifth, and Yanagi’s one-shot got 7th. Panty is on its way to a series. Yanagi’s one-shot didn’t do as well as the others, but it still got a respectable place in 7th.

All those vets might get a series after all…

Heel Turn

At his office, Nanamine plays darts in his room with an action figure—I assume of Makoto—on the board. An assistant lets him know that Yanagi sensei wants to talk with him.

When asked why, the assistant notes it’s likely because they stopped providing storyboards to him.

Nanamine holds Yanagi in contempt for begging and decides to tell him off directly. He lets the man in. Yanagi shouts at Nanamine about ceasing storyboards for The Sword that Surpasses Time.

Nanamine explains 7th is unacceptable. And if he wants to work with them, he needs to do 5th or higher.

Yanagi protests: 7th isn’t actually bad for a one-shot. Nanamine thinks that for some that might be the case but he decides to make the subtext text: anyone who can’t place about Muto Ashirogi has no place at his store

There it is.

Nanamine explains they provided the most suitable storyboards for him which makes Yanagi the problem, not them. Yanagi asks if his artwork is bad: Nanamine thinks it is a little too old-fashioned. The monitors thought so too.

Yanagi promises to work on it but Nanamine cuts him off: he has an editor at jump now they can go work on it stotgehter. 7th isn’t bad for a one-shot right?

Yanagi begs: he can’t do this without them. He complains that he’s received a rookie who has only been there a year. Nanamine agrees: the skills of that editor have nothing on his company.

Yanagi continues to beg for another story. Nanamine thinks he’s being stubborn and points out that they took him in when no one else would. Gave him a last shot at a dream he could never reach on his own. He should be grateful.

Yanagi asks what he should do now.

Nanamine suggests giving up on manga for good.

Jesus.

Nanamine has another idea: maybe when a rookie here prepares for their debut he can be an assistant; that is if Nanamine lets him.

On that truly heinous note, the chapter concludes.

Provide and Stop Reaction

Auteur Theory

So, despite my protests that this arc has a silly premise, which, for the record, it does, it’s still mega silly – I will now say that this chapter – and retroactively the arc – was a lot to unpack. A fuck of a lot.

Let’s unpack it.

First there’s the stuff we went over at length last chapter which was made from subtext to text here about Shinjitsu’s apparent moral quality as a company. Yeah. It’s seemingly good. Since we went over it at length in the last chapter, I’ll let you read that chapter rather than rehash it.

But what I would like talk about, for a moment, is Nanamine’s little comment on director, which might be one of the few moments of genuine moral ambiguity in this whole affair about making manga.

Because it’s actually a super valid point about collaborative art forms, and I’m going to make the argument, at least to some degree, that Manga is fundamentally a collaborative art form.

Now this ties to the idea of Auteur theory – which as a theory I think is kinda hot doodoo – or the notion that an “Auteur” (french for author) in the case of film its director, or the director of a video game is the author of the text and is purely responsible for the entirety of its creative vision and execution. That is to say, an auteur’s vision is more important than the people working under them in executing their story.

And to be fair, that is how we treat auteurs. It’s why we have digital shrines, petabytes in size, devoted to a few major filmmakers like Chris Nolan, David Fincher, Alfred Hitchcock, Steven Spielberg, or David Lynch (RIP).

The idea is that if you were to watch a film by any of these filmmakers, it would be instantly recognizable as their work and no others. And everyone does that, insofar as we give the lion’s share of the credit to these creators.

But that really undersells just how important the other pieces of the puzzle are to the creation of a piece of “Collaborative Art”.

For example: Andrei Tarkovsky’s films after Stalker are tonally and visually dissimilar from his earlier works. And that’s not only because his philosophy on cinematography changed progressively over time, but he also got a new cinematographer. Namely, Ingmar Bergman’s DP.

Same with Nolan: the period of the late aughts and early teens Nolan films have a distinct visual flavor that is entirely different from his more recent work because of the shift in his editors, and his DP Hoyte van Hoytema.

This also extends to the editing, the lighting, the performances, et. al. While these directors can be seen as the driving and guiding force in these productions, ultimately the works are the sum of all the hand that goes into their creation.

And in my short film – which I’m currently working on – I am the guiding force, but I’m letting the input from other key crew shape the vision. Without their input it wouldn’t be nearly as strong.

And, shameless plug, if you would like to donate to it and help realize the dream I’ve talked about since starting this blog click here.

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But anyway, this is partially true for manga as well. Though to a limited degree

While mangaka are given brutal schedules, they also have assistants who help with backgrounds, shading, and screentones. But as we’ve seen with Fukuda, some specialized assistants sometimes do stuff like draw motorbikes or guitars, and that is nothing to say of research done for a manga to ensure some of the facts are accurate. If they consult an expert, that expert’s hand on the project will be felt because of the increased accuracy in the making.

That is to say, nothing of the editor.

So Nanamine, unfortunately, makes a reasonable point with his company: he can be considered a “Director” for overseeing the creation of these manga even if he is not directly involved in the production of the pages. I give this point to him begrudgingly.

Dude’s still a doofus with a narcissistic streak. Exhibit a.) He’s showing off to Ashirogi to get their approval. Still, he asks them to tell Hatttori. Still, he doesn’t get Jump’s approval to do this. Still.

And also that whole thing at the end with Yanagi.

And I want to make a brief meta-aside before I jump into how Nanamine is basically going to destroy himself again in the same way as before, but I want to make just one comment.

Yanagi’s Character Design Makes Me Sad

This is such a minor point to harp on, and I think no one really cares other than me, but I’m not a fan that Yanagi’s character design was made to look like such a schlub and loser.

While I don’t doubt an unemployed mangaka who has never had a successful manga in their middle age years will no doubt not be the healthiest individuals or the most well put together, Obata’s design here is so clearly designed to evoke sympathy because of how objectively ugly and pathetic he looks.

And that…feels kinda manipulative especially since he’s also overweight.

This is such a weird thing to nitpick, too. But if you look at the other older artists—who also have a shot at making a successful manga—Azuma and Arai, I don’t think we’ve seen nangoku or the other vet mentioned—they are either skinny or at least not heinously ugly.

And then there’s Hibiki, who is positively good-looking and fashionable.

So, to have Nanamine’s heel turn be for someone so overtly pathetic-looking and designed to evoke sympathy made me feel weird. It almost reinforces the idea that Yanagi was going to earn this one way or another.

Similar to another heinous character whom we know and despise: Nakai.

Do I think Ohba hates fat people? No. I don’t think he hates fat people. But it is certainly a choice to have this character be the sacrificial lamb for Nanamine’s schemes, which we can now jump back to, because that whole final scene made me indescribably sad.

This fucking loser

Okay, so yeah, Nanamine is literally doing everything he did the first time around, and he’s going to lose because of it—end of story.

Even if both SHhujin and Hattori – two reliable bellwethers on an idea’s feasibility, which, for the record, this idea is, believe that the idea has weight and will be difficult to defeat, that would only make sense if Nanamine weren’t the one to run it. But because Nanamine is chronically addicted to being a fucking dipstick, he’s going to eat shit again.

He annoys me. And not just because he fucked over Yanagi there at the end.

Some of the stuff I cited as potential problems for this whole enterprise came to bear a bit here, and the editorial team has not even found out yet, in the fact that even when you have a winning premise for business, in a speculative industry, it doesn’t really matter all that much.

Because you cannot guarantee a hit, that is just not how it works. You can do a lot to ensure that people like it, but that will not a hit make.

And I think Ayashimon is such a prime example of that, and it’s one Nanamine will never consider because he’s too focused on winning to give a shit about making manga.

Ayashimon is perhaps one of the greatest recent disappointments in Shonen Jump. It had an impeccable pedigree from the artist who did Jigokuraku – an excellent manga by the way – and it had an interesting premise, surprising art, and it was propped up to be the next unhinged masterpiece. He was also a disciple of Fujimoto of Chainsaw Man

And it fizzled out and died.

The plot went nowhere, the fights were not particularly inspired, and the fact that the mangaka, whose previous work was about as hard R as manga can be, had to soften it for a broader audience meant that some of the biting genius of Jigokuraku was pulled back. So it failed.

Which seems to be Nanamine’s profoundest misunderstanding borne of being a shitty rich kid with no friends: method is important, but method offers no guarantees.

This brings me to the biggest part of this chapter and the reason I’m warming up to this arc. When it was first mentioned, I liked it; now, I like it more.

Taro

Not gonna lie, when I finished that flashback I straight teared up. That is an S-tier level flashback. And it works for a lot of reasons, but the biggest is that it really reframes the beginning of the story in this profound way.

It also speaks to the lack of guarantees of making a hit.

Aside from finding Taro the man, a complicated, funny, but ultimately tragic figure, being such, like, a nice guy, and super likeable, there was something sad to me personally about his desire to make more hits.

I’ve mentioned that I’m getting older, and even though I’m not old—we’re not there yet—I feel like Taro in a very specific way.

I keep making things, and people keep not engaging with them. But you, my lovely reader, are there for me, and I appreciate you.

But I have been making things for a long time, and for a long time, I’ve never really been seen. I’m sure there are no underlying issues to address with that statement. Impossible.

But the one thing I know about making good art, which is what I ultimately want to create and what I can acknowledge I’m not yet making, is that the best way to get good is output. Plain and simple.

Every great artist was an output machine. Not everything they did was great, but everything great was the product of all the things they made. And I want to be there.

Which is why I’ve become quite…well, obsessed with output. I make as much as possible because I know that ultimately, you simply get better if you are mindful and productive, recognize your errors, grow from them, and play to your strengths.

But sometimes, your strengths aren’t something that people like, as Taro learned the hard way. And so his death has an extremely tragic resonance with me as I continue to question why I make this stuff when no one wants to engage with it.

Admittedly, it is a petty problem. I love art, I love making art, and I’m going to continue making it regardless of whether people consume it or not. But I’m not going to lie about the fact that I want my art to be successful and good. It would be crazy to admit otherwise.

But yeah, it made this particular arc hurt so much more, especially when we saw how caring and kind Taro is. We saw how much he loved his nephew and had high hopes for him, but he also knew what the cost of entering his profession would entail.

It’s fucking beautiful man.

And compound that with Azuma, who never really got successful compared to Taro. That’s even more tragic. The fact that he’s spent all this time in obscurity, working on getting better, and getting desperate to the point where he hires fucking Nanamine to give him something that will achieve his dream. A selfless dream, too.

And the fact that he feels such shame, even though given his status as an unemployed mangaka, it’s a totally reasonable devil’s bargain.

That is knotty, complicated, and rich, and I love it, and it made me cry, too.

Although I will say

There are a lot of callbacks in this arc

Yeah. Not much to comment on, other than the fact that I’m noticing a lot of deep cuts here. Just like the recycling comment, which has now been mentioned by the boys, so it’s definitely part of the grand scheme of the arc, I still don’t know what it’s adding up to. But yeah, lots of connections here.

And honestly, I like it. It’s a cheap way to get people to like stuff, but they say we don’t like music the first time we listen to it, we enjoy the anticipation of hearing something again. So it makes sense that it’s a crowd-pleasing gambit. Hell, it’s half the reason the MCU works.

Connections are fun.

But there are a lot of them.

But to go back to Azuma

It’s so clear that Nanamine does not care about these vets because he’s willing to withhold storyboards and take 60% of their pay. So, despite all the seeming good coming out of the company, it’s also quite clear that it’s masking some real, genuine darkness that the series acknowledges.

And it’s why Nanamine is the villain. Because even when he tries to change, he changes the wrong thing. Not only that, he exploits those who are desperate enough to sign on to his cons.

It’s heinous

But I will say, there is a glimmer here, and that is the idea that Nanamine actually kind of understands on a deep level that he is a huckster and that Jump is right. With the comment about Nakama being motivated purely by self-interest, he outs himself as knowing, on some level, that he does want friends who assist in fulfilling a creative vision.

He just doesn’t know how to fucking do it.

Which is fucking sad, but because this shit heel never learns, it is just.

Until next time,

Peace