"Is Weekly Shonen sold out again? And they're already printing 10,000 more copies?"
"This would be the fifth reprint!"
Zhou Kiyoshi, editor-in-chief of Japan's largest news portal dedicated to manga and pop culture, frowned as he went through the sheet of figures in his hands.
Hinotori Publishing had not announced any drastic changes in its strategy, but for five consecutive weeks Weekly Shonen's sales continued to climb. Something was happening. I had already vaguely heard about a new detective serialization that I was liking... but he had not paid much attention to it.
"Surely it is a passing fad," he thought at the time. The author was a complete unknown.
Now it seemed clear that he had been wrong.
"Hey," he raised his voice. "Does anyone remember the name of the detective manga that Weekly Shonen recently released ?"
The editors who were writing looked up... And they answered in unison:
"Detective Conan!"
Zhou was left with his mouth open.
"Does everyone know him?"
"Of course! It's everywhere. It's the only thing they talk about now.
"My girlfriend and I love it. But getting the magazine is a challenge. It sells out in the morning!
Zhou began to break out in a cold sweat. He had in his hands the communiqué confirming the weekly reprints. And even then, if it ran out... The magnetism of that manga was real.
"And why didn't anyone tell me about this?"
The editors looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders.
"Boss... You said that the original mangas don't sell.
And it was true. Zhou had always despised debut authors and their "experimental" works. He ignored them by system. Now the heat was rising up his neck. He slammed on the desk.
"This doesn't count! There has never been an original manga like this before!" No more excuses. I want everyone to write a press release about Detective Conan before noon. I want good, acidic, eye-catching headlines. We will publish the best one!
"All of them?" Really?
"Don't complain. If they do not present anything, I deduct their salary. If we select your note... 60,000 yen bonus.
The atmosphere changed immediately. The keyboards began to sound like gunshots. It was a good payment for a single note.
Liu Daisuke, an executive at a technology company, was returning that night to his apartment in Kawasaki.
"Tiantian, Dad is here!" He shouted as he hung up his coat.
She took a thick magazine out of her bag and smiled:
"I got you the new issue of Weekly Shonen! This issue reveals the culprit of the previous case!"
It was a recent ritual between father and daughter.
They used to barely speak, but since his wife recommended Detective Conan, everything changed. The manga had a light and fun feel, with no gore or strong scenes. And week after week, they discussed together the clues, the turns, the suspects.
But that night, something was different. Tiantian didn't run to greet him.
"Is that okay?" He asked his wife from the kitchen.
—Yes, he is in the studio, with the computer. Go see it.
Liu went to the door, still with the magazine in his hand. But when you open it...
"Bad, bad! They're all bad!
His daughter was screaming with her headphones on, tapping the keys of the keyboard with her palm open.
He was alarmed. Were they insulting her? Was a stranger yelling at you online?
He ran, picked her up from the chair and took off her headphones. A storm of voices emerged from the loudspeaker:
"They are manipulating the truth, they just want to destroy the illusion of the readers!"
"How can you say that Detective Conan was made by three people?"
"Envious! They can't stand that Mirai-sensei is better than their favorite mangakas!
"I will continue to believe in him!" It doesn't matter what they say!
Liu pressed the mute button. He turned to his daughter.
"What happened?"
"Dad!" she replied, her eyes full of frustration, "they're saying that Brother Mirai is a phony! That Detective Conan was made by several authors and that he's just a fake name!"
Liu had to hold back a laugh. At home everyone enjoyed manga, but her daughter lived it intensely. While he and his wife analyzed the plots... Tiantian was devoted to the author as if she were a pop star.
"Why do they say that?"
"Look.
He pointed to the screen.
In addition to the voice chat, I had a news page open: Nippon News Digital. And a headline in red shone in the center:
Savior of the original manga... or editorial montage?
Liu clicked.
"A young man who has never won awards or published short stories, appears out of nowhere and launches a record-breaking manga five weeks in a row. Do you believe it?"
"The level of composition and social subtexts that this work shows are not even easy to replicate by veteran mangakas..."
"According to technical analysis, the final illustration of the first chapter seems to be the work of a traditional artist specialized in sumi-e..."
Liu closed the tab and sighed.
I understood the skepticism... but he felt out of place. Mirai-sensei's talent was evident. Why couldn't they accept that, sometimes, a new star can really emerge?
Tiantian rested his forehead on his arm and muttered:
"Dad... is it true that there are people who don't want Mirai-sensei to continue drawing?"
Liu stroked her hair and said with a smile:
"If the manga is good, it will keep going. No matter how much they talk... the readers will decide.
And in that moment, as she held her daughter in her arms with the Weekly Shonen tome on the desk, she knew they weren't alone.
Thousands of people felt the same way.
—Does the Japan Detective Association have any members who know how to draw manga? As far as I know... There is no such person.
Liu Daisuke raised an eyebrow, still reading the open column on the screen.
"We come to an inevitable conclusion: the author of Detective Conan is not one, but three. A professional illustrator, a writer of detective novels and a traditional artist —probably specializing in sumi-e—. All this coordinated by Hinotori Publishing as a great marketing maneuver. Mirai-sensei... it does not exist."
The article was written in an academic tone, but it barely concealed its intentions. Each paragraph used twisted logic and circular arguments to induce a single comfortable "truth": that the manga had been manufactured by committee. That Mirai-sensei was an empty pseudonym. That Detective Conan was just a well-directed farce.
Liu shook his head. He had read the manga carefully. I didn't believe for a second that Hinotori was behind such an elaborate set-up.
What did surprise him... it was the numbers.
Over 100,000 responses. More than 5,000 times shared on networks.
It was crazy. What made it so viral?
The news had no special design. Not a brilliant analysis. The only possible explanation... it was the manga itself.
Detective Conan wasn't just popular.
He was a phenomenon.
It had captured thousands of readers in a matter of weeks. That was the only reason why such a petty and ill-founded note could ignite such a discussion.
And then Liu understood. That tabloid publication was just the fuse. There were more articles in a row, more opinions boiling over... More rumors looking for clicks.
He looked at the screen again and murmured, almost respectfully:
"Overnight fame..." to be known throughout the country for something you created...
Sighed.
"What an enviable thing, isn't it?"
He recalled a saying:
"If you're going to be famous... that he is as young as possible."
And although he did not say it bitterly, the phrase floated like an inevitable truth.