Tokyo: The Manga Begins with the Funeral of Frilian

As Shiori Shirakawa entered the bookstore, her steps unconsciously slowed down.

On the display stand by the entrance, a comic book titled "Battle Rhapsody" occupied the entire surface.

The bright red cover was very eye-catching.

Next to the display stand stood a handwritten recommendation board with the slogan: "The most exciting manga of the fall! A new era of battle comics has arrived."

She walked around the display stand and slowly made her way deeper into the comics section.

After searching through two rows of bookshelves, she finally found "The Burial of Frilian" on a shelf in the corner.

There were only five books on the shelf, and the side covers of these comics all faced outwards, revealing the words "Frilian".

Shiori Shirakawa stood in front of the shelf and took down the five manga volumes one by one.

The cover image is quite unique, showing Frilian standing in a sea of ​​blue moonflowers.

My fingertips are pointing directly at Simmel's back, the blue of which still gleams gently on the printed paper.

It brings a sense of peace to those who see it.

She hugged all five comic books to her chest and walked towards the cashier.

  

"I want to buy all of these."

She said this to the cashier, who glanced at the comic book cover and asked, "Is this a newly published one? Are you sure you want to buy five copies?"

"Yes."

As Shiori Shirakawa answered, she took out her wallet and paid.

Then he put the five volumes into his tote bag.

As she walked out of the bookstore, she stood at the door and looked back inside one last time.

The bookshelf in that corner was empty, and her fingers gripped the handle of the handbag tightly.

With that in mind, Kamiya Yuma drew a thousand autographed illustrations over three days and three nights.

The Crested Moon Grass on each sheet is different.

These signed illustrations are now scattered across more than twenty bookstores in Tokyo.

Like this comic book, it was placed in the most inconspicuous place, hoping to be discovered by readers.

She took a deep breath, turned around, and walked towards the office building.

When we were halfway there.

She suddenly stopped in her tracks because she saw the entrance to another bookstore across the street.

A young man in a suit was walking out of the store.

He held a copy of "The Burial of Frilian" in his hand, the blue cover of which stood out brightly in the afternoon sunlight.

Shiori Shirakawa paused for a moment, only to see the man open the cover.

It stopped at the first page of the signature board, which had a drawing of a blue moon grass.

He stared at the flower for a long time.

Then he closed the book.

He didn't put the book in his briefcase, but held it in his hand and continued walking.

It's as if you're holding something extremely precious in your hand.

Shiori Shirakawa recognized his profile; Onodera-senpai had once shown her a reader's letter.

The letter writer also attached a photograph.

The person in the photo is him, the 30-year-old salesman, whom I saw in the floral spread when I was working the night shift at the convenience store.

She stood in front of the shelves, crying like a child.

It was 7 p.m., and the west exit of Shinjuku Station was bustling with people during the evening rush hour.

Office workers in suits poured out of the office building and merged into the underground passage.

Kenta Yamada leaned against the railing at the subway station entrance, holding a copy of "The Burial of Frilian" in his hand.

Tucked inside the open book was a drawing board with a picture of a blue moonflower. He stared at that flower throughout his commute.

From the office to the subway station, I didn't close the book; I was completely absorbed in it.

"Yamada."

A man also wearing a suit walked over; he was a colleague from the same department.

"Why are you standing here? Aren't you going to go back...?"

Halfway through his sentence, his colleague noticed the book in his hand and asked, "Are you reading comics? Didn't you say you hadn't read comics in years?"

"This is different; this comic book is very special."

As Yamada spoke, he turned the page to the double-page spread with the floral design.

I handed it to him to show, and my colleague took it and glanced at it casually at first.

Then, without thinking, he straightened up.

He looked at it for about two minutes, then returned the book to Yamada and asked, "What kind of manga is this?"

"It's called 'The Burial of Frilian,' and it tells the story of an elf who has lived for a very long time and begins her journey anew after the hero's death."

Yamada pointed to the double-page spread and explained.

"The hero loved her, but he never confessed. Look at his eyes; they're full of reluctance and regret."

After a moment of silence, my colleague asked, "Do bookstores sell them?"

"Yes, the one I bought is in Shinjuku 3-chome, on a shelf in the corner."

After hearing this, the colleague turned and walked away. "Where are you going?"

Yamada hurriedly asked, "Go buy a copy."

Yamada watched his colleague's figure disappear into the crowd, then closed the book in his hand and put it into the innermost compartment of his briefcase, as if afraid that someone might damage it.

Forty minutes later, the colleague found the bookstore.

There were three copies of "The Burial of Frilian" left on the shelf in the corner of the comics section. He picked them up, flipped through them, and then carried all three to the cashier.

Do you want all three books?

"I asked the cashier."

"Yes, I'll keep one for myself and give the other two to friends."

The cashier paused for a moment, then started scanning the code. When my colleague finished paying and came out of the store, he saw two young people who looked like college students standing at the door flipping through a copy of "The Burial of Frilian," and they got to the page with the autographed illustrations.

One of the girls gasped in surprise and said, "Is this flower hand-painted?"

"It seems so. Look at the brushstrokes; it doesn't look like it was printed."

Another girl responded.

"Does every single one have it?"

"I don't know, let's look at some other ones."

The two women reached for the last book on the shelf at the same time, their hands touching, and they glanced at each other.

"What do you want?"

"Do you want one too?"

They opened the book, and sure enough, there was a signed illustration inside.

It was another Crescent Moon Grass, its color was warm, like the light at dusk, very beautiful.

"This one is different from the previous one."

"This one looks great too!"

The girl hugged the book to her arms and said, "I want to buy one too."

"But there aren't any left on the shelf."

Another girl answered, "Shopkeeper! Do you still have this comic book?"

The clerk peeked out from behind the cashier and said, "That book was already restocked today. There should be a few more in the warehouse. I'll go get them for you."

She went into the warehouse and quickly brought out a small cardboard box containing ten copies of "The Burial of Frilian".

In another bookstore in Shinjuku, the manager is tallying today's sales figures.

How many copies of "Battle Rhapsody" did it sell?

He asked.

"About thirty books, that's a pretty good number for the first day."

"That's what the clerk in charge of the comics section replied."

"but......"

The shop assistant paused for a moment.

"But what?"

The store manager pressed for an answer.