Chapter 8 - 8

Words : 1480 Updated : Sep 24th, 2025

Chapter 8 of "I just want to quietly draw manga" unveils: ##Outside the Barbecue Restaurant "Hey, are you the driver from Kyushu Taxi?" "Yup, that's me." --- ## In the... Continue the story!

##Outside the Barbecue Restaurant "Hey, are you the driver from Kyushu Taxi?" "Yup, that's me." --- ## In the Car "Hey, is that your girlfriend?" the driver asked with a grin as he glanced at the passenger seat. Haruki sighed. "Nope. Just a classmate. She's like an older sister to me." --- It was nearly 1 a.m. by the time Haruki managed to haul the deadweight that was Sora up the narrow stairs to his second-floor apartment. He'd even asked the driver to park her car in the open space downstairs before helping her out of the taxi. Haruki lived alone, but thankfully he kept the place clean—guest rooms included. He laid her down on the futon in the spare bedroom, removed her shoes, and tucked her under the quilt. By the end of it, he was gasping for air. She's heavier than she looks... or maybe I'm just out of shape. Her cheeks were still flushed red, the alcohol clearly hadn't worn off yet. She had originally fallen neatly onto the pillow, but now her head lolled off to the side. "...Terrible sleeping posture," Haruki muttered, crouching down to adjust her head back onto the pillow. "You'll get a stiff neck like this..." Just as his hand brushed the side of her face— WHAM. A loud thud echoed through the room. Haruki was thrown backward, landing on the floor with a pained grunt. "GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU PERVERTED LOSER! I SAID I'D RATHER DIE THAN GO OUT WITH YOU, YOU PATHETIC WORM, YOU—!" Still completely unconscious, Sora suddenly sat up and began swinging wildly at empty air, fists flailing in all directions. Haruki sat there in shock, pain flaring up in his nose and both cheeks. He blinked. Did I just... get beat up in my own house? "Seriously, what kind of person is this?!" His nose stung, eyes watering. "Bad at drinking, bad at sleeping... whoever marries her is cursed for eight lifetimes..." After a good thirty seconds of shouting at some invisible Rika Hayashi in her dream, Sora finally dropped backward and fell fast asleep again. Somehow, in the commotion, she'd kicked the quilt halfway off the bed. One of the straps of her dress had slipped down to her elbow. Haruki sighed. He wanted to just leave her like that—but he was still worried she'd catch a cold. Resisting both the pain in his face and the awkwardness of the moment, he closed his eyes, carefully picked up the quilt, and gently tucked her back in—taking care to avoid another random punch to the face. Then he exhaled, long and deep. What kind of editor is this? Aren't editors supposed to help you with your manga? Why is mine getting me drunk, making me pay, and literally punching me in the face?! Sora was sleeping like a rock now. As for Haruki, the buzz he'd felt earlier was completely gone. He didn't know when sleep would come to him. He switched off the light and quietly stepped out of the room. --- ## The Next Morning Rain pounded on the windows, thunder rumbling overhead. It was one of those heavy, curtain-like downpours that made it seem like the sky had torn open. Sora stirred beneath the covers, her brow furrowed. "Ugh... my head..." She slowly sat up, groaning. "...Where... am I?" Her eyes darted around the unfamiliar room—and then she immediately checked her clothes. "Still on... thank goodness..." A long breath of relief escaped her lips. There was a pair of slippers neatly placed beside the bed. The smell of food wafted in from the other room. Grrruuuuuumble. Her stomach growled angrily. She slipped on the slippers and opened the bedroom door. Haruki was in the kitchen, plating up two bowls of steaming noodles—sliced pork, cabbage, bean sprouts, and a sunny-side-up egg each. A warm glass of milk sat beside each bowl. "Not bad, kid," Sora said, stepping into the room. "You really know how to cook." She didn't seem the least bit embarrassed about crashing at his place. She walked straight over, sat down, and dug into the noodles without a word. Haruki could only stare. This woman has no shame... But she was clearly starving. She slurped down the noodles, drained the milk in one gulp, and looked ready to go for seconds. Strangely enough, the way she ate—it wasn't messy or gross. On anyone else, it might've looked a bit crude. On her, it came across as... kind of cute. Maybe that was the high-charisma effect in action. When she finished, she leaned back with a content sigh and glanced around. "Nice place. Clean. Organized. You can cook. Honestly, how are you not married yet?" Haruki promptly spat out a mouthful of milk. "Huh?!" Sora blinked, realizing how that sounded. Her cheeks reddened, just slightly. "Okay, okay, maybe that came out wrong..." She checked the time on her phone. "Crap, it's already 9:20? Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?" Haruki gave her a flat look. "I skipped. You passed out on my floor. I wasn't about to just leave you here." "What about you?" he added. "Don't you have work?" Sora waved a hand lazily. "Eh, I'll just write a report later. Say I was out discussing plot with an artist. It won't even affect my pay." "By the way," she said, scanning the room more thoroughly. "We've chatted a lot over LINE, but we've only met in person twice—once at the company, and last night." "Both times, you skipped class," she added slyly. "Does your dad know about that?" As she said it, her eyes drifted to a framed photo in the corner of the living room—of a younger Haruki and a couple, presumably his parents. Her voice caught in her throat, and she changed the subject immediately. "...Anyway!" she said, trying to sound cheerful. "No wonder you were able to create something like The Garden of Words." "Huh? What's that supposed to mean?" Haruki frowned. "Think about it," Sora said, eyes gleaming now. "Your protagonist, Takao, is a high schooler who skips school on rainy days and dreams of becoming a shoemaker." "And you? A high schooler who skips school and dreams of being a mangaka." Haruki's eyes widened. "Wait, hold on—" "The protagonist is clearly based on you!" "Wha—? No, it's not! That's—!" "Too late! You've been exposed!" Sora leaned in, thoroughly entertained by her own theory. "If Takao is you, then obviously the story reflects what you want to happen." Haruki was speechless. "And since the person Akiyama falls for is Yukino—an older woman... it all makes sense now." Sora smirked. "You're into older women, aren't you?" Cue Haruki choking on air again. "Wh—What?!" --- The way Haruki's expression shifted—half flustered, half on the verge of panic—only made Sora feel more amused. There was something endearing about it, and she couldn't resist teasing him. "Hmm... let's think this through," she said with mock seriousness, tapping her chin. "Yukino is the heroine in The Garden of Words, right? So she probably represents your ideal woman." Haruki blinked. "Huh? Wait—" "And then," Sora continued, ignoring his protest, "pretty much all the important scenes in your manga happen when it's raining." She leaned forward slightly, enjoying the flustered look on his face. "The confession scene between Takao and Yukino? That was on a rainy day too." "So clearly, for you, rainy days are the perfect setting for love." "A high school boy who skips class whenever it rains..." "...meets a beautiful office lady skipping work because she's emotionally drained..." "And then... their feelings begin to bloom." She paused. As the words left her mouth, a strange sense of déjà vu began to creep in. Something about what she was describing felt... eerily familiar. Haruki was just staring at her now. Not arguing. Not laughing. Just silently watching. Outside, rain was pattering steadily against the windows. Thunder rolled faintly in the distance. Sora's eyes flicked toward the glass, then back to Haruki. A boy who skips class on rainy days. A beautiful woman, jaded from the pressures of the adult world, also skipping out. A rainy day... like today. Wait. Her gaze darted back and forth between Haruki and the window. "The high school boy... skipping class." "The tired office lady... skipping work." "...on a rainy day..." Her voice trailed off. They both stared at each other. Sora's expression slowly shifted from smugness to realization, then to visible horror. "...Wait a second." The silence was deafening—until Haruki burst out laughing. Sora turned bright red. "Oh my god," she muttered, burying her face in her hands. "I just described us."

Chapter 8 - 8

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