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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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Chapter 14: Success Rides the Waves of Its Time
After I spoke with Matsuda about ending ‘D Note’ at 50 chapters and he left the studio with determined energy, saying he’d convince the editorial department…
I didn’t actually think he’d succeed.
Matsuda is just now entering his second year as an editor. Sure, people say he’s talented enough to become editor-in-chief someday, but right now? His words don’t carry much weight within the department.
That’s why, from the moment I first brought up finishing ‘D Note’, I’d already been thinking ahead—preparing the next project as leverage to help convince them.
“Hmm…”
In that white void—my previous world—I saw manga that don’t exist in this one. There were plenty of hits, masterpieces, and legendary series that this world hasn’t known.
Even now, after working on ‘D Note’ drafts, I spend any spare time sketching manuscripts of those works.
“This one’s good too… but it’s not time to release it yet.”
There’s this idea that ‘true classics stand the test of time.’ Those masterpieces shine regardless of the era they’re born into. It’s a nice sentiment, and I don’t really have a strong opinion about it—I'm not deep enough into art theory to agree or disagree.
But what I do know, what I’ve said before—is this—
Success is all about timing. And I mean ‘massively’ so.
Trends constantly shift.
Two years ago, one style was all the rage. Two years from now, it'll be something completely different. Just a few months back, everyone was obsessed with one dessert—now it's already old news.
Manga’s no different.
Back in 2020, before I came back, people online used to say stuff like—
- Man, all these new manga are just dopamine dumps… Can’t we get something like One Piece or Naruto again?
- It all feels the same… Bland and overdone.
- Shōnen manga lost its touch. Tooniverse era was the real golden age.
People said the stories were all one-note. Overloaded with instant gratification. Chasing nothing but shock and stimulus.
And at the end of those rants, they always came back to One Piece, Naruto—longing for something with that kind of soul again.
But here’s the thing—flip the perspective.
Why aren’t we getting manga like One Piece or Naruto anymore?
The answer’s simple…
They don’t sell.
It’s not that today’s creators are less talented. Far from it. Those kinds of stories are built with a steady climb—classic setups and payoffs.
Let’s say One Piece had started serialization in 2020.
Take the Arabasta arc, for instance. Luffy loses to Crocodile ‘twice.’ That storyline, which readers used to love—how would it land today?
They’d tear it apart. ‘Too slow.’ ‘Is he even a real protagonist if he keeps losing?’ ‘Dragging the plot for no reason.’
It’s not about audiences having less patience. The ‘type’ of fun people are looking for has simply changed.
So what about ‘now’?
2008.
Right now, I’d say we’re still in an era that appreciates traditional storytelling—stories that take their time to build up, develop, twist, and resolve. That classic structure with a clear beginning, middle, climax, and ending still works.
Smartphones haven’t fully taken over people’s attention spans yet. YouTube and streaming sites aren’t dominating every spare second of the day.
Which means… This is the perfect moment.
If I want to show the world a great story—and make sure it actually becomes popular—then there’s one title I believe in more than anything.
“Fullmetal Alchemist.”
One of the five greatest manga I ever read back in that white room.
＊ ＊ ＊
Fullmetal Alchemist.
A rock-solid story structure with a clean and deliberate narrative arc.
Characters with deep backstories, intricately interwoven relationships, and a protagonist whose goals are clear and consistent from beginning to end.
It checks off every box you'd expect from a masterpiece, even down to the message it conveys through its plot.
If there’s a manga closest to the word ‘perfect’ in my eyes, it’s this one.
And based on what I researched in the white room, the world I ended up in—turns out the public felt pretty much the same.
With over 80 million copies of the collected volumes sold, it’s safe to say it was a commercial success, too.
But does that mean it’s flawless? Not quite.
Reading ‘Fullmetal Alchemist’, I came to two totally different conclusions depending on the lens I used.
In terms of narrative and craftsmanship, there’s barely anything to touch—it’s airtight.
But when you look at it from a commercial perspective? The cracks start to show.
First off, the main character doesn’t really ‘stand out’ that much.
The side characters are well-developed and rich with story, which ironically makes the protagonist fade into the background.
Sure, everyone has their favorite character, but at the end of the day, readers want to see the protagonist shine.
Yet for someone who’s labeled a genius in the story, Ed doesn’t quite get the treatment he deserves.
The second issue? Merch sales were weak.
There are plenty of characters, sure, but maybe because of the heavier themes, ‘Fullmetal Alchemist’ didn’t move much merch.
You might ask, ‘Are merch sales really that important?’
And I’d answer—absolutely.
If you’re looking at it purely from a business angle, merch is second only to manga sales themselves.
It’s where the real profit margin lies, and having your series' goods lined up in stores is a form of passive promotion too.
Now, ‘D Note’ might not have much merch potential either, but unlike ‘D Note’, ‘Fullmetal Alchemist’ actually has characters with strong enough designs to be marketable.
Tap. Ttap.
I slid aside the notes I’d written on how to improve things—my own personal breakdown—and picked up my pen.
“Not really illustration… more like redesign?”
The original character designs in ‘Fullmetal Alchemist’ weren’t bad.
But for something that fits the aesthetic of Shōnen Jump and for what grabs the otaku crowd, I knew the designs could use a tweak.
“More conventionally attractive overall… and Winry, the heroine, could be drawn a little prettier…”
To find the strongest possible character designs, I tried out different versions—during school, after school and in the studio.
“And the story…”
Since the original plot was already so polished, I figured I could follow the main beats as-is.
But when characters fall into despair, I wanted it to feel even more crushing.
And when they rise from it, I wanted it to hit like a punch to the chest—more dramatic, more cathartic.
That way, the readers would feel the protagonist’s drive and ideals even more deeply.
“No, no… this version's better…”
“Gotta be bolder here…”
“This episode should come later in the arc.”
Even with a traditional structure, the build-up—the lead-in to the climax—still has to be gripping.
I recreated scenes from the original, rewrote others entirely.
Tweaked, trimmed, rewrote again.
It was like I had both an editor and an artist living inside me.
Draw, cut, refine. Repeat.
I even lost it once or twice in the middle of the process.
“Edward, senpai~”
Chtik—
“Ugh. Not this again. I swear, every pencil I use turns into a damn tsundere.”
Unlike ‘D Note’, which marches toward its conclusion from the very beginning, this kind of story needs to hook readers with the ‘process’—the build-up is part of the thrill.
By the time ‘D Note’ hit chapter 23…
“It's doooone!”
My version of ‘Fullmetal Alchemist’—the full storyboard—was finally complete.
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Weekly Shōnen Jump Editorial Department, Meeting Room.
In the spacious meeting room, only the editor-in-chief and the deputy editor were seated.
“So, what do you think of these storyboards, Sawada?”
Sawada, the deputy editor, looked at the two envelopes laid out in front of him. He hesitated, his expression conflicted, before finally speaking.
“Let’s start with the ending of ‘D Note’—to be honest, I don’t think there could have been a cleaner conclusion.”
It wrapped up so cleanly and without any lingering attachments that, ironically, it left readers with a deep sense of ‘afterglow.’
Even he, reading it with a critical eye, couldn’t shake the lingering emotion. So how much more would it hit readers fully immersed in the story?
They’d likely return to volume one more than once, reading the whole thing over again just to feel it all unfold.
'Bold words… turns out he earned them.'
Writers coming directly to the editorial department to negotiate isn’t unheard of.
But a rookie? A middle schooler? Not even speaking to their assigned editor, but straight to the Editor-in-Chief?
That was definitely a first.
At the time, Sawada had thought, ‘What an arrogant little brat. Gets called a genius once and suddenly thinks he’s hot shit.’
But after reading the manuscript…
'He’s crazy—but in a whole different way.'
There was method to the madness. It ‘worked.’
“And what about the new series?”
Sawada shifted his gaze from the 'D Note' envelope to the one labeled ‘Fullmetal Alchemist.’
“…Honestly? I think this should be serialized immediately.”
Inside the envelope were storyboards for chapters 1 through 15.
After reading through them, Sawada had this to say—
“This isn’t just good—it’s ‘crazy’ good. Sure, the first chapter hits hard, but it’s how the buildup plays out—how the foreshadowing is layered and pays off by the end of each arc—that really pulled me in.”
He continued—
“The tone’s dark—but it works. The way it lands those shock moments? Perfectly timed. It pulls you in and leaves you itching for the next chapter. Honestly… is this kid a genius or what?”
If 'D Note' felt like an anti-Jump manga—moody, cerebral, like it was engineered to contradict the very essence of a traditional shōnen—then ‘Fullmetal Alchemist’ was something else.
On the surface, the character designs and plot structure weren’t that different from other shōnen series.
But the tone was darker, the despair deeper, and the themes heavier than your average ‘friendship, effort, victory’ fare.
Like 'D Note', it had the potential to carve out a niche that set it apart from the rest of the magazine.
Sawada knew, that was thanks to Jung Junhyuk’s masterful rearrangement.
Originally, ‘Fullmetal Alchemist’ had been a monthly series.
But this was Weekly Shōnen Jump. Weekly serialization didn’t just mean tighter deadlines—it meant shorter chapters, and a ‘constant’ need to hook readers every single week.
Junhyuk, who in his previous life had worked his way up to deputy editor at Jump, understood this better than anyone.
And he used that knowledge to its fullest.
Every single chapter of his rebooted ‘Fullmetal Alchemist’ ended with something—an image, a twist, a gut-punch line, that stuck with the reader. That left an imprint.
Junhyuk was a man who had reincarnated and spent time in that strange white room.
And the value of the knowledge and experience he brought back from both? It went beyond what even he realized.
Some of it was intentional. Some of it subconscious. But in the end, ‘Fullmetal Alchemist’—the version he had rebuilt, became something brand new.
It added tension where the original had none. It sprinkled in just the right amount of 2020s-style dopamine hits—instant gratification laced with smart pacing.
And that’s when Sawada said it—
“It might be too early to say this, but… if this gets serialized, it could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with One Piece, Naruto, and Bleach.”
And sure enough, ‘Fullmetal Alchemist’ would one day be mentioned in the same breath as those titans, remembered as a series that helped usher in a ‘Golden Age’ for Jump.
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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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