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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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Chapter 45: Identity unknown
[Is Enju the same person as Jun Wakayama?]
Am I the only one who thinks this? Doesn’t the direction in 'D Note'’s final arc feel kinda similar to 'Monogatari'?
('Monogatari' image), ('D Note' final arc image)
('Monogatari' image), ('D Note' final arc image)
('Monogatari' image), ('D Note' final arc image)
ㄴ?? What’s supposed to be the same? It’s just a close-up shot.
ㄴNo, but I kinda felt it too while reading.
ㄴCome to think of it, aren’t both creators anonymous?
ㄴIf we go by that logic, how many anonymous authors are there out there…
ㄴWhy does no one ever question how this fits into a production schedule?
ㄴWhy does no one ever consider they might have assistants?
ㄴWhat, the storyboards got handed down by their ancestors or something?
The post started picking up traction, attracting a ton of comments.
That said, no one seriously believed Enju and Wakayama were the same person.
But, as always, the flow of the internet is impossible to predict.
What began as a debate over “Are they the same person or not?” quickly spiraled into a rabbit hole, as people started pointing out more and more stylistic similarities between 'D Note' and 'Monogatari'.
[Full Breakdown of Directing Similarities Between 'D Note' and 'Monogatari']
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While I was compiling the directing parallels between 'Monogatari' and 'D Note', I came across something interesting.
The direction in 'D Note' started shifting noticeably in its final arc.
And that just so happened to be when Wakayama was getting involved in film screenwriting and animation direction.
Given that, it seems likely he brought some of that experience into his manga.
'Monogatari' also shows traces of cinematic direction. And if you compare the release window of 'Monogatari' with D Note's final arc... (trails off)
ㄴWhoa… at this point, it kinda does feel like they’re the same person.
ㄴEspecially considering the timing...
ㄴLMAO seriously? That doesn't make any sense. 'Fullmetal Alchemist' was still running, 'D Note' was wrapping up, 'Art Sword Online' and 'Dora Tora' were also dropping.
ㄴWhat, Wakayama’s supposed to be a god now?
ㄴOkay, but let’s say they ‘are’ the same person—then what happens?
Then came the comment that sent the whole thing snowballing in a new direction:
[If Wakayama and Enju are the same person, what happens next?]
Can they even keep publishing like this? Seems impossible to manage both schedules…
ㄴWhat are you talking about? If there’s a contract, of course they have to keep publishing in the commercial sphere.
ㄴIf it’s Wakayama, couldn’t he just keep putting out books at Comiket while doing 'Fullmetal Alchemist'?
ㄴNo matter how popular you are in the doujin world, it doesn’t compare. There’s a reason it’s called the “commercial market.”
ㄴSome top-tier doujin creators make commercial authors look like amateurs. What are you even saying?
ㄴAnd you think Wakayama’s just “some” commercial author? Educate yourself before you open your mouth.
[If Wakayama = Enju, does that mean they’re obligated to go commercial?]
[Wakayama vs. Enju—Honestly, I prefer the indie vibe (just my opinion)]
[Which path will Wakayama take?]
[Why this latest drama CD adds weight to the “Wakayama = Enju” theory]
What started as a simple "are they the same person or not?" debate quickly bloated into full-blown conspiracy territory.
Once people added the IF they’re the same person, it was all downhill from there.
And before anyone realized, that IF basically disappeared—and everyone started treating it like fact.
The fandoms of Enju and Wakayama began clashing, inflaming things even further.
Eventually, it blew past the boundaries of a harmless internet debate.
＊ ＊ ＊
Riiing—
"Yes, this is Atafumi from Weekly Shōnen Jump. No, the rumor that Wakayama-sensei is working under another pen name is completely unfounded."
Riiing—
"Enju-sensei? That person isn’t one of our authors, so..."
Riiing—
"Wakayama-sensei? That mangaka doesn’t even have assistants, right?"
- ???
The editorial department at Weekly Shōnen Jump was suddenly drowning in phone calls.
The reason? Baseless internet rumors.
“Ugh, does that even make sense?”
Said one editor, ducking into the smoking room between waves of calls.
“Publishing two weekly series without assistants, and still finding time to drop a whole separate work?”
He let out a laugh as he puffed out smoke.
“Seriously, the stuff people imagine these days...”
Still chuckling, he stepped out of the smoking room and passed by a meeting room—
“Wait, really?! You’re saying Jung Junhyuk—no, Wakayama-sensei and Enju-sensei are the same person?!”
Hashida’s voice boomed out through the barely cracked meeting room door.
Editors on their way back to work froze and instinctively leaned in to listen.
“Matsuda, you just sat on that info?!”
“Well... by the time I noticed, the book was already out. And the contract does allow for outside activities. What was I supposed to do?”
Hashida sighed and rubbed his forehead.
He couldn’t exactly argue—when something’s written into a contract, a regular editor can’t override it.
And anyway, Jung Junhyuk had never once taken a break from serializing either 'D Note' or 'Fullmetal Alchemist'.
In fact, for 'Fullmetal Alchemist', he had even answered a last-minute call from the editorial team and delivered an emergency chapter.
That time, he submitted two full chapters’ worth.
No one really had the grounds to complain.
“Well, whatever. There's no solid evidence. We’ll just respond by saying it's all baseless. Should die down quickly.”
Hashida kept his cool and wrapped things up.
Since the editor-in-chief was on good terms with Jung Junhyuk, he probably wouldn’t kick up too much fuss either.
“I’ll talk to the chief. You, make sure Jung-sensei’s mental state is okay. Looking after an author’s sanity is part of your job too.”
“Right. I think Jun-kun probably expected something like this to happen eventually.”
Matsuda immediately called Jung Junhyuk.
To show Hashida that everything was fine, he switched it to speakerphone while the dial tone rang.
- Hello?
Junhyuk’s voice came through as usual—calm, steady.
Matsuda had been worried, since sometimes he ignored calls while working, but thankfully he picked up this time.
“Jun-kun, it’s me. What are you up to? Everything okay?”
- Yeah, nothing out of the ordinary. I’m having lunch with Chairman Moriyama right now.
“…Oh? You've made a new friend called ‘Chairman Moriyama,’ huh? Haha! That name sure sounds familiar. Reminds me of the Moriyama we had dinner with the other night.”
- …Y-Yeah. It’s, uh… that Chairman Moriyama, actually.
“Bzzzzk—huh? That’s weird. I think the signal’s cutting out. Sorry, Jun-kun, I’ll call you back later. Enjoy your lunch\~”
Click.
Matsuda hung up, pulled a die-cast action figure from his bag, and used its robot arm to comb his hair.
“See, Chief? He’s totally fine.”
Matsuda grinned like it was just another day.
The smile was so casual, so carefree… it almost sparked pity in the others.
After all, this was the same die-cast figure he proudly showed off to everyone, polishing it daily with near-reverence—and now he was using it as a comb.
No one in their right mind would do that.
The other editors watching from outside the glass looked like they were about to tear up.
Even Hashida, who could barely bear the sight, gave Matsuda a gentle pat on the shoulder.
“…Matsuda, maybe… take the rest of the day off?”
“Huh? Oh no, I’m totally fine! I’m good to come in today, tomorrow, even on holidays! Haha!”
Then Matsuda’s voice started speeding up—rapid, panicked.
“I can work year-round, 24/7! Anywhere, anytime! Please let me keep working, Chief Hashida! Please!”
He’d misunderstood “Maybe take today off?” as “You’re taking time off starting today,” and now he was begging to stay.
＊ ＊ ＊
The gentle pluck of a Koto—a traditional Japanese string instrument—drifted calmly through the neatly arranged tatami room.
It had too much elegance to be called just an ordinary Japanese restaurant. In this refined space, Jung Junhyuk sat facing Chairman Moriyama.
They’d already exchanged the usual pleasantries long ago.
Now it was time for a new topic—but Junhyuk, unsure what the chairman might be interested in, could only offer an awkward smile.
Moriyama, on the other hand, was clearly accustomed to settings like this. He sipped his tea with ease.
“So... it’s true, then? You really are the same person?”
Just as Junhyuk was about to match the mood and take a sip himself, the chairman’s sudden, blunt question made him spit out his tea.
This wasn’t some casual fishing for gossip—it was obvious he already knew and was just confirming. Realizing this, Junhyuk decided to answer honestly.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I see.”
Junhyuk glanced at the chairman’s expression, but Moriyama just smiled, like it was nothing.
“I was just curious, that’s all.”
“You ask a question like that twice and you’ll give a guy a heart attack.”
‘Sure, go ahead and ask whatever you want.’
The moment he saw the chairman’s slightly startled expression, Junhyuk realized—he’d said that last part out loud.
“Ah… that wasn’t supposed to be out loud. I mixed up my inner monologue again.”
His inner voice had slipped out as actual speech.
“So, what’s your plan, Jung-sensei? Is it related to what you mentioned before?”
Previously, during another meal, Junhyuk had hinted to Moriyama about the potential of digital distribution.
Given that his current activities under the pseudonym Enju closely aligned with that conversation, it made sense that Moriyama was bringing it up now.
“Yes, it is. And I believe it would be wise for Shueisha to start preparing for it sooner rather than later.”
“...I see. So that’s why you went out of your way to publish externally…”
Something clicked for the chairman. He looked at Junhyuk with renewed interest.
“You do realize that—even if you tell me all this—I don’t exactly have any power to act on it, right?”
Moriyama’s role as Chairman of Shueisha was mostly honorary.
The actual authority rested with the company president, and the chairman’s duties were largely ceremonial or diplomatic in nature.
Still, that didn’t mean he was powerless.
The current president had, after all, been Moriyama’s recommendation. The two maintained a close, ongoing relationship.
So while the chairman may have had little formal power, his influence was far from negligible.
Junhyuk chuckled and shrugged in response to Moriyama’s mild disclaimer.
“Maybe. We’ll only know for sure a few years down the line. But still—being aware and waiting for it to happen is a world apart from getting blindsided.”
“I invited you out here, but I’m the one being dragged around, huh?”
Junhyuk continued to press the importance of digital transformation.
It wasn’t just about efficiency—it was a way to capitalize on the advantages of the internet, and more critically, to combat overseas piracy.
He hadn’t expected to meet the chairman directly, but now that he had, he intended to use the opportunity to its fullest.
Moriyama clearly understood the intention behind the conversation. At his pointed comment, Junhyuk gave a slight bow.
“If I came off disrespectful, I apologize.”
“No, no. I’m on my way out anyway. Being led around by a promising young person before I retire… there are worse fates.”
At those words, Junhyuk’s eyes widened slightly.
The chairman’s comment carried more weight than it seemed at first glance.
If the door was even a little open, then it was worth continuing the conversation over time.
That had been Junhyuk’s thinking—but he hadn’t expected Moriyama to be this receptive, this quickly.
“Go ahead and eat.”
“Ah, thanks for the meal.”
Before he’d even realized, the food had already been set in front of them.
During the meal, their conversation stayed casual—nothing out of the ordinary.
They talked about the film scripts and animation projects Junhyuk had worked on. To him, it was nothing special—just small talk—but the chairman seemed genuinely intrigued by the topic.
Once the meal wrapped up and they stepped outside, the waiting secretary guided Junhyuk and Chairman Moriyama to the car that had been prepared for them.
“Today was enjoyable. I’d like to talk with you again sometime, Junhyuk.”
“Likewise, sir.”
’Is he talking business? Or just a casual catch-up? Which one is it...?’
This time, Junhyuk made sure he didn’t accidentally say that out loud. Seeing his discretion, Moriyama chuckled.
“Either one is fine. When you get old, any story a young person shares ends up being interesting.”
“…It’s honestly a little scary how well you read my mind.”
“Well, it’s the only party trick I’ve picked up with age—so cut me some slack.”
With a parting smile, Chairman Moriyama gestured to the car.
“I’ve arranged a ride for you, so go on and take it. And take care of your health—your body is your greatest asset as a creator. Also, rest assured: the publisher won’t be putting any pressure on you because of all this. Just focus on your work.”
“Thank you. I hope you stay healthy as well, sir.”
Junhyuk gave a deep bow as Moriyama’s car pulled away.
The inside of the car was quiet. From the driver’s seat, the secretary glanced at the chairman through the rearview mirror.
“……”
“You’ve got something you want to ask, don’t you? Go ahead.”
Startled by Moriyama’s words—spoken while still gazing out the window—the secretary hesitated, then finally replied.
“I… was just wondering. Was there a particular reason you met with Wakayama-sensei in person to confirm something you already knew?”
Moriyama chuckled, as if amused by how cautiously the question was phrased.
“I just wanted to see where he was looking. And where he was heading. When you get old, curiosity starts showing up in the strangest places.”
His eyes were still fixed on something beyond the window—far past what was visible.
Imagining what the chairman might be seeing out there, the secretary gently pressed down on the accelerator.
＊ ＊ ＊
“It’s finished, huh.”
“Yes. I thought it’d be better to complete it as a full manuscript rather than just a storyboard this time.”
Junhyuk’s studio.
Across the desk from him, Matsuda took the envelope Junhyuk handed over.
“I don’t know where the internet currents are headed either, but at the very least, I think this might help put out the current fire.”
Junhyuk’s words made Matsuda smile awkwardly.
“Honestly, it feels more like it’s going to spark a bigger one…”
Matsuda usually supported Junhyuk’s instincts, but this time, even he couldn’t offer reassurance.
“It really is good… but I still can’t help wondering if it’s going to be okay.”
“It’ll be fine. ‘D Note’ got the green light, didn’t it?”
At that, Matsuda gave the envelope a light tap, like he’d resigned himself to what was coming.
“Alright, I’ve received the manuscript.”
On the front of the envelope, the title of the manga was clearly written:
’Titan of Tremor.’
It was the name of the work about to throw the upcoming serialization meeting into chaos.
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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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