I handed my draft over to Doraemon, watching as he took it and started to read seriously.
At first, when he saw the story about a genius turning into a loser, he laughed, "Nobita, is this you? Did you just make yourself the main character?"
But as Doraemon kept reading, he got more and more absorbed—his smile fading as he dove deeper.
"Is there more?" he asked when he finished, sounding almost disappointed.
"That's just the first volume," I replied, feeling a little embarrassed.
"Anyway, I only wanted your opinion. What's up with you?"
Doraemon snapped out of it, realizing he'd gone way beyond just a quick look.
"Nobita, this is truly amazing. You're a genius manga artist!" His eyes had this strange glow—almost... admiration?
"This manga is going to be huge! Maybe even famous across the country!" Doraemon was so excited.
"How many dorayaki should I buy then? Maybe I'll make a dorayaki mountain! No, a dorayaki sea! I'll swim in it—haha!" He drifted off into his dorayaki daydream.
Seeing Doraemon so hyped put me at ease. Maybe this manga wasn't so bad after all. My heart was pounding with excitement.
…
The next day, Doraemon and I started submitting my manga to publishers. Shueisha, Shogakukan, you name it—we sent it everywhere. Cast a wide net, catch more fish, right? We figured we'd see who offered the best deal.
Doraemon insisted I pick a pen name. He suggested weird ones like "Dorayaki is Delicious" or "Weird Little Cat." I shot them all down.
Instead, I went with "Yugi Mutou." Doraemon asked if it meant anything.
I told him, "It's kind of like the name of a heart of cards god. Maybe it'll bring me luck."
…
A few days passed—nervous, anxious days. Suddenly, the phone at home wouldn't stop ringing. Mom was baffled. Everyone was asking for "Yugi Mutou."
"We don't have anyone named that!" she kept saying.
But whenever Doraemon or I answered, we'd get into long debates with whoever was calling—never satisfied with their offers.
Then, a few days later, the doorbell rang.
Mom opened the door and saw two men in suits, already arguing with each other. But as soon as she opened up, they straightened out and politely asked, "Hello, is Yugi Mutou-sensei home?"
"We don't—" Mom started, about to say Yugi Mutou didn't live here.
But I called from behind, "That's me. Are you from the publishers?"
Mom looked stunned—her son, with a work good enough for publishers, and apparently really popular.
Both men were shocked to see Yugi Mutou was just a kid. Still, they didn't make a scene—after all, there are precedents for genius kid manga artists. There was none of that underestimating drama you see in novels; these were seasoned PR guys.
They stayed respectful.
"Yugi-sensei, I'm from Shueisha."
"Yugi-sensei, I'm from Shogakukan."
"We're here today to discuss your manga."
"Please, come in!" I said, leading them to the living room.
Mom just said, "I'll make some tea," acting like I was now the main pillar of the house.
The two reps picked up on that right away and started negotiations in earnest.
After a fierce round of bargaining, I chose Shueisha. Their offer matched all my expectations. Shogakukan offered more money, but Shueisha promised a 60/40 split (I'd get 40%), plus a guaranteed monthly minimum of fifty thousand yen.
I wasn't really after the minimum fee, though. What really caught my eye was that Shueisha would give me a small company.
Yes, you read that right—a real company. Small, but mostly working in entertainment and publishing. Shueisha saw what I wanted and, desperate to land my manga, they just threw it in. The company only had a handful of employees and barely broke even—might as well give it away.
For me, it meant skipping all the time and trouble of starting a company. Like moving into a fully furnished house.
So now I had a company, but since I was still a kid, Mom held the controlling rights.
The talks went great, and we signed the contract on the spot.
After I walked the publisher out, Mom finally asked, "Nobita, what's going on?"
"Mom, I wrote a manga, and the publishers loved it. Here, take a look at the contract." I handed it over, grinning.
She glanced at it and gasped, "So much money! Plus royalties—and even a whole company? This… this…"
She was so proud she couldn't even speak.
"Don't worry, Mom. Didn't I say I'd support our family? I promised Dad I'd take good care of you too." My voice was gentle.
"Nobita!" Mom suddenly hugged me, tears in her eyes.
I wrapped my arms around her, feeling her warmth and the happiness of the moment.
…
Just as I'd hoped, my manga exploded in popularity. Every bookstore was selling it. Kids everywhere were talking about ninjas and the saying "Believe it!"
Mom was ecstatic every time a big payment arrived. She started celebrating with a little sake, smiling as she looked over the accounts, thinking how lucky she was to have this kind of life thanks to me.
When she thought about how well I was doing now, she couldn't help but smile.
One evening, I came downstairs for the bathroom and spotted Mom drinking alone. Doraemon wasn't home tonight—he said he had some important meeting at his future school and wouldn't be back until the day after tomorrow.
I walked into the living room, planning to tell Mom not to drink so much—it's not good for her health.
"Nobita, just in time! Come have a drink with me and chat a bit."
"Now that you're the main breadwinner, it's time you get a taste of sake too."
She invited me to sit beside her and poured me a little.
I took a sip—a strong one. It burned going down and made me cough.
She laughed when she saw my face turn red.