At the same time Rurouni Kenshin reclaimed the top spot in Sora's rankings, online discussions around the series erupted.
Over on Mangastram's recommendation board—a quiet corner of the site that had been quietly featuring a front-page banner for the series all month—fans eagerly clicked into the newest thread to dissect the freshly released Chapter 8.
Mangastram wasn't the biggest platform in the manga community, but among dedicated readers, it was a familiar and trusted space. The recommendation board didn't usually attract much traffic, but with Rurouni Kenshin holding its banner slot for weeks, it had steadily drawn more eyes.
"Ahh, I knew something felt off when Tomoe carried that hidden dagger… now it all makes sense. She was planning to kill Kenshin from the start?"
"But she left the dagger at home! That shows she gave up on the idea, right? And Kenshin clearly knew she had it all along. Even if she wanted to assassinate him, I doubt she'd pull it off."
"So what now? Do they make peace and live happily ever after? Or is she still going to try to kill him... and Kenshin dies? Is that where we're headed?"
"Who knows what Mizushiro-sensei is planning. Either way, I'm hooked. Tomoe's definitely my new favorite."
"If they end up together and raise a family… I'd be totally fine with that."
"Eh, that'd be kinda cliché, no?"
The thread quickly filled with passionate back-and-forth. As always, no one could guess where Mizushiro-sensei would take the story next—and that uncertainty only fueled the hype.
Then, mid-refresh, the thread vanished.
All that remained on-screen was a white background and a line of text:
404
"...Wait, what?"
"Did it just... disappear?"
"No way. 404?! Seriously!?"
Moments later, a new wave of posts hit the board—no longer about plot twists, but about loss and frustration.
"Damn it, I knew it. We didn't dodge the 404 curse…"
"Honestly, this was inevitable. The series blew up way too fast—once it starts threatening big publishers, takedowns are guaranteed."
"What am I supposed to do now? I finally found a manga that actually moved me, and now it's gone? I can't even buy Sora where I live, and there's no digital version either…"
"Right? Our local bookstores don't even carry Sora. And Kurokawa still hasn't opened online sales. It's like they don't want our money."
"They're not the only ones. Unless you're a major publisher with deep pockets, nationwide distribution just isn't realistic. Most smaller companies stick to their home turf. Expanding usually ends in mutual losses."
"Wait—what about that guy on Tenmado? 'Pharaoh of Minato'? Someone said he's been reselling Sora volumes from Osaka to other regions. Said he'd even hand-deliver if needed."
The name Pharaoh of Minato started to pop up more and more.
And just like that, dozens of readers who'd never paid him any attention were now scrambling to find his storefront.
That evening, Watanabe opened his small Tenmado shop, where he normally sold traditional calligraphy supplies.
Business had been rough. Sales at his physical bookstore had dropped off compared to past years, and his part-time online venture on Tenmado hadn't taken off either. With low traffic and few orders, he'd already started mentally preparing to close up shop in a few months.
But today, when he logged into his account, something felt... off.
His inbox was overflowing with private messages.
"Watanabe, is that really you? The post got taken down, but we're switching from pirated versions to legit ones. Can you sell Sora?"
"I want to buy Sora from you—why isn't it listed in your store?"
"I'm ordering the next issue of Sora. My address is ******. Can you ship it and let me pay on delivery…?"
Watanabe blinked at the screen, stunned. What was going on?
He realized it must've been the comment he left on Mangastram. Just a simple post—he'd vented about how disappointing it was that Rurouni Kenshin had been taken down. He never imagined that people would respond by trying to buy the real thing.
He'd seen this happen before. A manga goes viral, gets pirated, then taken down... and fans just move on. But this time was different.
His backend now showed over 20,000 private messages about the latest Sora issue. And the number was still rising.
This wasn't a few hundred orders. This was something else entirely.
What was he supposed to do?
Handling a couple hundred copies? Sure, no problem. But tens of thousands? That was a different beast.
Watanabe considered reaching out to some friends who ran online shops to help process the flood of orders, maybe offer them a commission. But the real question was how to approach the publisher. How could he possibly explain that a tiny bookstore was suddenly fielding orders in the tens of thousands?
He stared at the screen. This wasn't just interest—this was opportunity. This was money.
Real money.
He wasn't about to do this for free. With that much demand, even a small markup could net a huge profit. After a quick mental calculation, he picked up the phone and dialed a number.
"Brother Takahiro, I need to ask you something."
"What's up, Watanabe?"
"I've got some friends who want to place a bulk order for Sora journals. Think you can get your hands on them?"
"How many are you thinking? You know I've been doing this for years—just give me a number.
"Somewhere between 20,000 to 30,000 copies. I'll have a final number by Tuesday. The new issue drops Friday."
There was a long pause on the other end.
"Twenty to thirty thousand? Are you messing with me?"
"I'm dead serious."
"...Fine. Just give me the number by Tuesday. But listen—if this falls through and you can't sell those copies, that's on you. We're talking hundreds of thousands of yen here. Don't forget it."
Meanwhile, Kurokawa's executives had no idea Rurouni Kenshin was quietly blowing up outside. They had tried launching a national online sales portal, but early results were so poor they scrapped it entirely. They couldn't even cover the salaries of the staff running it.
Now, a tiny bookstore in Osaka was getting tens of thousands of orders for Sora, while their official channels remained dead quiet.
They had no idea a storm was already brewing at the edge of the country.
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