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386 When Hojou Kyousuke Reveals Another Side
🕑 Added 2025-07-17 15:01:35 +0000 UTC
Name / Pen Name / Industry Alias: "Akasaka Akane (红坂朱音)"
Real Name: "Kosaka Akane (高板茜)"
Both are pronounced almost identical, and just from the fact that she didn’t bother to hide the connection between her real name and her professional alias, you could already tell—this was a woman with an overwhelming presence.
Someone who wouldn’t back down or hide like certain people might.
In the photo attached, a striking red-haired beauty in a crisp white shirt stared back, her eyes sharp and commanding.
Looking at the name, a thought suddenly struck Kyousuke:
“Do I know her?”
He turned to Kisaki Tetta.
Maybe she had once confessed her love to him and, after being rejected, swore vengeance?
Or maybe he’d beaten up one of her male relatives in the past?
“No contact whatsoever. In any way, shape, or form,” Kisaki responded firmly.
That, in fact, was what made this whole thing so troubling.
Whether in business or in war, information was everything.
And if not for her conveniently submitting her résumé, they wouldn’t even have known who was pulling strings behind the scenes.
“This résumé was submitted just yesterday,” Kisaki continued. “After all the other applicants mysteriously dropped out of the interview process, she was the only one left. That’s how I confirmed she was the mastermind.”
“I see,” Kyousuke nodded.
There was no point dwelling on it now.
Better to let Kosaka Akane explain herself when the time came.
He flipped through her file.
It was brief—just one line under education: Keio Girls' High School.
Before he could even ask, Kisaki handed him another bundle—this time about an inch thick.
If it were any other boss, they probably would’ve lost their temper:
"This much? When do you expect me to finish reading it? Couldn’t you highlight the important parts?" At best, they might have asked for a summary.
But this was Kyousuke.
He possessed a superhuman brain and eyes that could scan faster than any machine.
This—this was exactly what he wanted. The more, the better.
Under the soft morning light filtering into the garden, he lowered his head and began reading.
For a moment, the only sound was the quiet bubbling of the koi pond.
Three minutes later, he closed the file.
He now had a vivid, three-dimensional impression of Kosaka Akane.
The reason she only listed her high school wasn’t because she couldn’t get into college.
Far from it—Keio Girls' High School was a direct feeder into Keio University, one of the top private institutions in all of Asia.
Anyone who didn’t drop out was virtually guaranteed admission.
But Kosaka Akane did drop out.
And after that, she founded the cross-media empire “MARZ,” spanning novels, manga, games, and anime.
It sounded like something out of a tech legend—like Bill Gates.
Dropped out of a prestigious school.
Built an empire from scratch.
Of course, beyond talent and drive, both had something else in common: immense backing.
In her case, that was the RED Group—a materials science giant.
Just look at how many Olympic Games RED Group has sponsored, and you’d understand its weight.
In Japan, there's a good chance the tech behind anything you’re using traces back to RED.
But Akane didn’t drop out to chase a dream.
No. She dropped out because her dream was shattered.
Back then, she was just an innocent girl in college, loving life, attending cons with her manga club friends, working with a small-time publisher to polish her work, dreaming big.
Unlike those silver-spoon types who soar on family backing from day one, Akane was an outlier—a self-made talent.
Her debut novel The Cardinal of Gotanda was a breakout hit.
In just six months and three volumes, it had already sold over a million copies.
For a newcomer and a minor publisher, it was a miracle.
But unlike Kyousuke, her luck ran dry—or perhaps she just wasn’t powerful enough yet.
When the inevitable anime adaptation came, she and her publisher were ecstatic.
They poured their hearts into it, hoping for something great.
But what they got... was betrayal.
“We just needed to fill a broadcasting slot. Honestly, we’re trying our best here—doesn’t matter if it’s garbage, as long as it airs.”
That attitude said it all.
Out-of-nowhere cringe dialogue, character designs that didn’t match the source material, hair color inconsistencies from one episode to the next...
Forget attracting new fans. The anime was such a disaster, it drove existing fans away.
After that, Akane dropped out.
She kept writing, but no matter how well a work sold, she refused to allow adaptation deals.
She bound every title in strict contracts.
If her publisher ever tried to sell rights behind her back, she would immediately pull all her works and move them elsewhere.
She bided her time—gathering money, building connections.
While doing that, she kept creating.
And she sought out undiscovered talent in the indie scene—bringing them under her wing.
She scrutinized the industry with ruthless precision: some she wooed, others she poached.
Five quiet years passed.
Then came the storm.
Kosaka Akane launched MARZ, her multimedia company.
Every employee, every sponsor, every collaborator was handpicked.
If you couldn’t accept “shut up and pay,” you were out.
And so, the Queen of Cross-Media was born.
“Impressive.”
Kyousuke clapped lightly.
This woman was basically built from a protagonist template.
Start with talent. Face betrayal. Emerge stronger. Cut down all who stand in your way.
Rise, relentless.
Kisaki had uncovered more than just a resume.
There were detailed accounts of her methods.
If she had her eye on a writer or artist, she wouldn’t hesitate to destroy the publisher that held them captive—or worse, back them into a corner until they had nowhere else to go.
Don’t think for a second she was sentimental.
In Kosaka Akane’s eyes, everyone—herself included—was equal. Equal under the burden of creativity.
Everyone worked 24/7. Unless you were dead, you gave everything to your art.
And if you did collapse—if you burned out, broke down, or could no longer create—she would take care of you.
Financially, emotionally, completely.
But while you were still under her roof?
You belonged to the craft.
One simple truth: she would do anything to succeed.
Yes, when someone loses everything, they either break… or become something terrifying.
Kosaka Akane had clearly chosen the latter.
And now, Kyousuke finally understood why disaster had come knocking on his door out of nowhere.
A madwoman, huh?
But why couldn’t she just come talk to me directly?
Does she not know how fast I can draw and write? Isn’t she loaded with money?
If the price is right, I’ll draw as much as she wants!
Thinking that, the smile on Kyousuke’s face grew even brighter.
But that radiant smile didn’t match the rising warmth of the morning sun—in fact, Kisaki Tetta, standing beside him, felt a chill crawl down his spine.
He knew then: his boss was angry. Really, truly angry.
As he had thought before, if someone merely annoyed his older brother, who was usually carefree and indulgent in beauty, he might not even care enough to react.
But if someone touched the girls close to him?
Stranger or not—even Kisaki himself would be mercilessly cast aside.
That was why Kisaki never dared to advise him to “spend less time with women”—and also why he respected him so deeply.
Kyousuke was cold when it counted.
Ruthlessly decisive.
Though fear made his body tremble slightly, Kisaki’s heart thumped with excitement.
Big bro is finally going to show his true power.
Kosaka Akane… you’ll be the sacrifice for the empire my brother is about to build!
“What are your orders, Leader?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly as he turned.
“Leader?” Kyousuke raised a brow and chuckled. Still, he thought the title sounded a lot better than just “boss.”
“Yes. The one who leads us all,” Kisaki answered, eyes dead serious.
Tch, can’t expect too much from you.
That chūnibyō spirit really runs bone-deep.
Still, Hojou Kyousuke was already immune to Kisaki’s dramatic antics.
He even considered making Eriri a name card with “Vice Leader” printed on it—she’d probably run to her room squealing and stomping her feet with excitement.
Seeing Kisaki looking at him with such anticipation, Kyousuke stood up, stretched beneath the oak tree now bathed in sunlight, and said in a relaxed tone:
“First order of business? Apologize.”
“Apologize?” Kisaki’s eyes widened, confusion written all over his face.
“Yeah,” Kyousuke said with a sigh, pulling out his phone and opening his notes.
‘Kazama Rikuto.’
A talented guy he’d met while working part-time at BOX Animation Studio.
He was an “episode director” for One Punch Man—essentially a deputy director.
With him, Kyousuke’s new animation studio Tansan could hit the ground running.
Knowing his intentions weren’t pure from the start, Kyousuke had shown Kazama his insane learning speed and creative talent early on.
As a result, Kazama came to respect and trust him more than anyone else.
He was one of the few Kyousuke could count on joining the company as soon as it launched.
For him to suddenly drop out… What the hell had Kosaka Akane done to him?
Kyousuke didn’t even care what time it was.
Given Kazama’s profession, his sleep schedule was bound to be a mess anyway—just look at Kisaki.
If anything, the guy was probably sitting there wracked with guilt, waiting for the call he dreaded most.
Poor guy.
Kisaki, seeing his boss dialing, stayed quiet and stepped aside to wait respectfully.
The call connected in under two seconds—a rarity for a busy episode director.
“H-Hello? Hojou-san?” came the voice on the other end, anxious and uncertain.
“Yep, it’s me. Good morning, Kazama,” Kyousuke replied, squinting at the dappled shadows under the trees.
His voice was so calm and gentle, it sounded like he was calling a friend for a morning jog.
“G-Good morning, Hojou-san, I—” Kazama seemed to only now remember basic greetings.
“Have you had breakfast yet?”
“…Breakfast?” There was a pause, the sound of curtain rollers shifting, then his voice returned. “It’s… already morning? But no, I… I don’t think I could eat right now.”
“…I’m sorry, Hojou-san!”
Kyousuke clearly heard the dull thud of someone slamming their forehead against a desk.
He couldn’t help but smile gently, and his tone grew even softer.
“Why are you apologizing, Kazama?”
“Because… because I betrayed your trust, Hojou-san!” Kazama’s voice was choked with tears.
“But my trust in you hasn’t wavered in the slightest,” Kyousuke replied gently—not as a form of consolation, but because he genuinely meant it.
Kisaki, moved by his boss’s calm composure, felt his expression relax slightly.
He looked up at this man—his boss—feeling like he was witnessing the strength of a legend.
Kyousuke stood there, phone in one hand, the other casually tucked into his linen trousers.
His light beige outfit fluttered slightly in the breeze, the unbuttoned collar of his T-shirt revealing a hint of collarbone.
The cuffs of his pants brushed the tops of his shoes, where dew-touched grass met bare heels.
Bathed in the morning light, he seemed to glow.
Kisaki felt deeply moved.
What a towering figure… This was the man he had sworn to follow for life.
Even if Kyousuke hadn’t yet conquered Japan, at that moment, Kisaki could see that future with absolute clarity.
“Hojou-san… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Kazama sobbed harder, his voice breaking.
Bitter tears streamed into his mouth as he repeated his apologies over and over.
“Kazama, you don’t need to feel guilty. You don’t need to cry either. The one who should apologize… isn’t you.”
Kyousuke switched the phone to his other hand, eyes following a busy little honeybee buzzing around the morning hyacinths.
His tone remained serene:
“If you made a mistake, it was only in trusting me—believing in me. That’s your only fault.”
Kisaki felt goosebumps ripple across his skin. His eyes filled with admiration.
That’s our boss! With words like that, Kazama will—
“No! Don’t say that, Hojou-san! Please don’t put it like that! It wasn’t your fault! It was all because of Kosaka Akane—that insane woman! That lunatic!” Kazama’s grief turned to fury, his voice trembling with rage.
At the same time, Kyousuke's sharp ears caught the faint sound of someone else quietly sobbing through the speaker—his smile deepened even further.
"Exactly!"
He uttered the word with force, his voice lifting energetically.
"The ones who put us in this awkward position aren’t you, Kazama. And it sure as hell isn’t me.
It's those despicable people behind the scenes. So, don’t feel guilty. Don’t apologize. Just focus on your work, and wait for me to clean up this mess.
When the time comes, you’ll return to take your rightful place as my animation director."
His words weren’t just for Kazama—they were also meant for Takeda-san, Ohira-san, and the others.
"I promise, that day won’t be far off. I’ve been looking forward to creating something with all of you—something that makes the entire industry cheer for us."
“Hojou-san... You don’t need to go that far for someone like me... I—really...”
Kazama Rito’s voice broke with sobs, louder now, as if he were finally releasing all the pressure that had built up over countless long nights at work.
Through the speaker, other voices began crying as well. Not just one—several. And there was the unmistakable sound of fists hitting tables.
Kyousuke’s heart was glowing as brightly as the morning sun now.
“If I can’t even right the wrongs done to my friends, would you still be able to trust me? To respect me, like before?”
“Of course! I swear—!”
“I have other things to handle, so I won’t keep you. And stop crying already. For the sake of our shared future, take care of yourself, Kazama,” Kyousuke said, cutting him off gently.
“…Okay,” Kazama replied, his voice filled with something more than just emotion—resolve.
Kyousuke ended the call but didn’t immediately dial again.
He stood there in silence for a moment.
“Leader… do you think Kazama Rito will change his mind?” Kisaki asked softly.
He genuinely felt that anyone who heard Kyousuke’s words just now would be completely won over.
And if, for some reason, Kazama still couldn’t come back—then showing up at the door of the studio to commit seppuku in apology would be the bare minimum.
“Hm? What are you talking about, Kisaki? That call wasn’t to convince Kazama to change his mind. Don’t push people too hard.”
Kyousuke snapped out of his thoughts.
He’d just been wrestling again with that inconveniently persistent thing called a conscience. Seriously, he couldn’t even be a little lecherous or a little manipulative without feeling bad?
The name he’d called out earlier—Takeda Hotaru—belonged to the woman he’d heard quietly crying. She was a production assistant on the One Punch Man team. Only 22 years old, always wearing her hair in two little braids, with a cute way of speaking and a sharp efficiency that made her an invaluable asset.
“Yes, I understand. I’ll arrange for someone to keep a close watch on Kazama Rito’s family. I’ll make absolutely sure there are no more problems!”
Kisaki stood at attention and bowed deeply, each word sounding like it was squeezed straight from his chest.
If anyone tried to destroy the careful setup Kyousuke had worked so hard to build, he wouldn’t hesitate to get his hands dirty.
After all, there were plenty of people ready to lay down everything for Kyousuke.
“Good. Go. Leave a car here for me—I’ll need it later.”
Kyousuke nodded with a smile, then picked up his phone again.
There were still people at the publishing company he needed to talk to.
