Loss Of Audience Manga

Miu is girl and Levi is boy . I need colored manga "I'll be fine." Miu drink more Levi blood than was healthy, but it wouldn't harm Levi health. Levi picked Miu up before Miu passed out. A few days later Miu woke up and felt better. Someone was holding my hand and sleeping in chair close to bed. Miu moved a little and it woke Levi up. It was deep in the night It was Levi. "Miu.." Levi whispered and Miu blinked. "Levi" smiled and Levi hugged Miu. "I was so scared. Why aren't you taking care of yourself?" Levi asks and Miu start to cry. "I'm sorry." Levi puts his forehead against mine. "Don't apologize." Levi says and gets on the bed and hugs Miu tightly. It felt good. "I thought I was going to lose you when Finn was carrying you." He whispered and this time Miu held him close. "Am I okay?" Miu say to reassure Levi and his breathing calms down. Levi looks into Miu eyes again and Miu look into his. "Will it be okay how long have I been away?" "A week and a half." Levi replies and Miu widen eyes. "That's not possible." Miu say and he chuckles ironically. "That's right." Levi says and Miu kiss him. Levi kisses Miu back and caresses Miu cheek. Miu feel more sorry for scaring Levi than for almost dying. "I love you so much, Mia." "I love you too." Miu whisper and kiss Levi and pull Levi closer. Miu stroke Levis hair until both fall asleep again.
[Manga Page 1 Prompt: The 3rd Rhythm - Flashback Intro] Create a high-quality full-color manga page, Page 1. The page should be divided into 3 distinct panels with a clear narrative flow. Overall Tone & Style: Gritty Seinen Manga, Urban Grunge aesthetic. Detailed line art, vibrant but slightly desaturated colors, sharp focus on character expressions and internal monologue. Panel 1 (Top - Medium Shot): Content: The protagonist (Ryo - 182cm, muscular build, stoic face) is sitting on his stock Honda Wave 110i motorcycle with a Line Man delivery bag, stopped at a city red light. He's wearing his black baggy oversized sweater, light blue baggy jeans, and a retro half-shell helmet (no visor), showing his messy hair and silver ear piercings. Action/Expression: He looks straight ahead, calm and expressionless. The background shows blurred city traffic. Dialogue/Text: None from the protagonist. Panel 2 (Middle - Wide Shot, slightly above the protagonist's eye level): Content: Shifts focus slightly to the sidewalk beside the protagonist's motorcycle. A small, innocent boy excitedly points at a passing military truck (or a prominent military poster), looking up at his mother with bright, hopeful eyes. Dialogue/Text (Speech Bubble from boy): "Mom! I want to be a soldier when I grow up!" Mood: Hopeful, innocent, a stark contrast to the protagonist's inner world. Panel 3 (Bottom - Composite Panel, showing a split flashback): Content: This panel depicts a dual flashback, a direct visual response to the boy's dream. The left side of the panel shows a dark, gritty flashback of the protagonist (younger, more intense) fiercely punching a heavy sandbag in a dimly lit boxing gym. Sweat is flying. The right side shows him wildly playing drums on a dimly lit, smoky stage, hair flailing, with extreme intensity, a drumstick possibly breaking. Mood: Intense, raw, powerful, and slightly melancholic or regretful. The colors in this flashback should be darker, more muted, with strong contrast, emphasizing the lost passion or intensity compared to his current quiet life. Dialogue/Text (Thought Bubble from protagonist): "A dream, huh..." (The text should appear slightly faded, emphasizing it's an internal thought).
Crossfire Hearts follows Riku Hayase, a talented but emotionally burnt‑out FPS player, and Miyu Aoyama, a gentle, isolated girl who finds comfort in MMORPGs. Their worlds collide when they meet inside Eternal Realms, where Riku plays as the swift, deadly ranger Crossfire, and Miyu plays as the luminous healer LunaVale. What begins as a simple dungeon run slowly becomes a bond neither expected. As they grow closer, their in‑game partnership becomes a lifeline for both of them. Riku rediscovers joy after competitive burnout, while Miyu finds someone who listens, understands, and never judges her. Their first real‑life meeting is awkward, sweet, and life‑changing — the moment their online connection becomes something real. But their relationship is tested by Obsidian Crown, a rival guild led by the cold strategist Blackthorn and the obsessive assassin NightReaver, who fixates on Miyu and targets Riku out of jealousy. Guild wars, PvP duels, and server‑wide conflicts push Riku and Miyu to fight side by side, strengthening their bond even as real‑life pressures mount. Miyu’s strict home life becomes the greatest obstacle. Her mother disapproves of gaming, isolates her, and eventually cuts her off entirely. The emotional distance nearly breaks them — Miyu feels trapped, Riku feels helpless, and their worlds begin to drift apart. But they refuse to let go. Riku confronts her mother, Miyu stands up for herself, and their friends rally around them. The final arc brings everything full circle: Riku competes in the world esports championship while Moonlight Vanguard races Obsidian Crown to defeat the expansion’s final raid boss, the Eclipse Sovereign. Both battles mirror each other — pressure, teamwork, trust, and the fear of losing what matters most. Riku wins the championship. Moonlight Vanguard clears the raid first. And in front of a roaring crowd, Riku and Miyu finally confess their love openly — not as Crossfire and LunaVale, but as themselves. The story ends years later, with the two living together, still gaming side by side, still partners in every world they share.
半分の君 Romaji: Hanbun no Kimi Meaning: “Half of You” At Hoshizora Academy, the Compatibility Program forces second year students to live together like married couples — cooking, cleaning, studying, sharing a dorm unit, and being graded on emotional sync. High scores mean scholarships. Low scores mean repeating the year. The program is infamous for creating bonds that feel too real and exposing feelings students try to hide. Ignatius Arimura enters the year hoping to stay invisible. He’s quiet, introverted, and still carrying the ache of a breakup he never healed from. Aoi Kisaragi was his first love — the girl who made him feel alive, and the girl who walked away from him without ever explaining why. Aoi hides her guilt behind her bright smile, convincing herself she’s moved on to Ren. Ignatius tells himself he likes Mina because it’s easier than admitting he still aches for Aoi. When the pairing announcement arrives, Aoi silently begs for Ren. Ignatius silently hopes for Mina. Both pray they won’t be paired with each other. But fate is cruel. Their names appear together with a compatibility score of 12%, the lowest in the program. The room goes silent. Aoi’s smile cracks. Ignatius’s heart sinks. Moving into the same dorm feels like reopening a wound neither of them survived. Their first days together are a disaster. Aoi’s loud music, Ignatius’s quiet routines, her clutter, his need for order — everything clashes. Their first evaluation ends in failure. But when Ignatius freezes during a public speaking assignment, Aoi steps in without hesitation, her voice steady, her hand brushing his as she takes over. For a moment, it feels like the version of them that used to exist. Their score rises to 18%, and Ignatius realizes with a painful twist that he never stopped caring. Seeing Mina and Ren working together so naturally only deepens the ache. Aoi watches Ren laugh with Mina in a way he never laughed with her. Ignatius watches Mina shine beside Ren and wonders if he ever had a chance. Both feel jealousy they refuse to acknowledge. That night, Aoi cries quietly in the bathroom, and Ignatius hears her through the door. He stands there, hand hovering over the handle, but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to comfort her anymore. They eventually agree to a truce and create a “Compatibility Strategy Plan.” Cooking together leads to soft laughter. Communication drills turn into arguments that somehow end with them smiling. Late night study sessions blur into moments where they forget they’re supposed to be exes. They fall asleep on opposite ends of the couch, but each night they wake up a little closer. Their score jumps to 41%. Aoi wakes one morning with Ignatius’s jacket draped over her shoulders. She doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t tell her. And then comes the chapter that changes everything. One night, after a long study session, Aoi falls asleep at the table, her head resting on her arms. Ignatius tries to wake her, but she mumbles something soft and exhausted, and he can’t bring himself to shake her. He sits beside her, meaning to stay only a moment. But he’s tired too. He rests his head on his folded arms, inches from hers. The room is warm. The silence is gentle. Without meaning to, they drift off together. When they wake, the sun is rising. Aoi’s head is resting on Ignatius’s shoulder. His hand is loosely holding hers. Their breaths are slow and in sync, like they’ve been sleeping together for years. For a long moment, neither moves. Neither speaks. The world feels fragile, like one wrong word could shatter it. Aoi’s cheeks turn pink. Ignatius’s heart races. They pull away slowly, reluctantly, as if their bodies haven’t caught up to their minds. Their score jumps to 52% the next day, and the teachers quietly note that their emotional sync spiked overnight. Aoi begins noticing Ignatius again — the way he concentrates, the way he softens when he’s comfortable, the way he still remembers her favorite snacks. Ignatius begins noticing Aoi’s hidden fears — her loneliness behind her popularity, her pressure to be perfect, the way she tries so hard not to disappoint anyone. They move around each other like a married couple who never learned how to stop caring. They share toothbrush cups, laundry baskets, late night ramen, sleepy mornings, and quiet moments that feel too intimate for two people who claim they’re over each other. During the festival test, their booth becomes the most popular attraction. Aoi turns down a confession from another boy, her voice trembling. Ignatius gets flustered when Mina compliments him, and Aoi notices the way he blushes. Their score jumps to 63%. That night, Aoi quietly asks him if he ever hated her after the breakup. Ignatius can’t answer. He can’t lie. The silence between them is thick with everything they never said. Rumors spread that pairs might be reassigned. Aoi panics at the thought of losing her chance with Ren. Ignatius panics at the thought of losing Mina. But beneath those fears is something heavier: neither of them wants to be separated from each other. Aoi cries alone on the balcony, and Ignatius silently places a blanket over her shoulders. She doesn’t turn around, but she leans into the warmth. They stand there together, the distance between them shrinking in ways neither of them can deny. A storm knocks out the power one night, leaving them in darkness with no cameras, no expectations, no pretending. They talk honestly for the first time in months. Aoi admits she’s tired of being the strong one. Ignatius admits he’s tired of being the quiet one. They sit close, closer than they have since before the breakup, sharing warmth in the dark. Aoi falls asleep with her head on his shoulder again. Ignatius doesn’t move. Their emotional sync test the next morning hits 92%, the highest in the program. As Ren and Mina grow closer, Aoi and Ignatius realize their old crushes were fantasies — safe illusions they clung to because they were afraid of the real thing. The real connection is the one they’ve rebuilt: messy, painful, warm, and real. They act like a married couple — cooking together, arguing, laughing, sharing space, sharing silence — but they’re not lovers. Not yet. They’re something in between, something fragile and terrifying and impossible to name. When the reassignment list is posted, Aoi’s hands shake and K Ignatius’s heart pounds. They scan the list, terrified. Their names remain together. Not because of luck. Not because of the system. But because they earned it. Aoi turns to him, eyes shining with something fragile and hopeful, and whispers, “Ignatius … can we try again?” He takes her hand gently, like she might break, and says, “Yeah. This time… let’s not run.” They’re not lovers. Not yet. But they’re closer than they’ve ever been — a pair who lives like a married couple, fights like rivals, and holds each other like home.