Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Just as he slumped into the chair, Kijima Heihachiro's body suddenly crashed to the ground, his eyes rolled back, his chest heaving violently, emitting a hoarse, hoarse sound.

Kume Hiroshi, who was standing to the side, changed his expression slightly upon seeing this scene.

But he instantly displayed the top-notch professionalism of a "journalist emperor".

Just a second before Kijima Heihachiro collapsed, Kume Hiroshi had already cut off the microphone in front of Kijima Heihachiro, preventing Heihachiro's panting from being transmitted across the country via radio waves.

Immediately afterwards, Kume Hiroshi almost subconsciously performed a series of textbook-perfect rescue maneuvers.

He first used a subtle yet decisive gesture to signal the staff waiting on the side of the stage to quickly come up and carry Kijima Heihachiro off the stage.

Then, Hiroshi Kume turned to the side, cleverly using his body to block the messy scene behind him, while simultaneously allowing the cameraman to lock the focus back on him.

After doing all this, Kume Hiroshi's face was now adorned with an impeccable professional expression.

"It seems that tonight's debate was too intense, so much so that even Professor Kijima is having trouble calming down and needs to take a break."

Kume Hiroshi's voice was steady and powerful, resonating throughout the entire studio.

Not only was he not disrupted by the unexpected situation, but he also used an almost artistic approach to cleverly elevate the broadcast mishap into a footnote to the program: "But this precisely proves that the energy contained in literature itself is indeed enough to move people's hearts."

Then, Kume Hiroshi turned his gaze to Kitahara Iwao, his eyes less scrutinizing and more filled with sincere admiration, and said, "Mr. Kitahara, your analysis of the spiral and snow bone just now, though somewhat cruel, made even a layman like me feel enlightened. You have shown us that the literature of the Heisei era is not only about romance and nature, but also has the hard skeleton of science and rationality."

Faced with the praise from this giant who controlled public opinion, Kitahara Iwao restrained his sharp edge, bowed slightly, and said humbly and politely, "Mr. Kume, you flatter me."

"As I write in my book, evolution is brutal. As a newcomer still exploring, I have a long way to go on my writing journey."

"I look forward to your future works."

Seeing that Kitahara Iwa did not take advantage of Kijima Heihachiro's misfortune after completely defeating him, but instead behaved so politely and humbly, Kume Hiroshi's admiration deepened.

Know when to advance and when to retreat, and be mindful of boundaries.

This young man not only has fangs, but also knows when to retract his claws.

With this satisfactory assessment in mind, Hiroshi Kume turned to the camera, his expression seamlessly switching back to his signature professional smile.

"Thank you for watching tonight's News Station. See you tomorrow."

As the director counted down to zero, the red lights in the studio went out.

Just as the signal was cut off and the heavy soundproof door hadn't even had a chance to open, a roar that sounded almost like that of a wild beast suddenly erupted in the control room.

The director stormed into the studio like a madman, waving a printed real-time data sheet, his face flushed and veins bulging on his neck, shouting, "It's broken!! It's broken the record!!"

At that moment, the director's voice cracked from excessive excitement, echoing throughout the empty hall.

"Peak instant viewership rating... 30.2%! This is a miracle! This is a miracle for TV Asahi!!"

As soon as the director finished speaking, the entire studio erupted in cheers.

The staff cheered, and some even excitedly tossed their scripts into the air.

This is almost unimaginable in the hierarchical Japanese workplace, but in the face of the god-like number of 30%, all rules become ineffective.

Amid the cheers, staff members were hurriedly carrying Kijima Heihachiro away.

However, nobody cared about this loser.

Before the absolute god of ratings, the life and death of the old generation of predecessors are insignificant, just like the script that was just thrown into the air, abandoned in the shadow of revelry.

Amid the commotion, Kume Hiroshi loosened his tightly tied tie and strode up to Kitahara Iwa.

Amid the noise, Kume Hiroshi loosened his tightly tied tie, walked up to Kitahara Iwa, took out a personal business card from his card holder, and handed it to him.

"Kitahara-kun, that move of using someone else's force against them was very well executed."

Kume Hiroshi's tone was less polite and more genuinely appreciative as he said, "To be honest, in all the time I've been doing this show, you're the first newcomer who has managed to make an old geezer like Kijima Heihachiro faint from anger."

"In this industry, seniority is certainly important, but being able to boost viewership is the only true measure of success."

Kume Hiroshi chuckled and patted Kitahara Iwao on the shoulder: "Even though you're just starting out, I really like this fierce determination of yours. Let's keep in touch."

Kitahara Iwa accepted the business card with both hands, smiling and nodding: "It is my honor to receive Mr. Kume's recognition."

Just then, the mobile phone in Kitahara Iwa's pocket emitted a piercing ringtone.

Kitahara Iwa apologized and then walked out of the screening room to answer the phone.

As soon as the call connected, the voice of Sato, the editor-in-chief of Shinchosha, came through.

Normally, Editor-in-Chief Sato's voice is as calm as a deep lake, but at this moment it trembled like that of a gambler who had just won the lottery.

"Kitahara! You did it! You really did it!"

Sato's voice was so loud it almost shattered the receiver: "The bookstore and distributors have been calling the editorial department non-stop!"

"Kinokuniya Bookstore, Sanseido... all the distributors are demanding restocks! We need to print more overnight!"

"The president has made the decision: print another 300,000 copies!"

Before Kitahara Iwa could respond, Editor-in-Chief Sato directly offered the sweet deal he had prepared in advance: "Given the phenomenal social impact this has caused, the company has decided to revise the contract."

"The publishing house has decided to no longer increase the royalties for 'The Ring' and 'Spiral' in tiers; you'll be given the maximum 12%!"

At the peak of this bubble economy, money was the only universal language for measuring value.

Typically, newcomers to the literary world receive only a meager 5% in royalties.

Even with the halo of being the "first winner of the Fantasy Novel Award," Kitahara Iwa is only able to get 8% of the credits from established writers, according to industry practice.

And 12% is something only established, bestselling authors can achieve.

Editor-in-Chief Sato's move essentially allowed Kitahara Iwa to skip the probationary period and the time required for experience, directly elevating him to the top of the literary pyramid.

However, faced with this generous gift that would drive an ordinary salaryman crazy, Kitahara Iwa's expression was unusually calm: "Then I'll leave it to Mr. Sato."

Kitahara Iwa simply nodded, his tone revealing no hint of flattery: "Compared to royalties, I'm more concerned about the speed of delivery."

"Keep the printing presses running; after all, readers these days have very little patience."

"Haha, of course. I've already set up the printing plant to work in three shifts. Three hundred thousand copies should be printed in no time."

Editor-in-Chief Sato responded with a smile.

The two then chatted for a while longer.

After hanging up the phone, Kume Hiroshi walked over and warmly put his arm around Kitahara Iwao's shoulder, saying, "Brother Kitahara, tonight is a record-breaking night, we have to have a drink!"

"Let's go to Roppongi. I've already had the best seats reserved!"

……

Inside a high-end yakiniku restaurant in Roppongi.

The sliding doors kept out the cold rain from the outside, but inside the store, it was a bustling scene.

Expensive binchotan charcoal crackled in the oven, thick slices of A5 marbled beef sizzled on the wire mesh, and the air was filled with the aroma of charred fat mixed with the scent of premium tobacco.

The core production team of "News Station" surrounded Kitahara Iwa, their faces beaming with the glow of a ratings victory.

These usually arrogant directors and planners are now taking turns toasting this young hero, with expensive Daiginjo sake being served to the table like free tap water.

"Kitahara-san! This toast is for you! That old man Kijima's face turned green just now, it was so satisfying!"

After a few rounds of drinks, the atmosphere in the private room gradually shifted from frenzy to a relaxed, tipsy state.

Kume Hiroshi unbuttoned the first button of his shirt, his face slightly flushed, but this did not diminish the sharpness in his eyes.

Kume Hiroshi put down his Edo Kiriko sake cup, his gaze passing over the swirling smoke. He didn't look at the sizzling grilled meat, but stared intently at Kitahara Iwa beside him.

"Brother Kitahara."

Kume Hiroshi suddenly spoke, his tone less casual than at the dinner table and more scrutinizing like a professional: "To be honest, after watching your performance tonight, I think... it's a real waste to use your talent only for writing novels."

Kitahara Iwa was picking up a perfectly grilled piece of beef tongue when he heard this, he paused slightly: "Oh? Mr. Kume, are you suggesting I change careers?"

"No, I'm advising you to expand your network."

Kume Hiroshi leaned forward, his eyes, which had seen countless people, gleaming with a sharp light, and said, "Ordinary people only saw that you refuted Kijima and left him speechless, but what I saw was your terrifying control over the rhythm of the drama."

Then Kume Hiroshi stretched out his finger and drew a line in the air, saying, "From initially showing weakness, to inducing Kijima to bring up Minaminozawa, and finally bringing out two manuscripts for the decisive blow..."

"This is not an impromptu debate at all; it is a meticulously calculated, perfectly structured three-act play."

At this point, Hiroshi Kume lowered his voice slightly, with a hint of seduction: "You know how to grab the audience's attention in a few dozen seconds, you know where to create suspense, and where to ignite the climax."

"Brother Kitahara, this guy is a born screenwriter's physique!"

"Are you interested in... getting involved in screenwriting?"

"Film and television?"

Kitahara Iwa swirled the ice in his glass, watching the crystalline amber liquid rotate on the glass's surface, refracting a mesmerizing halo.

Although Kitahara Iwa did not answer immediately, a barely perceptible hint of interest flashed deep in his eyes.

As a time traveler, Kitahara Iwa naturally understood future trends better than anyone else.

Although we are currently in the golden age of publishing, The Ring truly became a world-class IP not only because of the books, but also because of the movie that terrified audiences around the world.

While words may be timeless, in this coming visual age, the impact of images and sounds is a more direct, more powerful, and more effective weapon for dominating the subconscious mind of the masses.

To truly stand at the pinnacle of the Heisei era, pen alone is not enough; one must also grasp the camera.

However, that was ten years later.

In 1989, when print media still dominated public discourse, my primary task was to firmly secure my position as a literary giant in Tokyo and enjoy the power that words bring.

But if I have the time, it wouldn't be a bad idea to write a couple of screenplays for fun.

"Mr. Kume is right."

Kitahara Iwa looked up and through the liquid in his glass at Kume Hiroto: "Some fears, some stories, are indeed more impactful when told through images than through words."

After saying that, Kitahara Iwa raised his glass and clinked it against Kume Hiroshi's, making a crisp clinking sound.

"I'm open to trying. If Mr. Kume has good resources, or if there's a TV station willing to adapt my script, I can give it a shot."

"Hahaha! Great! I've been waiting for you to say that!"

Kume Hiroshi slapped his thigh excitedly and laughed loudly, "Don't worry about the resources! As long as it's a script written by Kitahara Iwao, I'll personally oversee it, and I guarantee all the TV stations in Japan will be fighting over it!"

Just as the celebratory atmosphere reached its climax because of this new agreement, a sudden electronic buzzer broke the laughter.

Beep...beep...

Kitahara Iwa's pager, which was placed on the table, rang.

He glanced at the number, apologized to Kume Hiroshi, and took the phone to the quiet terrace.

Push open the door, and the bustling night view of Roppongi unfolds before your eyes.

The Tokyo Tower shimmered with an orange-red light in the distance, forming a stark contrast to the bustling world of fame and fortune behind it.

When the call connected, Sachiko Kamachi's clear and bright voice seemed to come from another pure world.

"Kitahara-kun! Congratulations!"

At this moment, Sachiko Kamachi's voice was filled with pure joy: "Although I don't understand those grand principles, seeing that person rendered speechless by you, and ultimately just standing there dumbfounded, was so satisfying!"

"And the store manager was slapping his thigh and cheering the whole time!"

At this point, Sachiko Kamachi's voice softened slightly, carrying a hint of shyness and excitement only a young girl could have: "And... the way Kitahara-kun fought back under the spotlight just now was really... so cool."

Hearing that pure and unadulterated voice, Kitahara Iwa's nerves, which had been tense all night, finally relaxed completely.

"Thank you, Sachiko."

"that……"

At this moment, Sachiko Kamachi paused, her tone becoming somewhat shy, but more so with an expectant, almost boastful tone, as she said, "Um... you said before that if I found my own voice, you would listen to it..."

"I recently secretly recorded a demo in a karaoke room! The equipment was very basic, and my singing was still quite amateurish, but... I want Kitahara-kun to be the first listener."

At this point, her voice softened, tinged with a hint of probing, "Next time we meet, can I force you to listen?"

Kitahara Iwa leaned against the railing, gazing at the dazzling Tokyo Tower in the distance. The fake look in his eyes that had been in the shop just moments before had now completely transformed into tenderness.

"certainly."

But he quickly changed the subject, his tone deliberately teasing and joking: "But let me make this clear, my ears are very discerning these days. If it's one of those soulless idol songs, I'll be unleashing my sharpest criticism, and I'll tell you the truth~"

Kitahara Iwa chuckled and added, "I hope that some guy who loves to show off won't be brought to tears by me and end up wiping his tears and snot on my suit."

"Hey! That's so rude!"

On the other end of the phone, Sachiko Kamachi, like a kitten whose tail had been stepped on, immediately retorted defiantly, "I won't cry! Kitahara-kun is the one who will. Don't be so scared by my singing that you can't speak!"

"Okay, I'll wait and see."

"Hmph, just you wait and see!"