Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

After hanging up the phone with Sachiko, Kitahara Iwa put away his rare tenderness and tucked his cell phone back into his waistband.

Then Kitahara Iwa took a deep breath of the humid, cool air on the terrace, turned around, pushed open the glass door, and walked back from the quiet terrace to the bustling interior corridor filled with the aroma of barbecue.

The corridor was not spacious and was decorated with murals in the Ukiyo-e style.

As Kitahara Iwa turned the corner and was about to head towards the VIP room at the end of the corridor, he saw a young man in a suit, with a slightly hunched posture, walking in the middle of the road not far away.

He was carrying two heavy cashmere coats and a briefcase, and was sweating profusely as he bowed and scraped to a middle-aged man who had just come out of a regular private room.

"I'm so sorry! Senior, the taxi is already waiting downstairs. I'll go and settle the bill for you right away!"

The young man's humble voice sounded somewhat familiar.

Kitahara Iwa stopped in his tracks, his gaze sweeping over the profile of the man with the ingratiating smile.

The next second, fragments of memory flashed through my mind, finally settling on the university graduation dinner three months ago.

"Akiji Inoue?"

Kitahara Iwa silently recited the name in his heart.

The man's name was Inoue Shoji, and he was my college classmate.

At this time, Shoji Inoue was at the very bottom of the television industry pyramid.

As an intern director (AD) in the variety show department, his task tonight was obviously not to enjoy the food, but to do odd jobs, such as buying cigarettes for his seniors, looking after their clothes, and running errands to settle accounts, all for the legendary assessment spot that would lead to a permanent position in another month.

After watching his senior, who was completely drunk, walk into the restroom, Inoue Shoji dragged his aching back back into the corridor. Just as he was about to raise his hand to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead, he noticed footsteps approaching from behind.

Three months of odd jobs on film set instilled in him an almost subservient conditioned reflex; he would instinctively step aside and press himself against the wall to make way, bowing and apologizing without even looking up, "Sorry to bother you..."

However, as the gaze moved upwards along the gleaming high-end leather shoes, it finally caught sight of the man walking towards them.

The remaining half of Inoue Shoji's polite words were instantly stuck in his throat, turning into a hissing sound.

The person before me was no longer the poor student in white shirts I remembered, but someone dressed in a well-tailored suit, exuding a dazzling composure in every gesture.

"Kita...Kitahara?"

When he saw the person's face clearly, Inoue Shoji's pupils contracted sharply, and his mind went blank for a moment.

Memories flashed back in an instant.

Three months ago, at the noisy graduation dinner, when the bill was handed to Kitahara Iwa, he searched through all his pockets before he could barely scrape together the not-so-expensive meal money.

At that moment, a classmate noticed his embarrassment and sarcastically suggested, "Kitahara, if you don't have enough, can I lend you some?"

However, Kitahara Iwa simply shook his head, stubbornly rejecting this feigned kindness, smoothing out the crumpled banknotes, and gently placing them on the table.

To Inoue Shoji at the time, that scene was simply a case of being too proud to admit defeat and suffering for it.

In order to fit into the successful inner circle of people who had already secured jobs at big companies, Inoue Shoji chimed in with a couple of sarcastic remarks from the circle, while deliberately keeping his distance from this down-on-his-luck guy who couldn't even scrape together enough money for a dinner party and was destined to have no future.

But now...

Shoji Inoue stared blankly at Kitahara Iwa in front of him.

The calm and composed aura emanating from the other person is the absolute confidence that only someone who has truly established themselves in this cruel Tokyo, and even trampled it underfoot, possesses.

Just as Inoue Shoji was speechless with shock, the door to the tightly closed VIP box at the end of the corridor was suddenly pulled open from the inside.

Sizzle...

The aroma of top-grade Wagyu beef, mingled with the scent of expensive sake, wafts over you.

"Brother Kitahara! Why did it take you so long to go to the restroom?"

A familiar, loud voice came from the private room.

Immediately afterwards, a face recognized by the entire nation of Japan appeared behind the door.

Hiroshi Kume, the Emperor of Journalism.

Kume Hiroshi, holding a wine glass and with a slightly flushed face, leaned out and beckoned to Kitahara Iwao in the corridor, "Come in quickly! We weren't finished talking about the show!"

The moment he saw who it was, Inoue Shoji felt dizzy.

Hiroshi Kume?!

This god-like figure, whom I usually can only look up to on the monitor and am not even qualified to hand a glass of water, is actually waiting for Kitahara Iwa to come back for dinner?

And they even called him "brother" like brothers?

This absurd and enormous class disparity made Inoue Shoji feel intensely dizzy.

He opened his mouth, instinctively wanting to shout, "Kitahara! It's me, Inoue Shoji!"

Then, by leveraging this classmate relationship, he could reach the high society circle he had longed for.

But at that moment, Kitahara Iwa had already walked up to him.

There was no warm greeting I'd been dreaming of, nor the joy of reuniting with old friends.

Kitahara Iwao only paused slightly as he passed Inoue Shoji, glancing at him indifferently, and then...

He nodded slightly.

This was a perfectly standard, socially polite nod.

It both acknowledges that I know you, and clearly draws a line between us, indicating that I should not disturb you.

Then, Kitahara Iwa turned his gaze away and walked straight toward Kume Hiroshi.

"Sorry, Mr. Kume, I was out in the wind for a while."

"Haha, come quick, come quick! This piece of meat was specially saved for you!"

Kitahara Iwa entered the brightly lit private room and sat down with his back to Inoue Shoji.

Splash...

The sliding door closed slowly again.

This crack in the door completely shut out the laughter, top-notch connections, and opportunities inside from the smoky, desolate corridor.

Shoji Inoue stood alone, still clutching his senior's coat tightly in his hand, his knuckles white from the excessive force.

"Hey, Inoue! What are you spacing out for? Have you paid the bill?"

Just then, the variety show senior who had gone to the restroom returned. Seeing Inoue Shoji standing there like a wooden statue, he frowned and was about to scold him.

But following Inoue Shoji's dazed gaze, he glanced at the VIP box door that had just closed, and suddenly remembered something. His expression changed, and he said:

"Wait... wasn't that Kitahara Iwao from tonight's 'News Station' program?!"

At this moment, the senior's eyes widened, and he grabbed Inoue Shoji's shoulder, saying, "I think I just saw him nod to you? You two know each other?"

Inoue Shoji lowered his head, his voice dry as if he had swallowed a handful of sand, each word sounding like he was cutting his own throat: "Yes... he was my college classmate."

"What?!"

Upon hearing Inoue Shoji's reply, the senior's attitude instantly underwent a complete 180-degree turn.

He stopped urging them to pay the bill and instead patted Inoue Shoji's back forcefully, his face filled with unprecedented friendliness and greed as he said, "Really?! You've been hiding something!"

"Kitahara Iwao is currently the most popular new author in all of Japan! A 30% viewership rating is a miracle!"

At this point, a glint of light flashed in the senior's eyes as he said, "Since you were classmates, you must have had a good relationship, right?"

"Inoue, if you can get him to appear on our variety show, forget about getting a permanent position; the station manager will promote you directly to a full-fledged director!"

"This is an incredible resource!"

Hearing his senior's excited promise, Inoue Shoji felt as if a ball of water-soaked cotton had been stuffed into his chest, making him feel suffocated.

They have a good relationship?

He recalled Kitahara Iwa's polite yet cold nod from earlier.

If, three months ago, at the graduation dinner, I could have acted like a true friend, sitting in that corner and offering Kitahara Iwa a beer, or even helping him pay the bill…

So now, am I already sitting in the private room?

But there is no if in reality.

Feeling the expectant gaze of his senior, Inoue Shoji clenched his fists, and finally could only force out a smile that looked worse than a grimace, saying, "I... I'll try my best."