Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Faced with Ochiai Masayuki's almost outrageous praise, Kitahara Iwao simply smiled faintly, then put down his coffee cup and said, "You flatter me, Director Ochiai."

Then Kitahara Iwa interlaced his fingers, leaned back slightly, and continued in a very relaxed tone: "However, just as you felt."

"The real fear often comes not from the unknown, but from the collapse of 'trust'."

"When your closest loved one smiles and extends their hand to you, but their palm holds a poisoned knife... that kind of chill is something that can't be dispelled no matter how many blankets you cover yourself with."

Upon hearing these words, Masayuki Ochiai felt his heart clench tightly once again.

"Teacher Kitahara..."

After a long while, Masayuki Ochiai finally found his voice, which was hoarse as if he had swallowed a handful of sand: "This is insane...it's really insane."

After saying that, Ochiai Masayuki looked at Kitahara Iwa with a mixture of deep fear and a kind of fanaticism as if he had seen a rare treasure: "If your 'Ring' makes people afraid of the television, then this 'Grandma'... makes people afraid of their family members whom they live with every day."

"A man who, seeking revenge on his daughter-in-law, comfortably possesses his granddaughter's body for thirty years... This extreme malice hidden beneath a mask of warmth is precisely what our drama should have!"

At this point, Masayuki Ochiai excitedly pumped his fist: "It's not about scaring people with cheap sound effects, it's about scaring people with human nature!"

"A TV series like this is absolutely capable of breaking down the psychological defenses of young people!"

At that moment, Masayuki Ochiai suddenly stood up, bowed deeply to Iwao Kitahara, and said with unwavering certainty, "Teacher Kitahara, with your subject matter, our program will definitely be a huge hit!"

"No, it will definitely become a classic!"

Ochiai Masayuki glanced at the script on the table. Although he wanted to take it away immediately, he knew the rules.

"Teacher Kitahara, please wait for me!"

"Three days from now... no, the day after tomorrow! I'll bring a formal contract personally signed by the director, along with the industry's top-tier fee quote! If the director doesn't agree, I'll even beg the station manager to get you the best possible terms!"

At this point, Masayuki Ochiai looked at the script for "Grandma" with excitement in his eyes.

It was as if he wasn't looking at a few sheets of printed paper, but a nuclear weapon that could change his fate.

"During this time, please, please keep this a secret for me! Do not show it to any other producers!"

After speaking, Ochiai Masayuki bowed deeply to Kitahara Iwa, more than ninety degrees, and remained standing for a long time, as if only in this way could he express his respect.

"Ochiai-san, I will keep this script for you."

Hearing the expectation in Ochiai Masayuki's tone, Kitahara Iwakawa smiled gently and nodded, saying, "Thank you for your trouble, Ochiai-san."

When Ochiai Masayuki saw that Kitahara Iwa had agreed, he felt a little more at ease.

Then, he exchanged a few more pleasantries with Kitahara Iwa. When they had finished talking, fearing that he might have disturbed Kitahara Iwa, he took the initiative to get up, apologize, and say goodbye.

Even after Ochiai Masayuki walked out the door, he didn't forget to bow again, his expression full of humility.

Fuji Television, Production Department.

When Ochiai Masayuki returned to Kawata-cho, it was already afternoon.

At that moment, Ochiai Masayuki pushed open the office door, his face still beaming with excitement.

"Hey, Ochiai."

At this moment, Hisao Murakami was sitting in a chair with his legs crossed. When he saw Masayuki Ochiai return, he placed a thick document on the table.

"You're back just in time. This is the manuscript that Yamamoto just faxed over; it's called 'The Bloodstained Telephone Booth'."

Hisao Murakami flicked his cigarette ash, a confident smile playing on his lips, and said, "I just checked, it's very solid."

"A classic B-movie formula, packed with gore, guaranteed to scare a bunch of high school girls to tears."

"Take a look, isn't it a hundred times better than that literary script written by some novelist?"

Upon hearing this, Ochiai Masayuki stopped and obediently picked up the script from the table.

He patiently turned two pages.

What comes into view are all the same old tropes: a midnight phone call without any build-up, an illogical axe killer, and forced female screams just to scare people...

"How is it?"

Hisao Murakami, standing to the side, raised an eyebrow, flicked his cigarette ash, and said with a smug tone, "Can you feel the skill of a professional screenwriter? This sense of rhythm is something that novelists can't match."

Snapped.

His answer was a crisp sound.

Masayuki Ochiai closed the script expressionlessly and casually tossed it back onto the table, his gesture as dismissive as if he were throwing away a piece of waste paper.

If it were yesterday, before he had even met Kitahara Iwa, he might have thought Yamamoto's script was pretty good, at least a decent late-night entertainment.

but now……

Having just tasted Kitahara Iwa's soul-stirring "top-tier cuisine," looking at these things in front of me now is like chewing on a lump of industrial garbage that has no nutritional value and even smells bad.

"Mr. Murakami, please forgive my bluntness."

Ochiai Masayuki turned around and looked directly at this senior colleague.

At this moment, Ochiai Masayuki's eyes no longer held his usual timidity; instead, they held a calm and resolute quality that came from having seen truly great mountains.

"Although Mr. Yamamoto's manuscript piles up horror elements, in terms of plot twists, logical loops, and the lingering chill that makes people think about it, it is not even a finger of Kitahara's script."

"What did you say?!"

Upon hearing Masayuki Ochiai's answer, Hisao Murakami was taken aback for a moment, then his face darkened sharply, as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world. He said, "Have you been brainwashed by that novelist? You think he can write a script suitable for a TV drama?"

"Mr. Murakami, I'm not joking, and I'm not brainwashed."

Ochiai Masayuki straightened his collar and said with unusual seriousness, "If you don't believe me, please wait two days. Two days later, after I sign the contract and receive the official script, you will see... what a world of difference that is."

After saying that, Masayuki Ochiai ignored Hisao Murakami's astonishment and turned to walk straight to his workstation.

My most urgent task is to draft the contract application and plan with Kitahara Iwa, even if it means working through the night, I must get it done.

For Masayuki Ochiai, those three days felt like a siege battle being waged inside the television station building.

In order to secure the highest possible payment for a newcomer from another field, he practically lived outside the Ministry of Justice and the Finance Bureau for the past two days. He even went so far as to slam his fist on the table and make a pledge to boost the ratings before finally managing to appease those stubborn old men.

At 3 p.m., in front of the luxury apartment building in Kitahara Iwa.

Masayuki Ochiai stood here once again.

Compared to his anxiety three days ago, today, although his eyes were bloodshot from staying up all night and he looked somewhat haggard, his eyes shone with an almost fanatical light.

At this moment, Ochiai Masayuki was gripping the briefcase tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force, after all, it contained the fruits of his victory.

"call……"

Masayuki Ochiai took a deep breath, straightened the slightly disheveled hem of his suit to make himself look as presentable as possible, and then raised his hand to solemnly ring the doorbell.

ding dong~

This time, the door opened very quickly.

"You're right on time, Director Ochiai."

As the security door opened, Kitahara Iwa's young face appeared behind it.

Upon entering and sitting down, without even taking a sip of water, Ochiai Masayuki eagerly opened his briefcase, holding out a thick document with both hands, and presented it to Kitahara Iwao as if it were a tribute: "Teacher Kitahara, this is the official contract that the Ministry of Justice just stamped. Please take a look!"

Kitahara Iwa glanced at it briefly.

The payment was based on the standards of top screenwriters in the industry. Most importantly, the contract clearly stated that the original author had veto power over any changes to the script, which is a rare privilege in television stations.

Even some veteran screenwriters don't have this privilege.

After signing, Kitahara Iwa handed one of the contracts to Ochiai.

"It's a pleasure working with you."

"It's a pleasure working with you!"

Ochiai Masayuki carefully put away the contract, hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Um... Kitahara-sensei, there's actually another favor I'd like to ask."

"What's wrong?"

"Regarding the script for 'Grandma'..."

Masayuki Ochiai looked troubled and said, "The main character, Miho, is really too difficult to play."

At this point, Masayuki Ochiai gave a wry smile: "This requires a little girl of about ten years old who can portray both innocence and the vicissitudes of being possessed by the soul of an eighty-year-old man, as well as the chilling malice at the end... Ordinary child stars simply cannot handle it."

"So, if possible, could you serve as a special casting consultant for the program?"

Ochiai Masayuki looked at Kitahara Iwao with expectant eyes: "After all, you wrote the script, so only you know that feeling best."

"We need your discerning eye to choose this devil child."

Casting consultant?

Kitahara Iwa pondered for a moment.

I've been buried in writing a depressing story like "Confessions" for a while now, and I really need to change my mind.

Visiting the film set and meeting the actors in person might bring new inspiration for your future creative work.

"Can."

Thinking of this, Kitahara Iwa nodded and replied, "It just so happens that I've been wanting to change my mindset lately."

"R-Really?!"

Upon hearing this, Masayuki Ochiai was so excited he almost jumped off the sofa, his fatigue instantly vanishing: "That's great! With Kitahara-sensei here, I'm completely relieved! I'll go arrange the audition right away!"

After that, Kitahara Iwa and Ochiai Masayuki stood side by side at the table, signing their names one by one with their fingertips.

The moment the ink spread, Masayuki Ochiai's nerves, which had been tense for many days, finally relaxed completely.

He then carefully put away his copy of the contract, turned to Kitahara Iwa and bowed deeply, his tone full of sincerity, saying, "Kitahara-san, please guide me in the future filming. I will do my best to live up to your script and trust."

Kitahara Iwa carefully put away his contract and replied with a smile, "Ochiai-san, just go ahead and do it. I believe in your abilities."

After exchanging pleasantries for a while, Masayuki Ochiai left with the contract.

With the contract officially in effect, Fuji Television's massive propaganda machine immediately sprang into action.

To promote this late-night program, the production team unceremoniously unleashed their biggest trump card.

The next morning, all the major sports newspapers and entertainment sections carried the same bombshell headline:

Bestselling author Kitahara Iwao will be a writer for a new late-night segment on Fuji TV!

This news was like a depth charge dropped into a calm lake, creating ripples throughout the Japanese cultural world and even triggering huge waves.

After all, it has only been a month since the release of "The Ring".

The Sadako craze shows no signs of abating, with the cursed videotape being discussed everywhere.

The name Kitahara Iwa is right at the center of the discussion.

In modern terms, Kitahara Iwa is now a walking traffic magnet!

However, along with the increased attention came a flood of criticism.

In 1989, a time of stark division, a deep hierarchy of contempt existed between the literary and television industries.

In the eyes of many self-proclaimed intellectuals, writers are artists who explore the soul, while late-night TV dramas are trash for unemployed people who don't sleep.

For a writer on the rise to write horror shorts is not only a waste of his job, but also a self-degradation and a loss of self-worth.

Weekly Bunshun, commentary column.

An old friend jumped out again.

The renowned literary critic, Kijima Heihachiro, had just recovered from his hospital stay and was already eager to pick up his pen again.

He published a strongly worded manifesto directly in Weekly Bunshun, with the title written in bold black font:

This is a betrayal of literature! — A critique of Kitahara Iwao's downfall

In his column, Kijima Heihachiro expressed his deep regret, yet his words betrayed a hint of schadenfreude: "Kitahara Iwao, as a new writer who had just begun to make a name for himself, should have calmed down and polished his writing to strive for the honor of the Naoki Prize."

"But he chose a different path, choosing to get involved with the money-grubbing world of television!"

"Go write those low-brow, jump-scare-style late-night horror shorts!"

"Novels and screenplays are two completely different art forms."

"Novels require deep thought, while late-night dramas only require sensory stimulation."

"His behavior is like a talented oil painter who, instead of exhibiting in a gallery, goes and scribbles on the walls of a roadside toilet!"

"This is a waste of his talent!"

"It's destined to be a disaster!"

Although Kijima Heihachiro's remarks were harsh and scathing, they unexpectedly resonated with many in the closed and conservative literary circles of the time, and were even regarded as gospel by many.

The reason is nothing more than—envy.

It's worth noting that Kitahara Iwao's "Ring" sold an astonishing 800,000 copies in just one month after its release!

What does this mean?

Many serious writers, even after a lifetime of writing until their pens break, probably wouldn't even reach a fraction of that number.

This young man in his early twenties has gained both fame and fortune simply by writing scary ghost stories, and is now a frequent guest on television.

How could those self-proclaimed intellectuals find peace in such a huge disparity?

In an instant, everyone pushed the wall when it was down.

In major newspapers and magazines, voices predicting Kitahara Iwa's downfall were rampant, as if he was destined to fall from his pedestal.

On the evening the public opinion erupted, at the editorial department of Shincho-sha.

Editor-in-Chief Sato looked at the stacks of harshly worded reader letters and comment clippings on his desk, so anxious that blisters appeared on the corners of his mouth.

He couldn't sit still any longer and hurriedly called Kitahara Iwa's apartment.

"Teacher Kitahara...did you read today's evening paper?"

As soon as the call connected, Editor-in-Chief Sato's voice, thick with anxiety, came through, accompanied by the rustling of pages turning in agitation: "The public opinion is so chaotic right now! It's completely one-sided!"

"That old bastard Kijima is fixated on this matter. He's launched a massive attack in his column, saying you've lost your touch and are now resorting to any means to make quick money!"

At this point, Sato paused, his tone becoming cautious, almost pleading: "Teacher Kitahara, perhaps you... should reconsider?"

"After all, the Ring is on a roll, and bookstores all over Japan are watching the next new book."

"At this critical juncture, if you fail in your crossover attempt and end up with a bad reputation, it could seriously damage your reputation and even affect the promotion of your new book!"

Although Sato's words were tactful, the meaning couldn't be clearer: Stop messing around with those low-brow TV dramas! Focus on writing books; that's the right path. Don't ruin the reputation you've built up!

Faced with Sato's barrage of anxious remarks, Kitahara Iwao simply chuckled.

"Don't worry, Mr. Sato."

At this moment, Kitahara Iwa's voice was extremely calm, showing no sign of being affected by public opinion: "I know what I'm doing."

Instead of worrying about my reputation here, you should have the sales department contact the printing plant in advance and prepare a few more trucks for delivery.

"Huh? A truck?"

Editor-in-Chief Sato was stunned upon hearing this.

"That's right."

Kitahara Iwao spoke up, "Instead of worrying about the buzzing of flies, let's look forward to the sales of the next book. Believe me, it'll be a number that will shock Kijima Heihachiro so much he'll fall out of his dentures."

"Huh? Yes...yes! I understand!"

Although he was still feeling uneasy, upon hearing Kitahara Iwa's confident tone, Editor-in-Chief Sato had no choice but to bite the bullet and agree.

After hanging up Sato's call, Kitahara Iwa walked to the window, looked at the bustling yet cold and distant Tokyo night scene outside, and shook his head helplessly.

Just then, the phone rang again abruptly.

Jingle Bell……

"Who could it be... could it be a call from the bookstore?"

Kitahara Iwa rubbed his temples and casually answered the phone.

"Moshi moshi... Is it... is it Kitahara-kun?"

However, what came from the other end of the phone was not a middle-aged man's lecturing, but a woman's voice as gentle as a spring breeze.

That's Sachiko Kamachi's voice.

In stark contrast to the noisy, sharp, and utilitarian criticisms from the outside world, her voice always carries a unique power that can instantly smooth out wrinkles and heal hearts.

"Ah, it's Sachiko."

Upon hearing that voice, Kitahara Iwa's expression softened involuntarily, and his voice slowed slightly: "It's so late, aren't you resting yet?"

"Um... I just finished recording."

Sachiko Kamachi spoke somewhat cautiously, seemingly choosing her words carefully, afraid that mentioning sensitive topics would upset Iwao Kitahara.

But after a few seconds of silence, her tone suddenly became unusually firm.

This is a stubbornness that is unique to her, a stubbornness that is gentle on the outside but strong on the inside.

"Um... I saw the news, and those commentators' articles too."

"I know what people are saying outside. But I believe in Kitahara-kun."

Although the girl's voice was not loud, every word struck Kitahara Iwa's heart: "Although I don't understand scripts, nor do I understand any of the high-level rules of the literary world."

"But I've read Kitahara-kun's books, and I know that someone who can write like that must be the best at whatever they do."

"Those critics... they only say that because they can't write such a wonderful story themselves, and because they're jealous of Kitahara-kun's talent."

Perhaps feeling that her words were a bit clumsy, Sachiko Kamachi paused a little embarrassedly on the other end of the phone, and then said in a more sincere voice, "So, please don't pay attention to those voices."

"Kitahara-kun, just do what you want... I'll always be there to cheer you on! Always!"

The warm breathing coming through the receiver was like a ray of light in this cold night filled with doubt and malice, becoming a comfort to Kitahara Iwa.

"Thank you, Sachiko."

Kitahara Iwa said softly, "Your words are enough."

After hanging up the phone, Kitahara Iwa sat back down at his desk.

Under the glow of the table lamp, a thick stack of manuscript paper lay there quietly.

This is his new book, "Confessions," which he has completed two-thirds of.

question?

ridicule?

You say I betrayed literature?

Then let the storm rage on.