Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

"All departments, prepare!"

"The scene is quiet!"

"Grandma, Scene 24, Shot 1, Action!"

As the clapper sounded crisply, all the lights focused on the backdrop of the mourning hall.

There stands a woman dressed in black mourning clothes.

According to the script, this scene is the ending of the story: the life exchange has been completed, the wicked grandmother has successfully taken over the body of her young granddaughter Miho, while the real Miho has died in that old body.

Therefore, the current adult Miho appears young, but at her core, she is an old witch who has triumphed over all ethics and morality and ultimately survived.

The camera slowly zooms in.

Akina Nakamori has her back to the camera, holding a colorful Japanese-style beanbag in her hand.

"One...two...three..."

She began to hum that eerie nursery rhyme.

Everyone present instantly got goosebumps.

There was no sadness in her voice; instead, it carried an irrepressible lightness and joy.

This cheerful atmosphere seemed out of place against the backdrop of the black and white portraits in the funeral hall, and was even more unsettling than the wailing of vengeful ghosts.

It's a kind of ecstatic joy that comes from finally getting rid of all the burdens and finally having the world to belong to you.

Snapped.

Akina Nakamori caught the sandbag and paused for a moment.

Then, she slowly turned around and looked directly at the camera lens that was moving in.

At that moment, Masayuki Ochiai, who was watching the monitor, gasped sharply and even had a strange feeling.

The person in front of them was no longer the Nakamori Akina they knew.

Her face showed no ferocity or smugness of revenge, only a cold indifference that had been eroded by the long years, a condescending view of life and death.

Then, Akina Nakamori's lips slowly curved into a smile.

That smile...

It blends a silent mockery of everything that has passed with a chilling, absolute arrogance belonging to the ultimate victor.

It was as if she were looking through the lens, across time and space, at an enemy in some void, silently proclaiming: "Look, you are dead. And I am still alive and well."

"And I will live better than anyone else."

At that moment, Kitahara Iwa felt that he wasn't seeing Miho, but rather Moriguchi Yuko smiling and asking the students if the milk was delicious at the graduation ceremony.

……

Even though the performance had ended for a full five seconds, the scene remained deathly silent.

The photographer's fingertips were still trembling slightly uncontrollably. He had been momentarily stunned when that gaze pierced him through the lens.

It was as if the person standing in front of her wasn't Akina Nakamori, but an old monster who had taken over her family's body.

Ochiai Masayuki's mouth dropped open, and he even forgot to call for a stop.

Until Kitahara Iwa coughed softly.

"C...Cut!"

Ochiai Masayuki then seemed to snap out of his daze, exclaiming in a trembling voice, "Pass! That was fantastic! Perfect!"

The shout seemed to break the barrier, and the staff on site finally felt their breath return to their bodies. They looked at each other, and could see the fear and shock in each other's eyes.

This is not acting.

This is practically a soul possession!

As filming of this scene wrapped up, while the others filmed other scenes, Kitahara Iwa quietly left the noisy studio and went to the rest area at the end of the corridor.

Kitahara Iwa walked up to the vending machine, reached into his pocket for coins, and prepared to buy a can of coffee to perk himself up.

However, just as his fingertips touched the coin slot...

A pale, slender hand reached out first.

jingle.

Several coins slid into the coin slot, making a crisp sound.

Then came the sound of a button being pressed, followed by a clatter as a can of slightly hot black coffee rolled into the dispensing slot.

Kitahara Iwa paused, then turned his head.

Then I noticed that Akina Nakamori had followed me out at some point.

She was still wearing her black mourning costume, and a gloomy aura still surrounded her, but the madness in her eyes had subsided, and she had returned to her usual self.

Akina Nakamori handed the coffee to Iwata Kitahara, a slight smile playing on her lips, and said, "This time it's my treat, Kitahara-sensei."

Kitahara Iwa raised an eyebrow, took the coffee, and his fingertips touched the slightly warm metal can.

"Looks like you got out of character quickly."

Kitahara Iwa opened the tab and took a sip.

"Actually... I wasn't completely out of character."

Akina Nakamori leaned against the wall beside her, her hands behind her back, looking down at the tips of her shoes, and said in a voice that only the two of them could hear, "When the director yelled 'Action' just now, I was looking at the camera, but what I was really thinking about wasn't Miho from the script, nor was it my deceased grandmother."

"I know."

Kitahara Iwao turned his head to look at Nakamori Akina, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather, and said, "You're thinking about how to gently and smilingly feed that glass of milk mixed with blood to the murderer, right?"

Nakamori Akina was stunned for a moment upon hearing this.

Then, she raised her head and revealed the most genuine and relaxed smile she had given since joining the crew.

"The book is very good."

Akina Nakamori took a half step back, bowed deeply to Iwao Kitahara, and said solemnly, "Thank you for giving me direction."

However, when Kitahara Iwa nodded slightly, preparing to turn and leave, Nakamori Akina did not immediately straighten up.

She seemed to have gone through a fierce internal struggle before suddenly speaking again, her voice tinged with urgency: "Um... Kitahara-sensei, please wait a moment."

Kitahara Iwa stopped and turned around.

Nakamori Akina took out a slightly crumpled kraft paper file folder from the bag next to her, which had become a little wrinkled from being repeatedly flipped through. This was the manuscript of "Confessions".

At this moment, Akina Nakamori's fingers were white from gripping too tightly, as if these were not just a few pieces of paper, but the last piece of driftwood she was clinging to while drowning, and if she let go, she would fall into darkness again.

"This manuscript..."

Akina Nakamori bit her lower lip, her eyes filled with a pleading look and a hint of barely perceptible fear, and asked, "Can I keep it?"

"I want to carry it with me at all times."

Why?

Kitahara Iwa stopped and asked with some confusion.

"because……"

Akina Nakamori lowered her head, looking at the two bold black characters on the bag. Her voice trembled slightly, but she said with unusual determination, "Whenever I see this, I'm reminded of Ms. Moriguchi's eyes on the podium, and that feeling of holding everyone's fate in her hands..."

"That way, I feel like I'm not afraid of others anymore."

The "others" that Akina Nakamori mentioned were her nightmares for many years.

The president of the management company, the agent, his own mother, his sister, and Masahiko Kondo!

But now, she has found a source of strength to fight that fear.

Kitahara Iwao, seeing Nakamori Akina's expression as if she were holding a talisman, did not refuse, but simply nodded slightly.

"Take it, it's just a copy anyway."

But Kitahara Iwa paused, his tone becoming more serious, and added meaningfully, "However, Akina-san, you must remember this."

"This book is not only a knife that can wound the enemy, but also a mirror that reflects the inner self."

Kitahara Iwao pointed to the manuscript, looking directly into her eyes, and said, "Although Moriguchi Yuko won, she is also in hell. I don't want you to become like her; I want you to surpass her."

"Don't let the abyss swallow you up, just make use of it."

Upon hearing this, Nakamori Akina paused for a moment, then seemed to understand something. She took a deep breath and nodded solemnly: "Yes, I will remember."

After saying that, she bowed to Kitahara Iwa again and turned to walk towards the parking lot.

Just then, a series of hurried footsteps came from the other end of the corridor.

"Akina-chan! Akina-chan! What are you doing dawdling here?!"

The chubby agent, who always talked about company interests, came running over, sweating profusely. Wiping his brow, he complained anxiously, "They called again! They said your mother and sister are looking for you, and they're in a bad mood. They want you to come over right away… If you're late, they'll throw a tantrum again!"

In the past, upon hearing the words "my mother and sister are in a bad mood," Akina Nakamori would have panicked. She would have repeatedly said "I'm sorry" while hurriedly getting into the car like a schoolchild who had done something wrong, rushing to become their punching bag and ATM.

But this time.

Hearing her manager's urging, Akina Nakamori only paused slightly.

She turned her head, and her eyes, which had just vividly portrayed the villain in front of the camera, coldly swept over her agent.

There was no panic, no apology, only an indifference that made the agent swallow the rest of his words instantly.

"Let them wait."

Akina Nakamori coldly uttered those words, then opened the car door without looking back and got into the van first, leaving her dumbfounded manager standing there bewildered.

Watching the van speed away, Kitahara Iwa, standing at the end of the corridor, did not leave immediately. He leaned against the vending machine, holding a slightly warm coffee in his hand, a complex emotion of detachment flashing in his eyes.

In my past life, when I was studying in Tokyo, Akina Nakamori's songs were playing everywhere.

She was undoubtedly the original diva, the most dazzling and heartbreaking star of the bubble era.

Unfortunately, this star ultimately fell into the trap of a scumbag's love affair and the despair behind the golden screen, its light dimmed from then on, a truly regrettable situation.

"I hope this knife will help you cut the chains binding you..."

Kitahara Iwa tilted his head back, finished the last sip of bitter black coffee, and precisely tossed the empty can into the trash can.

"Don't be foolish like you were in your past life and cut your own wrists again."

"If you're going to cut, cut the ones who hurt you!"