Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Just three days.

The wind direction changed.

The academic debate over the content of "Confessions" has been replaced by an organized and premeditated smear campaign against Kitahara Iwao himself.

The competitors reacted swiftly, and the latest issue of every magazine at every newsstand featured sensational headlines in bold black font:

Taisei Shimbun editorial: "The Fall of a Genius? On How Kitahara Iwa became a lackey of Kadokawa Pictures"

Special Commentary for Bungei Shunju: "A 500 Million Yen Contract of Indenture: When Serious Literature Kneels Before Capital"

The magazine *Weekly Bunshun* even published an anonymous submission from an insider titled: "Revealed! Kitahara Iwao and Kadokawa Haruki's Late-Night Meeting: More Than Just a Movie, It's a Sordid Transaction Against the Bottom Line of Literature."

Once seen as a fighter who dared to challenge the system and the hope of Heisei literature, he has now been portrayed overnight by his competitors and conservative writers as an opportunist who would stop at nothing for profit, reeking of money, and betraying the spirit of pure literature.

It's as if reading Kitahara Iwa's books will leave you with an inescapable stench of money.

Tokyo, Shinchosha.

The editor-in-chief's office was filled with smoke.

Editor-in-Chief Sato looked at the stack of competing magazines that had just been delivered to his desk, especially the top one, "Weekly Bunshun," and his brows furrowed into a deep frown.

As the editor-in-chief of Shinchosha, he understood the logic behind it all too well.

This is a group of conservatives in Kyoto joining forces with Bungei Shunju, wanting to use the film to bring down Kitahara Iwa, as revenge for their defeat on the live broadcast last time.

After letting out a long sigh, Editor-in-Chief Sato anxiously dialed Kitahara Iwao's number: "Teacher Kitahara, there's a lot of criticism in the literary world right now..."

Sato cautiously reported, "It's not just people in Kyoto; even the Bungei Shunju group has gotten involved."

"These old-school critics are now all saying the same thing: you've become decadent and too commercialized."

"There are even rumors that the judges of the Naoki Prize have reached a tacit agreement that works by opportunists like you will never even get noticed by the judging committee."

After all, in Japan, the judges of the Naoki Prize and the Akutagawa Prize dislike works that are too commercial.

Now, thanks to the deliberate hype from that group of people, Kitahara Iwao has been firmly labeled as a commercial writer.

In the Japanese literary world, this is an invisible curse.

Once someone is labeled as writing for money, it means they are cut off from artistic merit.

Naturally, it would be difficult for him to win the favor of those self-proclaimed high-minded Naoki Prize judges again.

however.

There was no panic on the other end of the phone as Sato had expected.

While organizing his research notes for "The Cry," Kitahara Iwao said calmly, "Sato-san, you're too tense. Don't you understand the logic of these old men?"

"What kind of logic is that?"

Sato was taken aback.

"In their eyes, commerce is the enemy of art."

"For them, only books that nobody reads deserve to be called highbrow."

"Only when sales are dismal, and only when they write sentimental drivel that only those in their circle understand, will they consider it profound."

"Once a song like 'Confessions' becomes a bestseller and sparks a frenzy among the masses, they will instinctively reject it and feel that it is vulgar."

Kitahara Iwa succinctly exposed the group's pretense of elegance: "It's nothing but the arrogance of power."

"Let them curse."

"The more fiercely they criticize, the more fear they have. They are afraid that their outdated values ​​are being abandoned by the market."

"But……"

Sato hesitated for a moment before saying, "If we offend the judges, what about the Naoki Prize...?"

"There are no 'buts'."

Kitahara Iwa interrupted him, his tone revealing an undeniable arrogance: "When the works of masters like Natsume Soseki, Akutagawa Ryunosuke, and Kawabata Yasunari were adapted into films, these people didn't jump out to criticize commercialization."

"Even when Haruki Kadokawa was filming 'The Inugami Family,' they were eager to ride on his coattails."

"In the end, they're just jealous."

"They're jealous of my sales, jealous that I've taken away the voice of young people. They also resent that their so-called Kyoto cultural circle tried to block me, but I kicked them and knocked out their teeth."

Having said that, Kitahara Iwa closed his notebook and gave his final conclusion: "Ignore it, Sato-san."

"No matter how fiercely the dogs of the old era barked, they couldn't stop the train of the new era."

After saying that, Kitahara Iwa hung up the phone.

The room regained its afternoon tranquility.

Kitahara Iwa rubbed his slightly sore temples. He really didn't take those so-called criticisms from the literary world to heart.

After all, it's 1989 now. In a few months, when the deafening sound of the bubble bursting shatters Tokyo, these people still in their ivory towers, talking big about empty fame, will probably not even have the strength to cry out.

Just as Kitahara picked up his pen again, a car horn suddenly sounded downstairs.

drop!!

Kitahara Iwa walked to the window and looked down. He saw a white Rolls-Royce parked on the side of the street below the apartment building.

In Tokyo, where everyone strives to be a nouveau riche, Rolls-Royces are not uncommon, but only that one car can be so brazenly parked in the middle of the road that it evokes only envy rather than anger from passersby.

The rear window slowly rolled down, and a hand holding a large cigar reached out, followed by the face of Haruki Kadokawa wearing sunglasses.

Completely ignoring the stares of passersby, he waved loudly at the window upstairs and called out, "Kitahara-kun! Come down! Get in the car!"

"We absolutely have to finalize the damn female lead today!"

"I've already boasted to all the media in Japan that I'm going to invite a national-level actress this time!"

……

The back seat of a Rolls-Royce is a luxurious space isolated from the outside world.

The moment the car door closed, the clamor was completely shut out, replaced by the smell of expensive leather and the rich aroma of Cuban cigars.

As the car started and smoothly merged into traffic, Haruki Kadokawa couldn't wait to take off his sunglasses, staring intently at Kitahara Iwa, and unleashing the brilliant idea he had been brewing on the road.

"Kitahara-kun, I've been thinking about this the whole way from now until now."

"I've come up with a brilliant idea regarding the casting of Yuko Moriguchi!"

Kadokawa slapped his thigh excitedly and exclaimed, "It has to be Akina Nakamori!"

Upon hearing this, Kitahara Iwa raised an eyebrow but remained silent, watching Kadokawa Haruki's performance in quiet contemplation.

Haruki Kadokawa became more and more excited as he spoke, as if he could already see countless banknotes flying before his eyes: "Just think about it! She just broke up with Masahiko Kondo, and now all of Japan's sympathy is on her."

"Everyone thinks she's the tragic heroine! If you were to cast her now as a heartbroken teacher who lost her daughter and is seeking revenge on the world... Good heavens, that would be a perfect fit for her!"

At this point, Haruki Kadokawa waved his cigar, drawing a large circle in the air: "The audience will absolutely go crazy! Housewives, office ladies, they'll pack the theaters to see Akina Nakamori get her revenge!"

"By then, the box office will definitely break two billion... no, even three billion!"

"no."

At this moment, Kitahara Iwa's voice, though not loud, was like a bucket of ice water, instantly extinguishing Kadokawa Haruki's fervor.

Kitahara Iwao turned to look at the fleeting Tokyo street scene outside the window and said calmly, "I don't think Akina can play the role."

"ha?"

Haruki Kadokawa was momentarily stunned, seemingly not expecting Iwao Kitahara to refuse so readily: "Why? This is a win-win situation!"

"First and foremost, it's the film itself."

Kitahara Iwato withdrew his gaze from the window, turned his head to face Kadokawa Haruki, and said, "Mr. Kadokawa, you have misunderstood the character of Moriguchi Yuko."

"She wasn't a pitiful woman crushed by life, but a monster with absolute rationality."

"When she stands on the podium, she should not exude any tragic aura. She should be like a precise instrument, or like a glass of colorless and tasteless water."

"Only in this way, when she smiles and says that she poisoned the milk, will the audience feel that chill to the bone."

At this point, Kitahara Iwa paused, his fingers lightly tapping the leather armrest: "But Akina is different. Her aura is too intense right now. Her eyes burn with too much love and hate, and the sense of brokenness and tragedy that overflows from the screen is too strong."

"If she were to play the role, the audience would not see the vengeful Moriguchi-sensei, but rather the songstress Nakamori Akina venting her pain."

"This strong personal aura will directly devour the depth of the character, turning the movie into a cheap star revenge film."

Hearing Kitahara Iwa's explanation, Kadokawa Haruki frowned, opened his mouth as if to refute, but didn't know how to refute.

He felt that Kitahara Iwao made a good point, but he was still reluctant to part with the immense popularity and buzz surrounding Nakamori Akina.

Seeing Kadokawa's hesitant expression, Kitahara Iwa didn't continue speaking, but instead looked back at the fleeting street scene outside the window.

Secondly...

Kitahara Iwa thought to himself.

The current public opinion environment is chaotic enough.

Although Akina Nakamori and Masahiko Kondo have broken up, her mental state remains as fragile as a sheet of paper.

If you were to cast her as a perverted teacher who poisons milk and verbally threatens students at this point?

How will the moralists of the PTA attack her?

How will the media demonize her?

The reason he helped Nakamori Akina was entirely because of his regret for Nakamori Akina in his previous life.

If I let her play the role now, wouldn't that hurt her again?

At that moment, the carriage fell into a brief silence, with only the slight hum of the air conditioning vents.

Kadokawa Haruki clicked his tongue in annoyance, picked up his cigar again, and muttered somewhat disgruntledly, "You're too protective of her, Kitahara-kun."

"Although I quite like Ms. Nakamori, this is a multi-billion dollar business."

"Precisely because it's a multi-billion dollar business, we need to be even more cautious. If we ruin our reputation, we won't have that multi-billion dollar left."

Kitahara Iwa said calmly.

Although Haruki Kadokawa is arrogant, he is a smart businessman who listens to reason, especially about money.

"Since they're not going to cast her as the female lead..."

Kadokawa Haruki irritably chewed on his cigar, his brow furrowed, his fingers tapping unconsciously on his knee.

For a businessman like him who wants to squeeze every last drop of popularity out of people, seeing the immense tragic popularity surrounding Akina Nakamori but being unable to monetize it is more painful than cutting off his own flesh.

Suddenly, the knocking stopped.

"But we absolutely cannot let this attention, which is being watched by all of Japan, go to waste."

Haruki Kadokawa turned his head sharply, a glint of unwavering determination in his eyes, and quickly said, "Then give her the movie theme song!"

Upon hearing this, Kitahara Iwa's fingers, which were resting on his knees, stiffened slightly.

Kitahara Iwao originally didn't want Nakamori Akina to get too involved in works like "Confessions," which are full of malice and controversy.

He hoped she could sing purer, more artistic songs to complete her transformation, rather than being consumed as an accessory to the film.

But Kitahara Iwa didn't immediately object, looking at Kadokawa Haruki's still tense face because of the rejection he had just received.

Kitahara Iwa sighed inwardly.

Although Haruki Kadokawa values ​​talent, he is essentially an emperor who is self-centered and arrogant.

The rejection of the female lead earlier had already gone against his wishes. If he were to reject even the second-best suggestion of singing the theme song, this volatile lion might really turn on him on the spot.

"...That's a compromise."

After a moment of silence, Kitahara Iwa nodded and said, "The film's promotion, coupled with her singing at the end, might provide an outlet for the audience's emotions."

Seeing that Kitahara Iwa had finally relented, Kadokawa Haruki slammed his hand on the armrest, his earlier displeasure vanishing, replaced by the frenzied thrill of a gambler going all in: "Alright! It's settled then!"

"Since I'm not playing the female lead, the theme song has to be a huge production! I'm going to throw money at it! It has to be everywhere – TV channels and radio!"

"I want her voice to echo throughout the streets and alleys of Japan!"

……

Half an hour later, in Kojicho, Chiyoda-ku, Kadokawa Eiga headquarters.

The meeting room door was tightly closed, filled with smoke, and visibility was frighteningly low.

The huge whiteboard was covered with photos of popular actresses, making it look less like a casting call and more like a beauty showcase.

The air was so stuffy it felt like you could wring water out of it, with only the echoing sound of Kadokawa Haruki's leather shoes on the carpet.

"Since Akina won't act..."

Haruki Kadokawa stood in front of the whiteboard, his pointer snapping sharply across one of the photographs: "Then we'll find Kyoko Koizumi!"

Haruki Kadokawa turned around, his eyes shining, and said, "She's the current fashion icon, the most energetic idol in all of Japan!"

"Then let her cut her hair short and play a gloomy, vengeful female teacher! Turn the most sunny person into the darkest! This will definitely create a national sensation!"

Hearing these shocking remarks, the casting directors and producers below were all speechless with fear, exchanging bewildered glances.

Why cast Kyoko Koizumi, who always sang "Gakuen Heaven" and was always bouncing around, as Yuko Moriguchi, who poisoned milk?

This isn't just a matter of scale; it's downright schizophrenia.

But no one dared to refute it, because in this room, Haruki Kadokawa was the absolute emperor.

"or!"

Before everyone could fully process this crazy proposal, Haruki Kadokawa flicked his pointer, even pointing to an old photograph with yellowed edges in the corner.

"I'll go and beg Momoe Yamaguchi to come out of retirement!"

Hearing Kadokawa Haruki's even more outrageous idea, the entire audience gasped.

Haruki Kadokawa, however, showed no sign of madness. Head held high, absorbed in his self-constructed business myth, he declared, "While it's almost impossible, if enough zeros are written on the checks, and with my influence as Haruki Kadokawa… it might actually work!"

"If she were to make a comeback, the box office could easily reach 5 billion, let alone 2 billion!"