Chapter 92 January 1, 1990
December 31, 1989, late at night.
The TV was on, the volume was turned down, and the screen was showing the final performance of the "Red and White Song Battle".
The set features a massive, expensive set, a dazzling array of lights, and a gorgeous gown adorned with rhinestones worn by the female singer.
The camera panned across the audience, and every face radiated absolute confidence in the times—a smile unique to this era.
Kitahara Iwa sat quietly on the sofa, holding a coffee in his hand, watching the flowing light and shadow on the screen with a calm expression.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, it was Tokyo on the last night of 1989. There were no noisy fireworks displays, but the neon lights of Ginza and Roppongi in the distance still illuminated the cold winter night sky.
Even through the thick glass, Kitahara Iwa could feel the extreme excitement of the city on New Year's Eve.
The streets were packed with people waiting to worship and celebrate the New Year. Everyone's face was beaming with excitement. They were absolutely certain that in the coming 90s, their wealth would continue to multiply without any doubt.
At the height of this nationwide frenzy, Kitahara Iwa sat alone in the living room, quietly watching television programs.
Just then, the telephone on the table rang, breaking the silence in the room.
Kitahara Iwa glanced sideways upon hearing this.
At this moment, when everyone is immersed in the New Year's Eve celebration, who could be making the call?
Then Kitahara Iwa put down his coffee and picked up the receiver.
"Happy New Year, Kitahara-sensei!"
The voice of Editor-in-Chief Sato came from the other end of the phone.
Amidst the faint sounds of izakaya noise in the background, Editor-in-Chief Sato's voice was clearly tinged with alcohol, and he was so excited that he was almost incoherent.
"Mr. Kitahara! The sales figures! Today's sales figures are in!"
Without waiting for Kitahara Iwa's reply, he continued, "This month, the number of issues of 'The Novel' has skyrocketed by forty percent compared to last month. A full forty percent!"
"The harsher the readers' criticism, the more money they'll spend on buying tickets."
At this point, Editor-in-Chief Sato let out a long sigh of relief, clearly releasing the frustration that had been building up inside him for so long.
The laughter on the other end of the phone gradually subsided, and Sato's tone became somewhat wistful as he said, "As expected, a truly solid story can't be crushed by pressure."
[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name 1110 ...
"Teacher Kitahara... I'm sorry you've had to suffer these past few days."
"I wouldn't say I feel wronged."
Kitahara Iwa shook his head and said, "But everyone in the editorial department, thank you for taking the blame for me for so long. Please thank you all for me."
"Hey, it's all part of my job!"
Fueled by alcohol, Editor-in-Chief Sato's tone became more animated again: "However, Kitahara-sensei, now that our sales have increased, after the New Year holidays, should we have the editorial department issue a formal statement, using the data to refute those harsh criticisms from the outside world?"
"No need to bother anymore, Editor-in-Chief Sato."
"Huh? Why?"
Kitahara Iwa explained, "Right now, public opinion is entirely driven by emotion. Issuing a statement would only add fuel to the fire and has no real practical significance. Besides..."
"Once this holiday is over, they probably won't be in the mood to criticize this novel anymore."
There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the phone.
Editor-in-Chief Sato probably didn't understand the somewhat nonsensical remark, but under the influence of alcohol, he didn't delve into it. He simply laughed heartily and replied, "Okay!" before being dragged away by a shout from a colleague.
I heard the clinking of glasses, a sound typical of izakayas, through the receiver, and then the call ended.
However, just as Kitahara Iwa put the receiver back on the landline, the clear ringtone sounded again.
This time, it's Northern Kenzo.
Through the microphone, you could tell the environment was very quiet, and he seemed to have had a few drinks, as his voice was somewhat deep.
This tough-guy senior, known for his taciturn nature, skipped the New Year's greetings and went straight to the point: "Kitahara, keep writing at your own pace."
Without any unnecessary words, he hung up immediately after saying that.
The next call came from Yoshio Takahashi.
He started by rambling on with the usual New Year's greetings on the phone, then abruptly changed the subject, saying, "I've been reading your new book. It's about the character Suzuki Yoko..."
He paused for a moment, then continued, "You've got the psychological boundaries of these marginalized people figured out perfectly."
"So ignore the rumors and gossip, just keep writing at your own pace."
Then came Go Osaka, followed by Miyuki Miyabe.
In the dead of night on New Year's Eve, several writers who were friends with Kitahara Iwatsu called one after another.
They used the simplest way among colleagues to chat about people and wish each other a Happy New Year.
This is to tell Kitahara Iwao: We saw it, we understood it, and we support you.
Because these true experts see the intricacies. Compared to the emotional criticisms and insults directed at the novel's background, they are much more aware of the extremely solid fundamental skills behind the serialized text.
The quality of the work itself is the most effective passport among peers.
In this living room, completely isolated from the outside world's revelry and feeling somewhat empty, Kitahara Iwa picked up the receiver again and again.
In this living room, completely isolated from the outside world's revelry and feeling somewhat empty, Kitahara Iwa picked up the receiver again and again.
Although Kitahara Iwa knew that the ridicule from the outside world was just noise, people are not machines without feelings after all. Facing such malice all day long, it is inevitable to feel a little tired.
On this chilly New Year's Eve, the phone calls from his seniors and colleagues, with their simple yet weighty words of encouragement, truly lifted his spirits.
Kitahara Iwa answered every phone call, sincerely expressing his gratitude and responding.
This pure support brought Kitahara Iwa a tangible warmth amidst his loneliness.
Just then, the faint sound of the temple's New Year's Eve bell could be heard outside the window.
The New Year's Eve countdown on TV is also coming to an end.
"Ten, nine, eight..."
Kitahara Iwa turned his head and quietly gazed out the window.
"Three, two, one..."
As soon as midnight struck, a burst of enthusiastic cheers erupted from the television.
Looking out through the floor-to-ceiling windows, one can see crowds of people and vehicles heading to various shrines for New Year's worship, and the streets of Tokyo are filled with noise and neon lights.
Just then, the telephone on the table rang again.
Kitahara Iwa assumed it was another call from a colleague wishing him a Happy New Year, and without giving it much thought, he casually answered the receiver...
"...Excuse me, are you Kitahara-sensei?"
The caller's voice was a girl's.
Her voice was clear, slightly reserved, and the last syllable of her voice held a hint of caution, as if she had mustered a great deal of courage to dial the number.
Kitahara Iwa paused slightly, then said softly, "Kamachi...is this Ms. Sakai?"
"Um."
Izumi Sakai responded softly on the other end of the phone, then quickly said, "Happy New Year, Kitahara-sensei..."
"Happy New Year."
A brief silence.
Kitahara Iwa could also faintly hear the background noise of a television from her side, mixed with the sound of temple bells.
"Teacher Kitahara..."
At this moment, Izumi Sakai's voice softened slightly, and she asked tentatively, "Where are you now?"
Kitahara Iwa turned his head and looked at the spacious apartment.
It was empty and quiet. A cold cup of coffee sat on the coffee table, and a noisy TV program played on the screen. There was no one beside me.
Kitahara Iwa answered truthfully, "I'm watching TV at home alone."
"……ah."
There's a very subtle emotion in that word "ah".
It was as if they breathed a sigh of relief, or as if they had secretly made a decision in their hearts.
"that……"
A moment later, Izumi Sakai's voice came through again, half a octave lower than before, but exceptionally clear: "Teacher, if you don't mind...would you like to come out and go to the nearby shrine for a New Year's visit?"
Upon hearing this, Kitahara Iwa remained silent for two seconds.
He wanted to refuse.
As for the reasons... they're all readily available: it's too late, the crowds at New Year's shrines are too dense, and I don't like joining in the hustle and bustle... any one of them is perfectly reasonable.
But he looked down at the coffee in his hand, then up at the empty room, and finally, almost involuntarily, said, "Okay. Where are you? I'll drive over and pick you up."
The driver provided by Shincho Company had already gone home for vacation, so Kitahara Iwa took the car keys and went out by himself.
Walking through the streets of Tokyo late at night, you see crowds of people rushing to New Year's shrines.
Passing by the car window were only fashionable men and women wearing expensive furs and exquisite makeup.
This frenzied extravagance, unique to the bubble era, was amplified to its extreme on New Year's Eve.
The car quickly arrived at the intersection below the Sakai Izumi apartment building.
Kitahara Iwa slowly came to a stop, and looking through the windshield, I immediately saw the figure standing under the street lamp.
Izumi Sakai wore an extremely ordinary dark-colored thick down jacket, wrapping herself up tightly.
She didn't have the currently popular voluminous perm, nor did she wear any dazzling jewelry.
On this winter night filled with glitz and clamor, she stood quietly by the roadside, her hands in her pockets, her shoulders slightly hunched over because of the cold.
Then the car slowly came to a stop beside her.
Because she had never seen this car before, Izumi Sakai, standing under the streetlight, didn't pay much attention at first. Moreover, out of caution for a girl out late at night, she subconsciously took a small step back.
Then Kitahara Iwao pushed open the car door and got out. When she saw who it was, Sakai Izumi was slightly taken aback, and her clear eyes immediately revealed an obvious joy.
"Why didn't you go back to your hometown in Kanagawa for the New Year?"
Looking at the Sakai Izumi in front of him, Kitahara Iwa asked a question casually, his breath turning into a small cloud of white mist in the winter night.
Izumi Sakai rubbed her fingers, which were slightly red from the cold, and looked up to reply, "Vocal and band training is very full."
"Producer Nagato said that with my debut just around the corner, I don't want to let my guard down at this crucial moment."
At this point, Izumi Sakai paused, then lowered her voice and said, "So I stayed in Tokyo."
Upon hearing her reason for staying in Tokyo, Kitahara Iwa nodded slightly.
"Since I'm staying in Tokyo, it's really too lonely to be alone in my apartment on New Year's Eve."
Izumi Sakai responded softly, "Mm."
The two walked side by side toward a nearby shrine.
The New Year's Eve bells from the distant temple echoed through the winter night air, one chime after another.
While waiting in line to worship, Izumi Sakai looked up at the white breath she exhaled into the night sky and the bustling crowd around her, remaining silent for a long time.
Then, she suddenly lowered her head and whispered, "Teacher Kitahara."
"Um?"
"I……"
Her voice became extremely soft, almost drowned out by the surrounding clamor of prayers and the distant chimes: "I've read the recent newspapers and news."
She didn't continue, but Kitahara Iwa knew what she was going to say.
The overwhelming barrage of insults, the morbid, dark, and neurotic vicious language, the economists who publicly tore up the pages of the serialized "The Cry" on television...
Izumi Sakai didn't repeat herself, but simply looked up, her eyes glistening with tiny drops of water under the warm glow of the lanterns lining the shrine's approach.
Then she looked directly at Kitahara Iwa with an intense, almost overflowing worry and heartache.
"Are you... alright?"
Izumi Sakai paused for a moment, her voice carrying a certain urgency, even a stubborn force, as she said, "Please... please don't let those voices defeat you."
"In my opinion, they're just attacking for the sake of attacking; they haven't even read the contents of 'The Cry'..."
Upon hearing this, Kitahara Iwa stopped and quietly looked at Sakai Izumi.
In this noisy New Year's Eve, the girl in front of us, with an almost stubborn seriousness, spoke out against the criticism she was enduring.
Then, Kitahara Iwa chuckled and said, "I'm fine."
"Newspaper articles of that caliber don't even have the right to make me angry."
Kitahara Iwa followed the approach to the shrine and glanced at the enthusiastic crowds around him, who were crowding the donation boxes to make money.
"Actually, I don't care at all what those experts outside say about me."
Kitahara Iwato withdrew his gaze and looked back at Sakai Izumi. "Instead of wasting energy arguing with them, I'm more concerned about whether the people around me will be safe and sound in what is about to happen."
Izumi Sakai paused slightly, looking at Iwao Kitahara with a somewhat blank expression: "What's going to happen next?"
Kitahara Iwao didn't explain the complexities of macroeconomics to her. Instead, he said in an extremely solemn tone, "Izumi-san, if you trust me, you must remember what I'm about to say."
"Once the New Year's Day holiday is over and the banks open, go and ask for half a day off."
"Besides setting aside enough for daily living expenses, convert all your savings into US dollars."
"Until this spring, no matter what the news reports or what people around you say, absolutely do not exchange your money back to Japanese yen."
Upon hearing this seemingly random instruction, Izumi Sakai was immediately stunned.
She didn't understand exchange rates or finance, but even she knew that the whole society was now crazy about the appreciation of the yen.
However, when she met Kitahara Iwa's deep and serious eyes, Sakai Izumi swallowed all the questions that were on the tip of her tongue.
She didn't know what gave Kitahara Iwa the confidence, but she knew that Kitahara Iwa wouldn't harm her.
"Okay, I've got it."
In the early hours of the morning, Kitahara Iwa delivered the spring water back to the apartment building. He watched her go inside before turning back to get into his car.
The night wind was biting, and the crowds of people visiting temples for the New Year had gradually dispersed.
Kitahara drove back to his apartment.
As I stepped out of the elevator and stood in front of the door, I instinctively looked down to rummage for my keys in my pocket, when my gaze suddenly paused.
An envelope was quietly slipped under the door.
The envelope is thick and has a delicate feel. The seal is printed with a traditional New Year's dark gold pattern, and the workmanship is extremely exquisite. It is clear at a glance that it has been carefully selected.
Kitahara Iwa was pulled out and turned over to its back.
At the end of the signature were a few delicate yet powerful characters:
Akina Nakamori.
Kitahara Iwa stood at the doorway, and by the light of the corridor lamp, he opened the envelope, only to find a greeting card inside.
The greeting card had only a few words on it, just a handful of lines.
Although the wording was somewhat restrained, every stroke was written with great care, as if it had been carefully considered.
"Teacher Kitahara, please take good care of yourself. Don't pay any attention to what those people outside are saying, not even a single punctuation mark."
Looking at these words, Kitahara Iwa stood quietly for a moment.
The image of Akina Nakamori naturally came to mind.
A smile appeared on Kitahara Iwao's face as he folded the greeting card, put it back in the envelope, and then pushed open the door.
The television inside was still on, playing a comedy variety show from the New Year's season.
Ignoring the slightly noisy background noise, Kitahara Iwa walked straight over and sat down on the sofa. He gently placed the greeting card on the coffee table, picked up the cup of coffee that had completely gone cold, and drank it all.
It seems I'll have to pick out a suitable return gift for Ms. Nakamori in a few days.
As Kitahara Iwa thought about this, he covered himself with the blanket, lay down on the sofa, and gradually closed his eyes.
Outside the window, the clamor surrounding the New Year is gradually receding.
On the first night of 1990, Kitahara Iwao drifted off to sleep, enjoying this rare moment of relaxation.
a few days later.
The date is February 4, 1990.
We highly recommend this book to you: *Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s*. (Read more here.)