Chapter 137 Iwa-kun and Sachiko
After those words were spoken, a long silence fell over both ends of the receiver.
Izumi Sakai's voice, tinged with confusion and helplessness, was as light as a drifting catkin with nowhere to land in mid-air, and was instantly swallowed up by the faint background noise of the electrical current that spanned half of Tokyo.
Kitahara Iwa held the phone, not immediately offering any perfunctory words of comfort.
He simply listened quietly to the slightly suppressed breathing coming from across the room, then leaned back, sinking deeply into the shadows of the sofa. He sighed silently.
He was all too familiar with the price of being hastily matured by the assembly line of capital.
When a creator suddenly gains attention and success far beyond expectations, they will inevitably be swept up by the surging commercial demands and gradually pushed away from their original pure path.
Kitahara Iwa experienced something similar after winning the double award.
His approach was extremely simple and brutal: he kept all the people he didn't want to see out of the door and disconnected all the phone calls he didn't want to answer.
Given Kitahara Iwa's own status, no one else dared to say anything.
But Izumi Sakai couldn't do that.
She possesses an inherent gentleness and tenderness.
She would say "Thank you for your hard work" to the staff even when she was exhausted, and she would smile and say to the producer "It's okay, I can continue" even when her voice was so hoarse that it hurt to swallow.
Faced with a powerful producer like Daiko Nagato, who had been in the business world for decades, she simply couldn't say "no."
Are you free tonight?
At this moment, Kitahara Iwao's tone was very casual, as if he were casually suggesting going downstairs to buy a pack of cigarettes.
"It's still that same barbecue restaurant. Perfect timing, to celebrate the huge success of your debut single."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.
Then, Izumi Sakai's voice came again.
The dry, hoarse voice was still there, but beneath that layer of exhaustion lay a sense of security, as if one had finally found a sheltered roof in the midst of a downpour.
"……good."
8 PM.
The second floor deep in that narrow alley.
Kitahara Iwa was already seated in the corner of the private room.
Once the baking pan was preheated, there were two plates of raw meat still wrapped in plastic wrap and a pot of barley tea on the table.
The sliding door of the private room was carefully opened a crack.
Then a head wearing a dark baseball cap peeked in. After confirming that only Kitahara Iwa was in the room, it opened the door and slipped in sideways.
It was Izumi Sakai.
Her disguise is much more sophisticated now than it was a few months ago.
The brim of the hat was pulled down so tightly that it almost completely covered his eyebrows and eyes.
A pair of bulky black-rimmed glasses, completely at odds with her aloof demeanor, sat on the bridge of her nose.
He was wearing a large, even somewhat comical, dark-colored hoodie, with the drawstring dangling in front of his chest.
If she dared to walk into the streets of Shibuya without any cover, it would only be a matter of time before she was surrounded by enthusiastic fans.
The massive success of "Good-bye My Loneliness," Kitahara Iwao's public recommendation at a signing event, and the live performance on "Music Station"... these three combined effects have made "Izumi Sakai's" face the latest "nationally recognized object" in Japan.
When she first came here a few months ago, she was only wearing a simple white T-shirt and jeans, with no makeup, and no one would give her a second glance.
Now, she needs a hat, glasses, and an oversized hoodie to gain the same right to anonymity.
This is one of the prices of fame.
But when she entered the private room and saw Kitahara Iwa sitting relaxed at the low table, just like last time and the time before, holding a pair of tongs and slowly turning over a sizzling piece of Wagyu beef... her tense shoulders completely collapsed at that moment.
The whole person was like a spring that had been stretched to its limit, and finally the force was released.
Izumi Sakai took off her hat and glasses, along with her stuffy, oversized hoodie, and casually piled them in the corner.
Underneath the hoodie was still her favorite cotton T-shirt, slightly faded from washing.
In this cramped private room filled with the aroma of charcoal and oil, the million-selling tickets, endless announcements, and glaring spotlights associated with the identity of "Izumi Sakai" were completely shut out.
Inside the door was only a tired girl who had let down her guard, staring at the sizzling Wagyu beef on the grill, swallowing hard, and finally able to catch her breath.
"You're here? Have a seat."
Kitahara Iwa didn't even look up, placing the first piece of grilled meat onto the empty plate in front of her.
Izumi Sakai sat down on the cushion, picked up the bamboo chopsticks, and looked down at the perfectly grilled Wagyu shoulder—the surface was slightly charred, and the rich fat glistened between the marbling.
Then she looked up at Kitahara Iwa across from her, and her eyes reddened almost imperceptibly.
But only for a moment, and then he quickly lowered his head and put the meat into his mouth.
"……tasty."
His voice was muffled and noticeably hoarse.
Kitahara Iwa didn't respond, but slowly turned the raw meat on the grill, patiently waiting for Sakai Izumi to calm herself down.
The silence lasted for about two minutes.
The only sounds in the private room were the hissing of grease dripping onto the charcoal fire and the monotonous hum of the exhaust fan.
After finishing the meat on her plate, Izumi Sakai picked up her cup, took a small sip of barley tea, and gently dabbed her lips with a tissue.
Then, placing her hands flat on her knees, she spoke frankly through the rising smoke from the grill: "Teacher Kitahara. What I said on the phone... I didn't actually finish."
"Um."
"After my debut, the company's schedule was incredibly packed. President Nagato said this is a stage that newcomers have to go through, saying 'strike while the iron is hot' and 'don't waste the window of opportunity.' I understand his reasoning. But..."
As Izumi Sakai spoke, she unconsciously clenched the fabric on her knees with her fingers.
"I feel something's wrong with my throat. Every night when I get home, it feels like there's a wad of coarse sandpaper stuck in my throat."
"When I was recording a radio program the day before yesterday, I almost cracked on a high note. The producer might not have noticed, but I knew it myself."
"My vocal cords are warning me that they're about to give way."
At this point, Izumi Sakai raised her head, a hint of confusion in her clear eyes, and said, "But the company has so many events scheduled, all of which were personally arranged by the president."
"If I say I'm not going now... wouldn't that cause trouble for everyone?"
When Izumi Sakai uttered the words "causing trouble," there was a hint of timidity in her tone that made one feel sorry for her.
This timidity is not out of fear of the authority of capital, but rather the instinctive retreat and sacrifice of a kind-hearted person when faced with a conflict between their own needs and the expectations of others.
Kitahara Iwao watched her quietly.
He looked at it for about three seconds, then placed the barbecue tongs on the edge of the bone plate.
"spring."
"Um?"
"When I had you sign the contract with Being, there was a supplementary clause that I personally requested be added. Do you remember?"
Upon hearing this, Izumi Sakai was momentarily stunned.
"Party B will focus solely on vocal performances and album recording. Unnecessary commercial performances, variety show appearances, and business endorsements will all be declined."
Seeing Sakai Izumi's somewhat puzzled reaction, Kitahara Iwao explained, "This clause is written in black and white in the contract. Nagato Daiko signed it in front of me."
"Have you forgotten?"
Upon hearing this, Izumi Sakai opened her mouth, her expression a complex mix of surprise and embarrassment.
"I...I remember. But..."
Izumi Sakai lowered her head somewhat awkwardly, her voice trailing off as she said, "The company has arranged so many schedules, and the president said they're necessary. If I just use the contract to refuse... is that really a good idea?"
Kitahara Iwa looked at the girl in front of him.
This girl can sing breathtaking high notes with her eyes closed in front of an audience all over Japan, yet she doesn't even have the courage to say "no" when faced with a producer's statement that "this is necessary."
Kitahara Iwa sighed silently in his heart.
Since she can't learn to say no.
Then I'll just have to flip the table for her.
Thinking of this, Kitahara Iwao calmly reached out and pulled out a black flip phone—a rare sight on the market at the time—from the pocket of his coat hanging to the side. It was a Motorola MicroTAC, which had just been introduced to Japan.
Seeing Kitahara Iwao casually open the flip cover, Sakai Izumi's eyes widened instantly.
"Teacher Kitahara? You need—"
Kitahara Iwa didn't answer; his thumb had already swiftly pressed Nagato Daiki's direct line number.
The moment Izumi Sakai recognized the numbers, her expression changed drastically, a hint of near-terrified panic flashing in her eyes. She quickly said, "Wait... Kitahara-sensei! No need to fight..."
But the call had already been made.
Beep—beep—second tone, connection established.
"Feed? Who?"
Nagato Daikichi's voice came through the receiver, carrying a hint of the habitual businesslike manner and authority of someone interrupted late at night.
Good evening, President Nagato.
Kitahara Iwao spoke directly, "I am Kitahara Iwao."
As soon as Kitahara Iwa finished speaking, there was a half-second silence on the other end of the phone.
Immediately afterwards, the voice of this top producer, who wields immense influence in the Japanese pop music industry, switched to an undisguised level of respect: "Oh, it's Kitahara-sensei! Good evening, good evening. Is there anything important that you're calling so late?"
Ignoring his pleasantries, Kitahara Iwa went straight to the point: "I remember when Izumi and Being signed the contract, there was a clause that I personally requested to be added."
As Kitahara Iwa finished speaking, silence fell on the other end of the phone.
As a veteran producer who has spent half his life navigating the world of fame and fortune, Daiko Nagato possesses an absolutely keen business instinct.
Without any further explanation, this opening line alone was enough for him to quickly recall the details of the contract and instantly understand the purpose of this late-night call.
"Party B will focus solely on vocal performances and album recording. Unnecessary commercial performances, variety show appearances, and business endorsements will all be declined."
"Party B will focus solely on vocal performances and album recording. Unnecessary commercial performances, variety show appearances, and business endorsements will all be declined."
Kitahara Iwatsu continued speaking at a steady pace: "This clause, you personally signed and agreed to in front of me at the time."
"But as far as I know, Quanshui's recent schedule has reduced his time in the recording studio to almost zero. Instead, he spends up to fourteen hours a day on interviews, filming, commercial performances, and autograph sessions."
"President Nagato. This isn't what we agreed upon back then, as I remember it."
After the words were spoken, there was a brief silence on the other end of the receiver.
For a seasoned producer like Daiko Nagato, who has spent decades navigating the world of fame and fortune, those few seconds of silence were enough for him to quickly process the warning and assess the situation.
When he spoke again, his tone showed no embarrassment at being questioned face-to-face. Instead, he smoothly transitioned into a set of public relations rhetoric that businessmen are best at: first, agree completely, and then seize the opportunity to change course.
"Teacher Kitahara, your criticism is correct. Of course, I remember our agreement clearly. But..."
At this point, Nagato Daiyuki's speech unconsciously quickened, like a seasoned salesman who had finally laid the groundwork and was about to get to the core brainwashing part.
"The momentum of Quanshui's single is just too strong right now. Ori's ranking is still going up, invitations from major TV stations are booked until next month, and GG Entertainment is also in talks with several very high-quality endorsement deals."
"If we don't seize this once-in-a-lifetime window of opportunity and take advantage of it by appearing on several high-exposure platforms, her commercial value could definitely reach the top level within three months."
"Teacher Kitahara, you also work in content creation, so you should understand... this kind of explosive period is fleeting."
"If we keep her hiding in the recording studio now and don't let the hype die down..."
"President Nagato."
Before Nagato Daiko could finish speaking, Kitahara Iwa interrupted him.
Kitahara Iwa did not raise his voice, nor did he show any emotional fluctuation.
But it was precisely this calm tone that forced Nagato Daikichi to back down from the grand plans he was still pondering.
Daikichi Nagato's words came to an abrupt end.
"I entrusted Sakai Izumi to your company back then."
Kitahara Iwa spoke again, enunciating each word with exceptional clarity, leaving no room for ambiguity: "It's because you understand music."
"Not because you know how to completely drain a genius singer's voice in three months."
Upon hearing this, Izumi Sakai, who was sitting opposite, stopped mid-air with her chopsticks.
"If you intend to treat her like one of those assembly-line idols, exhausting her vocal cords and talent with intensive commercial performances and exposure—"
Kitahara Iwatsu spoke at a steady pace:
That's a breach of contract.
"I need to remind you that in addition to Being's official seal, that contract also has my handwritten signature."
"If Being Records doesn't even intend to abide by its written agreements—"
Kitahara Iwa paused slightly.
"Then I'll have my lawyer involved tomorrow. Finding a company that respects the contract isn't difficult for me."
As Kitahara Iwa finished speaking, the other end of the phone fell silent again.
In those few short seconds, Nagato Daiko's brain worked like a high-speed computer, quickly calculating a result.
Kitahara Iwa is not one to bluff.
Every word this person has said since his debut has ultimately become a reality.
He said that "Journey Under the Midnight Sun" would silence all of Japan, and so all of Japan fell silent.
He said that Mitsuru Kawabayashi's "Thirst for Water" deserved the Akutagawa Prize, and "Thirst for Water" did indeed win the Akutagawa Prize.
What's even more crucial is that... Kitahara Iwa has more than just himself standing behind him.
And there's Haruki Kadokawa.
This man is a man who can turn the tide in the Japanese media world.
The relationship between Kitahara Iwao and Kadokawa Haruki is an open secret in the industry.
After all, it was Haruki Kadokawa who first bought the film rights to "Confessions" and brought it to the big screen, creating a box office miracle that year.
The two share a deep personal trust and a strong bond of mutual interests.
More importantly... the fact that Izumi Sakai was able to sign with Being was partly due to Haruki Kadokawa's connections behind the scenes.
If Kitahara Iwao really is going to take Sakai Izumi with him...
Given Kadokawa Haruki's financial resources and media connections, exorbitant breach of contract penalties are not a problem at all.
Kadokawa is fully capable of establishing a new label for Izumi Sakai and building a complete distribution and promotion system from scratch.
Without Izumi Sakai, Being lost more than just a rapidly growing cash cow... it lost Kitahara Iwao and Kadokawa Haruki's complete trust and endorsement of Being.
Once those two names disappear from Being's list of partners, the entire industry's assessment of Being will instantly drop by an order of magnitude.
Even if Kitahara Iwa says something in public, Being will suffer a devastating blow!
So... if you're willing to offend both Kitahara Iwao and Kadokawa Haruki for the sake of a few short-term commercial performances and endorsements...
"Teacher Kitahara."
His tone switched smoothly within five seconds... from the "strike while the iron is hot" business rhetoric to a gentler, more cooperative tone, even one that carried a sincere apology.
"Your criticism is correct. I've been blinded by sales figures lately and acted too hastily."
Nagato Daiko readily agreed, saying, "The spring's voice is indeed our most valuable asset; we must not kill the goose that lays the golden eggs."
"I will immediately have the planning department readjust her schedule. All unnecessary commercial performances, variety show appearances, and autograph sessions will be canceled."
"Starting tomorrow, let her go back to the recording studio with peace of mind."
"I assure you of that. It will absolutely not happen again."
After listening, Kitahara Iwa's tone returned to its usual indifferent and gentle manner.
"Thank you for your help, President Nagato."
"Not at all, it was my oversight. Please forgive me, Kitahara-sensei."
The phone hangs up.
The private room fell silent again.
The last piece of meat on the baking tray was already a little overcooked, with a slightly charred edge.
Kitahara Iwa casually stuffed his flip phone back into his coat pocket, picked up the barbecue tongs again, flipped the charred meat over, and put it on his plate.
Next, he picked up a piece of fresh raw meat, placed it on the wire mesh, grilled it until cooked, and then placed it steadily into the empty plate in front of Izumi Sakai.
Kitahara Iwa looked up at Sakai Izumi, who was still staring in disbelief, and remained calm.
"alright."
Kitahara Iwa put down the clip and said, "I said, starting tomorrow, you don't need to go anywhere except the recording studio."
Izumi Sakai's mouth was slightly open, and the bamboo chopsticks in her hand were still frozen in mid-air.
She stared intently at Kitahara Iwa's face.
The man who had just overturned the business table for her with a few words two minutes ago was now staring blankly at the grilling net as if nothing had happened.
At this moment, Izumi Sakai felt her eyes getting hot.
Kitahara Iwa didn't offer any flattering words or condescending favors; he simply calmly shielded himself from all the difficulties.
Then Izumi Sakai blinked hard and quickly lowered her head.
He gripped the bamboo chopsticks tightly with both hands and stuffed the warm Wagyu beef into his mouth.
After chewing it a couple of times, she whispered, her voice almost completely drowned out by the hissing of the charcoal fire, "Thank you, Kitahara-sensei."
Kitahara Iwa placed several more slices of raw meat on the baking tray.
"Eat your flesh."
Izumi Sakai nodded vigorously. She picked up another piece.
This time, she chewed much faster. Because she was really hungry.
The appetite that had been suppressed by the high-pressure schedule for days finally came back to life.
My stomach regained sensation, a feeling of satisfying hunger that came from finally no longer having to live in fear.
By the time she ate the fourth piece, the redness in Sakai Izumi's eyes had finally faded. She then looked up at Kitahara Iwa across from her, a carefree smile curving her lips.
Gone is the strain and exhaustion of a "professional singer" in front of the camera; at this moment, she is simply a young girl who has finally unloaded all her burdens.
Outside the window, the hustle and bustle of Shibuya continued unabated. But inside this small private room, filled with the aroma of sizzling grease, only the monotonous hum of the exhaust fan, the pleasant hissing of the grill, and the sound of her focused eating meat remained.
Kitahara Iwa glanced at her, a faint smile flickering in his eyes.
Then Kitahara Iwa looked away and continued grilling the Wagyu beef online.
This meal was eaten very slowly.
Only when the charcoal fire at the bottom of the baking pan turned completely dark red and the exhaust fan stopped spewing thick smoke did Izumi Sakai put down her chopsticks and let out a long sigh of relief.
The gloom that had been etched between his brows for days seemed to have been completely dispelled by this hearty meal.
When we checked out and left, the heatwave in Shibuya had subsided, and the night breeze carried a hint of early autumn coolness.
The two walked side by side in the dark alley, the streetlights casting long shadows that overlapped at their feet.
Perhaps because the aftershocks of the phone call had not completely dissipated, Izumi Sakai's steps seemed a little unsteady.
She turned her head to look at Kitahara Iwa, who remained calm and composed beside her.
In this bizarre and chaotic Tokyo, where everyone treats her like a commodity to be dismantled, only Kitahara Iwa sees herself as a "person" who needs protection and rest.
At the corner of the alley, Izumi Sakai paused for a moment.
Then, as if summoning the greatest courage of her life, she reached out her slightly cool fingers in the dim shadows and gently touched the back of Kitahara Iwa's hand hanging by his side.
Kitahara Iwa stopped in his tracks.
He glanced down, not avoiding the look, but naturally turned his palm over and firmly grasped the slightly thin hand, whose fingers were stiff from signing autographs for days.
Sakai Izumi's palms were slightly sweaty, and her fingertips trembled slightly the moment they touched, before softening completely as if they had found some kind of home.
This wasn't a possessive grip, but a silent, profound affirmation.
The hustle and bustle of Shibuya surged outside the alleyway, and countless neon lights intertwined in the distance to form a dreamlike ocean.
But within this narrow patch of shadow, the world seemed to have been muted.
At that moment, the clear boundary between them as “helper and helpee” silently collapsed in the warmth of their fingertips touching.
Izumi Sakai lowered her head and let him lead her.
The warmth emanating from Kitahara Iwa's palm traveled up her arm and gradually warmed her heart, completely soothing the last bit of unease deep within her soul.
As you walk to the end of the alley, the dazzling sea of neon lights of Shibuya comes back into view.
The two slowed their pace, neither of them taking the initiative to let go of each other's hands.
Just before she was about to merge into the crowd, Izumi Sakai suddenly stopped.
"Teacher Kitahara."
Izumi Sakai spoke softly, without turning her head, simply watching the two elongated shadows cast by the streetlights on the road ahead.
"Um?"
Kitahara Iwa stopped and turned to look at her.
"After I return to the recording studio tomorrow, I would like to formally apply to President Nagato..."
She took a deep breath, her eyes shining brightly in the dim light beneath her baseball cap, and said, "I will write the lyrics for the albums myself from now on."
Kitahara Iwa looked at her but didn't reply immediately.
He could feel the hand he was holding tighten slightly at that moment.
Are you confident?
Bei Yuanyan asked.
"have no idea."
She honestly shook her head and said, "I've never written lyrics before, and I might be clumsy at first. But I don't want to be a puppet who just passively accepts arrangements and sings songs with pre-set emotions anymore."
"I want to sing what I truly want to say. Only in this way..."
Izumi Sakai paused for a moment, her voice carrying a gentle yet resolute stubbornness as she said, "Only then can you repay the time you fought for me tonight."
Kitahara Iwao gazed silently at the girl before him.
The city's traffic flowed endlessly a few steps away from them, and the occasional glare from the headlights swept across her oversized hoodie and slightly thin shoulders.
Despite her seemingly delicate appearance, a volcano is awakening within her body.
His lips twitched slightly, and his thumb gently ran over her knuckles.
"Then go write it."
Kitahara Iwao's voice remained steady, yet carried a profound and reassuring quality as he said, "Write what you want to write, sing what you want to sing. If Nagato Daiko feels your lyrics aren't commercial enough, or don't fit his so-called 'market positioning'—"
"Then let him come to me."
Izumi Sakai looked at Kitahara Iwa, her clear eyes reflecting the vibrant night view of Tokyo.
After a long while, she sniffed almost imperceptibly, and a soft smile appeared on her lips.
"it is good."
This time she didn't say "thank you" again.
"but……"
At that moment, Kitahara Iwao looked at her baseball cap, which was pressed down tightly, and suddenly changed the subject, his tone becoming unusually relaxed as he said, "Since you'll be writing your own lyrics from now on, can you drop the word 'teacher' from your titles in private?"
Izumi Sakai paused for a moment.
Under the dim yellow glow of the streetlights, a visible blush quickly crept up her fair neck and up to her ears.
She lowered her head somewhat awkwardly, her gaze drifting as she stared at the overlapping shadows beneath their feet.
The warmth from her palm made her head spin a little.
After a long while, she managed to stammer out a form of address in a voice so faint that only the two of them could hear it.
"...I-Iwa-kun."
Upon hearing this address, which carried a strong sense of shyness and awkwardness, Kitahara Iwa paused slightly in his steps.
He lowered his head and looked at the girl whose ears were flushed red under the streetlights, a gentle smile appearing in his eyes.
"Since you've changed your tune, then in exchange—"
Kitahara Iwa's voice was very soft: "From now on, when there are no outsiders around, I will no longer call you 'Izumi'."
Izumi Sakai paused for a moment, then looked up at him with a somewhat bewildered expression.
Izumi Sakai is the stage name that Kitahara Iwao and Nagato Daiko gave themselves. If they weren't called Izumi, what would they be called?
Kitahara Iwao looked into her eyes and said softly, "Sachiko."
Izumi Sakai's breath hitched the moment she heard those two words.
Then, the water in Izumi Sakai's eyes flickered slightly.
Then, the lights that swirled across the sky were reflected in those clear eyes.
She didn't speak again, but simply tightened her grip on Kitahara Iwa's hand.
Kitahara Iwa smiled silently, then tightened his grip on her hand and led her into the bustling night of Shibuya.