Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Chapter 77 Sachiko Kamachi's Refusal to Give Up

A plume of steam rose from the kitchen, obscuring the faces of the two people.

Faced with an unprecedented honor on the other end of the phone that would have driven any Japanese writer mad, Kitahara Iwao did not show any uncontrollable elation.

However, upon hearing the old editor-in-chief's extremely solemn voice, Kitahara Iwa immediately stopped stirring the noodles and said with due sincerity, "Editor-in-chief, you flatter me."

"It is an honor for this novel to receive such tolerance and courage from the editorial department of 'Literature and Art', who are willing to accept this piece of writing from the grassroots without making any changes."

Then Kitahara Iwa paused for a moment, and said solemnly, "I'll have to ask you and the senior editors to take good care of the subsequent typesetting and printing work."

On the other end of the phone, the former editor-in-chief, who had been feeling some pressure due to the storm of public opinion, was taken aback when he heard these calm and unpretentious words.

Having been immersed in the literary world for decades, he had long been accustomed to young writers who became complacent and even arrogant after achieving a little success.

Faced with the extremely rare exception of not changing a single word in "Literature and Art", Kitahara Iwao on the other end of the phone showed a composure far beyond his years.

There was no elation, no pride, only pure joy that the words could be understood, and sincere respect for the publishing industry veterans.

The old editor nodded inwardly, his opinion of Kitahara Iwatsu immediately rising even higher.

"Teacher Kitahara, you have truly impressed this old man."

The old editor-in-chief's voice was full of admiration as he said, "To be able to maintain a low-key and calm mind amidst this noisy and turbulent situation, it's no wonder you were able to calm down and write such profound words."

"Thank you for your kind words. You've worked hard these past few days."

Kitahara Iwa smiled and politely said goodbye.

As the dial tone faded, Kitahara Iwa gently placed the receiver down, then turned around and naturally took the chopped green onions handed to him by Kamaichi Sachiko, sprinkling them evenly into the boiling iron pot.

"Alright, that saves us the trouble of proofreading."

Kitahara Iwa skillfully turned off the gas stove, placed the two bowls of noodles on the dining table, and said, "Eat the noodles first, they won't taste good if they clump together."

Sachiko Kamachi, who was standing to the side, was stunned.

Even if she was unfamiliar with the world of pure literature, she had at least heard of the significance of the magazine "Literature and Art".

She looked at Kitahara Iwa, who had already pulled out a chair and sat down, and asked incredulously, "Kitahara-kun—was the person on the phone just now really the editor-in-chief of 'Literature' magazine?"

"They actually—approved your manuscript without changing a single word?"

Kitahara Iwa nodded and replied, "Yes. That's for the best, it saves us the trouble of sending proofreading copies back and forth later."

After saying that, Kitahara Iwa lowered his head and focused on picking up a mouthful of noodles to eat.

Sachiko Kamachi sat down opposite Kitahara Iwa, and looking at him intently eating his noodles, she felt a strong surge of emotion.

Meanwhile, established writers in the newspapers are still arguing heatedly about the threshold and schools of thought in pure literature.

The man in front of her, who had just been given an exception by the editor-in-chief of "Literature and Art" magazine, seemed as if nothing had happened, quietly dealing with the noodles in his bowl that were about to clump together.

After finishing their noodles, Sachiko Kamachi offered to help clear the dishes.

While tidying her desk, her gaze inadvertently fell on the desk next to her.

There lay quietly a stack of bound manuscripts of "Love Letters".

Looking at the manuscript on the table, an idea involuntarily arose in Sachiko Kamachi's mind.

What kind of writing could make the editor-in-chief of "Literature and Art" make such an exception?

The moment the thought appeared, it rose uncontrollably in Sachiko Kamachi's heart.

However, out of respect for the creator's privacy, she restrained herself and looked away, focusing instead on the tableware in her hands.

At that moment, Kitahara Iwa caught the gaze that Kamachi Sachiko was deliberately avoiding.

He then pulled out a tissue to wipe his mouth, walked to the desk, casually picked up the manuscript, and handed it to Sachiko Kamachi, saying, "Want to take a look?"

"I wrote this all in one go yesterday while it was still fresh in my mind, so the handwriting is a bit rough."

"May I?"

Upon hearing this, Sachiko Kamachi paused for a moment, then instinctively pulled her hand back half an inch.

She had just finished clearing the table, her fingertips still damp, as if afraid of soiling the weighty manuscript.

"It's just a manuscript."

"I've already sent the copy to the arts and literature department."

Kitahara Iwa explained something, then handed the manuscript forward again.

Upon hearing Kitahara Iwa's words, Kamachi Sachiko quickly grabbed two tissues and carefully dried her hands.

Then, as if receiving some fragile treasure, he solemnly held the stack of papers in both hands.

Then Sachiko Kamachi walked to the chair next to her, sat down, and quietly turned to the first page.

At first, when she saw the vulgar language and low-class atmosphere about Kabukicho, her beautiful eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if she was not quite used to this dirty and cold context.

But as she turned the page, her expression completely changed.

When she read the farewell letter written by the stowaway named Byakuran in broken Japanese, the girl who would one day heal millions with her songs couldn't help but have tears well up in her eyes.

When her gaze swept over the last paragraph and she saw the domineering pimp Goro, holding a cheap urn of ashes, crying like a child on a crowded train, Sachiko Kamachi could no longer hold back.

Tears fell silently like beads from a broken string.

A tear fell onto the manuscript paper, instantly blurring the black ink.

Upon seeing this, Sachiko Kamachi was immediately startled and frantically raised the back of her hand to wipe herself. At the same time, she unconsciously bit her lower lip hard, her shoulders trembling slightly uncontrollably as she tried her best to suppress the sob that was about to burst from the depths of her throat.

Seeing this, Kitahara Iwao didn't say anything to comfort her. He simply took a tissue from the box on the table and gently handed it to her.

Sachiko took the tissue and hastily wiped away the tears on her cheeks. She looked up, her voice choked with sobs, "Kitahara-kun—even though the story is so heartbreaking, full of regrets—"

"But by the end, I felt a warm feeling in my heart. Because even in such a terrible place, there are still kind people—it's like a kind of redemption."

Listening to Sachiko Kamachi's review, Iwao Kitahara watched her quietly without saying a word, his gaze revealing a gentle tolerance.

After calming down a bit, Sachiko Kamachi sniffed and then remembered the important reason she had come here today.

She wiped her hands somewhat hastily, then took out a slightly worn notebook from her tote bag.

Then she handed the notebook to Kitahara Iwa with both hands, her eyes showing a hint of timid trepidation, and said, "Kitahara-kun—all this time, seeing so many people criticizing and attacking you, you have been silently enduring it all by yourself."

"Then I suddenly had some inspiration and tried to write a song lyric."

At this point, she lowered her head somewhat embarrassedly, her voice becoming increasingly hesitant as she said, "But I don't have your writing skills. The words and sentences I write are too simple, even a bit too straightforward."

"Could you help me, a complete novice, polish this a little?"

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, we're comrades!"

As Kitahara Iwatsu spoke, he reached out and took the notebook.

Turning the pages, one is greeted by Sachiko Kamachi's elegant and neat handwriting.

The title written at the very top was simply four words: "Don't Give Up".

Then Kitahara Iwa's gaze swept downwards, taking in every line of the lyrics.

"Don't give up, it's just a little bit more left, please keep running until the very end!"

Looking at these lyrics, Kitahara Iwa's self-discovery paused almost imperceptibly.

Only he himself knows the incredible weight that these lyrics, now lying in his worn notebook and described by the original author as too straightforward, truly hold.

Kitahara Iwa was silent for a moment, then gently closed the notebook. Unlike what Kamachi Sachiko had expected, he did not pick up the red pen on the table to change a single word.

Instead, he raised his head, looked at the still somewhat hesitant girl in front of him, and said in an unprecedentedly serious tone, "Sachiko, don't change."

"Don't change a single word."

Kitahara Iwao solemnly pushed the notebook back into the girl's hands, giving her his highest praise as a reader: "The highest level of writing is never a fancy accumulation of words."

"The most precious thing about these lyrics is their unreserved sincerity and straightforwardness."

"It has the power to pierce through people's hearts in an instant."

"Maintaining this level of quality will already make it the best work."