The office fell silent for a few seconds.
Tsushima Kagami rose from the sofa and walked to the window, standing beside Kobayashi Tomoaki, shoulder to shoulder.
Outside, the street was alive with traffic. Sunlight fell on the passing pedestrians, and everything looked so ordinary, so peaceful.
But beneath all that peaceful surface — how many people were struggling? How many were walking alone through the dark? How many had sat down in the night to write a farewell letter? How many were right now wondering whether to turn on the gas?
"I came to ask for your help," Tsushima Kagami said.
Kobayashi Tomoaki looked at him.
"This novel — I don't want it to become the last straw that breaks someone."
Tsushima Kagami spoke with quiet sincerity.
"I want it to be something that lets people see a little light, even when they're in the dark."
When he finished speaking, he reached into his bag and produced another envelope.
"This is the true preface."
Kobayashi Tomoaki took the envelope and opened it.
The first line met his eyes —
I am sorry for having been born human.
His hands stilled, just for a moment.
Then he read on.
It was a suicide note.
A letter from a mother to her daughter.
She spoke of her selfishness, her guilt, her despair. She said she was a burden, that her daughter would be free once she was gone. She said "Mama loves you." "Always."
"This is…"
"My friend's mother wrote it."
Tsushima Kagami told Kobayashi Tomoaki the story of Shimizu Nayotake and her mother, from beginning to end.
Kobayashi Tomoaki lowered his head and looked again at the note in his hands.
I am sorry for having been born human.
I am sorry for having been born your mother.
Like two blades, buried in his chest.
In the end, all he could manage was a long, helpless sigh.
He had seen things like this over the years. Plenty of them.
After all, unless it touched your own family or a truly close friend, most people swept only their own doorstep — maybe tossed a donation at a charity now and then. There wasn't much else an individual could do.
Kobayashi Tomoaki finally asked, "So, Kagami-kun — you wrote this book for your friend and her mother?"
Tsushima Kagami nodded.
"It would be more accurate to say that it was their story, and this letter, that gave me the inspiration to write it."
"I also know that the book itself may hurt some people."
"That's why I'm asking for your help."
"Without changing the original intent or structure — could we make some small adjustments to the passages most likely to provoke a negative response?"
"What I hope for…"
"Is to turn this book into a beam of light."
"Not the last straw that crushes someone."
"But a light that even someone trapped at the bottom of an abyss can reach out and grasp!"
Kobayashi Tomoaki looked at him for a long moment.
The sunlight from the window fell across this young man's face, and Kobayashi Tomoaki felt something stir in him — a vast, aching compassion for the world.
"What do you mean, 'help'?"
"This is simply my duty as an editor!"
Kobayashi Tomoaki smiled and clapped Tsushima Kagami on the shoulder.
"For someone your age to have this kind of awareness and conviction — that really is something remarkable."
"Let's work on this together and get it into Shinchō so more readers can see it!"
At those words, the smile on Tsushima Kagami's face faltered.
Kobayashi Tomoaki caught it immediately and asked, alarmed, "What's wrong? Is something not right?"
Tsushima Kagami scratched his cheek with a slightly embarrassed look.
"Well, the thing is…"
"I don't actually want to publish this in Shinchō this time."
"I want to go straight to a physical book release, as soon as possible."
Kobayashi Tomoaki's expression changed at once.
"Kagami-kun, what's this about?!"
"Shinchō's circulation has been dropping for two months straight!"
"You finally show up today saying you have a submission, and now you're telling me it won't run in Shinchō?"
"You can't do this! You have to think of something!"
"Save Shinchō's sales figures!"
The man who had just been playing the role of a composed and dependable adult now clung to Tsushima Kagami's side like a petulant child, refusing to let it go.
Tsushima Kagami let out a sigh and explained honestly.
"I'm planning to have my household set up a charitable foundation. We need a significant injection of funds right now. So I'm in a hurry for the royalties from this book."
Tsushima Kagami's previous royalty income had largely been folded into the company's earnings. Aside from the old Yukinoshita family residence in Setagaya Ward, which the company had purchased in installments under its own name, the remaining funds had been redirected as follows: when Mrs. Yukinoshita took on a major project and found herself short of capital, Tsushima Kagami had told her not to bother with a bank loan — he had her move the company's available funds along with his own share of the dividends directly into the project.
As things stood, Tsushima Kagami's personal and company accounts alike were running tight on liquid capital. If he wanted to establish and register the charitable foundation as quickly as possible, the only path forward was to get No Longer Human published and collect the royalties to fill the gap.
Kobayashi Tomoaki stood there, stunned.
He hadn't expected that Tsushima Kagami, in order to help his friend, had not only written No Longer Human — he was also planning to pour all future royalties from the book into a charitable foundation.
Not just help his friend, but extend that help as far as he possibly could, to as many people as possible?
This was something so many adults — even the great writers and literary titans who prided themselves on speaking for society and the downtrodden, himself included — had never managed to do.
And this was a seventeen-year-old high school student who had already thought it all through and was putting it into action.
Kobayashi Tomoaki felt a sudden pang of shame.
Once he understood Tsushima Kagami's reasons, Kobayashi Tomoaki said, "I can't decide this on my own."
"How about this — let me go and ask the Editor-in-Chief right now."
Tsushima Kagami nodded. "I'll leave it in your hands, Kobayashi-san."
Only then did Kobayashi Tomoaki realize he'd forgotten to offer Tsushima Kagami tea after he came in. He quickly brewed a cup himself, told Tsushima Kagami to make himself at home, and then took the manuscript and hurried off to the Editor-in-Chief's office.
Inside the Editor-in-Chief's office.
Having already learned the full story from Kobayashi Tomoaki, the Editor-in-Chief was now turning through No Longer Human, page by page.
Kobayashi Tomoaki stood respectfully to one side and waited.
After a long while, the Editor-in-Chief finally set down the manuscript.
He removed his glasses and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
"Kobayashi-kun." "Yes, sir."
"Tell me — Dassai-ya-sensei…"
"Ah, that is, Kagami-kun — what kind of person is he, exactly?"
Kobayashi Tomoaki paused.
"He's… a high school student."
The Editor-in-Chief looked at him with an unreadable expression.
"A high school student wrote something like this?"
Kobayashi Tomoaki had no idea how to answer.
"But there's no other explanation for an impossible result like this."
"And besides, The Setting Sun — I watched him write that from scratch and helped him proof it myself."
"Perhaps… this is what people mean when they say 'genius'?"
The Editor-in-Chief shook his head, then nodded, and laughed.
"'Genius' doesn't even begin to cover it."
"Super-genius would be closer!"
The Editor-in-Chief stood, walked to the window, and spoke with his back to Kobayashi Tomoaki.
"This book — No Longer Human — if we publish it, it will cause a major stir."
"I understand," Kobayashi Tomoaki said.
"There will likely be significant controversy."
"I understand."
"There will be criticism from countless readers, writers, critics, and very possibly the media and the government."
"I understand."
Kobayashi Tomoaki continued to nod, quietly deferential.
"But it may also…"
The Editor-in-Chief paused, then turned to face Kobayashi Tomoaki.
"Become a classic."
"A classic for this house."
"A classic for all of Japan."
"And perhaps a classic for the entire world!"
"You are absolutely right!" Kobayashi Tomoaki agreed with a firm nod.
The Editor-in-Chief walked back behind his desk and sat down. He tapped the desk and asked, "Do you know what Kōdansha has been up to lately?"
Kobayashi Tomoaki thought for a moment. "I've heard that Hear the Wind Sing is also being prepared for a direct bunkobon release. And Pinball, 1973 has already entered the publication planning stage."
"Oh, and — Kagami-kun is also giving them the final volume of the Hear the Wind Sing trilogy — I believe it's called A Wild Sheep Chase. That one is set to run in next month's issue of Gunzō."
The Editor-in-Chief nodded. "So Kagami-kun wants to go straight to publication?"
"That's right. He needs the royalties urgently."
"Such a pure-hearted young man — and the cornerstone author of our Shinchōsha. There's no reason not to help him."
And just like that, Tsushima Kagami went from being a newcomer at Shinchōsha to being its load-bearing pillar.
"Then you're approving a direct physical release?"
Kobayashi Tomoaki confirmed once more.
The Editor-in-Chief shook his head.
"That would be a waste."
"A book with this much potential — it would be a shame not to make a run at the second-half Akutagawa Prize selection."
At the mention of the Akutagawa Prize, Kobayashi Tomoaki felt an inexplicable surge of indignation.
The Akutagawa Prize held two rounds of selection per year. The first-half works were judged in July, awarded in August, and published in the September issue of Bungei Shunjū. The second-half works were judged the following January, awarded in February, and published in the March issue of Bungei Shunjū.
The Setting Sun, in the first-half selection, had by all rights been the strongest contender — yet it had been passed over in favor of another work. This had prompted strong dissatisfaction from many of the judges who had championed it, including Professors Kosaka, Takeuchi, and Matsushita.
For this round, with No Longer Human, the Editor-in-Chief intended to step into the ring personally and pull every lever available to secure the Akutagawa Prize for Tsushima Kagami.
That was the only thing worthy of a future classic.
Hmph. Seniority politics and playing favorites — was that all it came down to? Shinchōsha had won the Akutagawa Prize so many times they'd practically lost count, and they didn't need to covet it for its own sake.
But this time, they absolutely could not let it slip through their fingers.
After a long moment of deliberation, the Editor-in-Chief spoke at last.
"I'll handle things with the President — there won't be any problem."
"Tell Kagami-kun that we can publish the bunkobon directly in the middle of next month — but it must also run in the upcoming issue of Shinchō at the start of the month."
The reason he insisted on the Shinchō publication was not merely about circulation figures.
The Akutagawa Prize eligibility rules required that the work be a short or medium-length piece of pure literature first published in a newspaper or magazine. A stand-alone volume published directly did not qualify for consideration — that fell under the purview of the Naoki Prize.
Of course, the circulation boost mattered as well. Alongside the boost to Shinchō's numbers, Shinchōsha would also invest heavily in advertising space and advance promotional campaigns.
"Everything after that I leave to you."
"Understood!" Kobayashi Tomoaki replied without hesitation.
"I'll go inform Kagami-kun right away and then notify the other departments."
____
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🔥 New history: Uchiha Reborn in Jujutsu Kaisen: The System Thinks I'm in Konoha, but I'm Not
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