Throughout February, Hikigaya Hachiman enjoyed a peaceful life. Yukinoshita Haruno was busy preparing for her university entrance exams, and her sister Yukino was likewise focused on her high school exams. As long as the two sisters were occupied, Hachiman's life remained blissfully free of complications.
It was in this period of calm that he received a call from Naho Imamura. The private meeting he had verbally agreed to with the president of Sakuraba Publishing, Hirao Takahiro, was finally going to happen.
"That's right," Imamura explained over the phone. "The president said he's been a bit busy lately, so he delayed it until this Saturday. If it's convenient for you, we can meet at an izakaya in Jimbocho at noon for some barbecue and a chat. I'll be there, too."
"Okay, got it," Hachiman agreed. "I'll be there on time. See you then, Editor Imamura."
He ended the call, his quiet month about to conclude with a significant meeting.
On Saturday, February 21st, Hikigaya Hachiman traveled alone to Kanda Jimbocho in Tokyo's Chiyoda Ward. The izakaya, a traditional-style pub known for its barbecue, was well-known and easy to find.
"Writer Hachiman! Over here!"
Naho Imamura was waiting at the entrance. Seeing him, she appeared from the crowd and waved him over.
"Good afternoon, Editor Imamura," Hachiman greeted her. "Is President Hirao already here?"
"The president is already inside grilling the meat. We can start eating as soon as we get there. You must be hungry, Mr. Hachiman. Let's go in."
Naho Imamura led him into the surprisingly large restaurant. After navigating a few dizzying turns, they arrived at a private room with its curtain still open.
A middle-aged man with a prominent beard was seated inside, skillfully flipping meat on the grill. Several plates of uncooked meat were arranged beside him. When he saw Hachiman, he stood up and extended his right hand.
"Hello, Mr. Hachiman. I'm Hirao Takahiro, the president of Sakuraba. My apologies for not greeting you outside," the man said. A thin layer of sweat dotted his forehead from the heat of the grill.
"Hello, President Hirao. It's been a pleasure cooperating with your company."
"Haha, the pleasure is all ours. Come in and sit down. This is a private meeting, so there's no need for formalities. Let's eat and talk."
The three of them settled into the private room. Hachiman and Editor Imamura sat together, opposite President Hirao, who was still diligently grilling. Hachiman got the distinct impression that the president wasn't just here to meet him; the man genuinely loved barbecue.
After the meal was well underway, Hirao Takahiro finally began.
"Mr. Hachiman, I wanted to thank you today for choosing Sakuraba to publish your book, The Clockwork Museum Incident. We appreciate your trust."
"It was nothing," Hachiman replied. "I'm already familiar with working with Sakuraba. Besides, I'd already given some of the manuscript to Editor Imamura for review. There was no reason to consider another publisher."
"Haha, you say that, but many people in our publishing house were so worried their hair was about to fall out." President Hirao was naturally referring to the beleaguered Minister Suzuki.
"Speaking of which, since you're willing to continue our partnership, we will definitely promote The Clockwork Museum Incident with our utmost effort. So far, no classic mystery novel has ever sold more than a million copies in a single year. Mr. Hachiman, I believe your novel can be the first to do it!"
Hirao Takahiro's words were decisive, making it clear he intended to make a big move in the latter half of the year.
"Since you've said so, President Hirao, I will also do my best to complete this work," Hachiman said, raising his glass. "I'm a minor and can't drink alcohol yet, so I'll toast you with this juice." He drank the mango juice in one gulp.
"I'm truly looking forward to its publication," President Hirao continued. "By the way, after you finish this novel, do you have any other works planned for the 'XX Museum Incident' series?"
"Well, I have no such plans at the moment, President Hirao," Hachiman replied. He secretly thought about the mediocre reputation of the other books in the original series and knew better than to continue it.
"Is that so... a pity," Hirao said, taking a piece of grilled meat. "You know, the current entertainment industry is all about creating IPs and serialized content. It's about building a fixed fan base to ensure stable revenue. Frankly, Sakuraba also has to move in this direction."
"Fortunately," he added, "a writer like you has appeared. For an excellent author like you, your name is the IP. People are willing to pay for whatever you write. To be honest, this is a blessing for us at Sakuraba. Many other publishing houses are envious. I imagine some of them have already contacted you."
Hirao paused here, as if waiting for confirmation.
"Yes, President Hirao. Many publishers, mainly Kodansha, have approached me several times. But we only talked about literature," Hachiman replied with a smile.
"Kodansha? They are indeed a powerhouse. To be honest, Sakuraba Publishing dare not say we can completely surpass them in any field. Of course, in terms of your royalty rate, we have already given you the highest in the industry. I've thought about raising it, but unfortunately, there are unwritten rules that can't be broken. Otherwise, not just us, but you too, would easily become a target of public criticism."
Hirao took a sip of water. "Additionally, Kodansha has a great advantage: their connections to the groups that host many of the heavyweight awards in the Japanese literary world. Although awards are based on the quality of the works, when the quality is similar, behind-the-scenes operations play a very important role. This is no secret. When a work wins an award, the publisher benefits, so they will certainly work hard for it."
"We at Sakuraba don't have as many award connections as they do. But there is one award that was born from Sakuraba. To this day, the sponsoring group of this award still has an office within our publishing house, and their representative is one of our mid-level managers."
As Hirao spoke, Hachiman began to guess what was coming.
"President Hirao, I believe you are talking about the Naoki Prize."
"That's right, Mr. Hachiman. The Naoki Prize, the brightest pearl in Japanese literature," Hirao confirmed.
"So," Hachiman asked, "are you saying Sakuraba can help me get this award?"
"You're mistaken, Mr. Hachiman," Hirao corrected him. "Whether we intervene or not, you have the ability to win this award on your own. However, even this award has its unfair practices, such as giving priority to older writers whose past masterpieces may have been overlooked."
Hirao didn't hesitate to expose some of the unspoken rules. "Affected by this, many writers who created masterpieces in their prime were unable to receive the Naoki Prize at the right time. Years later, they might win with a lesser work, as if the jury is making up for their past regret. But the regret that a person's best work was not recognized is simply irreparable."
"And what we at Sakuraba can do for you, Mr. Hachiman, is to ensure your most deserving work wins the award without being affected by these worldly considerations, and without having to wait. There has never been a rule that a minor cannot win the Naoki Prize. You are a writer who can make history."
After Hirao finished speaking, he went back to his barbecue, giving Hachiman enough time to think.
Hachiman had to admit, the man's words were incredibly persuasive. The "operation" Hirao mentioned wasn't about taking a shortcut; it was about creating a fair environment so his best work could be presented without regrets. In other words, if he didn't win, it would only be because there was a better work, not because he had to make way for a senior writer. This promise of fairness was Sakuraba's biggest trump card.
"I think I understand," Hachiman said. "I can't deny that I'm interested in awards, especially the Naoki Prize. So, President Hirao, what do you want in return?"
The other party had laid the groundwork for so long; there was naturally something he was asking for.
"Me? I just hope that in the future, if you ever write a work you believe is truly excellent, perhaps your best work ever, that you will please entrust it to Sakuraba Publishing House," Hirao stated his ultimate goal.
"Is that so..." Hachiman said, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. "But, President Hirao, one's 'best work' is something you only come across by chance. Sometimes, the author doesn't even realize it himself."
"Haha, of course," Hirao agreed. "That's why I said 'possibly.' Who can ever say for sure what the quality of their next book will be? It's a vague judgment, but when a work is good enough, shocking enough, you can always feel it."
The business talk concluded, and the three began to enjoy their coffee, the conversation shifting to more casual topics. The meeting was pleasant, and Hachiman felt the promises made were sincere enough.
After saying goodbye to President Hirao, Hachiman and Imamura walked together on the streets of Chiyoda.
"I didn't expect the president to make a promise like that," Imamura said with a sigh. "It seems they really want to keep you, Mr. Hachiman."
"Yes," Hachiman said with a hint of regret, "but it's still too difficult to win the Naoki Prize for a mystery novel, at least not for a classical one." The award's focus on character emotion and social reality didn't align well with the genre of orthodox mystery.
"By the way, Mr. Hachiman," Imamura asked with concern, "you should be taking your entrance exams soon, right? How are your studies coming along?"
"You don't need to worry about my studies, Editor Imamura," Hachiman said, a narcissistic tone creeping into his voice. "Even though my motto is to be just good enough, I'm still ranked first in my grade and very stable."
"Okay, okay," Naho Imamura said gloomily. "I really envy your brain, Mr. Hachiman. You can write novels that sell millions of copies and still get first place in your grade. I studied so hard just to get into Meiji University."
In her eyes, even though Hachiman was just a boy who hadn't even started high school, he still made her feel the immense disparity in the world.
After returning home, Hikigaya Hachiman suddenly found himself missing the two Yukinoshita sisters. He couldn't quite tell if he missed the elder or younger one more. Just as he was considering calling one of them, his phone rang. It was Haruno.
"Good afternoon, Yukinoshita-senpai," Hachiman greeted, lying on his bed in a lazy voice.
"Hey, junior," Haruno's energetic voice came through. "Why do you sound so relaxed? Don't you have an entrance exam next week?"
"Today's the weekend. I've been studying hard all week, so it's time to relax. By the way, senior, you should be taking your exam soon too, right?"
"Yeah, a few days before yours," she replied.
"In that case, senior, on the day of my exam, would you like to come see me off? Just like I did for you on the day of your central exam?" Hachiman asked in the same lazy voice. "Oh, by the way, Yukinoshita is also taking the exam on the same day as me. If we're in different exam rooms, will you accompany me or her?"
Before Haruno could answer, another voice cut in through the phone, clear and cold.
"Hikigaya-san, you'd better start praying now that you aren't assigned to the same examination room as me on the day of the exam."
Hikigaya Hachiman instantly felt himself freeze in place.
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