novelraw Chapter 33: Wrath
Chapter 33: Wrath
The blue smoke of sandalwood spiraled upward in the somewhat excessively bright office, yet failed to bring even a sliver of Zen-like peacefulness to this space occupied by icy coldness and wrath.
It hovered stiffly as if frozen, then dispersed weakly, as if even the fragrance itself feared the thunderous fury of the master of this place.
Iwata Masao stood before that shining ebony desk, his head lowered. The corner of his eyes could only see his shiny, hand-crafted Italian leather shoes and a small patch of the carpet covered with intricate Persian patterns.
He felt as if his neck had been filled with lead, too heavy to lift, and too heavy to turn.
'Thump thump thump! Thump thump thump!'
He could clearly hear the muffled, panicked pounding of his heart in his chest cavity. Every strike seemed to sound the death knell for his laughable arrogance and stupidity.
Takada Toshihide wasn't sitting. Like a caged, restless lion, he paced back and forth in front of Iwata Masao.
His well-tailored suit drew sharp, elegant arcs with his movements, but beneath those arcs was a violence capable of incinerating everything.
Finally, he stopped his pacing and turned around. On that face typically wearing a genial smile that seemed to encompass everything, dark clouds currently covered it. He didn't roar, his voice was even very calm, but it was exactly this calmness that made Iwata Masao feel more terror than any roar.
"Iwata-kun."Takada Toshihide slowly spoke, every word appearing squeezed out from the crevices of a glacier: "Can you explain to me, what is the meaning of this?"
He extended his finger, pointing at the spread-open 'Nitto Shimbun' on the desk.
Upon it, the name Kato Shin, and that title named 'Yamishibai: A Gentle Ritual of Horror Dedicated to the Modern City', were like two eye-piercing branding irons, fiercely scorching Iwata Masao's retinas.
"Why?"
"Why did the space supposedly reserved for pre-heating 'Onibo Samurai' turn into a stage singing the praises of that old geezer Suzuki Kiyoto?"
"Why did the masterful writer we spent huge sums to hire turn his guns to flatter a garbage slideshow with an investment of less than one hundred thousand?"
"Didn't you tell me everything was arranged?!"
In the end, he finally couldn't suppress his voice. It suddenly rose, like an ice-tempered sharp knife, viciously stabbing into Iwata Masao's heart.
Iwata Masao's body violently trembled. He raised his head in shock, his face written full of shock and bewilderment even heavier than his superior's.
"I... I don't know, Deputy Bureau Chief!"
His voice carried a sob, full of the grievance of being wronged: "The promotions I arranged were set for today, Saturday, and Sunday! Utilizing the weekend's newspaper circulation for a final sprint before Monday's broadcast! Friday... on Friday I simply didn't arrange any promotions!"
Takada Toshihide stared fixedly at him, within those profound eyes flashing a light of scrutiny and suspicion.
He wanted to find even the slightest trace of lying on Iwata Masao's face.
However, he only saw pure, undisguised confusion and panic.
The office fell into a dead silence.
Only the sandalwood smoke still stubbornly spiraled.
The two of them just stared at each other like this, one burning with rage, one at a complete loss. A terror named loss of control began to quietly spread between the two of them.
"Call." Takada Toshihide finally broke the silence, his voice terribly raspy.
Iwata Masao woke up as if from a dream. He hurriedly took out his cell phone, tremblingly dialing the number of a Deputy Editor-in-Chief of the entertainment section at 'Nitto Shimbun'.
That was a connection he acquired only after spending quite a lot of capital.
The call was quickly connected. Iwata Masao didn't even have time to exchange pleasantries, throwing a barrage of questions right in his face: "Yamamoto-san! What exactly is the meaning of that review about 'Yamishibai' in the newspaper today?! Didn't we agree that the space was reserved for 'Onibo Samurai'?!"
Deputy Editor-in-Chief Yamamoto on the other end was evidently also somewhat surprised. He paused before speaking in a rather innocent tone: "Section Chief Iwata, don't get excited yet. This article wasn't arranged by us, it was Kato-sensei himself... explicitly requesting to write it."
"He requested to write it himself?" Iwata Masao felt his brain was somewhat insufficient.
"Yes." Deputy Editor-in-Chief Yamamoto's tone also carried a trace of helplessness: "You know, Kato-sensei's status in our newspaper is transcendent, even the Editor-in-Chief can't easily command him. Yesterday afternoon, he suddenly came to me, saying he wanted to swap articles temporarily, giving the space originally prepared for someone else to that 'Yamishibai'. He said he discovered a work 'truly worth writing about', and also said... if we didn't let him, he would take it to another newspaper to publish."
"We had no choice either, Section Chief Iwata. Kato-sensei's column is the golden signboard of our newspaper. Furthermore..." Deputy Editor-in-Chief Yamamoto paused, his voice lowering further: "Furthermore, Kato-sensei also said that this is to support TV Tokyo, to support you discovering such a work with potential. He said this counts as an additional favor given to your television station..."
A favor...
Iwata Masao held the phone, then slowly hung up, his whole person stiffening there.
He slowly turned his head to look at Takada Toshihide, the expression on that face uglier than crying.
Takada Toshihide's complexion had also long since changed from anger into gloom.
They both understood.
This wasn't betrayal, wasn't a mutiny, and wasn't even the conspiracy of that fellow Asumi.
This was a thorough, absolute accident triggered because of the quality of the work itself.
An opponent they looked down upon the most, despised the most, used a method they couldn't understand the most, and couldn't control the most, to win the heartfelt praise from an ally they wanted to rope in the most.
This made them feel more humiliation than any political defeat.
"Trash..." Takada Toshihide sat back weakly in his genuine leather boss chair. He looked at that bustling cityscape outside the window, feeling for the first time that this city he once thought was completely under his control had become so foreign, so unreasonable.
He remained silent for a long while before slowly opening his mouth, his voice carrying an unprecedented exhaustion and decisiveness.
"Iwata, now, we already have no way out."
He turned his head, staring fixedly at his top confidant, the final, crazed flames burning in those eyes.
"Next Monday, your 'Onibo Samurai' must win. At all costs, do you hear me? At... all costs!"
Iwata Masao looked at the Deputy Bureau Chief's twisted face and nodded heavily. He knew this was no longer a simple battle over viewership ratings, this was a war that bet all the future prospects and dignity of both of them.