The Sixty-Seven-Year-Old Rookie Novelist

Kenjiro Toki was kept more than busy enough after New Year’s Day dealing with SisterLeaks, but that was far from his only job. So, at three PM on January 6, he was in an editorial meeting room, talking a project over with one of his writers.

An elderly man in traditional Japanese dress appeared at the office five minutes before his appointment. This was Yoshihiro Kiso, a rookie writer who won honorable mention at the 15th GF Bunko New Writers Contest with his samurai drama Sengoku Kenpuden. “Yoshihiro Kiso” was his real name, and it was the one he planned to debut with. He was sixty-seven, making him both the oldest winner in contest history by far and the oldest author currently in the GF Bunko stable. His eyes were sharp, his posture perfect, and he exuded the atmosphere of a seasoned samurai himself, wholly unaffected by the ravages of time. Just sitting across from him in the meeting room made Toki tense up.

The editor placed a printout of Sengoku Kenpuden on the table. It was time to begin their story meeting.

“So, um, Mr. Kiso… Thanks very much for your revisions. I had a look through them all.”

“Right,” Kiso replied in a low, authoritative voice that made Toki nervous.

“And…… Well, no need to beat around the bush……I think they were all very good.”

Sengoku Kenpuden, as submitted to the New Writers Contest, was a hard-boiled samurai drama starring swordsman Tsukahara Bokuden—a real-life historical figure—as he journeyed around the country and encountered many other samurai. The manuscript had since gone through four major rewrites, however, turning it into something completely different. It still captured the feel of Japan’s Sengoku period and featured deep, well-modeled characters, two aspects that earned it praise from the judges. But now the story—originally straightforward and lacking ornamentation—had more variance, thanks to more beef in the fighting scenes. And the depictions of food and other meals in the story, woven with Kiso’s talented powers of expression, could even make the novel pass as “gourmet” historical fiction.

The biggest change, however, was the presence of Tsurugi, a pretty young heroine who wasn’t in the submitted novel at all. She was a shrine maiden who served Takemikazuchi, the god of thunder and swords, and she appeared here and there in the plot, alternately helping out Bokuden and attempting to seduce him. Her presence gave the story some much-needed color.

“You think?” the taciturn Kiso replied, expression unchanged.

“Honestly, they surprised me. Tsurugi’s become a lot cuter than in the previous revision.”

Tsurugi debuted in the draft before this one, but the way she was positioned and described, she was a poor fit for the story. For a moment, Toki thought having Kiso bring a cutesy girl character into this battle chronicle was asking too much. Seeing such a transformation for the better in a single revision… Kiso’s growth as an author astonished him.

“Is this moe?” Kiso asked, eyes carving into Toki like daggers.

“Yes. Totally moe,” he replied with a straight face.

“Ah.” This finally made Kiso relax his expression a bit. “Then I must thank you for lending me that material, Mr. Toki.”

At their third editorial meeting, Kiso brought up that he wanted to understand the concept of “moe,” the feelings of powerful affection otaku often feel for characters in pop culture. Toki walked him through it, lending him a book soberly covering the scene and its core elements, along with several manga, light novels, and anime series with lots of pretty-girl characters. If he was going to continue fighting it out in the light novel market, Toki reasoned, he’d want to get the concept of moe down.

He had no idea Kiso would implement his understanding of it in Sengoku Kenpuden. This guidance was just for the future; he assumed that he’d stick with hardcore samurai swordplay for the Sengoku publication. A samurai novel with an all-male cast had almost no chance of selling, he admitted to himself, but in terms of his label, the New Writers Contest, and the need for diversity in light novel market itself, he felt publishing this was nonetheless significant. But even with his debut novel, Kiso was already taking a serious look at the light novel battlefield before him. It was actually Kiso who suggested adding a pretty face to the cast.

“I’m glad it came in handy… By the way, can I ask what helped you the most out of what I gave you? Just for my reference.”

“…It may be my lack of experience, but the guide I began with failed to resonate emotionally with me, although I understood the logic behind its arguments. I would say the anime provided a better reference. It was like looking at my own grandchildren. I wanted to unconditionally love these girls, and that feeling’s still with me.”

“I see,” Toki said, meekly nodding, while Kiso continued in his austere voice.

“In my understanding of it, moe makes one’s heart leap for joy. What do you think, Mr. Toki?”

“I absolutely agree.”

Toki’s face was serious, but inside, he could feel the joy welling in his heart.

—This author might be a star in the making.

Yoshihiro Kiso was sixty-seven, an old man, someone who didn’t even know what a “light novel” was until he was informed he’d won. His submitted novel was close to being disqualified for miscategorization, and Toki didn’t feel he had much future as a light novel writer. But in a flash, Kiso had experienced moe for himself and applied it to his work. The wealth of experiences in his long life gave extra depth to his settings and characters, and he was flexible—and talented—enough to quickly take in unfamiliar concepts and work them into his story. As his editor, Toki wanted to support his growth. It had been too long since he met an author who made him truly feel that way.

“…Something the matter?” Kiso asked, noticing Toki’s nostrils flaring.

“Oh, um, no.” He blushed a bit. “To tell you the truth, since New Year’s Day I’ve had to deal with a serious mistake I made in another project, so I’m just trying to focus on my work more.”

“A serious mistake?”

“Yes. It’s truly embarrassing to me, but…”

Toki gave him a quick rundown of how he inadvertently leaked the All About anime reveal.

“So I went to Mr. Hashima and the anime staff to apologize…but I think they’re still both angry at me. What would you do in a situation like this, Mr. Kiso?”

He was asking Kiso not as a rookie novelist, but as a guide on life’s tribulations. Until he hit retirement age, Kiso was apparently a high-ranking executive at a company in the shipbuilding industry. Maybe, Toki thought, he’d have some good advice.

“For a Japanese man, there has only ever been one way to atone,” he replied in his dignified voice.

“…What’s that?”

“Seppuku.”

“……………………”

A bead of cold sweat ran down Toki’s cheek.

“Um, I don’t think I’m capable of disemboweling myself…”

“I am joking, of course,” Kiso replied, face still dead serious.

“I’m sorry, it didn’t sound that way to me…”

“No?” the stern old man said, “…Perhaps I need to brush up on my comedic skills as well. This is obvious, I am sure, but the best way to recover from a work mistake is with work. Of course, if you want to prove your regret in a physical manner, you could always sever your little finger, or shave your head…”

I don’t think I’m capable of the finger thing, either…, Toki thought.