The Desert

One evening in late July, Haruto Fuwa was visiting the GF Bunko editorial department to confer with Kawabe, his editor.

“All right. We’ll put your deadline at the end of August, then.”

“Sure.”

The meeting went without incident, and soon they began chatting about other things—the All About anime running now, other series from the current season, new manga and light novels generating buzz, and then the six new authors who debuted from the 15th GF Bunko New Writers Contest.

The first author to come up in the conversation was, of course, Soma Misaka, whose dismissal had become watercooler conversation company-wide. Haruto knew about it, too, although not all the juicy details.

“…I wonder if it had to work out that way, though. I mean, we went through the trouble of finding that new talent and all…”

Once Kawabe filled him in, though, Haruto found the whole story almost unbearable. As a writer, he knew Soma was at fault here—but he still wanted to side with him, if he had to pick someone. There had been cases like this before on occasion, writers feuding with editors until one side or the other had to cut things off. Every time it happened, Haruto couldn’t help but think to himself, Couldn’t it have worked out some other way?

“Well, it was apparently Misaka who asked to sever ties if they wouldn’t allow him a new editor, so…”

“I still wish they could’ve talked it out in more depth, though. He’s still just in high school. Maybe he lost his temper and had trouble making rational decisions.”

“But if he’s working as a professional,” Kawabe flatly countered, “his age doesn’t matter. I can only assume that he wasn’t seen as valuable enough to overlook the problems he was causing.”

“You guys helped him make his debut, and that’s how you talk about him? …Ahh, I should just drop this.”

Haruto swallowed his anger. Kawabe wasn’t Soma’s editor, and it was the editor in chief, Godo, who made the decision to sever the relationship anyway. There wasn’t any point griping at Kawabe about it.

“Well, Fuwa, if Misaka had the kind of cool head you have, maybe none of that would’ve happened, you know…?”

Kawabe seemed a little sad about it. Haruto smiled. Didn’t an author need that, though? Enough brashness to just spit out whatever he wanted to say? The thought had crossed his mind as he watched Itsuki’s All About anime.

“How are the other new authors doing?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Well, the biggest seller so far is Karuma the Lawyer by a long shot.”

“Ahh, yeah, it seems to be doing well in the rankings.”

“It is. In fact, we’re already going forward with a manga version. And there’s nothing official yet, but it sounds like we’ve gotten an offer for an anime.”

“Whoa, really?! But there’s only two volumes out… I’ll admit, though, it got way better. It’s almost a different book now.”

Karuma the Lawyer, by Tadashi Kamo, was titled Illegal Trial when it won its prize. The characters, setting, and basic story line were all really appealing, but the writing was still pretty rough, so it was awarded the Special Judges’ Selection prize instead of anything more prestigious. That being said, rough writing could be easily polished. Haruto read the published Volume 1 himself; all the flaws of the submitted manuscript had been fixed, and it was undeniably an excellent piece of work—surprisingly so, as he recalled.

Even with other labels, it was far from unheard of for a manuscript that received the Special Judges’ Selection, or Silver Medal, or Honorable Mention, or some not-so-prestigious award in a writing contest to sell much better than the Grand Prize or Gold Award or whatever. The less polished a package, the more room it had to improve and grow, Haruto figured.

“Yeah, the editor for Karuma put a ton of work into that one… Like, he contacted actual lawyers and judges for input and feedback, he sent just about every classic courtroom drama novel there is to Kamo, and he really went all out with the revision process. I need to applaud Kamo for responding to all that and coming through, but I’d have to say that seventy percent of Karuma’s success comes down to the editor.”

“That’s amazing…”

Haruto admired that, although not all his feelings were rosy about it. All kinds of authors rose up from their award pick. Sometimes, you had unemployed dudes who grew to become bestselling writers thanks to the full range of support their editors offered. Other times, you had high schoolers who got cut by their label for feuding with their editor too much. The industry all seemed so random, so absurd at times.

“After Karuma, the next-biggest seller is Memories of the Sky, but it sounds like the author’s writing a wholly new book for her follow-up instead of a sequel.”

That’s what Haruto had heard from Itsuki. Apparently, Aoba took a real liking to him, even calling him “Big Bro.” He had no idea why. Again, absolutely absurd.

“The first volume of The Goddess Must Be Punished! sold pretty well, thanks to Puriketsu’s illustrations, but sales took a nosedive with Volume 2. I think we’ll probably stick it out ’til Volume 5, but…”

“Ah… Tough market for spanking-themed light novels, huh?”

“Tough market for spanking-themed anything, really. I kinda liked it, but…”

“Me too.”

Even if you had no interest in that fetish, the author’s bubbling passion for spanking came through with almost frightening clarity. But the only readers who’d get into a genre they didn’t really care about—curious about the novelty, or the pure insanity—were people on the creative side like writers and editors, along with a small core audience. To the great majority of readers, not having an interest in the content is a lethal negative—and unfortunately for The Goddess Must Be Punished!, there was little done to make up for that negative, apart from Puriketsu’s art.

“Did you see the Amazon review page for Goddess, Fuwa?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“It’s kind of…like, frightening. It’s full of spanking fetishists across the country writing these spectacularly good reviews. There’s so much passion.”

“…Scratches an itch, I guess.”

“Yeah. It’s not just the illustrations that’ll likely take it to Volume 5. It’s the fact that the fans are so ardent, we’re not likely to lose many of them going forward.”

Haruto recalled Sister of the Apocalypse, Itsuki’s debut novel. Most readers failed to understand that book, either, but it still received the near-fanatical support of a cadre of diehards. You saw that often with a novel—the more “out there” it was, the less mainstream support it received, but the more it wrecked you if it turned out to be your thing. Meanwhile, if an author tried too hard to appeal to the general public, it’d often result in a mediocre story that failed to grab anyone’s hearts.

Striking a balance between personality and general appeal was a headache for any author, and Haruto hadn’t found a good answer yet. Maybe The Goddess Must Be Punished! would’ve sold more if it went a bit milder on content, but would it have earned the rabid fanbase of spank-o-philes it had now? He wasn’t sure. But even if an author couldn’t produce a megahit, having a fanbase that provided predictable sales numbers with every new release was a real boon for a professional. If you were thinking long-term, adjusting your work to sell more copies wasn’t always the optimal strategy to take.

So would Makoto Yanagase continue down his hardcore path, or switch gears and aim for more mass appeal? Whenever Goddess wrapped up, it interested Haruto to see where his career would take him next.

“And beyond that…Tsurugi: Sword of Sengoku is gonna wrap up with Volume 3. The people who’ve read it really like it…but Volume 1’s sales didn’t start off great, and we haven’t been able to engineer a rebound.”

“Oh yeah…?”

No matter how great a light novel series was, if the package didn’t attract readers, it’d get canceled before it even had a chance to enter the ring. That, too, was common to see.

“And also, the big surprise is I Woke Up as the Demon Lord, our top winner. We just decided today to cancel it at Volume 4.”

“…!”

Kawabe’s revelation floored Haruto.

I Woke as the Up Demon Lord of Another World, so I Just Started a Harem, top winner of the 15th GF Bunko writer contest, had only just launched Volume 3 a few days ago. Those scant few days’ worth of data must’ve been all they needed to decide not to continue.

Haruto knew it had sold slowly from Volume 1…but honestly speaking (and despite it not being his own work), it was a real shock. After all, Ui Aioi, the author, was inspired enough by Haruto’s rebuke at her school to keep going—and that earned her the grand prize. Given that history, he took a special interest in Ui’s work. He knew just how important her writing was to her, because she’d told him herself.

He even ran into her trying to go undercover in a bookshop to see how Volume 1 was selling on its launch day. The memory of her shedding tears of joy when someone purchased her book for the first time was still fresh in Haruto’s mind. He could feel something like a heavy weight on his chest.

Once he wrapped things up with Kawabe and left the editorial office, Haruto took the elevator down to the Gift Publishing lobby. There, he saw Ui Aioi leaning against the wall by the entrance all by herself. They made eye contact.

“Aioi?” Haruto approached her, and she gave him a bow.

“Working hard, Haruto?”

“Y-yeah…”

He didn’t know how to handle Ui’s friendly smile. Her eyes were red, after all, and he could tell she had been crying not long ago.

“I had a meeting with my editor today,” she said, “and I heard you were gonna be around as well, so I was waiting for you.”

“Oh…” He knew, of course, what that meeting had been about.

“Would you like to go have dinner somewhere, maybe?” she asked, all but forcing the smile onto her face.

“Sure,” Haruto replied, commanding himself to sound casual. He thought he’d stop by Itsuki’s on his way home, but maybe next time. The two of them left Gift Publishing together and walked toward downtown.

“So they decided to cancel my series with the next book.”

They had walked wordlessly for a while, just after the sun set, when Ui finally spilled the news.

“…Yeah. My editor told me today.”

“Oh, he did…?” Ui smiled, looking about ready to cry again. “I had Volume 4 mostly written up…but I’m gonna have to rewrite a lot of it to shoehorn an ending in.”

“…”

“At least they let you write a final volume at all,” he almost said before stopping himself.

If a series gets canceled due to poor sales, it’s not uncommon to see a book end with an unresolved plotline, then just have nothing else come out. If you were allowed to pen an ending, no matter how imperfect, you were one of the lucky ones.

But “Hey, it could’ve been worse” would do nothing to console her right now.

“I had no idea how hard being canceled would feel…”

“…Yeah.”

Ui gave him an ironic smile at his agreement. “…Your debut series got an anime, didn’t it?”

“…”

She was right. Haruto had never experienced a series cancellation. He couldn’t understand how hard it was.

“Yeah, I’ve never had series canceled on me…”

He paused a moment.

“…But even I know how sad it is when you try hard at something and fail.”

The words came out naturally—those words that had saved him at one point. When the Chevalier of the Absolute World anime turned out awful and his heart was in tatters over it, a tearful Miyako said the same thing to him. It saved him. It was why he was standing here today.

“…!”

And those words that saved Haruto once seemed to have a similar effect on Ui. She sniffled, then began shedding large tears as she cried, not caring about the people around her.

“Ngh…erhh… Mmgh…! Aah…! Aaahhh!!”

“…”

The passersby were making Haruto feel awkward, but he just waited for Ui to cry it out.

“…I did try hard. Ever since writing school, I kept my eyes forward, writing novels, reading them, studying them, submitting to all these contests and getting rejected… My heart nearly broke so many times…but I did everything I could to reach the same place you were at.”

“…Yeah. I know. You did great.”

“But…” The tears came back into her eyes. “…I tried so hard. I risked everything to reach this place, but it wasn’t the finish line at all… There’s so many people with more talent than me, and even with all the hard work they put in, they have no idea if they can survive in this… It’s like I’m in the middle of the desert…walking around, searching for this oasis when I have no idea where it is…and then falling…”

“The desert…?”

That sounded apt to Haruto. If you don’t have the knowledge, the skill, the special talent, you’re going to be lost—and even if you do have it, there’s no telling how long you can survive. Maybe there’s an oasis somewhere; maybe there’s not. And if you arrive at the oasis of an anime adaptation, maybe you’ll discover it to be just another mirage. And maybe you’ll be lucky enough to find a real oasis, along with enough buried treasure to put your whole life on Easy Street. It was possible. But if you stopped walking, you’d be soon forgotten, your footprints disappearing until they may as well have never been there at all.

“…You’re right. This industry is a desert.”

Haruto thought over all the people who had gone away and all the people still struggling with all their might. He nodded, sure that his feelings were true.

Then, suddenly, Ui leaned close to him.

“Ah, Aioi?!”

The soft feeling of Ui on him made Haruto frantic. But Ui just watched him with her glistening eyes, speaking in a weak whisper.

“Haruto… I can’t try at this anymore…” She closed her eyes.

“…!”

Even a virgin like Haruto could tell what she was seeking. His eyes fixated on her soft-looking lips. Even with her clothes on, he could see all of her attractions. His sense of reason was quickly melting. Plus, they were downtown in the big city. Turn a corner in a back alley, and they’d find lots of love hotels where he could help reassure her a little.

But Haruto fiercely resisted the urge to follow his desires and pushed Ui away with both hands.

“Ui…” He gave the saddened Ui a small, vague smile. “…I know how hard it is for you right now.”

“Yeah… I feel like my head’s being ripped apart.”

“I know you think you can’t keep going. You want to give it up and feel better.”

“…So then…”

Haruto glared at her longing eyes.

“But you need to keep going.”

Ui’s face twisted up at that.

“I… I love you, Haruto!”

It was the first time she’d spelled it out for Haruto so clearly, and it sent his heart reeling. But he willed his face under control, refusing to let anything show.

“Thank you. But now’s not the time to say that, is it?”

“…!”

“What you need right now isn’t some man comforting you. No, you need to revise Volume 4 with everything you’ve got so you can give it the best ending possible.”

“But… You say that, but…!”

Ui was clearly in so much pain, and Haruto’s chest ached.

“Remember when someone bought your book the first time? How that felt?”

“Ah…” Ui’s eyes widened.

Haruto warmly smiled. “This industry might seem like an oppressive desert, but if you keep on walking, you’re bound to encounter fun, too. Happy times. And someday, you might find enough happiness that everything before then will have been worth it.”

“…Have you experienced that before, Haruto? That…happiness that made it all worth it?”

Haruto nodded at the fervent question. “Yeah.”

“…When was that?”

He brought a finger to the tip of his nose, a little embarrassed. “The end of last year…at the Winter Comiket, in the GF Bunko booth. Miyako was cosplaying as an Avalon Chevalier Corps member while she helped run it. When I saw her…it was kinda like that.”

Ui gave him a blank look. “Why that…?”

Haruto nervously chuckled. “…Well, what can I say? It’s the truth. Chevalier’s given me a lot of bad memories, too, the anime top among them…but at that one moment, I felt like everything was worth it. I really thought deep down, like, ‘I’m glad I wrote this; I’m glad I became a writer.’”

She kept staring at him, unsure what to make of that. Then she asked, “…Do you think I’ll ever have a moment like that?”

“I’m sure you will. If you keep walking and never give up, you will.”

He had no basis for that, but Haruto still affirmed it.

“Oh…”

Ui let out a small sigh, followed by a smile that looked like tears would be joining it soon.

“I believe you, Haruto Fuwa, more than anybody else in the world… And if you’re saying that, it has to be true. So I guess…I’ll try a little longer.”

“Good… Keep it up.”

She bowed at him, then began walking toward the station. Haruto stayed where he was, watching her back until she disappeared.

Leaving Haruto and returning home, Ui went to the bathroom and removed her makeup and lipstick. Her plain self, freckles and all, looked back at her in the mirror. Untying her hair and changing into gray sweats, she took out her contacts and put on a frumpy-looking pair of black-rimmed glasses.

“…Right.”

She looked like a different girl from a few minutes ago, but now Ui sounded content with herself. She felt calmer this way. From now on, she wouldn’t force herself to keep up appearances; she no longer needed to. He said that seeing the girl he loved cosplaying as one of his characters had made all the hardship seem worth it. And what point was there trying to look attractive to him after that?

“…You’re so dumb, Haruto.”

Her series was canceled and she’d just been shot down in love, but Ui’s heart still felt clear and refreshed. These thick horn-rims and wet newspaper–colored sweats she had used since her student years were now her battle uniform.

Leaving the bathroom, Ui faced up to her desk, booted her laptop, and opened her manuscript file.

Ui Aioi, novelist, was stepping back into the desert.