I am a writer in Tokyo

Chapter 56 About the Treatment of Writers

Regarding the matter of Kitajima Koma going out for a walk, Kazuya Oshima finally decided to talk to the editor-in-chief.

Although there is an explanation to pay attention to his mental state, it can't restrict his freedom.

And the person who always liked to curl up in the room suddenly wanted to go out for a walk.

This is a very happy thing.

……

When Bei Daoju woke up, he was still groggy.

Although the earth has already passed the perihelion, it is rushing towards the aphelion at a fast speed.

But for the incomparably huge universe, this speed is still not enough.

The light is still long overdue.

When the light representing the day appeared from the sky and began to advance here in an orderly manner.

Kitajima Koma had already made preparations and was sitting under the eaves outside the shrine.

It looks more like receiving some kind of baptism.

Eyes slightly closed, chin lifted slightly.

Light originally had no sound.

But a gust of wind just picked up.

Drive the leaves to sway under.

Between morning and evening delivery, there was a rustling sound.

Then rays of light came from afar like ocean waves.

Everything has become extraordinarily serious at this moment.

They look forward to it, hate the sticky feeling in the darkness, and yearn for the light...

For a moment, he didn't seem to react, but he seemed to have already thought about what would happen.

tearing~
The sound is crisp.

And very hearty.

After a day and a night, Bei Daoju's originally dull skin became fair at this moment.

The light and shadow split clearly on Bei Daoju's face.

This feeling seems to be far better than Bai Xue's pressure.

After opening your eyes, the whole world has its own color.

Everything is extraordinarily clear at this moment, which is far better than the chaos in the dark night.

Kitajima let out a long breath.

He had never seen such an alternation of day and night.

This rapid transformation brought a sense of fragmentation, which made him feel a little lost.

It's as if everything changes in an instant.

No symptoms at all.

Suddenly, Bei Daoju felt a little throbbing in his heart.

He who always liked the dark, actually began to like the sun a little bit...

After staying at the shrine for a while, hunger drove him down the mountain.

When he went shopping with Oshima Kazuya before, he paid attention to the nearby shops.

Neon does not have a breakfast shop.

They think that things like breakfast are dispensable.

So if you want to have breakfast, maybe a convenience store is a good choice.

After following the route in memory, I found the convenience store on the corner of the street.

When entering the shop, there was a very respectful voice from inside.

"Hi, teacher."

When the clerk saw Bei Daoju coming in, he hurried out and bowed to him.

"This gentleman, you?"

Bei Daoju had never seen this kind of behavior before, so he didn't know how to make a reasonable move in a short time.

But the clerk looked excited.

"Ms. Oshima came with you before, and Mr. Oshima said that you are a writer." The clerk was a little incoherent.

After all, literary editors can often see them.

But a writer in the true sense of the word...

Really never saw it.

Although Kazuya Oshima didn't tell him who the writer was.

But no one ever doubts an editor's words.

They are not on the same level as themselves.

These high-level people will never do anything to lie to them.

The clerk looked around: "Teacher, what do you need?"

"I... I, rice ball, one is enough, I don't need many."

Bei Daoju felt that the guy in front of him, how to put it, was more passionate than him serving plates in the tavern.

But he thought about it again and felt as if one rice ball wasn't enough.

But when he looked up, he found that the clerk had already prepared a large pile on the table.

"I……"

What he wanted to say was that he didn't need so much.

But the clerk's enthusiasm overwhelmed him.

And he said that if it was possible, he didn't want Bei Daoju to pay for it.

He treats.

A little thought.

As he spoke, he watched the writer carefully.

The refined feeling that emerges from the body, and the fragile feeling.

Although it can't be described in words.

But this sense of a strong disconnect from reality is the writer's fault.

When he was very young, his father took him to a writer's book signing.

At that time, I saw the kind of person who was admired and held up by everyone from a distance.

They seem to be gods, and they only need to use a few words to set off a huge wave of thought and trigger a huge change.

Every word they say and every action they make can be regarded as the golden rule.

It was as if they were traveling with the truth.

He remembered it very well.

That was the temperament of the writer.

There are all kinds of sky in his eyes, and the long river of history is carried on his weak body.

It's just a pity.

That was the last time the writer appeared in front of everyone.

Because not long after.

It was as if he committed suicide.

Everyone regrets his passing.

At the same time, after he left, the value of his surviving manuscripts is soaring at an incredible speed.

Everyone fell into a kind of madness.

It's like mourning the passing of a legend through this act.

So for the clerk, writers are shooting stars in the middle of the night.

Although bright, but all of a sudden.

Perhaps after they have completed their mission, they will leave this world with a very beautiful gesture.

When the clerk thought of this, yearning appeared in his eyes.

Snow Country, he has no chance to go.

Like everyone, the burden on the shoulders is extremely heavy.

If there is one thing that can be the same as a writer.

Maybe it is to leave this world in the same way as a writer...

To announce the end of life with a most graceful death...

……

When walking out of the convenience store.

Bei Daoju glanced at the heavy bag in his hand.

Then he looked at the clerk who sent him to the door of the store, walked a long way, and kept waving at him.

A very strange expression appeared on his face.

It's a bit strange.

Very strange.

"Hello, sir."

An old voice sounded from the side.

Bring Kitajima back to reality.

Turning his head to the side, it was an old man.

Ragged.

There is a very strong pungent odor on the body.

The wrinkles on his face looked more like scars, deeply embedded in his face.

There is not much hair left.

There are only a few, hanging down weakly against the scalp.

"I saw that Mr. bought a lot of things." His expression was extraordinarily flattering, and his body became more and more bent as he spoke: "Please don't worry, I'm not begging, I just want to exchange something with you, Mister."

　Today is an update first, and tomorrow will make up.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)