Capítulo 9: The Abandoned Son
Ryota's grandfather, Ojisan, had told him that his parents died when he was just one year old, In a car accident. He didn't know if it is true or not, because he could barely remember spending any time with them.
Even Ojisan's face was just a blur in his memory. All he remembered from his childhood was his abusive aunt and her supportive husband. All the beatings, scoldings, and swearing. What happened to Ojisan, though? He had grown too old (or too tired) to take care of him, so he had sent Ryota to his mother's elder sister.
From time to time, he had had thoughts like 'If I had the chance to choose where I wanted to live at the age of three, I would choose the streets rather than her.'
Aunt Oba and Uncle Oji could never have a child. The fault was in Uncle, and Aunt had given him his share of pain and misery. That was why he stuck with her through her wrongdoings to Ryota. He had no right to protest or stop her because he couldn't give that control freak a child.
And Ojisan knew about that. When Ryota arrived at her doorstep with a letter from Ojisan, Aunt must have thought he mocked her for her misery and sent her sister's son because she had died.
As expected, Aunt Oba hated and despised Ryota. When she should have treated him like her son, she did not even treat him as her sister's son.
In elementary school, teachers and kids used to ask him about his parents, and by that time he had a pretty good understanding that it was not a car crash – something had happened to his parents, but no one wanted him to know about it.
So his reply to the questions: 'Where are your parents?' 'What does your father do?' Would usually be a silent and awkward stare. That did not get him many friends.
He had turned to storybooks to cope with his aunt and the fact that he was and would be a loner forever. Even after seven years, he turned to fiction books for comfort – they held him together from falling to pieces.
He had spent his life reading fiction, then articles on how to 'write' fiction, and finally, in High school, he started writing fiction. He saved his early stories for later because the ideas were awesome, he just could not write them as well as he should have.
Instead of having fun at house parties full of drugs, girls, and enjoyment, he spent his high school reading books and mangas. Instead of finding himself a date, he utilized that time to write some worthy short stories.
He started sharing his work with Sengoku, lots of short stories. Hito read just for fun, so his feedback always was: 'Yeah, that is good. But you can do better than that.'
To increase his self-confidence, he started writing four-panel stories for the school magazine, and a student turned that idea into a four-panel manga. But he felt like he could just not let it all out. The story was his, but the art was someone else's, hence nothing was his.
Sengoku had come to him after two months of weekly magazine publications and told him, "Your writing style isn't reflected in the story. And they are too short, I think, for your writing style to bloom. You need to work on something big."
He did not jump onto something big, but he resigned from the school magazine and started sending his short story manuscripts to editors at the local literary magazines.
His confidence finally got a boost when he managed to publish two short stories in two different magazines at once! Both were of the horror-mystery genre, and he had earned a pretty good amount as a horror writer.
While he published twelve short stories, twenty of his stories were rejected. A few he had rejected himself, half were rejected by Sengoku, one or two by Hito (he would only read the stories Sengoku had recommended, so he was like the superior editor). And a few more by the magazine's editor. His criticism was painful, he had to accept that. The editor did not know how to put his harsh criticism in kind words.
At a point, it started to impact Ryota's confidence. The words of criticism were getting into his head.
He had to be financially independent as soon as possible and get away from his aunt with Sakura – but he had just a little luck there. He had earned money not even half of the debt he had to pay Sengoku.
Despite being heartbroken after his novella was rejected, he got back to writing. It was his only other escape after books. But when his novella was just not working, which was a few months before Sakura came, he decided to drop it.
If it were not for Sengoku, Ryota would not have created his magnum opus. The manuscript was sent to another editor at a big publishing house, Kadokawa Co. He had thought about sending it to Shueisha Inc., but that was a big company for a fresher like him. So he saved it for his big-time debut novel.
'You need to work on something big. You are the type of writer who needs enough time and words to develop characters and grow the storyline. Short stories are not for you.' Sengoku's words became his motivation.
It was time to move on from short stories and take the risk of writing a novel. But to write a novel, it needed commitment, determination, peace, and a best-selling idea.
He did not have the last two. Only if he could tend his dream (nightmare) into a good idea, it would give him a purpose. But is that what he wanted to do for a living? It was hard enough to get published, how hard could it be to make thousands of yen?
'Only if I had peace and a best-selling idea. Inspiration and motivation. Only if I had—'
—someone snapped their fingers under his face. "Ryota, are you alright?" asked Homeroom Sensei.
He raised his head and looked around. He was in the classroom, sitting on a chair with a table between him and the counselor. He glanced at Homeroom Sensei on the left, then shook his head.
"S-Sorry, what happened?"
She sighed. "You went off-track after I mentioned your ambition." She looked up from the paper pad, now containing Ryota's Career Preference Form.
"Yes. My ambition."
Homeroom Sensei answered it for him, "He likes to read manga and novels – always does that in my grammar class. And he—"
The counselor spoke in between, "But here he stated that he wants to be an automobile engineer." She pointed her pen at the sheet.
Homeroom Sensei frowned at Ryota. "Do you even know how hard it is to become an automobile engineer? And with your grades… it is impossible." His voice dimmed around the last words.
The counselor flipped the sheet and took a look at Ryota's mark sheet. "S-sorry, but the grades are really not enough to get enrolled as an engineer."
Ryota stayed silent. It was true that he would not get admission to any good college. But what could he do now? The time had passed.
"I want you to reconsider your options. What do you want to become? What is your passion, ambition?" the counselor asked.
Without grades, all he could do was follow his passion.
Ryota stared at her, without knowing what to answer. He did not want them to know he wanted to make a living as a horror-mystery writer. He was afraid of being laughed at – they were adults, after all, if they had experienced the world, then Ryota had the knowledge of how it worked.
What if they rejected his idea, criticized him, and laughed at his passion? It was too much of a risk, not many writers had chosen this path of creating novels without focusing on getting a job first.
"I will look for a job as a magazine writer or something?"
"Not something, You need to be precise about your future. It is only a few days away."
Homeroom Sensei leaned over the table. "Are you saying that you will not go to college? And instead, focus on becoming a writer?"
He gulped and pushed himself back, away from his Sensei. 'He can read me like a book. W-why am I afraid of admitting it though? That is what I want to do!'
Of course, he could not say that out loud. He continued staring at his Sensei, then at the counselor. He wanted to accept that he wanted to be a writer, but could not bring himself to, for the same reason.
"You win, Hayashi-Kun. Get a job as a freelance writer somewhere, then become a writer." She raised her eyes from the paper pad, then narrowed them at Ryota. "But just know that it is a risk. You might lose everything at such a young age. I would advise you to get admitted into any college and get a bachelor's in Arts, then a bachelor's of education in one year. At least you will be able to teach High School students. Then maybe major in Creative Writing."
At least he could protect against this. He felt anger when she tried to take his life's decision for him. "College can wait. It can wait. And besides, they would not waste their precious money on my stupid education."
"They?" The counselor frowned and glanced at Homeroom Sensei for context.
"His guardians," he replied.
"Oh." She turned back at Ryota. "But how will you write then? Do you not think you should learn how to write before writing? You would not get even a single short story published this way. How do you even plan on living, Hayashi-Kun? You have no plan for tomorrow, no plan on how to nourish your passion."
Ryota leaned forward and rested his forearms on the knees. "I have learned about the basic elements from the books on writing. So I have a good idea of what makes a good story." He tried to sound as polite as possible. He did not want anyone to be pissed about his days before leaving the school. "And besides, I will look after that myself."
Taken aback, the counselor closed her mouth and nodded. "If you think you can, then all the best with it."
"Who is talking about being a writer anyway? Just because I like writing does not mean I want to become one."
Homeroom Sensei frowned at that. "But you just said that you want to be one."
Ryota glanced at him. "When?"
"You said you have a good idea of what makes a good story. Why are you shifting careers as if shifting a bike's gears?"
"I am not shifting anything. I wrote I want to be an automobile engineer, and that is what I will be."
"B-but… damn you, Ryota." He dropped his forearms on the table. "We have been doing this for two years now."
The counselor sighed and flipped through the two pages of the Career Form. "Where are your guardians?"
'Busy screwing each other.' He clenched his teeth and leaned back to hide his rage. The counselor looked at him, but he held his plain expression without saying anything.
Now that she was pushed to her limit, she clenched the paper pad and groaned. "We are done, Hayashi-Kun. You may leave now."
He left without a care in the world. But the conversation had left a good impression on him of the reality. Walked out of the classroom, and looked out of the window on the other side of the hallway.
'If I want to do something big in this field, then I need to get serious. Getting published might not be that easy.'
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