Chapter Ninety-One: Let’s Have a Drink with This

The two of them took seats in the pair of chairs before the control console.

Zuisen Sakai pointed at the score he had casually set on top of the console. “A new song?”

Yoshiro Yo picked up the sheet music and handed it over. “I ran into SMAP’s manager, Ms. Iijima, at the television station the other day and talked with her about providing a song, so I wrote this.”

“The Other Side of the Night Sky? How romantic.” As she read through the score, Zuisen Sakai nodded softly, as though searching for the rhythm.

“The demo has already been recorded. Would you like to hear it, Sister Zuisen?” Yoshiro Yo offered.

“May I?”

“Of course.”

The Other Side of the Night Sky was, naturally, a fine song. To put it extravagantly, it possessed every quality needed to make a single sell well. The melody was lovely and instantly memorable; even a group like SMAP, who could fairly be called amateur-level performers, would have no trouble handling it. Yet though it was simple and easy to sing, it lacked the vulgar, sugary feel of cheap pop, and that balance had been struck with remarkable finesse.

When the song ended, Zuisen Sakai said softly, “What a wonderful song.”

“Right? Even I feel generous listening to it now,” Yoshiro Yo joked. “To think I was willing to hand such a good song to someone else to sing.”

Zuisen Sakai smiled. “Only the good things are worth giving away.”

“Come to think of it,” Yoshiro Yo said after the joke, suddenly wistful, “it’s been a long time since I last saw you, Sister Zuisen.”

“The last time was at the premiere of Love Letter, wasn’t it?” Zuisen Sakai thought for a moment. “If you count carefully, it’s been about a month.”

“Yes. What have you been doing all this time?”

“During the holiday after the album’s release, I went to Shirahama in Minamiboso. There are many artisans there, so greedily I ended up learning one thing after another. There’s a teacher there named Anzai, a renowned potter, and I studied ceramic-making, something I’ve always loved.”

Whenever she spoke of things she liked, Zuisen Sakai’s eyes shone brightly, and Yoshiro Yo did his part as an attentive listener, offering a remark of his own from time to time.

“Shirahama is mainly a fishing town, so the restaurant menus had lots of seafood dishes. But because I’m not very good with sashimi, I missed out on quite a few supposedly delicious meals.”

“You can’t eat sashimi, Sister Zuisen?”

“That’s right. For a Japanese person, is that a little strange?”

“Of course not.”

“Oh, and,” Zuisen Sakai said, “I brought you a present this time. If I’d known I would run into you here, I would have brought it directly.”

“What kind of present?” Yoshiro Yo looked a little excited.

Zuisen Sakai kept him in suspense. “I’ve already asked Ms. Imai to deliver it to your agency today. You should probably find out tomorrow.”

“Then from this very moment, I’ll be impatiently looking forward to tomorrow.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“Not at all, because I’m exactly the kind of person who can’t sleep when curiosity goes unsatisfied.”

“That sounds like a grade-schooler the night before a field trip.”

Yoshiro Yo looked slightly deflated. “That doesn’t sound much like a compliment.”

“How could it not be?” Zuisen Sakai’s gaze was gentle. “That unexpectedly childlike side of you is rather nice too.”

...

The two of them, chatting idly, seemed to have completely forgotten the passage of time. It was only when Zuisen Sakai’s assistant, Ms. Imai, came looking for her that reality returned. “Ms. Sakai, everything is ready in the recording booth. Mr. Shimada asked me to check whether we can begin the first recording session?”

“I understand. I’ll be back at once. Please ask Mr. Shimada to wait a moment.”

After Ms. Imai hurried away, Zuisen Sakai stood from her chair. “Then I’ll head back first.”

“I’ll see you off.” Yoshiro Yo rose as well.

In the corridor outside the studio, Zuisen Sakai suddenly said, “Thank you for today, Yoshiro-kun.”

“Thank me?”

“Yes.” Zuisen Sakai nodded. “Thank you for being so patient and talking with me for so long.”

“If that’s the case, then I’m the one who should be thanking you. After all, I never imagined that one day I’d be able to speak so casually with Sister Zuisen and hear you talk about such ordinary little things.”

“You don’t think I’m too talkative?”

Yoshiro Yo shook his head. “If we were grading out of ten, I’d say this listener easily earns a seven.”

“A seven is more than enough.” Zuisen Sakai looked into his eyes. “I don’t know what image of me you have in your mind, but truthfully, I rather like chatting with people like this.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I’m a bit poor with words, you see. Sometimes I even feel awkward because I don’t know how to express myself. So when someone can speak with me so patiently and kindly, I’m truly happy.”

“In that case,” though he was a little nervous, Yoshiro Yo asked, “would it be all right if I chatted with you like this outside the studio too, Sister Zuisen?”

“Eh?” Zuisen Sakai blinked, then slowly said, as if considering it, “Now that you mention it, it does seem as though we can only meet in the studio.”

“So?” Yoshiro Yo looked at her hopefully.

“If you’d like to, of course that’s fine. But...” Zuisen Sakai gave a playful wink. “You know how demanding my work is. Most of my waking hours are spent in the studio, you know.”

...

The next morning, after arriving at the office, Yuki Tamura came in carrying a parcel. “President, this is from the Sensui side.”

After Yuki Tamura left, Yoshiro Yo carefully opened the package. Inside the box was a square gift box about fifteen centimeters across, wrapped in a vacuum-sealed plastic bag, and tied neatly with ribbon.

When he opened it, he found a plain transparent glass cup, along with a white envelope enclosed in the same box. He unfolded the envelope and tipped out a stack of landscape photographs and a sheet of letter paper. Setting the photos aside for the moment, he picked up the letter. On it was Zuisen Sakai’s graceful handwritten script.

“Hello, Yoshiro-kun. With such a grand package, you probably assumed it contained something extraordinary, didn’t you? Unfortunately, there’s nothing valuable inside. If there is anything at all, it’s only photos from my trip to Shirahama, and this rather carefully made glass cup, sent to me a few days ago by the glass workshop there, one I personally fired while I was in Shirahama—though it is still, admittedly, the work of a novice. This cup is absolutely meant for you; it’s not a mistake, honest (laugh).”

“P.S. The glass firing was a great success, but my attempt at pottery ended in failure. I hope that next time I go to Shirahama, I can turn the tables.”

It was signed Zuisen Sakai.

Folding the letter away, he carefully lifted the glass cup. Its shape was somewhat tall, like a wine goblet; the mouth was a little wider than the base, and though the unevenness of a beginner’s hand was visible, it was beautiful overall. Especially because the cup had been made by Zuisen Sakai herself.

He held it high and studied it against the sunlight for a long while. “I’ll use this to drink properly from now on.”

Setting the cup down, Yoshiro Yo took up the stack of landscape photographs. There were quiet streets in Shirahama, the pier bathed in the sunset’s afterglow at evening, a plump Shiba Inu lounging lazily by the roadside, and a statue along the seaside boulevard shaped like a giant fish for prayers.

“What a lovely place.”

...

On Friday afternoon, Yoshiro Yo met Tadao Okazaki of Sony Records once again.

It was the same reception room, and the same female assistant in a tailored skirt suit, a tear-shaped beauty mark beneath her eye, who served them steaming black tea. Okazaki Tadao did not touch his cup; instead, he went straight to the point. “After Mr. Yo sent us the proposal, we immediately held a meeting to discuss it. Regarding Mr. Yo’s plan for Miss Kawamoto, my colleagues and I are in unanimous agreement that it is highly feasible. From this alone, it is clear that Mr. Yo’s sensitivity to the market is indeed superior to that of ordinary people.”

“In that case?”

“Since our company’s broad-mindedness did not extend to Mr. Yo at the time, we hope not to miss Miss Kawamoto this time.” Okazaki Tadao’s expression was grave. “That said, although I personally have great faith in Mr. Yo’s ability, we are still a record company guided by profit. We cannot ignore the company’s interests, so we have a condition.”

“Please, Mr. Okazaki.”

“Here is the arrangement. We agree to let Mr. Yo serve as producer for Miss Kawamoto’s first three records: two singles and one album. If these three releases achieve satisfactory results, then all future production rights for Miss Kawamoto will be entrusted entirely to Mr. Yo. Otherwise, we will reclaim those rights.”

Yoshiro Yo lifted his teacup, sipped the black tea, and asked slowly, “May I ask what counts as satisfactory results?”

“Well,” Okazaki Tadao considered for a moment, “our company is very tolerant of a newcomer’s growth period. For the first few singles, as long as they can enter the Oricon chart, we will consider continuing to nurture them. But Miss Kawamoto’s situation is somewhat special, after all, given that she has Mr. Yo, a golden composer, backing her.”

At this, Okazaki Tadao smiled. “So our minimum requirement for Miss Kawamoto’s first three records is this: each single must sell no fewer than two hundred thousand copies, and the combined sales of the three records must not be less than six hundred thousand.”

For a complete unknown to sell two hundred thousand copies on debut, while not impossible, it was certainly no easy task. Of course, though difficult, it still lay within an acceptable range. From this, it was clear Sony had no intention of making things difficult for him; this was simply a business judgment. Knowing that made things much easier.

“In that case, Mr. Okazaki, what about promotion and distribution when these three records are released?”

“Please rest assured on that point. We will give Miss Kawamoto the same treatment as our other new artists debuting in the same period. After all, the condition we set for Mr. Yo is only to prevent possible problems, not to make things hard for you.”

“In that case,” Yoshiro Yo set down his teacup, “Mr. Okazaki, when shall we discuss Miss Kawamoto’s contract?”