Part 2
About two years later, +Natural fell into a rut. Iwase didn't want to admit it to anyone, but even she could tell that the story had become aimless, repetitive, and boring. Apparently, back when she first started the series, she overestimated how long her stroke of inspiration would last. The ideas that had once flowed in a gushing waterfall were now frozen solid.
She still visited Nizuma at times, but not as often as she used to. He had long ago stopped making comments on her story, but she was certain he'd noticed its decline. Whenever she watched him at his desk, silently drawing the pictures for her mediocre words, she imagined all the disparaging thoughts that must be going through his mind. She felt too ashamed to be in his presence.
One night, at the end of a rare visit, Nizuma stopped her just as she made to leave. He asked her to stay with him a bit longer. At his startling request, she felt a thrill run through her, but this quickly gave way to apprehension when she saw the look on his face. It wasn't hostile enough to be called a glare, but there was a definite coolness in his eyes.
He'd turned not only his head but his whole chair so that he could face her. "Let me be blunt. I'm not happy about the way +Natural is going."
She held back a wince. She'd been waiting for this to happen, for him to finally announce that he was tired of laboring over the illustrations for such a bland story. "I apologize," she said evenly.
"Don't just say that. Do something about it."
In the past, such a command would have fired her up and caused her to exclaim her fervent agreement. But she was no longer a zealous, ambitious new writer who could be lit as easily as a match. Her spirits had long ago fallen alongside +Natural's popularity.
"I'm trying," was the empty answer she came up with. "I promise you I'm doing my best to save this story, but I . . . I can't help my own lack of talent."
"That's not the problem here," he said, surprising her. "You have talent. You're just not channeling it into the right area. And that is what I want to talk to you about."
"What do you mean?"
"I told you before that I live for manga. I love it like nothing else in the world. That's why I don't like seeing you try to create it without feeling passionate about it. If the issue was lack of talent, then that wouldn't be your fault, but you intentionally placed yourself in a field that you don't truly care for. You created your own problem."
He sounded matter-of-fact, not cruel, but that didn't soften the meaning of his words. She found it difficult to meet his sharp-eyed gaze. "You told me before that you were fine working with me despite my opinion of manga."
"I was nicer to you than I should've been. I was enamored with the brilliance of your story. I was blinded by it. But now the shine is wearing off and I can see you more clearly. Miss Akina, you should not stay in the manga business if you cannot pour your entire heart into it. Perhaps you should consider returning to your homeland of novels."
That very same idea had been floating around in her consciousness for some time now, but hearing someone else confirm her thoughts out loud did not come as a relief. Quite the opposite, it turned up the pressure of her indecision.
"I've considered going back," she admitted to him, "but I've worked on +Natural for so long. I don't want to abandon it. Even if it appears beyond hope, I want to save it somehow."
Something shifted in his expression. "Yeah? You've become attached to a manga series?"
"I am attached to this manga series. It is my own creation, after all."
"So you care for it so much that you don't want to leave it for novels?"
"I . . . I don't know." Her voice was soft but the words fell heavily.
"You don't know?"
"I'm not sure where I want to be. I want to go back to the world of novels, but I want to stay in this world too." Her hand reached up and kneaded her forehead. "Two years ago my expectation was that I'd visit the manga world, create a story, prove my point, and then leave without a backwards glance. I didn't plan to become attached to this place."
"Your plans have fallen through," Nizuma observed. "You're lost, caught between two worlds."
Perhaps he didn't mean to, but he sounded condescending. It grated on Iwase's nerves. She shot him an irate look. "Stop that. I will not stand to be pitied by anyone, especially by someone who doesn't even understand what he's talking about. Never in your life have you known the feeling of uncertainty. You've never been torn between more than one path. You knew you wanted to be a manga creator from the instant you first held a pen at age six. Don't you realize how few people discover their true ambition so early and so easily?"
Rude. He was her collaborator, the faithful illustrator, the only reason her story was still running, not to mention a man that she once almost fell for – and she was being terribly rude to him. It was the first time in two years that she'd crossed a line with him, and the first time ever that she couldn't bring herself to even care. His reaction, meanwhile, was the same as the last time. Reclined in his chair, he was utterly unperturbed. In fact, his mouth curved into a sly smile.
"Isn't that nice." It was worded like a question but spoken like a statement. "You're getting some of your old fire back." His fingertips tapped lightly on the arm of his chair, rhythmic like the ticking of a clock. "That fiery spirit is a precious thing. I know I'm not the only one who knows that. I foresee a certain group of people coming to you soon, assembled for the sole purpose of reviving that spirit in full."
"What?"
"Never mind."
Just as suddenly as it appeared, Nizuma's grin faded. However, the soft frown that took its place actually made him seem kinder and more sincere than before. His face looked more natural when it wasn't twisted by a weird smile.
"You're the kind of person who doesn't like to question herself," he said. "I get that, but sometimes it's okay to be unsure of things. You don't need to have all the answers right away. You can take the time to figure yourself out."
"I don't have all the time in the world to save +Natural," she protested. "They'll cancel it if the story doesn't recover soon."
"Hmm, yes, that's true," he remarked. "That's something you'll need to take into consideration while you ponder what to do next."
"I can't –"
"Don't. Of course you can. Surely someone as smart as you can intelligently weigh all your options and then choose one. It's not like anyone else can do it for you, you know. It'd defeat the point if someone tried. But just so you know: even if you fail in one thing, it won't be the end of the world."
His gaze left her. He turned himself and his chair back toward his desk. "I have no more to say," he said. "You should leave. It's late."
Such an abrupt dismissal. It took Iwase a few seconds to realize what he'd just said.
She turned from him and walked out of his apartment. His words spun round and round her head as she made the journey home. Something about the beat of her heart felt different than usual, though she wasn't sure why. It wasn't faster, and it probably wasn't louder, but it was . . . more noticeable. As if reminding her that she was alive.
She arrived home and went to bed, but she didn't sleep. His voice stayed in her mind, keeping her awake long into the night.
Eiji Nizuma. He called himself the eternal child, but he was wiser than one might expect. His words meant a great deal to her. However, even he didn't know what she was going to do next.
Granted, she didn't know either. But still.
She wanted to go back to the familiarity of novels. She wanted to stay and save +Natural. She wanted to write. She didn't know what to write.
But she couldn't let herself be defeated. She would figure it all out. Her hand reached up into the darkness and clenched into a fist, as if seizing upon that determination. Nizuma was right that no one else could decide her fate for her. This was her own life; it was her own puzzle to solve.
She had no idea how she was going to do it, but she did know that she would succeed no matter what. Even if she crashed and burned along the way, she'd rise up again and continue.
END