Rising from his computer desk, he sat down before me. His actions were infused with a bizarre confidence. Apparently, a four-year span radically could change someone’s personality. Yamazaki now seemed to be twisting in a dangerous emotional direction. However, at this point, that didn’t matter at all. If it would help solve my problem, I’d bowed down to a demon.
“No, no. There’s no need to bow to me. Let’s start. Briefly, there are all different kinds of creators, Satou—what would you like to do?”
“What? Like I said, I want to be a creator….”
“There’s no job called ‘creator’!” Yamazaki’s voice grew rough. “It's just a general term for jobs like writing or drawing comics. Basically, a ‘creator’ is simply someone who makes something. So, what would you like to make, Satou? That's what I’m asking.”
“Anything, as long as I can be called a creator.”
“Argh.” Yamazaki tightened his right hand into a fist. Then, as if he had regained control of himself, he let out a heavy sigh. ”Well, let’s just go with that. Okay then, Satou, what kind of skills do you have?”
“What do you mean, ‘skills’?”
“Like, can you draw, or write songs, or write amazing computer programs? There are all sorts of possibilities.”
“I can’t do anything. If I had to say something, I suppose I have a talent for solitude. I've been able to live for an entire year without meeting anyone-“
“That won’t do at all!” Yamazaki slammed the floor with both hands.
“Like I said, I’m worthless!” I screamed back.
Yamazaki stood and grilled me with greater force. “There’s no way someone with no skills easily could become a creator, is there?! It's not right just to say whatever’s easy for you, all the time. Listen to me, you laughed when I told you that I was going to the Yoyogi Animation Institute, didn’t you, Satou? Oh, it’s fine, no need to hide it… Still, it’s clear that in terms of creative issues, I’m more accomplished than you are. Please understand this.”
As he’d been pretty convincing during his long diatribe, I nodded automatically several times.
Suddenly, Yamazaki’s body went limp. “No, thinking of the idiots in my class, I got overexcited. People like them make me the maddest—people who are all talk, huddling privately together, even though they can’t do anything themselves.”
It appeared I’d somehow irritated his issues with school life. I decided to make him drink some coffee to calm him down. Salvaging an unused paper cup from the litter strewn across the floor, I poured water from the hot pot set up in the cabinet. Then, fishing farther under the bed, I discovered an economy-sized pack of rice crackers.
Eating the crackers, we drank coffee.
Calmer, Yamazaki returned to the main topic. “Well then, let’s think about it more concretely this time. Music takes a lot of skill and discriminating taste, so that’s out of the question for you, Satou. As for programming, you’re no good at math, right? So, that’s out. Art also would be impossible, wouldn’t it? I once saw a picture you drew. So, illustrating manga won’t work. Then …”
Yamazaki suddenly slapped his knee. “Satou, you were a member of the literary club, weren’t you?!”
“So … ?”
“Novels! It’s novels!”
I twisted my face into a frown. “No, I don’t want to do that! I haven’t written any long compositions since they made me do it in middle school. For starters, novels are too boring. They won’t work—“
Yamazaki scowled at me again. Breathing violently through his nose, he muttered quietly, “Just get over it, won’t you?”
I felt a light touch of fear and decided to change the subject.
“B-by the way, Yamazaki, what are you studying at school? Is it anime, after all? Are you painting cels and stuff?”
Yamazaki shook his head. “Even though the school is called the Yoyogi Animation Institute, there are many different departments. I’m in the Game Creation department.”
Game Creation? The second I heard that phrase, it excited me. “Game creator.” That had resonance; the title sounded so cutting-edge. The glamor industry of the modern age. The number one job that elementary students wanted. I pictured an industry giant driving around in a Lamborghini, being entertained at a high-class club in Ginza. He had wads of cash flying around as he was wooed by headhunters, hanging out amid the huge, long lines for his latest super-popular game. Then, some dreadful high school student would steal one of these in-demand games from an elementary school kid, and the story would be picked up by the six o’clock news. The game creator would be filthy rich.
It was high-salaried, with a yearly pay of one hundred million yen! It was so cool! It was perfect!
Finishing off my coffee in one gulp, I grabbed Yamazaki’s hand. “Let’s try to become game creators together!”
It was already past eleven o’clock at night. Yamazaki was sipping his tenth cup of instant coffee, and I was so hungry that I made some instant ramen.
Yamazaki grew angry. “Don’t just take food from someone’s stockpile without asking!”
I bowed my head in apology and put some pepper on the noodles. While I was slurping at the ramen, Yamazaki stammered, “I-It would be impossible for beginners to make games.”
“You have to help me with that.”
“Modern games are a comprehensive art. A decent game can be created only by mixing various specialized skills. Someone like you couldn’t do it, Satou.”
“After not seeing you for a short while, you’ve started speaking really insolently, haven’t you?” was what I felt like saying to give him a hard time. After thinking about it, however, I realized he’d actually been insolent for a long time. Yeah, that was true. Even though he’d been a weakling, he was the kind of guy who said whatever he wanted to whomever he wanted. He’d openly call his classmates idiots or tell them to go away. That’s why he was picked on. It was totally his own fault.
He’d spoken politely to me; but once he found out that I’d become an unemployed, dropout hikikomori, it was only a matter of time before he started making fun of me, calling me “worthless” to my face. All that didn’t matter, though. For now, I had to do whatever it took to become a game creator. I had to become an industry insider. Please, Yamazaki…
“I can see it’s difficult for you to ask me for help. However, there are things that can’t be done, no matter how much you beg, Satou.”
“Please, do something to help me!”
“For one thing, there’s no way that something you started to earn a girl’s respect could last for long. It’s obvious that you’ll lose your motivation soon.”
“That’s not true! I’m serious! I’m passionate!”
“I have school tomorrow. I’m tired already.”
“It’s not just wanting Misaki’s respect. If I could become a game creator, I'd be able to escape my life as a hikikomori, wouldn’t I?!”
“It’s impossible.”
“No, it can’t be!” I insisted.
“It won’t work.”
“Yes, it will.”
I spent another hour pleading with him. I tried appeasing him, coaxing him, yelling at him—and finally, I tried wheedling to get on his good side. “While you’re at school, I could tape the anime on TV. I’d even cut out the commercials for you.”
At last, Yamazaki gave in. “Well, Satou, you seem to be really committed.” His voice was serious.
“Yeah. I do mean it. I’m totally committed.”
“If so, there’s one way that even you, Satou, could become a game creator. But…”
“But?”
“It may actually be the bloodiest path, an unendingly severe and painful method that would make anyone want to abandon the course, not to mention someone like you, Satou.”