Pathway to Japanese Literature

Characters (In Order of Appearance)

Kasuga Tamae: Sarako’s Disciple

Amagi Sarako: Film Actress

Elderly Maid Yoshi

Takebe: Hinode Shimbun Reporter

Yokokawa: Sarako’s Patron

Ureno: Lawyer

Mido Bibi: Manga Artist
Kaji Wataru: Manga Artist
Nakane Roppe: Manga Artist
Newspaper Reporter A
Newspaper Reporter B
Newspaper Reporter C
Driver
Director

Takami: “Toekeutookii”
Manager

Employee

Actress A

Actor B

Actress C

Actress D

Family Club Reporter

Guest A┐
Guest B├Magazine Reporter
Guest C┘

Jewelry Store Clerk

Waitress A

Waitress B

Waitress C

In addition, a crowd of silent extras.

I

○ The reception room of Amagi Sarako’s house.

Kasuga Tamae, the disciple, cleaned while singing with a sash tied around her sleeves.

10:00 PM.

○ Sarako’s bedroom.

She was sleeping on the bed.

Elderly Maid Yoshi placed a bundle of newspapers under the pillow and left.

○ Reception room.

“Is Ms. Sarako still asleep?”

“Surely she isn’t feigning sleep again. If you get caught with a cucumber stub in your mouth like last time, she’ll ask afterward—‘Granny, what were you eating?’—so you mustn’t lower your guard.”

○ Bedroom.

Sarako opened her eyes.
Half-raising herself, she picked up each newspaper one by one and perused the entertainment sections.
"Hmph," "Tch," "Huh"—a perfunctory round of utterances.
Then she picked up the last one,

What's wrong with Sarako? they must be wondering.
Lately my name had completely stopped appearing.
And yet I'd been taking so many roles...

But her eyes were suddenly drawn to a certain page.
Her manga was there.
A grim expression crossed her face.
She flung the newspaper down violently, appearing to suppress extreme dissatisfaction.
Eventually, she picked it up again, scrutinizing it closely as she muttered, "Now that I mention it, does this resemble me somehow…?"

Wanting both to laugh and to cry, she picked up a hand mirror and examined her own face.

Then, she pressed the call bell.

Tamae appeared.

Sarako (pressing down only the explanatory part of the manga with one hand and showing it to Tamae): “Do you know who this is?”

Tamae (of course understanding immediately and nearly bursting into laughter, but sensing her glare): “Well…”

“There’s no way you don’t know.”

“Well… I really don’t know. Who could this be?”

“You don’t need to say ‘who’ or anything. He’s just some hack artist anyway. Nobody’s even heard of this ‘Mido Bibi.’”

“Why must manga artists be so spiteful? I can’t imagine anyone enjoying being drawn like this.”

“Then tell me plainly—does this look like me or not?”

Tamae (perplexed): “Oh… This—this can’t be you, Ms. Sarako… No… You—being depicted like this…”

Sarako: “It’s utterly disrespectful in the first place. Right? Don’t you think so? If anyone sees this, they’ll all be disgusted with me.”

Tamae: “That’s not true at all, Ms. Sarako. No one takes manga seriously anyway, and besides, newspapers are only good for the day they’re printed.”

Sarako: “Don’t joke around—can’t you read this? This painting is actually being exhibited, you know. Every day—I don’t know if it’s thousands or tens of thousands—they stop in front of this painting and go on about this and that, gossiping about me. Does such a horrendous insult even exist in this world? On top of that, my name’s flamboyantly written right under this painting! Just imagine someone saying, ‘Hey, looks just like her!’ Everyone’s bound to burst out laughing in unison. No matter how charming I was in all the photos taken until now, everyone’s forgotten about that. No one’s going to bother seeing this next photo either. I’m finished. Fine, fine—you just wait and see what I’ll do!”

Tamae: “But even if you say such things, Ms. Sarako… I don’t believe they meant any harm.”

Sarako (raising her voice): “No ill intent? How could they draw this face then?! What’s with this nose… this jaw… this ridiculous hairstyle… If slapping on absurd features counts as resemblance, every unemployed fool might as well become an artist!”

Tamae: “What reference did they use? Did you have a bromide photo in profile?”

“It’s fine.”
“What does that matter?”
“Just hurry up and make the call already.”

“Where to, may I ask?”

“You know exactly who I mean—that person.”

Tamae: Would that be Mr. Yokokawa?

Sarako: That’s right.
“Hurry...”
“It’s the office.”

○ Telephone Room.

Sarako at the telephone—

“I… You must understand…”
“Good morning…”
“Oh, not at all… By the way, have you seen this morning’s Hinode Shimbun?”
“Huh?”
“Did you see it?”
“Then you must know about it?”
“Regarding that matter—I need to discuss something with you.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“It’s simply too…”
“That’s why… I want you to come immediately.”
“Oh… Well, something like that.”
“I absolutely won’t forgive this…”
“What’s so amusing about that?”
“Just hurry… I’ll be waiting.”
(After hanging up once, she dialed a new number) “Hello? Hello? Is this the Hinode Shimbun?... Connect me to the entertainment section’s editorial desk....”
“Hello, this is Amagi—Amagi Sarako… What?”
“Haven’t I made myself clear? Just connect me already…”
“They’re mocking me!”
“The line’s busy… Yes… Ah, you’re from the entertainment section… Right. Thank you ever so much for this morning’s edition.”

“No—actually—about that painting—I’m rather cross.”
“Do you know what manner of man this Mido Bibi even is?”
“Precisely… I’ve never once heard such a preposterous name…”

○ Hinode Shimbun Editorial Department.

Reporter Takebe was making a phone call.

“Well, it’s not quite like that—at the exhibition, that painting is receiving tremendous acclaim.”
“So, what is it—are you planning to issue some sort of protest?”

○ Sarako—

“Well, I haven’t decided what to do yet, but eventually, after discussing it…”

○ Takebe—

“Would it be all right if I came over right now?… In the morning, you say? Yes, understood.”
“Well then, goodbye…”

The reporters began devising strategies around this "scoop."

○ The reception room of Sarako’s house.

She was facing Yokokawa and talking.
Lawyer Ureno waited nearby.

Yokokawa: “If you’re this outraged, having them apologize wouldn’t be unreasonable.”

Ureno: “It would be permissible to sue for defamation.”

Yokokawa: “Can we get compensation?”

“We can certainly obtain it,” said Ureno.

“Such things do not matter—what’s important is teaching them a lesson!” retorted Sarako.

Ureno stroked his chin. “It would be ideal if we could establish special legal grounds applicable solely to your case.”

“In my situation,” Sarako declared, her voice rising theatrically, “grounds can absolutely be established.” She leaned forward, jewels glinting. “I may not know legal technicalities, but tell me—when someone wantonly destroys what another holds most precious, how does your law respond?”

Yokokawa chuckled dryly. “Does scribbling ink truly constitute destruction?”

“Of course it does!” She slammed her palm on the lacquered table. “For an actress, beauty is her foremost pride.” Her fingers traced her jawline like a sculptor admiring marble. “That beauty is my asset—nay, my very life!” Theatrical tears glistened as she gestured toward imaginary crowds. “Imagine that lifeblood being slandered across every newspaper! Would you not call that fatal damage?”

Ureno: “Very well.”
“In other words, filing a damages lawsuit would suffice.”
“The problem is the amount of damages.”

Kasuga Tamae entered holding a business card.
Sarako and Yokokawa looked at it.

"Hinode Shimbun Reporter Takebe Hitoshi"

“Let them come through here. That’s fine.”

“It would be better if I weren’t present,” said Yokokawa.
(Exiting the room, to Ureno) “You stay beside her and provide support.”

Takebe entered.

Takebe: "About earlier... So what was ultimately decided?"
(He took out his notebook)

Sarako: (to Ureno) "What was the wording again?"

Ureno: (Handing his business card to Takebe) "I am representing her in this matter."
"Regarding this incident, I have just now been consulted. As you know, this issue extends into extremely delicate emotional territory. Therefore, as a legal professional—before advancing theoretical arguments—we must first present our demands to the opposing party based on what I might call... the foundation of my client's uniquely sensitive psychological state."
"Thus while we will formally frame this as a damages lawsuit, from my client's personal perspective, it constitutes defamation of character..."

Takebe: “By ‘reputation,’ you mean…?”

“For an actress, being called beautiful is the greatest honor.”

Takebe: “I see…”

Sarako: “That’s not all. If people who’ve never seen my true form were to take that ridiculous, hateful, absurd, repulsive—in a word, grotesque—utterly disgraceful woman’s face in his manga and believe it to be Amagi Sarako, I’d lose half my life from that alone. I have the right to protect my beauty for myself, and to my hundreds of thousands of fans, I have the duty to ensure my beauty remains utterly unparalleled. That isn’t all. To call something ‘beautiful’ is a form of faith. I myself must believe in it, and I must have others believe in it too. I’m not merely fighting against some manga artist named Mido Bibi. I’m resolved to drive out every last one of these inconvenient barbarians—those who can’t perceive beauty as beautiful—from the land of Japan.”

“Then, the amount of damages…?”
“That is, well…”

“Ten thousand yen…”

Takebe: “Huh?”

Sarako: “It’s ten thousand yen.”
“Is it too low?”

Takebe: (While jotting down) “No.”
“Well, thank you for your time.”

○ Upon leaving Sarako’s house, Takebe immediately hailed a taxi and rushed straight to Ginza Shiseido.

○ Ginza Shiseido.
Second Floor Emerging Manga Exhibition.

At the reception desk were three manga artists as exhibitors.
Surrounding Takuko cheerfully were Mido Bibi along with Kaji Wataru and Nakane Roppe—

Roppe’s invitations were completely ineffective.
The weather was good….

Bibi: “No baseball….”

Wataru: “It’s perfect manga weather!”

Roppe: “With this turnout—how many people?”

Wataru: “Six total—counting my invites.”

Bibi: “Two per hour average? If this were a barbershop—now that’d be something.”

Roppe: “Newspapers are colder than expected.”

Wataru’s servility thoroughly permeated everything.
“Yesterday when Hinode sent photographers—thought we’d get front page! Ended up buried in entertainment.”
“Not even slightly amusing.”
“And just one panel of this guy’s work too.”

“Don’t get so bitter. Just endure a little longer.”

“Now that you mention it, I should’ve drawn the film actress’s face more. Compared to writers’ and politicians’ faces, they’d surely be better received.”

“Admittedly, when you look at actresses’ faces through a manga lens, every last one of them is hopelessly ordinary. If there were even one person like Miss Cecil Sorel though...”

One attendee arrived.

Roppe distributed tickets at the counter.
“Ten sen... Oh! Do you have an invitation?”
“Oops! Please come right through...”

Takebe entered.

“Do you have a Wataru invitation?”

Takebe (presents his business card)

Wataru: “Oops.”
“Please, take your time.”

Takebe: “No, actually, it’s about the manga that was published in my newspaper this morning.”
“I’ve just come from meeting that actress.”
“It’s turned into a huge mess!”

Bibi: “When you say ‘huge mess’…”

Takebe: “Therefore, I must meet that author and have something I need to convey personally.”

Bibi: “Heh.”

Takebe: “You said it was Mr. Mido.”
“Would you happen to know the address?”

“I know,” said Bibi. “I’ll guide you.”

Bibi signaled to his companions and left with Takebe.

“Damn! He pulled off something slick!” said Roppe.

Wataru promptly placed an order.

Roppe was probably about to add another front-facing piece.

○ Inside the taxi.

“Whereabouts is Kōenji?”

“About ten *chō* north from the station.”

“Well, that’s near my place.”

“In that area, there are many people with a monthly income of 100 yen or less.”

“Much obliged.”
“Your residence is…”

“Still around there.”

“Mr. Mido, are you still single?”

“Being single is like being half a person.”

“So, your living situation isn’t very comfortable, I take it.”

“As you’ve so astutely deduced.”
“But that’s half a blessing—it doesn’t hold a candle to what others have.”

“This keeps getting better,” Takebe said. “How he’ll deflect Miss Amagi Sarako’s demands—now that’ll be a show worth watching.”

“So I’m getting some sort of demand… sir?” Bibi asked.

Takebe: “That’s a professional secret. Well, you’ll hear about it later.”
“I intend to write about it extensively in the evening edition eventually.”

○ Kōenji – Mido Bibi’s residence.

Bibi led Takebe up.

“Well, that was quite the ordeal,” said Bibi.
“Now then, please make yourself comfortable…”

Takebe (dumbfounded): “Mr. Mido…?”

Bibi: “It’s me.”
Takebe: “I see.”
“Well then—my apologies.”
Bibi: “Not at all… If anything—”
“Let’s dispense with formalities—what did you want to discuss?”

○ Exhibition Hall.

Amagi Sarako entered accompanied by Yokoi and Ureno.
After buying tickets，they immediately searched for the problematic painting.

At the reception desk, Roppe and Wataru exchange glances and whisper.
Roppe: “Here she comes… the real deal.”
“Don’t buy it, Wataru—definitely.”
Roppe messed up—he should’ve changed the price tags beforehand.

○ In front of the problematic painting.

Sarako: “What? They’ve even gone and added color?”

Yokokawa: “Three yen is damn cheap.”

Ureno: “It is inexpensive.”

Sarako: “If it were just the painting itself being sold at that price!”

Ureno: “That valuation would only hold true if you weren’t serving as its model.”
“Your point stands correct.”
“Nevertheless... it remains remarkably eye-catching.”

“That’s the problem!”

Yokokawa observed that women’s manga were indeed quite rare.
Who was that?
Ms. Yoshioka Yayoi?
And then... the one over there...

“Miyake Yasuko,” Ureno identified.

How could I possibly appear like this? Sarako agonized.
I’m clearly overthinking things.

“They likely intended to display their artistic struggle,” Yokokawa observed.

“You’re right—it’s meaningless,” Sarako dismissed. “No one could object if I simply purchase this painting.”

“Then regarding the lawsuit...” Ureno ventured.

“That remains separate,” she interjected. “What’s done cannot be undone.”

“Precisely,” the lawyer concurred.

“Therefore,” Sarako continued imperiously, “while we’ll compel compensation for prior damages, henceforth this atrocity mustn’t be publicly displayed. Yokokawa—” Her tone turned wheedling. “It would seem peculiar coming from me. Won’t you acquire it instead?”

Yokokawa: “Even if I buy it, I can’t take possession immediately. It’s standard practice to leave exhibits displayed until the show concludes…”

Sarako: “You must negotiate that point somehow.”
“It’s fine to pay a bit more if needed…”

Roppe came to subtly check on the situation.

“Roppe—how about this?”
“Does it meet your approval?”

“You’re the one who drew this.”
“It’s perfectly splendid.”

“Oh no—I’m truly honored.”
“I’m still utterly inexperienced…”

“Not at all.”
“I do intend to formally pay my respects another time, but for now, might I ask you to let me have this painting…?”

“I am honored.”

“Today would be perfectly acceptable for me to take it… I do so wish to have it this way…”

“Uh... I must first consult with everyone... After all, regarding the exhibition’s regulations...”
“I am well aware of that, but just this once, we would like you to make a special exception. I intend to explain the reason at a later time.”
“Well, of course selling it is one objective, but more than that, for us, it’s about spreading our work as widely as possible to society...”

“In that case, I shall state it plainly,” said Sarako. “Speaking for myself, I have no desire to let this painting be introduced any further to the public. Whether you buy it or not is beside the point—I want it removed from here at once.”

Ureno interjected, “Regarding Roppe—that is to say…”

“In other words, we want you to cease using it as an exhibition item.”
“In the name of morality and law, we demand that from you.”

“To me?”

“As the creator, we may still trust your voluntary compliance,” said Ureno. “Should you decline to agree, we’ll have no alternative.”
“We’ll be compelled to exercise our ultimate recourse.”

Roppe bowed slightly. “Then kindly allow us until this evening.”
“After conferring with my associates, I believe we can manage affairs to align with Madam’s expectations.”

Sarako left the scene composedly, scorning Roppe.
Yokokawa and Ureno followed after her.

〇 Mido Bibi’s house.

Takebe: “Now, I’d like to hear your thoughts on this matter…”

Bibi: “Thoughts?”
“I’ve no thoughts left on the matter.”
“Before hearing that tale, I’d let all sorts of notions twine through this head of mine—but every last vine’s been ripped out.”
“Say it again.”
“How much was that damages figure again?”

Takebe: “Ten thousand yen.”

Bibi: “Ten thousand yen…”
He fell into deep thought.

Takebe: “They said not a single sen of the ten thousand yen could be missing.”

Bibi: “That simply won’t do.”
He looked around with vacant eyes—as if hunting for valuables.
Yet the six-tatami room held nothing worth a junk dealer’s coin, only early summer sunlight pouring through torn shoji screens.

Takebe: “Well then, we’ll handle your comments ourselves—”
“We mustn’t miss the evening edition deadline—”

After Takebe left, Bibi absently wandered around the house.
(Song)

II

〇 A backstreet café.

The next morning.

The three manga artists were gathered around their beer glasses, drinking and discussing.

"As for those who dealt with Roppe—they might just be lunatics."
"However, there’s no guarantee their lunatic’s argument won’t hold up."
"There’s a judge I knew who once had his daughter’s lover arrested just for whistling to call her from outside the gate."
"The man who was her lover got a week’s detention."
"Which country’s law prohibits whistling?"

"Wataru, stop your ranting."
"Instead of that, shouldn’t we formulate countermeasures?"
"Do we need to hire a lawyer?"

“There’s Roppe.”
“A guy who understands the spirit of manga, you know.”
“Who could it be, within our circle…”

“Wataru—more importantly—what about the ten thousand yen?”
“Wouldn’t it be wise to make some preparations?”

“Roppé—agreed?”
“I’ll handle that part.”
“I’ll make the rounds to Rakuten, Ippei, the others, and our seniors’ places.”
“For manga art’s sake, it’s only natural they’d pitch in.”
“But that’s only if we lose.”

“Winning or losing depends on the luck of the moment—but if we win, what exactly happens then?”
“This was pathetic from the very start, wasn’t it?”

“So,” said Wataru. “Under the name of movement funds, we’ll start dividing tasks now—”

“Wait.” Bibi cut him off. “As if we of the new school could bow our heads to those establishment masters and ask such favors! First off—this is my mess alone. I won’t have you lot fretting over it.”

“Not like I’m particularly worried or anythin’,” said Roppe.

Wataru scratched his neck. “Me too—if anythin’, I’m feelin’ pretty relieved.”

Bibi leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “On the contrary! After seein’ yesterday’s evening paper, I was leapin’ for joy inside. From today, the exhibition—”

“That’s it!” Roppe slammed his beer glass down. “Packed house! You really think you can swill beer at dawn without havin’ that much foresight?”

“You’re such a weirdo, Wataru.”

“Now you mention it,” Roppe added dryly, “I haven’t been able to get into this discussion since earlier neither.”

○ Exhibition Venue.

An endlessly serpentine line of attendees.

Roppe and Wataru were swamped managing the reception desk, while Bibi brought in something resembling a charity box from somewhere, hung it beneath the controversial painting labeled "Sold," and posted a notice beside it—

“Dear gentlemen and ladies among our attendees:
As last evening’s paper reported, Mido Bibi hath unwittingly incurred the misfortune of contending against Miss Amagi Sarako in court through the crime of being able to draw this work.
May it be that the impoverished manga artist—whose house holds no wealth and whose pockets ever remain empty—be permitted to cast unto the Queen of the Screen whom he hath so admired, the demanded sum of ten thousand yen.
Mido Bibi loveth justice.
Only, together with Miss Amagi Sarako, doth he fear the judgment of the law for the sake of guarding her ‘beauty.’”

The majority of attendees stood before the controversial painting and did not attempt to move.
Among them were those who searched their pockets and dropped some money into the charity box.
Laughter.
Murmurs.

(Chorus)

Before long, the crowd split into two, and through the gap walked a woman quietly.
Needless to say, it was Amagi Sarako.
By her side was her disciple, Kasuga Tamae.

Murmurs turned into uproar.

Sarako read the notice beneath the painting.
A professional smile.

“Tamae,” Sarako instructed, “go to the reception desk and check if Mr. Mido has arrived. If he’s here, tell him I’d be grateful for a brief audience…”

Murmurs.
Laughter.
Uproar.

Before long, Mido Bibi appeared with an unexpectedly courteous demeanor.

“I am Mido Bibi.”
“Nice to meet you...”

“Oh—you’re Mr. Mido?”
“Then yesterday’s person was…?”
“Well—no matter.”
“Though my lawyer has forbidden direct communication—since yesterday’s request remains unfulfilled—I wished to inquire about the reason…”

“Hah—this business of withdrawing the painting?”
“That would be—as for the reason—because it’d be a waste.”

“You find it wasteful…?”
“To put it plainly—it’s disappointing.”
“Even if I were to formally demand it?”
“Even should you formally demand it, since I’m the one who’d be inconvenienced, this still presents something of a predicament.”

“Then we’ll settle this through other means.”
“If only that were possible…”

Sarako: “No—more importantly, what is this? This box…”

Bibi: “Well, truth be told, I had envisioned something larger, but for the time being, I’ve temporarily repurposed a mailbox like this…”

Sarako wasn’t asking about that. “Isn’t this wording rather absurd, Mr. Mido?”

Bibi: “It’s poor writing, I must say…”

Sarako: “More importantly, with this, you intend to insult me yet again, don’t you?”

Bibi: “No, absolutely not…”

Sarako: “Exactly.”
“Is this one painting still insufficient to satisfy you?”

Bibi: “I would gladly swear before all esteemed guests present here.”
“This painting brings no disgrace to an artist’s conscience.”
“An artist’s soul imbues even ugliness with beauty.”
“For artists, boredom alone merits contempt.”
“You have been an irreplaceable font of inspiration to me.”
“Does that not alone stand as proof that you are a noble woman?”

“I have no interest in hearing such sophistry,” said Sarako. “However, I truly regret being rendered through your brushwork. That alone is all I need you to comprehend.”

Bibi: “Well, at least that much I seem to have grasped.”

Sarako: “In that case, I’ll do this.”
(She tears off the posted notice and kicks the charity box with her foot)

Bibi: “Ah! It’s inside!”
Bibi: “It’s inside!”

Sarako: “Since I’m at it, I’ll do this too.”

Bibi: “Huh?”

Before he could even say a word, Sarako clenched her fist, channeled her strength into the diamond on her ring, and slashed diagonally across the offending painting.
Amidst the painted colors, a white mark formed where the paper peeled away.

Bibi: “Ah!”

He tried to stop her, but it was already too late.
Sarako vanished from the scene as though triumphant.
Bibi, forgetting to pursue her, pressed his hands against the painting’s wound with single-minded focus.

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

(Chorus)

Roppe and Wataru came rushing in.

A squad of newspaper reporters surrounded Bibi, bombarding him with a relentless barrage of questions.
Takebe was among them.

Reporter A: “What will you do about this situation?”

Reporter B: “Are you prepared to be sued?”

Reporter C: “What’s the amount for damages?”

Reporter A: “However, this has already been sold, hasn’t it? It’s her possession, isn’t it…”

Reporter B: “If that’s the case, then you can’t claim damages, can you? This won’t be a problem.”

“That’s not true,” countered Reporter C. “Copyright inherently contains the author’s moral rights.”

At that moment, parting through the crowd, a chauffeur-like man entered.

“Excuse me, everyone. Please step aside there.”

“It’s Roppe.”
“What’s wrong?”

“Ms. Amagi just flung her ring’s diamond off here.”
“It should be lying around this area.”

Takebe asked, “About how much would its current market value be?”

“I don’t know about that,” said the man, “but they say there’s a thousand-yen reward for whoever finds and returns it.”

Takebe (taking out his notebook): “What? A thousand yen…”
“How generous.”

When word of this spread among the people, the crowd there began surging like an avalanche, rushing about in all directions.
All of them bent at the waist and scanned the floor.
(Chorus)

Before this spectacle, the three manga artists each took out their sketchbooks and began drawing.

○ "Tōkeu Tōkī" Film Studio.

A film test was underway.

The scene depicted numerous young women encircling a single young gentleman, all clamoring for something.

The Director: “Is Ms. Amagi still not here? What’s going on?”

○ Inside the same film studio.

Manager’s Office.

—Takami Keiichiro listened to a report from one of the employees.

Employee: "We still don’t know about Asakusa’s situation, but Ushigome, Kanda, Yotsuya, Azabu—and particularly Koishikawa—appear splendid."
"They say there was such commotion they had to post ‘Full House’ notices before opening."
"Given these circumstances, we could still replace one film in the evening program with Amagi’s. What do you think?"
"All new releases have been distributed, but some copies of ‘The Wife Who Doesn’t Laugh’ should remain in storage."

“Of course, proceed accordingly,” said Takami. “We’ll have separate billboards made featuring Amagi Sarako as the star.” He pointed at the employee with his fountain pen. “You there—that was a sharp idea you came up with.” Leaning back in his leather chair, he added, “Just because she’s become a star doesn’t mean we can leave all promotion to the company—there’s no longevity in that approach.” He snapped his ledger shut. “Right—you handle those billboards immediately. And summon Amagi here.”

○Company-Owned Permanent Hall.

Each and every one of them was turning away customers due to being packed.

○ Film Studio.

The director, growing impatient, waited for Amagi Sarako.

The actors were idle.
They passed the time with idle chatter.

Actress A: “Ahh, I wish someone would draw me in a manga.”

Actor B: “The manga might turn out prettier than the real thing, you know.”

“Even if they draw me strangely, as long as it doesn’t look too much like me, that’s fine.”

“But when it comes to Ms. Sarako’s portrait—it resembled her *too* well! Like he only drew the parts where she differs from everyone else.”

“More than that—it perfectly captures her essence!”

“But that lawsuit—she must’ve thought it up on a whim. The other side’s probably thrilled too.”

“There’s even talk it’s all a scheme.”

○ Manager’s Office.

As Takami was on the phone, Amagi Sarako knocked on the door.

Takami: “Yes.”
“Morning.”
“Take a seat there.”
“You’ve really done it this time.”

“But it’s simply too vexing!”

Takami: “Hmm. Even so—this counts as a grand success, wouldn’t you agree?”

“What do you mean?”
“Exactly—it’s that fighting spirit of yours making the public take notice. Don’t play coy. But don’t overdo the scheming either. You must act casual yet innocent—but really pour on the dramatic flair. That diamond business was particularly inspired. Though I suspect you’ve got a puppetmaster pulling strings.”
“Now now—never mind that.”
“I’d gladly raise your salary today, but let’s wait until we’ve milked this situation dry first.”

The three drunken manga artists, linking arms with each other, staggered through the evening streets of the suburbs.

(Chorus)

"Manga or whatever—they don't need to sell!
Let 'em pack the exhibition halls!
Drawings or whatever—we'll give you as much as you want!"

Bring as much booze as you’ve got!

○ Mido Bibi lay unconscious at the entryway step.

Visitor.

Bibi got up while yawning.

Visitor: "Is this Mr. Mido’s residence?"

Bibi: "'Is this Mr. Mido’s residence?'... Yes, this is indeed the place."
"Please wait a moment."
(Ascending upstairs and inspecting the room) "Haa~... Yes, this is certainly the place."
"Is there something you require?"

Visitor: (Presenting business card) “I have something like this here—might I have the honor of meeting you for a moment, Mr. Mido?”

Bibi: (Reading the business card) “Family Club,” you say—that’s a magazine, right? “Is this about commissioning manga?”

Visitor: “I imagine you’re quite busy, but if you could just... oblige us...”
“Well, actually… we were hoping to feature about two manga featuring popular actresses each month…”

Exhibition Hall.

There was an almost uninterrupted stream of visitors, and their line quietly flowed from room to room.
However, since people stopped somewhat longer before the controversial painting labeled "Not for Sale," only there did a considerable number of people form a mass that overflowed.
It was clear that whether walking or stopping, people kept their eyes half on the paintings and half on the floor.
Among them, there were those who bent down and peered into the gaps between the floorboards.
(Chorus)

At the reception desk, Roppe and Wataru, the two of them, waited with triumphant airs.

○ The screen of the permanent movie theater and the sardine-packed spectator seats.

The subtitle reading "Starring Amagi Sarako" drew thunderous applause from the entire venue.

Her figure appeared on the screen.
Even more thunderous applause erupted.

“Wild cries like ‘Hang in there, Sara-chan!’ and ‘Long live the diamond!’”
Cheerful laughter.

On the screen, Amagi Sarako, playing the role of "The Wife Who Doesn’t Laugh," sang a comical song to the tune of "Solveig’s Song."

○ Mido Bibi’s House.

In the tatami room, Mido Bibi sat formally facing three guests.

Guest A: "Regarding our humble request—we would like to compile and publish all manga you have previously published under Mr. Mido’s name into a single volume…"
"Or perhaps under a title such as 'Mido Bibi Manga Masterpiece Collection'…"

“Just a moment,” said Bibi. “I haven’t yet heard everything you wished to say here.”

Guest B interjected: “So we’re looking to rival the Tokyo Mainichi—”

“Allow me to consider that briefly,” Bibi cut in. “I’ll take on the work, but only after we’ve discussed it further. Now,” he turned to Guest C, “what was your proposal again?”

Guest C bowed slightly. “As I mentioned earlier, given that our readers are primarily from the entertainment district, we’d prefer if possible…”

At this moment, a voice called out “Excuse me” at the entrance.

Bibi: “Well then, everyone—that settles it.”
“When funds are required, we shall come to make our request.”

○ Night in Ginza.

A street portrait artist—that was Nakane Roppe.
He had just finished drawing a portrait and was handing it over to the customer.

Despite the considerable crowd gathering, no next customer appeared.
(Chorus)

Eventually, a man stepped forward and said, “Do one for me.”
This was Mido Bibi.

Roppe, affecting seriousness, licked his paintbrush and stared at Bibi’s face.
The crowd, unaware of this contrivance, smirked faintly as if some oddball had intruded, peering intently at Bibi’s face.

The paintbrush raced across the paper.
It was finished in an instant.

At that moment, who should pass by but Amagi Sarako and her entourage of several men and women.
Sarako casually came to a halt.

"Oh, I’ve seen that artist somewhere before," she thought.

Next, she peered into the face of the man posing as a model.
Her expression seemed to say, "What? Isn’t that him?"

As she compared the two men, everything fell into place.
Bibi took the painting and paid.

"That’s what’s happening," Sarako told her companion.
"How brazen!"

"Mido Bibi... that kind of man."

"It’s not the one drawing," Sarako corrected.
"He’s making him draw."
"Look, Sakura."
"In other words…"

At this voice, Bibi turned that way.
Their gazes met.

Sarako: “How unfortunate for you.”
“If you’re exposed, you’d better withdraw promptly.”
(To the crowd) “These two are collaborators!”

Bibi smirked vacantly.

Sarako: "There's no point watching that."
(With this dismissal, she abruptly tried to walk away.)

Bibi (seizing Sarako's arm): "Hey! You can't just disrupt my business!"

“It hurts!” Sarako cried. “What are you doing?!”

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” Bibi retorted.

“Let go of me,” Sarako demanded. “I’ll call for help!”

“There’s already a crowd here,” Bibi retorted, releasing his grip. “There—I’ve let go. Try this again next time, and I won’t settle things so lightly.”

“Oh? What exactly can *you* do?”

“I’ll draw you in a manga again.”
Having said that, he broke into a broad grin without the slightest hesitation.

Sarako (also lured in, wore a bright smile).
But then, as if suddenly realizing something, she flusteredly regained her dignity) “Hmph, I’m immune now.”

Parting the dense crowd, she and he went their separate ways to the left and right.

The crowd exclaimed in unison, "Amagi Sarako!"
...clamored things like "Mido Bibi!"
(In unison)

○ Sarako's House.

Sarako was reading a newspaper on her bed.

In the third page of the newspaper was a two-column article under the bold headline "Assault on Miss Amagi Sarako."

Kasuga Tamae brought a business card.
Sarako glanced at it,

Sarako: “I’ve been saying that since yesterday. I absolutely won’t be meeting with people from the newspaper company for the time being…”

“But they insist it’s imperative,” said Tamae.

“Because our ‘absolutely’ outweighs their ‘must,’ you understand.”
“Go deliver that message.”

Tamae: “But... this person keeps saying such odd things...”

Sarako: “Odd things...?”

Tamae: “He claims... something serious might occur concerning Ms. Sarako’s personal affairs...”

“Let them in.”
“I’ll meet them…”
“The reception room's been tidied up, right?”

In the reception room, guided by Tamae, Newspaper Reporter A entered.

Reporter A: "Is Mr. Yokokawa here?"

Tamae: "No."

Reporter A: "Doesn't he come every night?"

Tamae: "No.
I wouldn't know anything about such matters..."

Reporter A: "There's no law that lets you claim ignorance about something everyone knows."

Sarako entered, exchanging places with Tamae.

“What is this about Sarako?”
“Spare me that line of questioning, please.”

“Well, actually… I did touch on this briefly in this morning’s article… That Mr. Yokokawa… Yokokawa Arami… What exactly is your relationship with him?”

“Hmm… To put it in actor’s parlance—perhaps ‘patron’ would be the term?”

Reporter A: “So, in other words, a patron?”

Sarako: “In a pure sense, yes—you may put it that way.”

Reporter A: “So... what exactly is he to you? You wouldn’t call it... Loveaa?”

Sarako: “Don’t you think that question ventures rather too far?”

Reporter A: “It’s precisely that intrusiveness I wish to inquire about. While the public already generally believes this to be the case, we’re interested in seeing how—superficially—your relationship might develop in light of this incident.”

Sarako: “In that case, it would be wiser for you not to indulge such curiosity. Frankly, from my position too, it’s more convenient to dispel these public misunderstandings. It may be premature, but as an opening remark—I may soon find myself in love.”

Reporter (licking his pencil): “Hmm, and who might the other party be?”

“The name cannot be disclosed yet.”
“What does this person do?”

“Well, that too… for the time being—”

“In that case, however, this won’t make much of an article.”

III

◯ Manga Exhibition Venue.

The exhibition period had ended, and they were tidying up the displayed paintings. Most of Nakane Roppe and Kaji Wataru’s paintings remained unsold, while Mido Bibi’s works—all except for the controversial piece—had been sold out. Bibi removed the "Not for Sale" tag from the problematic painting, took it out of its frame, and tried to mend the damage.

Roppe: "It’s a shame to part with my paintings like this."
"I’d still want to look at them morning and evening."

Wataru: “Lucky me—all the paintings I actually liked stayed unsold. Thank goodness.”

At this moment, Bibi gently picked up the damaged painting.
Then, within the frame, he discovered a small, glittering object.

Bibi: “Huh… How curious…”

Roppe: “What?”

Bibi (picking up a large diamond): “Look at this!”

Wataru: “That’s the one she dropped. Where was it?”

Bibi: “In here.”
(Pointing to the corner of the frame)

“Even if we say it’s in here, this ain’t yours alone.”

“Why?”

“This place is our exhibition venue.”

Roppe: “The thousand yen—we three are taking it.”

Bibi: “I was the one who found it.”

Wataru: “We were right there beside you!”

Roppe: “Quiet down! Quiet down!”
“I get how this works.”
“Hurry up already—hey Bibi!”

◯ Ginza's sidewalk.

Mido Bibi walked leisurely along, a wrapped frame tucked under his arm.
Suddenly, he stopped in front of the jeweler’s.
He entered the store.

Bibi (taking out the diamond in question and addressing the clerk): “About how much would this be worth?”

Clerk (receiving it, inspecting it carefully, and weighing it): “Hmm, yes. At present, I would estimate this to be worth around seven hundred yen.”

Bibi: “Don’t you have something that looks just like this but much cheaper? Of course, glass or anything would do.”

Clerk: “At our establishment, while we do not carry glass, we have artificial stones starting from six or seven yen. Let me show you.”

Bibi picked up an artificial diamond from the many stones laid out before him—one convincing enough to fool a layperson—and compared it with the original.

"If you compare them like that, sir," said the clerk, "there’s no contest."

"Nah, this’ll do."
"How much?"

"That one would be seven yen."

Bibi handed over the money and exited outside.
For some reason, grinning cheerfully, he whistled as he walked.

◯ **Bar Cleopatra**.

Bibi, guided by a waitress, settled into a corner of the room.
While drinking beer, he took out the diamond from earlier from his clasp pouch and showed it to the waitresses.

Bibi: “Which do you think is more expensive?”

“Is this real?”

“This looks suspicious, doesn’t it?”

Bibi (taking out another one): “Well, what about this…?”

Waitress A: “Here, look… This one sparkles more, doesn’t it?”

Waitress B: “If you try cutting the glass, you’ll know.”

Waitress C: “With things like this, you’re actually more likely to be fooled. If I had to say which, I think that one’s pricier.”

Bibi (standing up): “Phone….”

Waitress A (stepping forward first): "This way…"

◯ Telephone.

Bibi flipped through the phone book. “Let’s see… Tōkeu Tōkii Corporation Studio and…”
There it was.
He dialed the number. “Ah, hello? Is this the Tōkeu Tōkii Studio?”
“I’d like to have Amagi Sarako come out for a moment… Ah, Ama…gi… Sara…ko… Yes, that’s right.”
“I’m her brother. …Yes… Please tell her it’s urgent regarding that incident.”
“……Yes…” He whistled briefly. “…Yes, yes… In the middle of filming… Hah. So even an urgent matter won’t do?”
“In that case—do you have paper and a pencil there?”
“Please write this down.”
“‘Regarding the lost item in question, I have fortuitously recovered—*shiu wa hirofu*—recovered it, and accordingly, as I wish to deliver it directly into your hands, kindly designate the location and date for our meeting.’ Now then—” His voice sharpened. “—show that to her and get an immediate reply, please.”

There, Bibi, with the receiver pressed to his ear, waited intently for a response.

◯ Amagi Sarako’s house.

◯ Reception Room.

Sarako, Yokokawa, and Lawyer Ureno were seated around the table, talking.

Yokokawa: “Attending such a meeting would be rather awkward. If we don’t know what sort of fellow we’re dealing with, that makes it all the more awkward.”

Sarako: “Because I don’t understand, that’s why I’m worried about handling this alone.”

Ureno: “You’ve realized this at an opportune moment.”
“After all, Madam, when left to handle such matters alone, mistakes are bound to occur.”

Sarako: “If that diamond comes into my hands, I won’t begrudge a thousand yen.”
“Hey, you—make sure you have it ready for me.”

“A thousand yen is too much to waste,” said Yokokawa. “You could’ve consulted me about such things.”

“But isn’t it better to lose a thousand yen than three thousand?” countered Sarako.

“It wouldn’t cost three thousand now,” he replied. “Well, fine—it can’t be helped. If I were you, I’d let whoever found it keep that thing and buy a new one for a thousand.”

“No!” she snapped. “I’m fond of that diamond.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang.
Before long, Kasuga Tamae announced the arrival of "the man who had picked up the diamond."

A tense moment.

Mido Bibi entered with grave solemnity.

Sarako: “Ah!”
Bibi: “If I’d said it was me, I knew you wouldn’t meet me—so I deliberately withheld my name.”
Sarako: “Then is the diamond story also a lie?”
Bibi: “It’s no lie.”
“I have it here.”
“But I’d prefer we discuss this privately—just the two of us.”
Sarako (to Yokokawa): “What should we do?”
Yokokawa: “And who might this gentleman be?”
Bibi: “Mido Bibi. I draw manga.”
Yokokawa: “Ah.”
“I’m Yokokawa.”

“I am the attorney handling this matter,” said Ureno.
(He produced his business card.)

A long silence.

Yokokawa (to Sarako): “You handle the conversation alone.”
“It should be fine.”

Bibi: “It’s alright.”

Yokokawa and Ureno left for the next room.

Bibi: "I must apologize for my conduct the other day."
"This was intended as a non-sale piece," (unwrapping the framed package) "but I wish to present it to you as a commemorative gift."
(Offering the painting, he placed it on the table.)

Sarako silently looked at it for a moment, then suddenly grabbed it and threw it onto the nearby sofa.

“Are you still angry?” Bibi asked. “Now then—about that diamond you lost during our last encounter—where do you suppose it was found?”

Sarako said nothing.

“How curious—it had slipped behind that painting,” he continued. “The canvas naturally has a hole in it now. I discovered it this morning while cleaning up the exhibition space.” He paused meaningfully. “But here’s the real predicament—you see, I actually purchased a diamond myself some time ago from a certain establishment. I’d planned to splurge on a gift for whenever I might find a lover, but ended up tossing it into my pouch and forgetting all about it.”

He leaned forward slightly. “Today, when I happened to place your diamond into that same pouch, I realized upon retrieving them just now that I can’t distinguish yours from mine. They’re completely identical to amateur eyes like ours.” His lips twitched in suppressed amusement. “Would you mind terribly appraising them?”

Bibi arranged the two diamonds on the table.

“Which one is yours?”

Sarako (after comparing the two): "Of course, it's this one!"
(She pulled one closer.)

Bibi (picking up the remaining one, staring at it while smirking): "Is that so... It must be certain, I suppose."

Sarako (suddenly losing confidence): "Let me see..."

“Here you go,” said Bibi, handing it over.

“If you insist, then this must be the one,” replied Sarako.

Mido Bibi (taking the first one in hand): “That must be it.”
“If you’re not careful, that one does look rather cheap… but this one’s shine is a bit too harsh, you see.”
“Still, there’s no mistake here, right?”
(starts to put it into the pouch)

Sarako: “But this one feels… off.”
“Could we… check once more? …My apologies…”

Bibi (reluctantly): “This is bothersome… How many times must we…”
“Very well—with this, please decide clearly which is yours.”
“And no objections afterward—you understand?”

Sarako (comparing the two): “Somehow… I’ve gotten all confused.”
“Hmm… Well, ultimately… this one.”
“Well then, let’s settle on this one.”

Bibi slowly extended his hand. “Is that so? Since you’re constantly fiddling with such trinkets, you ought to know better than I.” He picked up the stone and examined it. “Hmm... Though come to think of it—no, this one must indeed be mine. After all, this is just a five-yen artificial diamond. Simply being displayed beside a thousand-yen prize piece makes it feel rather grand, don’t you think?” He slipped it into his pouch.

Sarako clasped her hands. “Well, about expressing my gratitude—please wait here a moment.” She retreated into the back room.

Bibi was quite pleased that his mischievous plan had gone off without a hitch.
Before long, Sarako appeared.

Sarako: “Um... I... I was mistaken about earlier.”

Bibi (rising slightly): “What was that just now?”

Sarako: “This is yours.”
“That one was mine.”

Bibi (half-rising): “If that’s mine, and this is yours… What exactly do you mean by that?”
“What’s others’ is yours, what’s yours is others’… There’s no such law, is there?”
(stood up and stepped back)

Sarako (holding out the synthetic diamond in her hand toward him): "But earlier—my eyes must've been playing tricks!"
Bibi: "Then you ought to take responsibility for those eyes of yours."

Sarako: “Come on, give that back... I said...” (clinging to him)

Bibi (fleeing around): “No—absolutely not…! The matter’s already settled. And I won’t accept any complaints after this.”

Sarako: “Hand it over already—come here…” (Loudly) “Everyone! Come here now…!”

Bibi (using a chair as a shield): “Go ahead—try catching me!”

Yokokawa and Ureno came rushing in.

“Look here—I truly won’t stand for this…”

“Do you surrender?” Bibi laughed as he pulled the pouch from his pocket and held out the diamond toward her. When Sarako tried to hand him the other one, he refused. “No—keep that too. It’d be a hassle if we later realize it was this one…” He sank into the chair.

“What’s all this racket?” barked Yokokawa.

Sarako showed him the diamond she’d just received. “This is it, right?”

Yokokawa (examining): “Hmm, this is it.”

Sarako: “About earlier… Hey… Not now…?”

Yokokawa (magnanimously takes out a check from his pocket and hands it to Sarako)

“Well then... this is the promised token of gratitude.”

Bibi thrust the check back toward Yokokawa.

Sarako: "Why must you...?" She pushed it toward him again.

Bibi silently shoved it back. "I don't want this."

"Then I'll be left holding the blame," Sarako protested.

"Are you truly this desperate to show gratitude?" Bibi needled.

Sarako fell silent.

"Just take it already," Yokokawa urged.

"Really now..." Sarako sighed.

“I will demand something else instead.”

“What is it?”

“Please let me draw your manga one more time.”
(With an unassuming smile)

Sarako stared intently at Bibi’s face, but soon collapsed onto the nearby bench and burst into tears.

Bibi (flustered): “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Sarako (suddenly raised her face, flashed a smile, but then covered her face with both hands): “I’m sorry too.”

No sooner had she said this than she bent forward again and began to cry aloud.

The terrace of a restaurant facing a sprawling garden.

Night.

Amagi Sarako, Mido Bibi, and Yokokawa Arami sat around a table drinking after-dinner coffee.

Yokokawa: “So you’ve made peace now.”
“This once-in-a-lifetime quarrel between you two—I believe it didn’t harm either party in the end. But it would’ve been problematic had both sides remained entrenched.”
“At any rate, better to sign an armistice while compromise remains possible.”
“Care for a drink, Mr. Mido…?”

“Ms. Sarako…?”

“This person is a million dollars.”
“That’s right.”

“Anything’s fine…”

“Yokokawa’s being awfully solemn.”

“I never said I wouldn’t drink,” retorted Sarako.

Yokokawa ordered whiskey from the waiter.

“What kind of movie are you filming now?” asked Bibi.

“It’s boring,” sighed Sarako. “An American knockoff.”

“‘American knockoff’… Hmm, that title’s rather interesting.”

“It’s not the title,” corrected Yokokawa. “They took the plot from an American film and adapted it for Japan.” He snapped his fingers trying to recall: “Now, what was it… ‘A Bite for You,’ was it? That one’s quite entertaining though.”

Sarako: “The theme song is a new composition.”
“Something like this…” (sings)

At first I tried to get angry, but—

This has gone too far, and now—

No backing down—darting here and there,
Lashing out wildly, and before I knew—
With all this chaos, the world had shifted—
Now even seeing people makes me want to laugh—

Ohoho Ahaha Ehehe

Ufufu Ihihi Ohoho

Bibi (imitating):

Hahaha Ehehe Ihihi

Ohoho Ufufu Ahaha….

○ On an open-top car.

Sarako and Bibi were riding side by side.

Bibi: “So Mr. Yokokawa has this car to chauffeur you around, then.”

Sarako: “He lends it whenever I want to use it.”

Bibi: “So there really are people with special dedication after all.”

A long silence.

Bibi: “That was quick—we’re already here.”

The car stopped in front of Sarako’s house.

Sarako: “Well then, this time I’ll take you home.”
“Where is your place?”

Bibi: Kōenji, outside the city….

Sarako: (To the driver) Please head to Kōenji.

The car started moving.

A long silence.

Bibi: "It’s quite a ways."

Sarako: "Fine…"

Bibi: "There's quite a breeze."
(pressed down his hat)

Sarako: "How true."

○ A dark road in the suburbs.

Bibi: “Don’t you feel lonely?”
“A place like this?”

“And you?”
“You first.”

A long silence.

Bibi: “Whoa—left at that side street….”

Pause.

Bibi: “Right there—to the right….”

Pause.

“Right again….”

Pause.

Bibi: “At the dead end, left….”
“Almost there, stop!”

The two exchanged glances.

Bibi: “Let me escort you home once more.”
(to Driver) “Hey—sorry about this—turn back.”

Sarako: “It’s my house.”

The car started moving.

○ In front of Sarako’s house.

The car stopped.

Sarako stared fixedly at Bibi’s face and made no move to get out.

“Goodbye. Good night.”

“No need—I’ll take you home once more.”

“I’m a bit parched, you see.”

“Then let’s have something to drink around here…”
(whispering something to the driver)

The car started moving again.

○ In front of a café.

The two got out of the car.

◯ Inside the café.
They settled into a corner booth.
A waitress approached.

Sarako: “Yes?”

Bibi: “Plain soda.”

Sarako: “Two, then.”

The waitress brought the soda water.
The two silently put straws to their lips.
Though they occasionally stole glances at each other from under their brows, their gazes finally met.

A smile.

The soda water in the cup gradually diminished.

When they finished drinking, they simultaneously raised their faces, straws still clenched between their teeth.
Then, exchanging deep smiles eye to eye, they gradually brought the tips of their straws closer together.
They eventually touched lightly.
Then, one sound—close to a bass, the other near an alto—a playful noise of sucking on empty straws—could be heard with perfect naturalness as signifying their first kiss.

―THE END―

While musical accompaniment was of course necessary for the film adaptation of this script, it was decided that songs would absolutely not be used in the dialogue parts.