On a day in late December, the Branch Hill editorial team was holding their end-of-year party at an izakaya in the Shinjuku neighborhood of Tokyo. Ayane Mitahora, the assistant editor-in-chief, lifted her glass for a toast.
“Here’s to a great year, everyone! We’ll still have to go to work tomorrow, but we’ve wrapped up the worst of it, so for today, let’s just party it up! This place is known for its Chinese cuisine, and they got shark fin soup and Peking duck and stuff! The president will pay for however much we overshoot our budget, so I don’t want any of you worrying about money, got it?!”
“I said nothing of the sort.” Nobunaga Shirogamine, president of Branch Hill, squinted at Ayane. She just laughed it off.
“Ah-ha-hah! Why do you think we called you in here, president?!”
“I’m also the editor-in-chief, remember… You’re the only person I know who’d invite the president of a company to make him buy shark fin soup and Peking duck for you…”
But Shirogamine shrugged and laughed to himself.
“Okay, that sounds like permission to me! Cheers!!”
“““Cheers!!”””
The editors all clinked glasses with whoever was nearby. Miyako shared the toast with several coworkers before downing her Asahi Extra Cold. The thicker, richer beer Haruto and Itsuki normally drank was good and all, but there was nothing like a lager designed to be thrown back with abandon. When it came to fried foods like yakitori and chicken, nothing paired better.
There were six people in Branch Hill Bunko’s editorial department, Ayane and Miyako included. Nobunaga Shirogamine was also serving as editor-in-chief, mainly so someone would take responsibility if things broke bad, but otherwise he took a hands-off approach to the label. A lot of things were left to the discretion of the individual Branch Hill Bunko editors; they all stuck to their own style, which meant there wasn’t that much cohesion between them, but working together for three years, a natural sort of team spirit and camaraderie was taking form. Today, especially, when they had just made it through the worst of the pre-holiday rush, the whole editorial team was partying it up.
“You kicked ass again this year, Shirakawa,” said Shirogamine.
“Oh no, I still have a while to go,” Miyako meekly replied.
“Uh-uh. You’re already one of our ace editors. Other publishers fear you, you know. They call you ‘the lady pirate of Branch Hill.’”
“Oh, stop that! It’s really awkward for me!”
Miyako blushed as she protested Shirogamine’s ribbing.
All of the writers she was supervising at the moment were veterans with experience contributing to other publishers. GF Bunko was a particularly popular starting point for many of them, and first among them was Sota Izumi, aka Steak Tsukemono, who became a web novelist after things fell apart between him and GF. The second was Itsuki Hashima. He was originally supposed to release just one novel through Branch Hill, but in the end, the publisher turned into his main outlet. The third was Sushita Nakashima, who won a prize at the 16th GF Bunko New Writers Contest with My Sisters Come from Parallel Universes; he looked up to his idol Itsuki Hashima so much that he broke the three-year exclusivity rule and followed him over to Branch Hill. Hikari Kairo, the young grand prize winner at the 16th GF Bunko contest with Searching for the Heart, didn’t hit it off with her editor and also switched to Branch Hill after Nakashima introduced her to Miyako and they meshed well.
None of this was due to Miyako proactively headhunting authors from anywhere, and yet she had violated the unwritten three-year rule and taken four writers—including Hikari Kairo, hailed as the potential second coming of Nayuta Kani—who had won prizes from GF Bunko. This turned into a big controversy, enough so that GF editor-in-chief Godo personally went over to Branch Hill to file a protest.
What’s more, Yohei Kitagata, a writer for GF, had also taken all his copyrights—including for Sillies, a hit that was a candidate for anime adaptation—and jumped ship to Branch Hill as well. He didn’t work with Miyako and hadn’t placed in any GF Bunko writer contests, but Kitagata knew Miyako from her days part-timing at GF. He’d asked her for a reference to some other editor, and she had simply obliged—but to the external observer, this was Miyako being ruthless as ever.
It should be noted that authors moving copyrights around is a huge deal for both a writer and the publisher, one that requires a lot of annoying paperwork. Kitagata went through with it because GF refused to issue reprints of his work—they were sold out, but the publisher didn’t want to take on any more inventory of his series and figured the readers would make do with the e-book versions. In the modern era where anyone can easily sell e-books by themselves, the biggest reason why writers sign on with publishers at all is because they’re willing to risk taking on unsold inventory in place of the writer—and that was hardly an exaggeration.
This wasn’t the first case of a writer ditching a publisher for not holding up their end of the bargain, and it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. Bad blood between sales teams that want to keep inventory to a minimum and editorial teams that want to keep expanding sales as much as possible was hardly rare in this business; it was seen in every publisher, Branch Hill included, and Miyako’s own team would sometimes have to engage in strained talks with the sales team.
But enough about that. The point is that Miyako had gained a reputation among writers for never abandoning the ones relying on her, and so she was attracting novelists who (for whatever reason) couldn’t quite work it out with other firms. This was why other editorial teams feared her as a female buccaneer, sailing the high seas on the HMS Branch Hill in search of new authors to ruthlessly plunder.
Meanwhile, Miyako’s boss Ayane Mitahora, while not enjoying the same notoriety, had a knack for snapping up web novel authors coveted by other companies, talented artists who could handle anime adaptations, decent animation production companies, and so forth. People spoke of her in hushed tones as Branch Hill’s P. T. Barnum, always pulling a scam to draw new talent to her team’s side. Some even referred to their boss Nobunaga Shirogamine, Branch Hill Bunko’s editor-in-chief, as the publishing industry’s Calico Jack—a real-life Caribbean pirate captain who became known for having two female crew members, Mary Read and Anne Bonny.
“Whenever I trade business cards with other editors,” griped Miyako, “they all stare at me like ‘Ah! The pirate captain herself!’ I wish I could do something about that…”
“You should be proud of it. Other publishers fear us.”
She scowled at Shirogamine’s interpretation. “But I think it’s a problem if my reputation runs too far ahead of me. Because, I mean, it hasn’t gone well with everyone who’s leaned on me…”
Miyako had gained quite a reputation in the business as someone who kept making hits with talent from GF Bunko, but not even she had a perfect record. Her tendency to focus on trusting relationships and work on writers and projects until she was satisfied with them led to complaints from some of her clients—“her instructions are so vague, I’m not sure what she wants from me”; “I wish she’d be clearer about what exactly she wants to see fixed,” “editors shouldn’t be too friendly with writers; I want a more businesslike relationship.”
What’s more, many of the writers who came to her had run into trouble with other publishers thanks to their own misconduct—but when she frankly pointed it out, almost none of them could accept facts. Ayane and other veteran editors could wriggle their way around these problems and keep a firm hold on the reins, but Miyako didn’t have that kind of technical skill. She just somehow found a way to build a rapport with “unique” geniuses like Itsuki Hashima and Hikari Kairo; she wasn’t the type of editor who could work well with everybody.
“When you’re talking about a writer and editor, they’re all people, you know. There’s lots of examples of a writer being driven up the wall by one editor, but another writer loving the same editor like their own mother. You really can’t tell unless you start working with each other.”
“That’s totally true.”
“Right, so keep on picking up writers from other publishers, please. Why don’t you have Nayuta Kani write for us, even? You know her, don’t you?”
Shirogamine was making a pretty bold statement here, whether he was just joking or not. It made Miyako tense up. If she headhunted her on top of everyone else, she’d never be able to face up to GF Bunko editorial again.
But then:
✦ ✦ ✦
“Sounds like you’re talking about something interesting over there.”