Ogusu Nanoka
“IF YOU COULD CHANGE THE WORLD, what would you wish for, Ogusu-san?”
“Oh, I’d wish for a world in which there’s always a second chance. In my ideal world, we could go back to the branching points and make new choices, or redo moments that didn’t turn out quite right, no matter how many years have passed. Over time, I believe that flexibility would enable us to mend generational divides, class conflict, even the gender gap…and I feel the same way about the stories I write.”
“That sounds like a great world to live in. Okay, before we wrap up, do you have a message for the readers at home?”
“Well, it’s a bit cliché, but I wish them good health and happiness.”
“Thank you. This concludes our interview. Once again, thank you so much for all your time today.”
When the interviewer bowed to her, Ogusu Nanoka bowed back at him from across the table. “Likewise! I hardly ever get to do anything besides go on walks or sit at home and write, so I had a lot of fun.”
“That reminds me—I read in a different interview that you have a pet cat. Do you bring it on your walks with you?”
“Mmm, I’m not sure ‘pet’ is the right word. She eats, sleeps, and comes and goes as she pleases.”
“Semi-feral, I take it? It’s actually adorable just how self-reliant cats are…”
She would have been content to carry on chatting with this apparent cat lover, but then her editor cut in to request an exchange of business cards. As social rituals went, it was rather dull, so instead Nanoka gazed out at the city through the window of the tall building. Below, she could see people and cars bustling past.
“What are you looking at, Ogusu-san?”
Once the boring formalities were over with, the editor walked over to her as she stood beside the window. Since the interview focused on her work as a creative, the magazine had contacted the publisher directly to arrange it, which was why her editor was also in attendance.
“Oh, nothing. Perhaps you couldn’t hear us, Kokubo-san, with how loud this district gets, but we were actually having a pleasant chat about cats right here in this very room.”
“Well then, I apologize. Must you always be so passive-aggressive?”
The woman’s scowl of annoyance made Nanoka giggle.
It was the publisher who had reserved this room. The cat-loving interviewer gave one final, deep bow, then quietly walked out. Stretching her arms widely, Nanoka thanked the cameraman and the account executive for their hard work.
“And thank you, too, Kokubo-san. Any notes on today’s events?” She always made sure to check with her editor for feedback, just in case.
“Nothing in particular. At most, I prayed the world would realize what a bully you can be. Is that okay?”
“I think they can already tell—not that I’m a bully, but my general disposition.” When she realized the conversation was making the other staff members uncomfortable, Nanoka tacked on a half-hearted explanation: “We’re peers, so it’s fine.”
“Any plans after this, Ogusu-san? If you’d care to grab lunch…”
“Now that you mention it, I am feeling a bit peckish.”
“I know a place nearby. I can give them a call if you like.”
“Could you? Fair warning, though: I’ve already had my fill of talking about work.”
“Don’t say the quiet part out loud, please.”
And so it was decided that they would go out to lunch, just the two of them. Kokubo had attempted to invite the cameraman and account executive along, but both had other work to take care of.
Together, they walked out of the large room and boarded the elevator. When the change of elevation made her ears block up, Nanoka exhaled through her pinched nose to pop them.
Outside on the sidewalk, she followed Kokubo to a building that, on the outside, looked like a secondhand clothing store. Inside, they were directed to sit at a table with alarmingly soft booth seating. Someone might mess up their back sitting here, Nanoka worried needlessly.
“Why is it you editors seem to have more sophisticated diets than authors do?”
“Only in public. When I’m at home, I may as well eat cereal for every meal.”
“And yet your salary is higher than almost any author’s.”
“You’re one to talk, considering yours is too, ma’am.”
The host handed each of them a menu. Scanning it, Nanoka quickly decided on the omurice, which was described as “thick and half-runny.” Kokubo ordered a pasta dish, and both of them requested a glass of orange juice to drink. It was Nanoka’s favorite beverage, and now Kokubo was hooked on it, too.
“That reminds me—did you hear the latest about Gotou Julia-san?”
“What about her? I listen to her music fairly often when I’m at home.”
“As punishment for showing up late to a concert, she’s been selling CDs in person at record stores and music venues.”
“Interesting. Perhaps I’ll pay her a visit if I get the chance. If it’s anything like the bookstore tours they ask me to do, I feel sorry for her.”
“As if you’ve ever once gone on a bookstore tour!”
“True. It doesn’t strike me as especially necessary. A book’s worth doesn’t change just because its author is personable or likeable. And if it’s about ‘showing gratitude to the bookstores,’ well, I’d prefer to do that by writing better and better stories for them to sell.”
“That’s just…I don’t know if this is the right word, but…that’s just savage.”
“I shall interpret that to mean noble.”
The orange juice arrived, followed not long after by each of their entrees. Looking at the table spread, Nanoka realized there wasn’t a single vegetable to be seen. She thought about putting in another order, but if they had to wait for a salad at this point, both the food and the mood would go cold. Grabbing her spoon, she shoveled a big bite of omurice into her mouth like a child.
“Say, I just remembered—this isn’t feedback, per se, but during the interview I thought of a new question about Girl’s March, if you wouldn’t mind me asking.”
“Not at all, as long as you don’t mind your pasta going cold.”
“I’m eating it, thank you! It’s just… The interviewer mentioned how the readers see themselves in the story through the eyes of the protagonist, but I was wondering if maybe The Girl isn’t really the protagonist at all. Surely some readers self-insert into the other characters, right?”
“Hee!” Upon hearing this question from her assigned editor, Nanoka let out an eerie cackle. Before answering, she took another bite of omurice, letting the egg, sauce, and rice fill her mouth. Then she chewed it thoroughly, right down to the tiny pieces of mushroom and onion, before swallowing. “In that case, who would you suggest is the protagonist?”
“If not The Girl, Ai would be the next best choice. Although an argument could be made for the Record Keeper, too.”
“I see,” Nanoka nodded, sipping her orange juice. “Well, you’re not wrong. In this story, the perspective and timeframe just so happen to favor The Girl, that’s all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Should either of those two things shift, any other character could easily take the spotlight. Even one whose name was never given.”
“Right. So you’re saying everyone is the main character, then.”
“No, I’m saying no one is.”
“Ogusu-san, you’ve got a little something on your cheek…”
“Oh dear.”
“Nope, other side.”
Nanoka dabbed at her face with a napkin, as indicated by her editor. The white paper stained reddish-brown, like a wicked thought descending on the human heart. She balled it up and tucked it under her plate.
“Surely a lady such as yourself could have said so a little more discreetly.”
“Yes, well, you were eating in quite the girlish fashion,” Kokubo shot back offhandedly as she twirled her pasta neatly around her fork.
“Girlish! It’s been so long since anyone called me that. Thank you for indulging me.”
“Oh, you’re very welcome. Wait, this isn’t about your table manners! What do you mean, no one is the main character?”
“My, I was rather hoping you’d forgotten. Yes, that’s right. Not once, during the story or any of the interviews, have I said any one particular character is the protagonist.”
This time, Nanoka lifted a small amount with her spoon and gently slid it into her mouth. The description of “runny” certainly wasn’t for show, because the egg rolled across her tongue like it was trying to escape.