Afterword
I’VE ALWAYS WANTED to write a good, solid novel.
Not necessarily one that will stick with people throughout their entire lives, or change their entire worldview, or that people will still be talking about in literature classes two hundred years from now, mind you. Just a plain old compelling narrative, with a magnetic world and characters that can draw readers in and make them forget all their real-world woes, regrets, jealousies, or whatever else might be irritating them at that particular moment. A real page-turner that, by the time people reach the ending, will make them look up at the clock and be amazed by how many hours flew by without them even noticing. Almost like the book itself has the capacity to slow the flow of time for the reader, even as the outside world continues speeding on by. Kind of like the Urashima effect. That’s one thing that all the best novels have in common, if you ask me.
I’ve spent many a night mulling endlessly over thoughts like this, like a rambling drunkard who can’t hold his liquor nearly as well as he thinks he can. But if this, my very first ever novel, managed to pull you in like I’ve just described, I think that would be the greatest reward that I, as an author, could ever ask for.
Not to imply that I could ever have done this alone, however.
To my editor, Hamada-sensei: Thank you for all of the laser-focused advice you gave me back when I didn’t know the first thing about being a professional writer. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to have an editor who’s as passionate about my story as I am.
To the extremely talented KUKKA-sensei, who provided the beautiful art for this book: When I first laid eyes upon your jaw-dropping cover illustration, I remember I froze in place and thought to myself, “Wow. Now I really need to make a story that lives up to this artwork.” It was so stunning, it legitimately took my breath away.
To the guest examiner on the judges’ panel, Asai Labo-sensei: Your written notes about my original manuscript were so in-depth, I felt like they gave me my first proper glimpse into the world of being a professional author. I will endeavor to continue writing novels in a way that will not bring shame to your glowing endorsement on the cover of this book.
To my dear older sister: Thank you for always lending me an ear whenever I needed advice or a sanity check. You were my first fan and my first critic long before I ever submitted any writing to anyone else, and it was much appreciated… I pray you’ll always remain in sound health and mind for the rest of your days.
And to my past self, who always dreamed of being an author someday: All those long days you spent writing, pouring your heart and soul onto the page as impatience and regret over your life choices slowly crept up on you? They finally paid off here, in this book. Sure, you had to take a fair few detours and make a whole lot of mistakes to get here, but just look—it wasn’t all for nothing, now was it? Thanks for never giving up on your dreams.
Finally, I’d like to thank all the other people who had a hand in bringing this book to life aside from those few whose names I’ve written above. I’m sorry I don’t have all the space in the world to thank each and every one of you. Please know that you’ll forever have my undying gratitude for your equally important contributions.
On that note, dear reader, I leave you. Until we meet again.
MEI HACHIMOKU
2019