MTL: Dexter
FTL(Hardest Part): KayL
TLC/Editor: Alisa
Final Editors: G-String
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Afterwords
Hello, it’s Hiromu here.
First and foremost, I have some news to share. The highly acclaimed “Chiramune × Fukui Collaboration” will be returning for its “2nd Season”! The event is scheduled from August 19th, 2022 (Friday) to October 30th, 2022 (Sunday). It’s set to surpass the previous edition in terms of fulfilling experience, so be sure to check out the details and latest updates on the Fukui City Tourism Official Site, “Fuku Iro.”
Also, if you found yourself wondering “what’s going on?” during Volume 7, I kindly request that you consider reading Volume 6.5. I understand that not everyone is drawn to short story collections, but that volume was written as a substantial part of the main story. It plays a significant role in the latter part. Important stories such as Yuuko’s growth, Yuzuki’s Snow White, Asu-nee’s visit to URALA (the publishing company), the chair that Yua occupied at Saku’s house, and the match between Haru and the senpais are all compiled in Volume 6.5. It’s an essential read to fully enjoy the latter half, so please do consider giving it a read.
Now, I must admit that writing afterwords has never been my strong suit. Usually, I’d elaborate on the finer details of the collaboration, maybe stretch it out a bit (ha!), throw in a slightly emotional episode or a trivial anecdote, and wrap it up.
Honestly, that’s why I’ve been debating whether to include what I’m about to share in this afterword right until the very end. I’m still grappling with it even as I start writing, and I intend to consult it with my editor, Iwaasa-san, once I’m done.
The thing is, I generally abide by a principle of not discussing my own interpretations, behind-the-scenes stories, or personal narratives related to my work in either SNS or afterwords. I believe that what I want to convey should be presented within the story itself, and I hope readers will take away only what can be gleaned from there. In my view, it’s unnecessary to establish a connection between the work and its creator (I don’t intend to criticize other authors who hold a different stance on this matter; please understand that this is solely my personal belief).
Furthermore, I never make overly negative statements in public that go beyond the realm of humor. This is because I believe that my personal negative emotions would translate into noise in my work.
However, just this once, I’m willing to set aside that principle and offer a glimpse into the behind-the-scenes and some personal anecdotes.
This might lead me to express some negative emotions (though it’ll ultimately end on a hopeful note), but I want to make it clear that it’s not driven by a need to vent or a desire for others to understand my struggles.
I always prioritize Chiramune over my own emotions, and if I had deemed it would have a negative impact on the work, I definitely wouldn’t have brought it to light like this.
However, for this Volume 7, an inexplicable feeling haunted me, whispering, “Could it be that I’m supposed to tell this story to close it?”
This is a new experience for me, so it might still end up being extraneous or even potentially disruptive noise to the work.
I want to emphasize again that what follows will include behind-the-scenes insights into Volume 7’s production and some personal anecdotes related to the work. There’s a possibility that it might contain negative emotions that readers may not want to hear about.
Naturally, the decision of whether to read this or not is up to you.
If you’d rather not know about these things (I’m personally the type who definitely wouldn’t want to know), you can skip from the asterisk (*) onwards and and simply read the thanks section before closing the book.
By the way, due to spoilers, be sure to read this after finishing the main part.
With that said, I want to share a little (I’ll switch to informal language from here on).
In Volume 7, I fell into a slump like I’ve never experienced before.
Since my debut, there have been countless tough moments, but those were all about the pain of creativity, like thinking “Maybe I could come up with a more clever metaphor,” or “Perhaps I could depict it with more passion,” or “I should be able to make this more moving.” They were all the natural struggles that come with the creative process.
The inability to progress, the absence of fitting words – these are situations I’ve grown accustomed to long ago.
However, this time, the struggle was different in quality and depth from anything I’d experienced before.
──I couldn’t write the novel.
It might sound overly dramatic, but that’s the closest way I can put it into words.
I really began to doubt whether I had actually released seven books as an author. When I tried to start writing, not a single word would come to me, and I couldn’t touch the world of Chiramune.
Of course, I could fill in the blanks with some trite phrases, but even as I padded out the pages bit by bit,
──This isn’t Chiramune.
That voice echoed in my mind throughout.
I’ve talked about this in various places, but I truly believe that I’m the biggest fan of this work. Since Volume 1, I’ve been writing Chiramune because it’s what I, myself, want to read. Naturally, if it ends up resonating with the hearts of readers, that would be the most wonderful thing.
However, precisely because I hold the highest expectations for Chiramune and, at the same time, scrutinizes it with a critical eye, I couldn’t tolerate bland and uninspiring words being strung together out of habit.
Neither passionate nor beautiful, they weren’t tinged with yearning or pain. It felt like I was trampling over the world of Chiramune, and my heart was about to burst.
The reason is clear.
In Volume 6, after passing through that August and reaching September, they, the characters, were all seeking a momentary respite. They longed to surrender themselves to the return of normalcy.
No one was taking the initiative, and as an author, I couldn’t force characters to move against their will.
I’ve talked about this as well – I’m merely observing the story that they, the characters, are weaving, and I’m transcribing it into the form of writing. I can’t intervene in their world.
This stagnation was the necessary kind that was bound to come. All I needed to do was accept it and depict tranquil times. I knew that in my head.
But simultaneously, in the reality separated from the story, I had to face vivid, practical issues.
In particular, “Kono Rano” kept flashing through my mind.
I know that I’m being expected to achieve a “triple crown” by those who support me and all the enthusiastic fans. The expectations were more like “You definitely can, right?” rather than “Can you do it?” It was an innocent anticipation that Chiramune would naturally accomplish such a feat.
Though I’d rather pretend I don’t care, I couldn’t help but be conscious of it, and at the same time, I’m acutely aware that it’s not all that simple.
I knew that I couldn’t stake it all on just Volume 6.5. I realized that if I were to confront it head-on, I absolutely needed to release Volume 7 that marks the start of the latter half of the series, no matter what, before the August deadline for voting.
Moreover, it had to be a wholehearted, all-out effort, a book where I squeezed out every last bit of myself. At the very least, if I turned Volume 7 into just a simple, tranquil depiction of everyday life, I wouldn’t stand a chance on the battleground.
However, the members of Team Chitose aren’t making any moves, even though that’s what I wanted.
I’m the type of writer who can only write while deeply connected to the story and characters, which means I’m inevitably swayed by their emotions with every volume. For instance, Volume 4 had an intensity that blazed like fire, and Volume 6 contained profound sadness, despair, and the glimmer of hope emerging from it.
Whenever I write about the characters’ emotions, they become my own emotions at that moment.
And what Volume 7 brought was stagnation.
Their stagnation became my own stagnation as well.
The only difference was that while it was a tranquil and content stagnation for the characters, for me as a writer in real life, it was an agonizing and frustrating kind of stagnation that I couldn’t escape.
There were two weighty matters that bore down on my shoulders.
One was, naturally, the expectations of the readers as we move into the latter half of the series.
Secondly, the competition with myself, who had written up to Volume 6.
I’ve said this many times before, but I’ve always given it my all without holding back each time. This is exactly why, as I headed into the latter half, my remaining cards grew limited.
If redoing things were an option, things would have been simpler.
Introduce a new heroine, put her in a tough situation, and have Chitose Saku swoop in to elegantly solve it – easy solution.
But in reality, within the narrative, the characters have all grown, and their relationships have evolved, so I can’t do the same things as before.
Additionally, resorting to repeating a method that once succeeded would be conceding defeat to my past self.
I want to keep evolving indefinitely, and if possible, with each new volume, I wish to offer readers fresh surprises, encounters, joys, endearments, sorrows, and struggles.
…Can I really depict a latter half that surpasses the first?
Even though I’d always harbored this uneasiness deep within, as expected, I confronted the stagnation of Volume 7.
Like feeling my way through a labyrinth, I was embarking on a lengthy battle without a visible exit.
In essence, I’m not the type to create elaborate plots, so not being able to see ahead is a familiar scenario each time. But one thing I always held onto was the sense that it would definitely become interesting in the end.
However, this time was different. I couldn’t see anything at all.
No matter how many times I rubbed my temples, my mind was a void. Even though I tried to depict the characters’ tranquil daily lives, the nagging worry crawled up from beneath that maybe, just maybe, the story would end with everyone simply amiably preparing for the school festival until the very end.
There’s a principle I’ve set for myself when writing series.
It’s natural, and even welcome, for readers to have different favorite volumes. Yet, there’s one thing I’ve always vowed not to create: those called bridging or filler volumes.
Even if it played a specific role within the series, I still wanted each volume to craft a story that lingers in the hearts of readers.
But at this rate, Volume 7 might just end up as a mere transition. It wouldn’t live up to the expectations of readers eagerly anticipating the latter half, and I wouldn’t be able to surpass my past self.
Not as an exaggeration or metaphor, but more like knocking on a stagnant heart, I wrote while pounding my fist against my chest multiple times.
I make it a habit to run 10 kilometers every day, and as I ran, I’d pray, “I don’t want to stop yet,” “I want to keep running,” “I don’t want to end here,” and then I’d write.
Even if it all ended up scrapped later on, I wrote with the hope that something might become clear if I kept writing.
From early mornings to late nights, aside from meals and running, I dedicated all my time to writing.
Honestly, I knew that if I were to just give up on Kono Rano, things would get a little easier. Stopping here would allow me to take an easy way out.
Being the first author to achieve back-to-back victories as a debut, it’s a more than sufficient. I received appreciative recognition from the public and received gifts from all the fans who support me.
Even if I were to stop here, with this sense of contentment, no one around me would raise any objections.
Still, if I still wanted to continue aiming for the next goal, then from here on, it’s merely a battle with my own pride.
However, taking that step forward would force me to confront the fear that this time, I might lose to my past self.
…Alright, let’s call it quits. I suppose I could get away with just Volume 6.5.
Let’s delay the release date and take the time to fully engage with this story. It would be disingenuous to rush and release something of low quality; our readers deserve better.
I couldn’t even begin to count how many times I’ve nearly succumbed to such temptations.
But what kept me going was what Chiramune taught me:
──Reach out to the moon.
No one knows the future, but it’s worth giving it your all. Even if you crumble in the process, that’s okay. However, it’s absolutely wrong to make excuses and flee before even stepping into the battle.
I refused to avert my gaze, to selfishly assume I’ve had enough, to give up on Chiramune. If there’s still a chance, even if it’s a slim one, I want to stretch my hand out.
That’s what I’ve been writing all along.
It’s cool to be passionate, to fiercely seize the moment ahead, even if you stumble. That’s the proof of challenging yourself, believing in possibilities, facing forward, and chasing dreams.
Because if I don’t show that way of living more than anyone else, it wouldn’t be fair to the story of Chiramune, nor to the readers who have believed and followed along.
Besides, I held on to just one hope.
A girl named Nozomi Kureha.
I had decided to introduce an underclassman here, so her presence would set the story in motion.
But apart from her name and a vague image of her appearance, I hadn’t thought about anything else. I didn’t know her personality, the words she’d say, or the emotions she’d carry until she actually appeared.
And then came the scene of the cheering squad’s first meeting.
At that moment, I was abruptly swallowed by a deep despair.
Simply adding one straightforward and cute girl didn’t change the stagnation; time didn’t even flinch. That was probably the final trigger.
When I returned from my evening run, I found myself unable to write a single word.
My mind was clouded with a swirling sense of restlessness, and a dark unease churned within me. Not a single word surfaced. When I placed my hands on the keyboard, they began to tremble like a joke. My breath was shallow, as though I were still in the midst of running, despite I should’ve cooled down by now.
I no longer wanted to write; the act had become terrifying. It was the first time I felt this way.
I was convinced that I would ruin Chiramune with my own hands.
──Ah, it’s over now.
I considered contacting Iwaasa-san to postpone the release indefinitely.
From my debut until now, I had relentlessly pushed forward with unwavering determination. I thought maybe taking a break for about six months and then starting again might be a good idea.
Half committed, half dazed, my fingers started typing on my phone nonetheless;
“Anxiety over-the-counter medicine herbal”
Writing every day is akin to running every day, I believe. Once you stop and think “Not today,” it’s hard to start running again. So, if I gave up this time and said, “It’s okay to stop now,” I’m certain I’d never be able to write the Chiramune I love ever again.
I got into my car while holding my chest without even realizing it, heading for the drugstore.
For the record, I’m someone who’s considered to have a strong mental state, and this was, of course, my first experience trying to use medicine to mask a mental unease.
I started the engine and rolled down the windows for a bit of fresh air.
I connected my phone to the car’s audio via Bluetooth and turned up the volume, setting it to shuffle all songs.
The surroundings were already on the brink of dusk.
As I drove, with the wind blowing through the window, I repeatedly asked myself whether I should push on a bit further or stop here. There was a premonition that my spirit might break if just one thing went wrong, like not finding the medicine or herbal remedy I was looking for at the drugstore.
And then, I reached the overpass on the way.
The western sky was ablaze with a deep red.
It was then that the lyrics of the song playing through the speakers touched my heart.
「夕焼け空きれいだと思う, The evening sky, I think it’s beautiful
心をどうか殺さないで, Please, don’t kill my heart」
Almost imperceptibly, tears began to flow.
It was BUMP OF CHICKEN’s “Have You Ever Seen the Crimson Sky?”.
Honestly, up until this very moment, I’d thought it was a nice song, but it wasn’t anything particularly special to me. Yet, those few simple words, bathed in warm twilight hues, embraced my heart that was on the verge of giving up.
This is a true story that sounds like a lie.
I contemplated writing an afterword that went against my beliefs not because I wanted others to understand my pain, but because I wanted to share with everyone the remarkable realization that even in our struggles, sometimes they can find solace.
As tears trickled down my cheeks, the song ended, and I hastily put the same song on repeat.
「言葉ばかり必死になって, Even though I struggled with just words
やっと幾つか覚えたのに, I finally managed to memorize some」
「いろんな世界を覗く度に, Each time I peek into various worlds
いろんな事が恥ずかしくなった, I become embarassed by many things」
「子供のままじゃみっともないからと, Because it’s embarrassing to be a child forever
爪先で立つ本当のガキだ, I stand on my tiptoes, acting like a kid」
「そんな心馬鹿正直に, Being so naively honest in the heart
話すことを馬鹿にしないで, Don’t belittle speaking openly」
「大切な人に唄いたい, I want to sing for my cherished person
聴こえているのかも解らない, I don’t know if they can hear it
だからせめて続けたい, So I want to keep going at least
続ける意味さえ解らない, Even if I don’t understand the meaning of continuing」
Each word that I had always overlooked gradually seeped in.
The memories of my youth spent listening to BUMP, the feelings from the time when I read novels like crazy, the impulse that led me to try writing stories myself, and the days of literal running since my debut.
The reason I continue to write Chiramune.
Many thoughts crossed my mind, but they would sound so trivial if put into words.
──Let’s keep writing.
I just felt that naturally.
Afterward, I bought medicine and herbal remedies from the drugstore as a sort of charms and headed back.
This truly seems like fiction, but right after that, another strange occurrence happened.
First, in the drugstore’s parking lot. As I thought about how great BUMP is, I decided to narrow down the random playback to just BUMP’s songs this time.
The first song that began playing was, unsurprisingly, “Have You Ever Seen the Crimson Sky?”.
It was as if this song was exactly what I needed right now—almost like it was saying, “You need to listen to this today.”
So, on the way back, I found myself repeatedly singing “Have You Ever Seen the Crimson Sky?” while letting the song play in a loop.
Thanks to that, my heart felt considerably lighter.
Still, the stagnation remained, and nothing had truly been resolved. The unease of whether I can truly continue writing, whether I can keep running, didn’t fade.
And so, as I approached the same overpass on my way back,
“────────────────────────”
For the first time, Kureha spoke of her own accord.
While I’ll keep this part covered for now, it was her climax in the main story, the final words spoken on the rooftop. Like a dam bursting, the words she wanted to convey flowed one after another.
Finally, I understood why the kouhai girl had appeared before Saku and the others, and before me.
Ah, I see.
Kureha is fighting, resisting her fate. If that’s the case, then I have an obligation to witness it through to the end.
With that resolve, the writing flowed as if the stagnation that had almost broken my spirit was a lie.
Looking back, every passages that I thought not fitting for Chiramune were indeed Chiramune. It seems I had been able to scoop up the stories they needed all along.
By trimming the rough edges and polishing the obscured words, meaning was born. I must help Kureha, who’s about to start running, stand at the starting line.
With that sentiment in my heart, I managed to write until the end.
In the end, regardless of what anyone may say, I believe Volume 7 turned out to be a fitting opening for the second half of Chiramune series.
And with that, thank you so much for accompanying me on this lengthy self-narration. Just as Kureha found her hero in herself, my heroes for Volume 7 are BUMP and Kureha.
From this point onward, I believe that I, without a doubt, have been saved by words and stories, and this volume will remind me of that.
Having shaken off stagnation in Volume 7, I am convinced that I can keep running until I witness the end of Chiramune. To all you readers, I sincerely hope you’ll stick with me until the very end.
Now, let me extend my gratitude.
To the illustrator, raemz-san. Since I had already finished the manuscript, I was a bit anxious about whether the character design for Kureha, who holds a special place in my heart, would turn out as I imagined. However, with such boldness, you blew away those timid worries and gave us the incredible Kureha. Your art breathed life into this girl, raemz-san!
To my editor, Iwaasa-san. This volume became a test of resolve in many ways, and I’m truly thankful for accompanying me with the same fervor. Your passionate feedback since Volume 4 finally felt like a rewarding culmination. I pondered till the very last moment whether to include this postscript, but your words, “This is also a part of Chiramune. It’s painful to imagine this story not coming to life in this world,” gave me the resolve.
To everyone else involved in promotion, proofreading, and all aspects of Chiramune, and most importantly, to all the readers who’ve continued to follow me on this journey, I extend my heartfelt gratitude.
May this story pierce through your melancholy as well.
Hiromu
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Plebian Translation 