I am a writer in Tokyo

Chapter 234 Village
Oshima Kazuya continued, "So, how to shift the attention of most people or the courts to empathy, this is the key to the problem." Having said that, the two looked at Kitajima Koma with burning eyes.

Kitajima Koma was silent for a moment. It sounded like a sinking literature was about to return to its peak, but looking at Oshima Kazuya's eyes, it seemed as if he was asking for more updates.

In fact, Kitajima Koma had some ideas about this matter, but he didn't know where to start. Now that Oshima Kazuya and Matsuo Tsutomu have brought it up, he has some ideas.

From this we can see that a good editor is very important.

"This article must be written quickly." Seeing that Kitajima was moved, Oshima Kazuya pressed on and said, "We all know that your writing is infectious, and this kind of infectious writing is the most influential in moving people's hearts."

“Perhaps we cannot call it sinking literature, because our eyes have never left it. I would rather call it a statement of a phenomenon.”

Oshima Kazuya continued to talk about a lot of irrelevant things, but Koma's mind had already flown away to who knows where else.

"I think, if possible, we should go to the old man's hometown to take a look." Kitajima Koma looked at Matsuo Tsutomu. He knew that this kind of information would not be difficult for a lawyer to obtain.

The lawyer didn't quite understand what Koma meant. Just as he was about to ask, he saw Oshima Kazuya's face full of excitement. He was shouting some words like "Long live victory". Then he saw the senior editor who was a little unsteady said to him: "Mr. Matsuo, Koma usually tries to look there when he writes something. This way he can have better ideas, just like his previous works."

"Previous work?"

"Yes, the dancing girls from the Snow Country and Izu and stuff like that."

Mr. Matsuo also became a little excited now. He felt the same way as Mr. Ito had felt before, that he was about to witness history.

This made him, who originally wanted to organize the files, a little tempted. After thinking about it, he felt that the files and thinking could be done on the road, because the old man's hometown was a bit far from Tokyo.

Oyamada Takumi has a son, Oyamada Ishi, whose child is completely dependent on him for support - an elderly man in his twilight years.

Looking at the photo in the information, Oyamada Takumi's skin was dark, the color of the most fertile land, but the sallowness in his eyes was the same as the soil that had been sown for a long time without care and had no nutrients left, it was a lifeless yellow color.

If their guess is correct, then this Oyamada Takumi should have liver disease. Judging from his overall temperament, he is most likely suffering from liver cancer.

Oyamada Takumi's hometown is a basically unknown village located deep in the mountains with inconvenient transportation; while Shi moved to the city to live.

The high consumption in the city has made it so that Oyamada Takumi's back has never been straightened. It's not the heaviness of the ripe sorghum that's the sound, but the crackling sound of the skinny branches being pressed down by the thick snow in the cold winter.

Perhaps at that time, Boss Ito also heard the cry coming from the waist of this little Yamada Takumi, begging God to give him a chance to survive so that he could provide for... his son on his back.

"Isn't this just a leech?" This thought popped up in the three people's minds. After looking at each other, they saw the complicated look in each other's pupils.

Is it pity or anger?
For Japanese people, it seems that the way other people live has nothing to do with them, and they don’t usually criticize others like those bored housewives.

But now, they seem to understand the psychology of those who are more talkative, and they may be able to accept bad things said behind the back of such a person.

This is completely different from the Geisha Alley at that time. This is the real deep mountains.

The light, shone through the woods, does not appear green, but a vibrant yet dangerous black.

As they had set out in a hurry, the three of them fell silent as they looked at each other's casual clothes and the depths of the dark woods.

“According to relevant information, there is a road here that leads to his village, but it requires going up and down the mountain.

It's getting dark outside, and it might be dangerous if we go in at this time."

"Let me correct you, Mr. Matsuo. This is not just a little dangerous, it is extremely dangerous."

After hearing what Oshima Kazuya said, the three of them fell silent again.

They don't understand why people from such mountain villages would go to big cities. Nature should be their protection. If they stayed in that village all their lives, perhaps such a thing would not have happened.

They farm all their lives and don’t care about being rich or poor. Rather than calling them rural people, perhaps it is more appropriate to call them “mountain people”.

The three of them finally decided to stay in a nearby town and wait until the next day to see if there was a guide or something.

The next day, when Koma packed up and went downstairs, Matsuo brought someone with him.

"This is our guide, and he is also from the village."

As Ju's gaze fell over, he saw a man who looked like Takumi Oyamada, with a dark complexion and the smell of moss from the mountains all over his body.

"Hello, you are looking for Takumi Oyamada, right?" asked Yamaguchi Ikki, smiling innocently.

"There shouldn't be anyone at his house this time. I heard he went out to work, so if you go, you'll probably come back empty-handed."

"It's okay, we just want to go into the village and take a look."

"Could he owe you money outside?" Yamaguchi's expression immediately became tense, and his body leaned slightly towards the door, as if he would run out in the next second.

"No, he told me about his hometown, so I wanted to come and see it. I'm a writer."

“So you’re a writer teacher.”

Upon hearing that it was a writer, Yamaguchi immediately bowed very respectfully. He did not doubt the identity of the man in front of him at all, because it seemed that no liar would ever claim to be a writer.

No one wants to blaspheme a writer, not even the most evil liars.

With the identity of a writer, everything became reasonable, and it was natural for me to enter the mountains.

"There are basically no people left in our village. Many people have chosen to move to nearby towns, but some elderly people choose to stay there." Yamaguchi pushed aside a clump of weeds for Koma to allow him to pass smoothly.

After passing through some bushes, I followed the sunlight and saw the almost deserted village.

(End of this chapter)