MidReal Story
1
Scenario: 1
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Twenty-five-year-old Hideo Suzuki is a manga assistant in Tokyo.
Hideo has a girlfriend named Tekko, who is a manga artist and lives in the countryside.
Hideo works for a manga artist named Shige, who is very demanding and critical of him.
He pays Hideo only 50 yen per page of inking, which is much less than the standard fee.
Hideo often goes without food, because he can’t afford to eat, and he has to take an extra job just to pay the rent.
He never has enough money for the train fare and asks Shige to pay him in advance, but Shige refuses.
Tekko invites Hideo to visit her in the countryside, but he doesn’t have enough money to travel since Shige won’t pay him in advance.
In addition to demanding more pages from Hideo, Shige also insists that Hideo work during Golden Week, which is normally a time off for assistants.
Hideo Suzuki works as a manga assistant for Shige, who is a very demanding boss.
Shige pays Hideo only 50 yen per page of inking, which is much less than the industry standard.
Shige also refuses to pay Hideo in advance, even when Hideo doesn’t have enough money for train fare or food.
Shige frequently insults Hideo and says that his work isn’t good enough.
Despite this, Hideo continues to put up with it in hopes of making a name for himself as a mangaka.
Hideo’s girlfriend Tekko is also a manga artist who lives in the countryside.
Hideo’s first job of the day is to bring coffee for Shige to drink during his bath.
The train fare is expensive and Hideo can’t afford it, so he decides to take a taxi instead and goes to get the coffee.
While he’s out, he gets a call from Shige telling him that he doesn’t want coffee after all and that he wants an egg sandwich with mayonnaise instead.
Hideo has to go back and forth between two different stores to get all the items,
When he gets back to Shige’s studio with the coffee and sandwich, Shige tells him that the sandwich looks like shit and sends him back to the store to buy another one.
The first thing I do when I wake up is run errands for my boss.
I buy two cups of coffee from the stand at the station and get on the train.
The first cup is for me; the other I carry to my boss’s apartment in Shimbashi where I’m supposed to be at nine o’clock sharp.
If I make it there on time, I’m lucky.
The thing is, I don’t get paid much for this job.
So what keeps me doing it?
I’m twenty-five years old, from Akita Prefecture, and my dream is to be a manga artist.
I’m willing to endure any hardship as long as I can be near my goal.
I’m an assistant to help support myself while I aim for my dream.
My boss is a little weird, but that hasn’t stopped me yet.
Though it’s only August, it feels chilly in Tokyo this morning—the change of seasons is coming.
When autumn comes, so does the season of appetite!
I get a cup of coffee from the stand by the station to warm myself up.
I also pick up some cigarettes for my boss.
Every morning I have to remind myself to get them out of my own pocket.
I don’t smoke myself.
I carry the coffee for my boss to his apartment and leave it there because he’s not home.
He’s soaking in the public bath just around the corner.
It takes about thirty minutes for the elevator to arrive after I push the button.
It takes another twenty minutes for the elevator to take me to the basement level where my boss rents his studio.
Inside, my boss is lying on his back with his eyes closed on the futon where he sleeps.
Is this what he calls work?
The pages of storyboards he worked on yesterday are scattered all over the tatami floor.
The pages are filled with text corrections that he made by hand.
I pick up each one carefully so that I won’t miss any of his corrections.
I go through my boss’s storyboard page by page, line by line.
My goal is to catch his mood.
I bring the pages of storyboards that I’ve corrected to the manga café across the street.
The café is filled with people who have been working all night and are ready to wind down with some manga before they go to bed.
I put on an apron and get to work.
I pick up two cups of coffee at the station and get on the train.
As usual, I’m running late.
I feel like this every day and I feel bad about it every day as well.
My boss calls me on my cell phone and says, “You’re late.”
“I’ll be there soon,” I say.
“But I told you to come at nine o’clock!”
“Sorry,” I say.
“I’ll be there soon.”
I get off at Shibuya Station and take the Hachiko exit to Hachiko Square to catch a taxi to Shimbashi.
On the taxi ride over I call my boss and say that I’ll be there soon.
He says he doesn’t care if I come or not and hangs up on me.
The manager from my boss’s publisher is already there when I arrive.
My boss isn’t there yet.
The manager looks at me with a straight face and says, “What time is it now?”
“It’s nine-thirty,” I say.
“Where is your boss?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“He called me and said he was going to be late.”
The manager looks at me with suspicion and asks me, “Did you call him?”
“I think he knows,” I say.
“Great,” he says sarcastically.
My boss comes in wearing his favorite faded checkered shirt and his black beret.
The manager says that he wants him to finish another storyboard by tonight and leaves.
My boss takes his coat off with his eyes closed and says to me without looking at me, “It’s time for you to put out some cigarettes.”
It’s August and I’m in my hometown for Obon.
I don’t know what to say to my parents.
A lot has happened since I last saw them.
But they don’t know any of the details.
They don’t know that I’ve been writing a manga series.
They don’t know that I’ve been making money by selling my manuscripts.
I didn’t tell them because I knew they wouldn’t approve.
I haven’t gotten anything published yet.
My manuscript has been rejected eleven times so far.
After all these years of hard work and sacrifice, my future still looks bleak.
My parents still think that all this time I’ve been playing a childish game.
They think that I’m going to give up on my dreams of becoming a manga artist and come home to find a real job in the town where I grew up.
I was happy to see my mom.
But my dad just stared at me and said nothing.
I wish he would just let me know how he feels about me.
I wish he would just tell me that he doesn’t want me to be here.
My dad manages a local branch of a national bank.
We went to a sushi restaurant for dinner.
My mom said to me after the waitress left, “What would you like to drink?”
“I’ll have a beer,” I said.
My dad said to my mom, “He’s not twenty yet.”
My mom said to my dad, “He can drink in Tokyo.”
“Can I have a beer?”
“You can drink as much as you want,” my dad said.
My dad drank a lot and talked about a lot of things.
He talked about his work and his boss.
He talked about the people in town and the ones who used to be here.
He talked about the weather and the price of rice.
He didn’t talk about Tokyo.
I didn’t know if he knew that I was living in Tokyo.
My mom had a worried look on her face.
I knew that she was thinking about me.
My dad said to me without looking at me, “When are you coming home?”
I said to him, “I’m working now.”
“I can do that kind of work at home.”
“I have to be near the publisher.”
“But you’re not getting anything published.”
