MMB Chapter 14 The Depth of History
Chapter 14 The Depth of History
Tokyo, July 1989.
The last few days of the Showa era.
The news of the Emperor's serious illness cast a solemn and oppressive atmosphere over the entire archipelago.
Television variety shows were suspended one after another, and the neon lights on the streets dimmed considerably.
Jimbocho, a street lined with used bookstores.
This seems to be the only place in Tokyo that hasn't been eroded by the superficiality and hype.
The air was filled with the smell of old paper and mildew; time seemed to stand still here.
Kitahara Shin, wearing a thick, dark coat and a scarf, and carrying a bag of oranges he had just bought, strolled leisurely among the rows of towering bookshelves.
He wasn't just there for a stroll.
In another week, it will be the audition day for the NHK Taiga drama "Kasuga no Tsubone".
Although he received a "letter of recommendation" from producer Ishida, it didn't mean everything was settled.
The casting process for Taiga dramas has always been rigorous, especially for newcomers with no experience in period dramas. Whether they can capture the "flavor" of that era is the key to their survival.
The role he auditioned for was called "Inaba Masasada".
This is the biological son of the female protagonist, Kasuga no Tsubone, a tragic figure who only appears briefly in history books.
He lived his entire life in the shadow of his domineering mother, and ultimately became a victim of political maneuvering for the sake of his family's interests.
"Inaba Masasada... there's very little information about him."
Kitahara Shin has already run into obstacles at several bookstores.
Most popular history books focus on Kasuga no Tsubone's political maneuvering, while barely mentioning his taciturn son.
He walked into an old bookstore called "Guyatang".
The shop was dimly lit, and the owner, an old man wearing reading glasses, was huddled behind the counter listening to a radio broadcast about the Emperor's illness.
Kitahara Shin walked to the "Edo Historical Materials Area" in the corner.
My fingers traced across the dusty thread-bound books and old periodicals.
Just as he was about to pull his hand back, a slight tingling sensation suddenly came from his fingertips.
That was a system notification.
Kitahara Shin stopped what he was doing and his gaze fell on a cardboard box at the very bottom.
Inside were several old notebooks without covers, looking like scraps of paper that someone had carelessly thrown away.
He crouched down and picked up one of the books.
The notebook cover was yellowed and brittle, and when I opened it, I found it was filled with dense handwritten text.
The handwriting was hasty and hurried, suggesting that the writer was in a state of extreme indignation or sorrow at the time.
hum-
A pale blue light screen unfolded on the retina.
[Equipable item found (gray)]
[Item Name: Annotated Notes of a Down-on-History Scholar]
[Original owner: An elderly scholar who devoted his life to studying family politics in the early Edo period, but was frustrated and unsuccessful due to offending the academic clique]
[Segment: Jewelry/Books]
[Condition: Old and resentful]
[Basic Attribute: After reading, empathy for the "loyalty and repression" of samurai in the late Sengoku period increases by 15%]
[Special term: Silent Cry (Passive)]
Note: He wrote in his notes: "So-called loyalty is nothing more than the slow torture of humanity by the powerful. Inaba Masasada did not die by sword, but by his mother's heavy love and control." After equipping the gear, you can more deeply understand that suffocating feeling of "wanting to escape but being unable to."
"Loyalty and repression..."
Kitahara Shin gently stroked the characters that were so powerful they seemed to penetrate the paper.
That's exactly what he lacks.
For modern actors in period dramas, the most difficult thing to portray isn't etiquette, but rather their eyes. Modern people's eyes are too expressive, full of personal desires and arrogance.
The eyes of the samurai of that era were "dead," like stagnant water locked up by rules, family, and loyalty.
"Boss, how much is this notebook?"
Kitahara Shin took the notebook and walked to the counter.
The shopkeeper raised his eyelids and glanced at it: "That's from collecting waste paper. If you like it, give me two hundred yen and take it."
Kitahara Shin took out two coins and placed them on the table.
When I stepped out of the bookstore, the sky outside was already so dark it seemed to be pressing down.
Pedestrians on the street hurried along, each with a look of uncertainty about the future on their face.
The Showa era is coming to an end.
The Heisei era is about to begin.
This sense of upheaval and transition between the old and the new has a strange overlap with the era described in the notes, which transitioned from the chaotic Warring States period to the peaceful Edo period.
……
Back in Nakano's new apartment.
Kitahara Shin brewed himself a cup of hot tea and sat down at the desk by the window.
He opened the notebook and activated the equipment effects.
In an instant, the somewhat obscure words seemed to transform into a series of flowing images, flooding into his mind.
He saw a young warrior kneeling on the gravel ground of the courtyard, his knees bleeding from the sharp stones, yet he dared not move an inch.
He saw his powerful mother, who stroked her son's hair with her cold fingers, while giving him the order to go and die.
He felt that suffocating sensation.
That kind of despair of being a "son" but living like a "tool".
"I see……"
Kitahara Shin muttered to himself.
This feeling is actually quite similar to that of the "corporate slaves" in modern society.
Bound by the company (family), controlled by superiors (family members), sacrificing oneself for the so-called "future" (loyalty), wanting to escape but unable to escape because of mortgage and responsibility.
found it.
This is the "point of resonance" that connects the ancient and the modern.
Kitahara Shin closed his notebook and shut his eyes.
When he opened his eyes again, the light in those once clear and sharp eyes had dimmed.
Instead, there was a deep, unfathomable calm, and a trace of pain deeply suppressed in his eyes.
He doesn't need to imitate the mannerisms of the ancients.
He only needs to portray this sense of repression—the feeling of wanting to live but being unable to live authentically—to be the best Inaba Masasada.
Outside the window, the first snowflake fell.
Kitahara Shin picked up the silver Zippo and gently stroked it.
"NHK? I'm all ready."