Ripping someone open onl.., p.1
Ripping Someone Open Only Makes Them Bleed, page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyrights and Credits
Exclusive Interview with Ogusu Nanoka
Dramatis Personae
Itobayashi Akane
Ukawa Ai
Itobayashi Akane
Ukawa Ai
Gotou Julia
Itobayashi Akane
Uemura Tatsuaki
Gotou Julia
Itobayashi Akane
Ukawa Ai
Uemura Tatsuaki
Gotou Julia
Fujino Mikoto
Uemura Tatsuaki
Itobayashi Akane
Ukawa Ai
Itobayashi Akane
Gotou Julia
Ukawa Ai
Itobayashi Akane
Ukawa Ai
Itobayashi Akane
Uemura Tatsuaki
Ukawa Ai
Gotou Julia
Sekiguchi Miyu
Ukawa Ai
Uemura Tatsuaki
Takatsuki Sakuna
Gotou Julia
Uemura Tatsuaki
Ukawa Ai
Gotou Julia
Uemura Tatsuaki
Takatsuki Sakuna
Gotou Julia
Uemura Tatsuaki
Ukawa Ai
Itobayashi Akane
Ukawa Ai
Itobayashi Akane
Special Thanks
Ogusu Nanoka
About the Author
Newsletter
Exclusive Interview with
Ogusu Nanoka
Your debut title was an instant hit, winning you a spot among the most popular authors in the country. It’s been a few years since then, and I can only imagine your life has changed completely. Tell us, how are things for you now?
I feel truly blessed that my story has found its way to so many people who love it as much as I do. However, I wouldn’t say my life has changed dramatically. My writing has more reach now, and I get a lot more feedback than I used to, but I’ve always known that I live in a world where my outlook is not shared by the majority. For me, the greatest prize is that I’ve found a community of like-minded people, as well as those who can disagree in a respectful way.
A lot of us are excited for the upcoming live-action film adaptation of your third book, Girl’s March. How does it feel to have your writing recreated on the big screen?
Film and prose are two completely different mediums, with completely different ways of making a story come to life. All of my novels, including Girl’s March, utilize the unique strengths of the novel format, but I hope my readers are looking forward to seeing how those elements are repurposed to suit the nature of the adaptation. Of course, it’s possible some who love the book will inevitably be disappointed by the film’s rendition of the story. If I could, I’d reassure those people that no adaptation will ever have the power to invalidate their personal interpretation of the original.
How involved were you in the adaptation process?
I met with the director in the planning stages and explained the overall message embedded in the work. Since then, I haven’t really given feedback on the script or camera work. They’re the experts, not me. As the author, I think it’s only fair to stay in my lane, so to speak.
Can you go into more detail about this “embedded message” you explained to the director?
That is something I’ve only ever told the team directly involved with creating the film, and in my opinion, it’s nothing the audience needs to worry about. I want my readers to have the freedom to love the story well beyond any limits I set for it. The way I see it, they have every right to discover the message for themselves, and not even the author has any business getting in the way of that.
In other words, there’s no singular interpretation you want everyone to share?
I want the readers to have a good time, and there’s a lot of feelings I want them to experience in the process. But most of all, I want it to simply be a story that they can pick up and put down as they please.
Many say your writing has a knack for reaching into the minds of your readers and letting them see through the eyes of your protagonists, making readers feel as though your story is just for them. What are your thoughts on that?
I think everyone in the entire world has, in some form or another, been depicted in a book or song or film or work of art, and I think this proves that the characters in our stories are very much real. Perhaps this is what gives us meaning, as writers. If you as a reader feel that you or your life is portrayed in the story, well, maybe you’re right! Maybe someone out there is living a “storybook” sort of life. Maybe they transform at night. Maybe they rescued a princess. I’m not going to try to invalidate that.
Itobayashi Akane
“The Girl was crying.”
GIRL’S MARCH, PAPERBACK EDITION, PAGE 1, LINE 1
THE DAY AKANE FIRST DISCOVERED the book, she had wandered into a tiny bookstore after remembering the gift card collecting dust in her wallet. Near the entrance, marked “New Releases,” was a tidy stack of sky-blue covers with Girl’s March printed in a cutesy font. She recognized the author by name, and from that surmised it was a woman, but had never read her other works and knew next to nothing about her.
When she made the decision to buy the book, it wasn’t because of its superficial appeal, or because she felt some magical connection to it. Rather, she determined after careful evaluation that it wasn’t too nerdy a book for her to be seen reading, and thus was willing to give it a try.
Later that night, she decided she would read the first chapter before bed to get a feel for the prose. To this day, she still remembered the sensation at her fingertips the moment she offhandedly flipped to Page 1. Next thing she knew, she had finished the whole thing. Beyond the still-open curtains, she was shocked to see dawn timidly creeping in over the horizon, like it had half a mind to bolt.
The world was still just the same as yesterday, but something had shifted ever so slightly in the way Akane saw it. She was now possessed of a shattering realization: this book understood her in a way no one could possibly know. It saw the real her that her friends, her family, even her boyfriend, couldn’t see. In some small way, it felt as though this story had given her the validation to exist.
She knew from the outset that she would never get to talk about this with anyone. She couldn’t possibly risk exposing herself for what she really was. And yet, deep down, she held out hope that someday she, like The Girl in the story, would find someone who could understand and accept her.
Unfortunately, every time she was subjected to someone else’s opinion of Girl’s March, that tiny hope was squashed flat. Her boyfriend, her peers—none of them had ever experienced the same kind of isolation. Her coworkers didn’t have a shred of empathy. And the adults in her life didn’t even try to analyze its underlying themes.
So when the film adaptation was announced, she naturally thought that the people closest to the source material would be sure to understand it like she did. But when the cast was revealed, she was utterly aghast. These weren’t the characters in the story! The only thing it retained from the source material was the plot summary!
No one could see what she saw. None of them understood a single thing about what made the original great.
Months went by with Akane’s true opinion of Girl’s March still locked away in her heart. All she could do was cling to the story as it was first written, all by herself, dreaming of the day she might finally change, the way The Girl did.
***
Oh my god, shut up.
On the subway, Akane tapped at her smartphone with a straight face, blocking some weird Twitter account blathering on and on about “the truth of our world.” One of her classmates had retweeted it onto her feed.
The “truth” would never reveal itself to anyone. It was perfectly concealed from every angle, and there was no point in hoping otherwise.
Suppressing the perpetually looming threat of a mental breakdown with a sigh, she checked the LED display. Her destination was just one stop away. She was meeting up with her boyfriend, who went to a different school, and she had already constructed the appearance of nervous excitement.
Each time the doors slid open, the unique scent of each district wafted into the subway car. When she stepped out onto the platform, what greeted her was the smell she hated most of all—not trash or sewage, but warm bodies packed into close proximity. This district was shaped like a basin, so perhaps all the stink collected at the station square at the very bottom. But these trifling thoughts were shoved deep down, where they couldn’t reach her expression.
She walked with a cheerful gait, her head held high, her sights set on all that was yet to come. As she left the station, she took great care not to obstruct anyone’s path as she replicated the pace of a teen girl seasoned with good-natured innocence, crossing the street at the major intersection to reach the yellow record store that served as their meetup spot. She had considered that they might encounter each other on the street, but when she opened the door, she saw him already inside, listening to a CD on the first floor. Though his back was turned and he was wearing a run-of-the-mill school uniform, the keychain dangling from his backpack was the same one she’d given him. She paused to gently bite her tongue.
For a moment, she watched him from a distance. Then, right as he reached up to pull off the tester headphones, she took a step forward, stooping t o intercept his lowered gaze as she peeked around his side. “Hey, Shin.”
“Whoa! Jeez, don’t scare me!”
She had carefully calculated her timing and body language so the surprise wouldn’t impugn his dignity, and judging by his bashful smile, she had succeeded. She promptly grabbed the CD directly in front of her on the rack. “What were you listening to?”
“It’s this new band I’m into. You probably haven’t heard of them.”
“Nope!”
Even if she had heard of them, she would still have said no, and when Shin offered her the headphones to let her listen, she still would have accepted them. She slowly pulled them on, feeling the residual heat in the leather cushions as the music began to play. She didn’t comment right away, but instead waited for the first track to end before sculpting a smile and a nod, turning back to him.
“I don’t know if it’s got mainstream appeal, but it’s really cool.”
“I know, right?” her boyfriend beamed, and she felt a rush of inexplicable joy.
The feeling made her want to die.
Since it was available to stream online, they decided to leave the store without buying the CD.
***
The next day found Akane back in the same smelly district, after school, for one singular reason—she was scheduled to work that day. As for why she’d taken a job in her least favorite district—it was because a childhood friend worked there, and her parents wanted her to stay within sight of at least one trusted acquaintance.
She crossed the street, passing a different record store from the one she’d visited yesterday. Up ahead, she would make a left and climb the gently sloping hill to the bookstore where she worked. She was scheduled two or three days a week—four-hour shifts starting at 4 p.m. on weekdays and either 9:45 a.m. or 1:45 p.m. on weekends—making 1,050 yen per hour.
Before arriving at work, she made sure her appearance was flawless, purposely took two steps back to sculpt a fittingly drowsy expression, then walked into the busy store. Passing by the table of books with upcoming film adaptations, she put her hand on the doorknob to the back room.
“Good meowning!”
She chose her greeting based on who was scheduled that day. Today she would be working with the manager, the aforementioned friend, and a college student who shared a lot of the same shifts as her, so she could get away with being a little extra silly.
The back room was small, and whoever was inside had definitely heard her. As she opened the door, she pointed her smile in the direction of a soft giggle.
“You look so sleepy, your glasses are practically falling off.”
“Well, duh! I just spent all day at school! I’m exhausted!”
Akane’s pathetic whining was rewarded with a piece of candy from the older girl. She promptly said thank you, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth.
“Agh, it’s sour!” She widened her eyes as if to suggest this had succeeded in waking her up a little.
Then she changed out of her uniform into her work clothes and apron, spat the candy into a tissue, and threw it in the trash.
Her main duty during her shifts was manning the cash register. Sure enough, as soon as she crossed paths with the manager, that was where she was directed. She made sure to greet the college student who had clocked in ahead of her as she obediently stationed herself behind the counter. Then, as she was barely a minute into reading the staff notes, her first customer of the day walked up.
An elegantly dressed older woman plunked down a pocket paperback with Girl’s March in cutesy font printed on a sky-blue cover.
“Would you like a protective paper cover?”
“Yes, please, and can I get a bag?”
“Sure thing!”
Akane kept her voice controlled, at a reasonable volume, and tinged with a hint of a childish lilt. She wrapped the book with a deftness that favored speed over precision.
“Thank you for your purchase!”
Whenever she went more than ten seconds without a new customer, the color of the world around her seemed to grow one degree more desaturated. It was important that she strive not to let this vague, formless ennui seep into her expression.
“Itobayashi-san, have you read that one?” asked the college student, Nishio Fumikazu, standing at the other register.
“Huh?” Akane donned a hint of excitement at the prospect of a conversation. “The one I just rang up?” She already knew the answer to this, but having worked with him for quite some time, she understood that he liked to take the initiative.
“Yeah, Girl’s March!” he exclaimed.
“Oh! Yeah, I have, actually!” she replied, matching his enthusiasm.
“What did you think of it? Personally I thought it was kind of meh, but I do see the appeal. A lot of folks really seem to like the fuzzy, dreamy prose.”
She envied the way he somehow managed to respond to his own question. Blissful, unbridled self-obsession.
“I loved it! It’s a beautiful story, almost like a picture book, or a…a fairytale.” Then she bit her tongue for throwing the L word around.
“The movie comes out next weekend, right? Do you want to go see it?”
“What, with you? Only if you’re paying.”
He burst out laughing, then crossed his arms bashfully. “I didn’t mean it like that! You high schoolers are so opportunistic nowadays.”
“Oh. Darn.”
In truth, she knew he wasn’t the type to hit on an underage coworker. But judging from his reaction, he seemed to enjoy this interaction, which made her feel at ease.
And that feeling, in turn, made her want to die.
She would ring up many more copies of Girl’s March during that shift.
***
The day after that, Akane was back in the same reeking district for the third day running, and not without good reason.
Yesterday, as she was eating lunch with her usual group of friends in the classroom, one of them casually suggested she might go shopping the next day before her work shift. It fit right into the flow of conversation with no particular emphasis, so the most reaction it garnered was a lighthearted “Have fun at work! Buy me something when you get paid!” The topic changed to well-paying jobs for a moment, before switching gears to something else entirely. By that point, everyone had stopped thinking about the original statement—everyone except Akane, who rolled it around in her mind like a stone.
Once the girls had all finished eating, they parted ways to visit the restroom or some other classroom. Akane, however, headed down to the student store outside the cafeteria on the first floor. After buying a bottle of iced tea with the red label, she turned around and sluggishly climbed all the way back up to the sixth floor.
Just outside the classroom, she paused to pull out her phone. Then she looked up suddenly, as if a thought had occurred to her, and walked over to where her friend was sitting. There, she crouched down to rest her chin on the desk.
“What’s wrong, Bayashi?”
Every time someone called her by this nickname, Akane felt dopamine flood her brain. To her, it was a sign of affection. She bit her tongue to hold it in, then looked up at her friend from behind her fake glasses.
“Miyu, what time does your shift start tomorrow?”
“1:30—why?”
“I just remembered my family’s having a thing tomorrow and I don’t wanna go. So if you’re going shopping in the morning, can I…tag along?”
Akane framed it as a selfish imposition—a humble request that the receiver could choose to grant at her convenience. Miyu was the type who avoided being alone as much as possible, unless it was mandated by work or school, but she was insecure about coming off as needy. So when Akane made it sound as though the stars had aligned out of sheer coincidence, Miyu lit up.
“Really?! Oh my gosh, of course you can!”
“Cool.”
Akane displayed a consciously embarrassed smile, then flagged down another nearby member of their group to let her know so it wouldn’t be a secret. Alas, the other girl already had plans and couldn’t join, but that was no problem—Akane just wanted to get the word out.
