Chapter 33: Iwata—it means cultivating fields upon the stone!

Chapter 33: Iwata—Meaning to Carve Fields out of Stone!

"Takeshi! I really didn't misjudge you!"

"Akio Jissoji-sensei, thank you!"

Before the izakaya reached its peak hour, the old mentor Akio Jissoji and the young Takeshi Iwata found a quiet spot and began to drink.

After wrapping up negotiations with Tanitani, everyone was busy with their own tasks. With time so tight, a formal business banquet was out of the question. However, Iwata had insisted on treating Jissoji-sensei. From the time they had first met until now, he felt he hadn't properly thanked the man who had acted as his introducer, and it weighed on his conscience.

Jissoji-sensei naturally understood this. To him, it was nothing; as long as Iwata’s film achieved success, that would be the greatest gift of all. Iwata expressed his determination to continue working hard, but he also had a question: why had Jissoji-sensei taken such a shine to him?

Jissoji offered an analogy. Van Gogh’s paintings only became globally renowned after his death, but what if the person who discovered his work back then had never existed? Thus, the sense of accomplishment for the person who discovers a "Van Gogh" is absolutely...

Iwata sat there with a blank expression. *I, the Oni no Takeshi, am not dead yet, you old bald man!*

Of course, it was all in jest. The old man and the young man were surprisingly compatible, neither holding back, laughing and clinking glasses as they drank with genuine comfort. However, considering Jissoji’s age, he couldn't drink too much, so he steered the conversation back to film.

"Honestly, I’m quite envious of you, Takeshi."

"Oh?"

"Take this latest story of yours—how did you come up with it? How can you make a story so interesting?"

"Well..."

Iwata felt a bit guilty. In truth, he had synthesized many elements for *Infernal Affairs*. He knew very well that if he had simply transplanted the original *Infernal Affairs* to Japan, it would have been a disaster. Reality had proven this; the Japanese remake had garnered little attention, and many didn't even know it existed.

Therefore, Iwata planned to borrow only the core premise—the police and the yakuza planting moles in each other’s organizations, which was a reality in the underworld—and combine it with the current situation in Japan, along with the character names... It was the only way, as time was too tight. If he waited any longer, the doors to the Venice Film Festival would close completely. Some might find it hard to believe, but in creative writing, naming characters is a time-consuming and laborious process.

*So be it,* he thought. *Let the members of the Like a Dragon crew serve as the stage for my film.*

"Takeshi, your plot is excellent this time, but I have a concern. If the plot develops this way, can the cinematography maintain the style of *Violent Cop*?"

Despite his flushed face from the alcohol, Jissoji’s mind was sharp. Iwata quickly adopted the attitude of a student and said sincerely, "Sensei is right. I hadn't considered that properly, but right now, in order to ensure *Violent Cop* achieves better box office results, I am resolved to see it through, even if this script fails."

Jissoji nodded. "That resolve is good, but let me remind you: although you are capable, don't underestimate others. Toho only has two films this year; one has already been released, and my work, as a director, doesn't need to go to a film festival."

"Oh, I understand!" Iwata nodded.

The three major European film festivals required new films that hadn't been released yet. It seemed that Tanitani might have already considered this plan: using the Venice Film Festival to boost the buzz for *Violent Cop*. But Iwata wasn't one to wait for manna from heaven. Furthermore, Jissoji was underestimating him. As a transmigrator, Iwata remembered who the Asian film selector for the Venice Film Festival was at this time, provided history hadn't changed too much. In short, going to Venice was not a pipe dream.

As he thought this, Jissoji chuckled and mentioned something else. "Back then, when you chose to take a percentage of the profits, I knew you were a man of substance."

A complex smile appeared on Iwata’s fierce face. He spoke a sentence that seemed unrelated to the conversation:

"Iwata—it means to carve fields out of stone."

Upon hearing this, Jissoji burst into laughter and ordered two large beers from the proprietor.

"For that line alone! I wish you a harvest of vast, fertile land!"

Iwata didn't stand on ceremony and drank first. *Gulp, gulp, gulp...*

The two drained their glasses! Refreshing! The road ahead might be treacherous and rugged, but no difficulty could stop me, Takeshi Iwata!

...

Before leaving, Jissoji-sensei gave one final piece of advice: "You still haven't thanked that girl, Shinobu, have you?"

Iwata did feel guilty regarding Shinobu; he truly owed her a proper thank you. But back at the Iwanami Bookstore, Shinobu had been so strictly guarded by her sister that it was difficult for Iwata to even get a word in. Clearly, his identity had made that woman... *Hmph! Ungrateful person, I must educate her properly in the future!*

But for now, he needed to think about how to thank Shinobu. An idea began to form.

As the fierce-looking Iwata walked down the streets of Tokyo, a look of mild excitement on his face, ordinary passersby simply thought he looked like a strange character and kept their distance. However, two tall men in black suits and dark sunglasses walked directly toward him.

"..." Iwata’s primal instincts as a beast were instantly triggered.

"Iwata-san." The two men were strange; they simply called his name and stood there. Were they blocking his path? Or...

Suddenly, a luxury sedan pulled over to the curb. The door opened to reveal a beauty in a kimono.

"Iwata-san, please get in."

Kazuko Takenaka.

...

Tatami mats, shoji doors. The setting was elegant and luxurious. Iwata hadn't expected Kazuko Takenaka to take him somewhere other than the "Romantic Red." In modern Japan, such classic, traditional decor was a sign of "old money."

What exactly did this woman want to discuss? Sitting on the tatami, Iwata wasn't in a hurry. Instead, he chose to display his acting skills. Usually, one was expected to kneel in the traditional Japanese style to show respect, but Iwata simply sat cross-legged. It wasn't explicitly rude, but it certainly sent a message.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

Kazuko Takenaka reappeared, wearing a ginkgo-leaf-colored kimono. It was said that the color of one’s kimono should match the season—was autumn approaching already?

"Takenaka-san, what is this all about? You can speak plainly."

Iwata’s fierce face wore an expression of clear annoyance. Anyone else might have fled long ago, but Kazuko Takenaka was no ordinary person.

"What? Are you angry?"

"Anyone brought here like this would be angry, wouldn't they?"

"Ha... They actually told me I didn't need to show up."

"Meaning, they wanted to fight me?"

"I know they are no match for you."

"Takenaka-san, let’s get to the point."

"Very well..."

Between them sat a small table already laden with food and sake. Japanese cuisine prioritized aesthetics—whether it tasted good was secondary, but it certainly looked beautiful. Iwata had no interest and didn't touch his chopsticks.

Takenaka stopped talking, picked up a small sake decanter, and filled the cup in front of Iwata. Drinking sake had many nuances in Japan, and the rules of the yakuza were even stricter. For example, the ritual of inheriting the position of a boss was marked by drinking a cup of sake—a ceremony known as the "Sakazuki." Though there were many details and rules, even in casual settings, one first had to choose a cup.

Iwata had no choice, and Takenaka had filled it to the brim. *Ha!* He picked it up and downed it in one gulp. Although sake wasn't particularly harsh, it still stung his throat when drunk so quickly.

Takenaka smiled and filled it again. Iwata didn't decline; he drained the cup once more. She filled it a third time.

Iwata didn't drink immediately. "Tell me, what is this about?"

Takenaka set the decanter down and smiled. "I saw everything during the ambush by the Suo and Moriyama groups."

"Oh." Iwata was slightly surprised but managed to maintain his composure.

He heard the woman continue: "Perhaps the Iwata Group’s strength is average, but you, Oni no Takeshi, are truly formidable. You already know who I am. Hiroshi Yamamoto currently lacks popular support. I can contact many of the old guard and nominate you as the *wakagashira*."

*Wakagashira?* The term effectively meant "young head." It was a position of great importance—not just the successor, but the one in charge if the boss was absent.

Iwata shook his head. "I imagine it’s not that simple."

"Of course not." Takenaka stood up and walked around the small table. "As long as you can take out Suo and Moriyama."

"I don't want to kill anyone."

"Of course, neither of us is part of the 'violent faction'."

*Hm?* Iwata was puzzled. Wasn't Masahisa Takenaka famous for being a leader of the violent faction?

Takenaka laughed. "Since Hiroshi Yamamoto won, it means he was right."

That made perfect sense. It seemed the violent faction was learning from Yamamoto’s methods.

"But I know my own capabilities. As for being *wakagashira*... forget it."

Iwata’s lack of interest seemed to be exactly what Takenaka had anticipated. At that moment, she approached his side, knelt, and leaned her entire body against him. Iwata smelled the fragrance of a great butterfly and felt its softness.

The fierce expression on his face softened slightly.

He heard Takenaka whisper in his ear: "Iwata—it means to carve fields out of stone. I am very curious to see just how hard that stone really is."

(End of Chapter)