The Flower Master (Rei Shimura #3) (38 page)

"What do you mean?" Karen sounded confused, and I couldn't blame her.

"If a dress is not flattering to a woman, the real life appearance—" Mr. Sanno gestured to Karen's muumuu-like black dress—"makes it look bad. Likewise, photographs tell the true story, which can make the retailer look upset. A cartoon illustration, on the other hand, can make any dress look truly fine."

I felt strange, as if I were hovering over the table and witnessing the beginning of a disaster. Karen felt bad enough about her weight gain, which Mr. Sanno was cruelty pointing out. What would happen to the rest of us, and to the publication? The
Gaijin Times
had never been a prize-winning publication, but it had done a decent job imparting crucial lifestyle information to foreigners. I'd used it to search for apartments and jobs when I'd arrived. Come to think of it, I'd learned about the waxing specialists at Power Princess Salon after reading an article Karen had written in last month's issue. Could all that be scrapped for wasp-waisted, big-eyed androids carrying guns?

"I assume you'll bring in a new editor." Joey sounded glum. "One who is expert in comical matters?"

"We Japanese always believe in promoting from within," Mr. Sanno said. "I am certain that one of you could easily rise to shine in the transition. We will decide on some projects for all of us today, and that will keep us busy before I select the editor."

There was a long silence, and I imagined everyone was trying to think of projects.

"I've heard there is an American scholar who is an expert on comic books aimed at salarymen. I could explore the changing ethos of work in Japan through animation," Norton suggested. "Toshi could take pictures of salarymen reading comic books on the subway to go with the story."

"The photos can be used as a basis for comic book sketches," Mr. Sanno said. "And if the salarymen are ugly, the drawing can make them look better. In my opinion, there have been too many ugly people in the magazine lately."

Mr. Sanno was not exactly a Japanese version of Hugh Grant, but of course, nobody could say that.

"Well, that salaryman idea takes care of Norton and Toshi. But what about Karen-chan?"

Mr. Sanno was calling all the women in the room by the suffix 'chan,' which meant little. I could tell that Karen thought it was demeaning, because her pale skin flushed. She spoke rapidly, another sign he'd rattled her.

"I was writing a story about fall cocktail dresses worn by some of the top bar hostesses in town. I will consult a fashion illustrator who can sketch the clothes on the girls. They're very, very attractive," she added, as if to head off further comments on ugliness versus beauty.

"What about sketching the clothes on well-known cartoon characters?" Rika, the intern, ventured.

"It might not be legal. Betty and Veronica are probably copyrighted," I said swiftly to avoid having Mr. Sanno slap Karen with an impossible assignment.

"Excuse me for contradicting, but it is different here," Rika replied. "Japanese manga publishers don't really care if amateur artists copy the figures. What the amateurs sell is called doujinshi, and when those doujinshi comics sell, it is believed to create publicity for the original series."

"Rika-chan is right." Mr. Sanno nodded at Rika, who promptly hung her head and mumbled how worthless she was. It was a perfect Japanese etiquette moment that I would have appreciated if Mr. Sanno had not swiftly turned his gimlet gaze to me. "Rei-chan, I know that you are only a part-time employee, but you will be a part of the transformation. Your column relates to antiques and fine arts, so you will have many possibilities."

"I know very little about animation," I admitted. "My background is in Japanese decorative arts."

"Manga are today's most important art form," Mr. Sanno said. "Can't you write that in your column?"

A battle raged inside me. I wanted to walk away from this stupid fantasy comic book of Mr. Sanno's, but I didn't want to give up seeing 'Rei Shimura Antiques' in 14-point type once a month. I spoke carefully. "My goal is to help the
Gaijin Times
be the best that it can be. That is why I would be willing to resign if my writing doesn't fit the new format."

"Are you hoping to be fired, Rei?" Alec asked.

I was really beginning to hate him.

"I know what you can do, Rei-san!" Rika offered. "Since you are a serious person, you can write a serious article about the history and artistic significance of Japanese animation. If you can present manga in a worthwhile light, the readers will become prepared for the switch to the new format."

"That's right, Miss Fuchida! Please help with Miss Shimura's assignment."

Rika, sitting across from me in her short pleated skirt, knee socks, and braids, still looked more like a junior high school student than a senior at Showa College. But at that moment I, and probably every other staffer in the room, could imagine what form she would emerge into as surely as Clark Kent transformed himself into Superman: she'd be Rika Fuchida,
Gaijin Times
' youngest ever editor-in-chief.