Aya sat at her desk, scanning the police blotter in one window, and the city homepage on the other. In the past week she'd concentrated solely on adapting to a human routine. This meant a series of tasks in just preparing for the day that were completely alien to her. The clothes did suit her, and Yukari had done well to be generous in supplying them, even if they did look a little plain to her – today she went with a green blouse, navy blue skirt, black tights and pumps. She'd learned to walk to work avoiding eye contact with anybody along the way.
The office dynamic was easy to figure out, since Ryu and Hideaki were the only full timers in the editorial department. Nearly everything else was freelance. The graphic designers were technically independent contractors, and the sales people were on commission. Aya thought it was impressive that such a loose band could run a newspaper, while Ryu found it a source of endless stress. He seemed to be continuously agitated, which worried Aya a bit at first, but Hideaki downplayed it. “He's fine. He actually does his best work under pressure, and he knows it.”
Using the computer had also been easy to pick up. Reading the city home page and writing up the shorter local pieces on cafés, clubs, bars, any exhibition openings, any live music, it came with doing, as Hideaki had said. In between pieces, she'd do her own personal research. But of course, there was only so much you could learn at a desk.
Aya closed her police blotter text, took a breath, and rose from her desk. She walked to Ryu, who was at his desk, typing. “Excuse me, Mr. Ogawa, but I was wondering if you wanted me to get a story.”
Ryu stopped typing and turned from the monitor. He shook his head. “I don't understand.”
“I mean, is there a chance I could get into the city and find some news, too?”
Ryu rested his elbows on the desk, and nodded. “You want to go into the field, as it were?”
“Yes? Yes. I'd like to do some reporting.”
The editor had to take into account a few things: on the one hand, this was an intern who literally walked in off the street last week with no real resume, claiming to be Korean when she clearly wasn't, and who'd never even attended university. On the other hand, she was a hard worker, turned in more than enough material, and she could write. Plus, something about the look on her face told him that he'd likely have to argue with her if he refused, which was a prospect that tired him.
“Alright,” he said. “But I'm giving you an assignment first. I have to see how you cover events as they transpire, so I know that you can be trusted with the task.” He turned back to his monitor, glancing over his e-mails. That's right – one of their freelancers dropped an assignment that day, saying she was swamped. A band in some club. 500 words max. He turned back to Aya.
“Your assignment is: you're to go to the Indiscreet Cat tonight at six. It's their live music night. I want you to review the café, throw in the band as well. Have you ever done music reviews?”
“I-”
“Doesn't matter. The focus is the place itself. The atmosphere, how the service was, what you had to drink, that sort of thing. Sound alright to you?”
It was perfect for Aya, being asked to closely scrutinize humans in their natural environment. She readily agreed. “Yes, thank you very much.”
“Alright then.” Ryu smiled a little, and turned back to his monitor. “Have a good time.”
Aya still felt as though Ryu was holding her back a bit, but she knew she had to be grateful and get along if she hoped to cover her real assignment. Returning to her desk, she leaned down, and turned off the computer. Looking up, she saw Hideaki gesturing her over to his desk. She approached.
“Leaving early?” he asked.
“No, actually, Mr. Ogawa asked me to cover a story.”
Hideaki smiled, proudly it seemed. “You see? That's what you can accomplish when you show some initiative and push the guy a little. Good for you.”
“Thank you.” Aya blushed.
“So, let me guess – is it an exhibition, a concert, or a dog show?”
Aya frowned. “A concert. Was it that easy to guess?”
“Those are just the assignments most freelancers wouldn't touch with a barge pole. No one wants to do them, so Ryu has to make someone do them. Don't take it bad. He'd likely never pick you yet if you hadn't stood up to him.”
Hideaki paused a moment, tapping his pen on the edge of his desk. “This is how you prove yourself, Aya. It's like … well, alright, in a restaurant, there's a chef, and the chef has his assistants. When assistants start, they might be just chopping vegetables for months. Eventually, they're allowed to make broths. But no one ever gets anywhere standing around waiting to be told what to do. Cooks become chefs because they step forward, volunteering for extra work, practicing dishes on their own time. They become masters of the craft because they were the ones who wouldn't take 'No, you're not ready yet' for an answer. So it is with journalists. I can see the fire in your eyes. You want to be the ace reporter, breaking huge stories, your by-line in the feature pieces?”
“Yes,” Aya affirmed.
Hideaki stood. “You want to be the next newshound to earn the coveted NSK Award?”
Aya had no idea what this meant, but it sounded important. “Yes!” she said. “I do!”
“That's the spirit! Then you go down to whatever forgettable hole-in-the-wall the old man's sent you to and you cover that equally forgettable concert!”
“Yes!” Aya said, and turned.
Hideaki smiled with admiration. She could really go places if she didn't get burned out first. Then something occurred to him. “Wait.” he said. “Do you have a dictaphone?”
Aya stopped, turning back around. She'd played with the office's dictaphone – the one with the name of the paper scratched into the back of it, the one everybody uses – but never had any reason to use it professionally. “Well, no, I was just going to take notes.”
“That's no good. If you quote someone on the record, and we print it, and they have a problem, it'll be your word against theirs. Hey, don't give me that look. I trust you. It's just a legal thing, OK? Here.” Hideaki opened his top desk drawer, and put his dictaphone on the desk. “Take mine. Some photos would probably be nice, too. Are you pretty good at taking photos?”
“I've had some experience with it, yes.”
“That's good. Take some shots of the club from the outside, the interior - if they'll let you - the manager, that kinda thing.”
“I'll do my best.”
Hideaki regarded Aya for a moment. When she smiled, her whole face lit up. Her eyes flashed with an intensity that was a little unsettling to him. There was a tremendous power in them, like she was more a force of nature than anything else. That would have to be the case, he imagined, when it came to any person capable of moving to a new country and settling in within just a few years, even if it was fairly obvious that she was a foreigner. He pitied the poor soul who got in this girl's way.
“Alright, Aya. Have fun."
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