Afterword
Greetings in early summer. How is everyone doing?
I'm thrilled to be able to deliver The Pure-Hearted Two-Facedness of Kyoto Nadeshiko Kiyoko-san to you all during such a wonderful season.
The catalyst for writing this work was my editor saying, "Since you live in Kyoto, why don't you write a story about Kyoto people?" When I received that pitch, the very first thing that popped into my head was the heroine's name, "Kiyoko."
"A Kyoto heroine should be named Kyoko. Wait, no, hold on a second, me. Naming her Kyoko just because she's from Kyoto is way too on the nose. Let's tweak it a little and make it Kiyoko." I came up with her name on that kind of cheap, simple whim.
To balance the visual aesthetics of the text with "Kiyoko," I decided to write the other characters' names in katakana as well. But in my head, I figured the protagonist "Kouya-kun" would probably be written with the kanji for "Wilderness" (荒野).
Likewise, the supporting characters "Meika," "Taishi," and "Hitoha" would probably be "Famous Flower" (名花), "Ambition" (大志), and "One Leaf" (一葉)...
By the way, I am a purebred Kyotoite, born and raised.
Throughout my life, I've lived in Kyoto City's Kita Ward, Sakyo Ward, and Ukyo Ward.
I have the general sensibilities (?) of a Kyotoite, the kind who says things like, "Fushimi? Uji? Muko City? Honestly, in my mind, those areas don't really feel like Kyoto."
I have never once used the word "Bubuzuke" (tea rice) in my daily life.
Though I've spent most of my life in Kyoto, I did live in the Kanto area for a little bit during my student days. Not Tokyo, though.
Back then, even when I was speaking in polite Japanese, people in Kanto would instantly figure out, "Oh, you're from Kansai." Apparently, the intonation is just different.
It's a common trait not just for Kyotoites but for Kansai people in general: even when we go to Kanto, our Kansai dialect doesn't get fixed at all.
Or rather, we have no intention of fixing it. I mean, they can understand Kansai dialect just fine...
When going back home, I used to take a night bus from Tokyo to Kyoto to save on travel expenses. The boarding area for this night bus happened to be at the Yaesu Exit of Tokyo Station.
The now-defunct Yaesu Book Center and the stock market electronic bulletin board are the scenery of my youth.
Ah, for those who don't know, a long time ago, there used to be a bookstore right in front of the Yaesu Exit of Tokyo Station, with an electronic bulletin board displaying stock prices right next to it. Whenever stock prices plummeted, you'd see scenes on TV where bewildered middle-aged men standing in front of that electronic board would be interviewed. Ah, the nostalgia.
Anyway, even getting to the Yaesu Exit of Tokyo Station required taking a bus, and this bus always passed right through Asakusa on its way to the station.
I remember looking out the bus window at the Kaminarimon gate and thinking, "Whoa, I'm really in Tokyo!" every single time.
The Sumida River also left a strong impression on me. I just thought, Man, that's a huge river.
In this work, there's a flashback scene for the protagonist, Kouya, that features the Kamo River in Kyoto. But compared to the rivers in Tokyo, the rivers in Kyoto are generally much narrower. Because of that, the first time I saw the Sumida River, the impact was incredible.
Due to all these personal memories and experiences, I decided to set the story in Asakusa.
This work is a story about a heroine from Kyoto forcing her way into the home of a protagonist in Asakusa.
I briefly considered an alternative draft where, conversely, a boy from Asakusa goes to Kyoto, but in the end, I stuck with my initial idea of a Kyoto heroine's journey to Asakusa.
Yes, purely because it made it easier to write as a rom-com.
Though I suppose if this were a character-driven literary novel, setting it in Kyoto as a workplace drama about a protagonist from Tokyo helping out at an inn while being completely run ragged by two-faced Kyotoites would have been a solid idea too...
During the writing process, I had the opportunity to look at local maps again, research events, and see the town from a different perspective than usual, which was a lot of fun.
I couldn't find a place to put this in the main text, so it became a hidden setting, but Kiyoko's family's inn is located around Kawaramachi along the Kamo River. Prime real estate, truly.
Also, here's a little geographical trivia. The river called "Kamo River," which often appears in dramas set in Kyoto, is sometimes written as "鴨川" and other times as "賀茂川" (both pronounced Kamo-gawa but with different kanji). Some of you might be thinking, "Isn't the spelling inconsistent?!" but in a way, both are correct.
This river merges with the Takano River near Demachiyanagi. Using that point as a border, the downstream section is generally called 鴨川, and the upstream section is called 賀茂川. It's basically a colloquial naming convention.
However, under the River Act, the entire thing from top to bottom is officially classified as 鴨川.
Since Kiyoko's family home is in Kawaramachi, they use the 鴨川 spelling.
One more behind-the-scenes detail about Kiyoko's family home: I actually thought about making it a hot spring inn. But when you think of hot spring towns in Kyoto Prefecture, you usually think of Yunohana Onsen in Kameoka City. I wanted to keep it within Kyoto City, so I gave up on the hot spring inn setting.
Therefore, her family's home is just a normal, historic inn.
But since the inn seems to be well on track now, they might have opened an annex over in Yunohana Onsen.
I wanted to write a few more Kyoto episodes to show off my local pride, but I ran out of pages.
Too bad, so sad. Well, the finer details of Kyoto don't have much to do with the main plot anyway, so it can't be helped.
Also, midway through writing, I discovered that the setting of Asakusa hosts a wonderful festival called the Tori-no-Ichi. I got super pumped, thinking, "Whoa! It's even flashier than the Tenjin-san festival at Kitano Tenmangu! This is great!" But wouldn't you know it, that festival takes place in November...
Since the timeline of the story spans from May to August, I had to completely abandon that idea. Instead, wanting to include some sort of local event, I went with the most classic, cliché choice possible: the Sumida River Fireworks Festival.
The Sumida River Fireworks Festival, known to all.
I've never actually seen it in person, though. Only on TV Tokyo.
Somehow, writing a story set in a specific locale drastically increases these "imaginary event participations," and even though I haven't actually gone, I gain a pointless sense of satisfaction, feeling as if I had.
Yes, it's imaginary, so of course it's all just an illusion.
I was given a lot of pages for the afterword, so I ended up rambling quite a bit, but despite the twists and turns, I had a blast writing The Pure-Hearted Two-Facedness of Kyoto Nadeshiko Kiyoko-san.
To all my readers: Thank you so much for sticking with the conclusion of this Kyoto girl who forced her way into Asakusa all the way to the very end.
Finally, I want to express my deepest gratitude to my editor who asked me to write a story about Kyotoites, to Bushi-sama for drawing such wonderful illustrations despite their busy schedule (secretly, little sister Marika's character design is my favorite), to the proofreaders who meticulously red-penned my typo-riddled manuscript, and to everyone involved in the publication of this book.
Once again, thank you very much.
Praying that we can meet again somewhere.
—Well then, see you later.
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