The Wonderful Daily Life of Nogizaka

At the same time, inside the cultural center.

"How's it going? How is your current situation?"

"Look, Director, it looks pretty good. Maybe it's because the response to the previous events was very enthusiastic. This time there are an unprecedented number of people coming. Although we have slightly raised the requirements, the number of people who can meet the conditions and pass smoothly

There are still many more than before——"

"That's good."

The old man, the director of the cultural center and one of the organizers of this event, nodded slightly. He looked to be in his sixties, and his hair on the temples was gray, but he still looked energetic, with a face full of Chinese characters.

He is a bookish person, and at first glance he looks like the kind of person who interacts with intellectuals all the time.

The fact is indeed true. This old man is not only the director of a small cultural center. He has a respected status. He participated in politics when he was young and his status was not low. He was quite prestigious in the business and political circles. He retired at the age of fifty.

, gave up the seat to others

, and then relied on the connections accumulated in his youth to establish this cultural center, dealing with all kinds of potential writers and screenwriters, and even various artists and traditional cultural experts, and finally planned and founded this Akita Prefecture’s much-anticipated

cultural event.

It can be said that writers, artists, screenwriters, etc. who became famous from this conference and were known by this circle, and finally went out and made a name for themselves, will more or less have to accept his favor. It can be imagined that

Its current status is revered.

This time, it is already the sixth conference that he has personally hosted and participated in. It is expected that after one or two more meetings, he plans to really retire.

And at that time, whether neon or Akita, these unique cultures and essences of this land can only be protected and passed down by the young people themselves——

The old man thought silently in his heart.

After being distracted for a while, the curator finally came back to his senses. He once again lamented in his heart that he was really old and his reaction was so slow. At the same time, he looked down at the staff member who had just spoken to him, pondered for a moment and said: "Passed.

How many people ask for haiku to be written?”

"Currently, there are more than 130 in total, Director." The staff member raised his head and replied respectfully.

"How many masterpieces of haiku can be sent to you?" the old man continued to ask.

"There are less than ten articles."

"Too little."

The old man shook his head gently, with some disappointment on his face. He couldn't help but sigh and sigh: "Sure enough, have times changed? In this era, even the original culture of the land where I live can no longer be passed down properly. Or should I say the real essence?

Has it been written all over by people in ancient times? Alas—"

As he spoke, the old man couldn't help but fall into emotion again, but this time not long after, a exclamation suddenly came from beside him, waking him up.

"Eh-this...!"

"What's wrong?"

The curator frowned slightly. The museum usually needed to be quiet, so such reactions and sounds such as being startled and shouting had always been strictly prohibited and disliked by him.

He looked at the source of the sound, which was the staff member just now, but this time, the face of this young man in his twenties was full of surprise.

Upon hearing his curator's question, the young man immediately stood up and answered. His face looked quite shocked, as if he had seen something extraordinary: "Director, look, this is the haiku that was just sent over -"

"Oh? The latest masterpiece?"

The old man looked indifferent. At his age, he had never seen any big storms. It was just a well-written haiku. Let alone other such haiku, he had already read a lot today. Basically

All works that are rated as masterpieces or above have to pass through his eyes, so naturally he won't be too surprised.

But after receiving the haiku and taking a closer look, the old man's indifference instantly melted away like rain and snow.

"さびしさや,One-foot eliminationえて,ゆくほたる——"

The curator recited softly, and his originally calm expression gradually became as confused as the staff just now. He recited it to himself several times before he couldn't help but nod vigorously, his eyes were bright and he praised loudly: "Okay, okay

, Good! It’s well written, not bad, not bad, it can be called the best work so far!”

His voice paused for a moment, and then he suddenly turned back and looked at the person just now. He frowned and asked with some dissatisfaction: "Which writer or professor wrote this? Why didn't we invite him? Why do we need someone to write the haiku himself?

How can I come in? This is a serious oversight!"

The staff member was stunned for a moment after hearing this, then he pondered a little awkwardly, touched his head and said: "Uh... No, curator, this was written by a girl queuing up outside."

"Girl?"

The old man was suddenly startled.

"Yes, a girl who looks like a teenager. She is said to be an idol. Her accent sounds like a Kansai accent. She seems to be from Osaka—"

the staff added.

"A teenage idol...can actually write such an outstanding work. After all, I am too pessimistic——"

The curator was stunned for a long time, then took a deep breath, and then exhaled it for a long time, sighing with joy on his face: "The younger generation is to be feared, the younger generation is to be feared! It's amazing, let her come in quickly!"

"Okay curator... uh, wait a minute, curator, there are new haiku here. You may have to wait until you read this one -"

"I'll take care of mine and what you've informed me, so there won't be any delay."

"No, curator, I have to show you this article too—"

A look of shock appeared on the staff member's face again, and he respectfully handed the haiku to his hand.

"Oh? Is there such a thing?"

The old man was startled and quickly took it. After a closer look, his brows could not help but tremble in surprise.

"Old pond や, frog fly び こ む, water の sound——"

"Hi~ seconds, seconds! Hahahaha——"

After a while, after savoring the haiku carefully, the old man’s eyebrows trembled wildly. He couldn’t help stroking his hands as he recited it and burst into laughter. He pointed at the haiku and shouted that it was well written. His startled look scared the staff next to him.

He jumped, completely forgetting that this was an act he had strictly prohibited, and danced happily.

"The skills in using words, the rhythmic structure, and the creation of pictures are amazing! Without more than ten years of accumulation, I'm afraid it's just a dream!" The old man hurriedly looked at the staff just now and asked: "What's this again?"

Who wrote it? Did one of the writers we invited just sneak out and deliberately write these haiku and send them here?"

The old man had a sudden thought: "Who is it? Murakami-san? Nagai-san? Or who?"

"Uh...no, curator, this time she is also a teenage girl, and judging by her age, she should be younger than the one just now——"

The staff responded with a weird look.

"Oh? Another one?"

"Yes, and the other person seems to be an idol too. He knows each other with the person just now——"

"Also an idol?"

The old man nodded slightly, took a long breath, and his face was filled with relief. At this moment, he felt that all his hard work over the years in organizing this conference had not been in vain. The existence of haiku in neon traditional culture has not been cut off.

, and the younger generations are catching up!

And it was written so well, so well—

Thinking of this, the old man couldn't help but shake his head in shame.

——It’s so brilliant that I probably won’t be able to write it in my lifetime!

However, at this moment, there was another exclamation.

"Director, look quickly, there's another article!"