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I would be delighted to meet you and talk over lunch maybe? The city is beautiful so I can offer for you to stay a little while, all expenses paid for of course. Let me know if you’d be interested and what dates would suit you so I can book the plane tickets. Once again, your message was a pleasure to read, thank you for your support.
Yours Sincerely,
Eraserhead.
Your heart was beating widely against your ribs as your eyes scanned over the email time and time again. You still couldn’t entirely believe the words on the screen before you. An invitation to fly cross country and meet him? This sounded like personalised heaven and too good to be true. But it was true. You were going to meet Eraserhead. Your favourite author of all time.
You frantically typed back a reply, trying to contain your fanaticism and remain professional. Without a proper job or a real schedule, you were free to fly out right this second. Never in your life did you imagine for such an opportunity to land into your hands, but here you were, what left like the luckiest girl alive.
Ever since you were about fifteen years old, Easerhead had captured your heart with his writing. Although you didn’t know his real name or what he looked like, his work stirred an obsession within you. Over the years you acquired an impressive collection of all his work, even the more obscure novels which you blew half your bank account on.
His novel ‘Stray Cats’ has been a favourite of yours for as long as you’ve known his work. It was a simple story of a reserved man struggling through a life of chaos and battles. However, the book was really about human nature and existentialism, a perfect balance of witty metaphors and an exploration of what its like to be a human. It made you cry both of laugher and of sorrow at times when you needed it most. A chance to talk to the mind behind it all was incredible.
Within hours your laptop screen lit up once more with a reply, detailing your travel arrangements among other things such as a non-disclosure agreement about Eraserhead’s identity. He wished to remain mainly anonymous to the general public and you respected that, if anything it made him seem mysterious and alluring. Your palms gazed over with sweat due to both anxiety and excitement. You were leaving in two days. Only two days to prepare yourself for the meeting of a lifetime.
According to the email you’re to stay in town for five days and within that time you were promised dinner, sight-seeing, sneak peaks into his studio and much more. You’ve never really travelled before, let alone across the country to Musutafu, so your nerves were acting up. Quickly you swallowed a couple of pills from the orange container on your desk and started digging through your closet and packing your bags.
You went through the motions of getting ready, throwing clothes into a suite case and looking for a full shampoo bottle in your shower. Within the rush and the nerves you barely remembered to notify your friends you were leaving town, you wouldn’t want to worry them. You made sure to pack of your copy of ‘Stray Cats’, despite the worn-down pages and shaky notes written in the margins it was a treasured item. Soon Eraserhead’s signature would grace the front page.
You allowed yourself to get lost in thought, imagining what his handwriting would look like. What would he look like? Based solely on his writing you pictured a tall, clean-shaven man in a crisp jacket with comedically over-sized glasses. Or maybe he was the quiet bookish type, lanky and charmingly awkward. A subconscious smile stretched across your lips. Would he be handsome?
Naturally you pushed that thought down, not wanting to sexualise a man you hadn’t even met. Besides you were going to find out in under forty-eight hours. With that thought in mind, you pulled the covers over your body and drifted off to sleep.
The following day was practically a blur as you rushed around town to pick up bits and pieces for the long journey. Without any prior experience of long travel, you grabbed basically everything you could lay your eyes on. With a shopping bag filled with neck pillows, travel kits and colourful passport cases you felt accomplished. You didn’t need three passport covers, in fact you didn’t need one at all, but their bright colours captured your attention at checkout. You never had much impulse control to begin with.
The long awaited day finally came and after chugging down two cups of coffee you set out to the airport. It was surprisingly easy and peaceful, apart from the custom controls where you had to hurriedly take off your boots and belt. With your headphones blasting music loud enough to drown out the noisy airport crowd you felt mostly at ease and soon enough you boarded the plane.
After the four-and-a-half-hour flight your limbs felt heavy and your head was pounding, however none of that mattered. You were finally here. Outside there was an uber waiting for you, ordered in your name, so you excitedly got in. The drive there was rather short, or at least it felt like it was after the long flight.
You stared outside at the unfamiliar scenery taking in the cityscape and busy streets. It was gorgeous. The streets and buildings were much cleaner than the ones around your home town and even the people themselves seemed different. Quickly you found yourself falling in love with Musutafu. But before you could zone out taking in the beauty of your surrounding the car came to a stop in front of a rather lavish house.
The neighbourhood was quiet and littered with trees and lush flowerpots. All the houses seemed absurdly huge and entirely detached, a stark contrast to your own terraced apartment in your dingy neighbourhood. You felt entirely out of place and despite wearing your best clothes, you felt underdressed. The diver bid you farewell and drove off leaving you alone in front of the gated house. All of a sudden it hit you how crazy this all was. However there seemed to be no going back now, so you took a deep breath and pressed the call button on the intercom.
“Hi, I’m here for Mr Eraserhead. I got an email-“ you spoke nervously as soon as you heard a ‘ping’ noise on the other end.
A loud excited voice called out. “Oh its you lovely! I know who you are. Let me get the door open for ya!”.
Before you could say anything else, the gates unlocked and nervously you walked on in. Past the walls, the house seemed even more intimidatingly huge with brick ascents and large windows. Suddenly the front door swung open and a tall man emerged from within the house.
A bright smile graced his face and instinctively you found yourself smiling back at him. He was not at all what you expected, in fact he was the polar opposite. The man was dressed in a leather jacket with luscious blonde hair pulled back into a bun.
He excitedly hopped down the steps and pulled you into a quick hug. You barely had the opportunity to process it when he pulled away.
“Yo! My name is Yamada Hizashi, I’m Shouta’s manager. I’m the one who wrote you the email actually. Come on in lovely!” he cheered up at you, rather loudly.
“Shouta’s manager?” you questioned, cocking an eyebrow.
So it wasn’t Eraserhead himself, who wrote you the email. Although you were a little disappointed to find that out, it didn’t really matter. Even if it was this strange man who you spoke with you were here after all. Literally at his doorstep.
The man waved dismissively. “Oh, right you only know him as Eraserhead. The name is Aizawa, but yes I’m his manager” he beamed.
Aizawa. What a beautiful name, you smiled to yourself.
“Will do” you nodded and followed the blonde man inside the house. However before you could make it past the entrance, he pulled you to the side with an awkward smile.
“Oh, just one small tiny thing before you meet him…”