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Rohan doesn't have a book in particular he likes.
It comes as a bit of a shock whenever he answers questions from either readers or interviewers, but he doesn't draw inspiration from books he's read or music he's heard. Every bit of Pink Dark Boy is his own, and he takes pride in that as a writer and artist. Although it's not cheating, per se, to take inspiration, Kishibe Rohan likes to have his own work and his own sources from his own brain.
The most important thing to keep in mind when doing anything is that surpassing oneself is far harder than anything else.
Of course, when Kakyoin Noriaki heard that, he dragged Rohan off to some bookstore on the outskirts of Morioh run by an old man with glasses perched on his nose and a pipe gripped tightly in his withered hands.
"Kishibe," Kakyoin says in hardly disguised eagerness, like a puppy trying to pretend food isn't in front of it when an owner commands it to wait, "look at the books. Come on. I see those lips twitching! Look at them. Find something you like."
"The only thing I see even remotely worth buying and taking back are the reference books over there," Rohan grumbles, though he does begrudgingly follow Kakyoin through the store. His fingertips brush the spines of some books on the way, feeling their soft leather touch. "Literature sugarcoats stuff too much. It's far better to just experience it for yourself, since everything else is just. Angst. And porn."
"It's not that bad," Kakyoin smiles lightly, pulling a particularly battered copy of some literature that looks like it belongs in Tokyo University's library, not some bookstore tucked away in Morioh of all places. "Besides, what if you need to write sex sometime?" he adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively in a way that makes him look like a raccoon.
Rohan nearly chokes on his spit. "I write for Shonen Jump, not some erotica," he says indignantly, bristling at the very thought. "Who do you think I am, Kakyoin? And besides, if I needed to write porn, I'd just go to Tokyo sometime. I hear your native place is full of it."
Easily, Kakyoin answers, "You can simply experience it for yourself, Kishibe Rohan."
"Oh, fuck you," Rohan says absently.
"Suggesting?"
"What-"
"Anyways," Kakyoin interrupts him, waving a book around in front of his face like he's blind and opening it, "you don't know the best part about getting books from second-hand stores. The smell! The smell, Kishibe! Isn't it fantastic?"
He's curious. Rohan takes a tentative sniff.
It smells-
Really good, actually. What the heck?
"I know, right?" Kakyoin says upon seeing his face, smiling slightly. "Like vanilla and woodsmoke, eh?"
"Give me that," Rohan demands, thrusting a hand out for the book.
He's right. It smells delightful, like vanilla and honey and woodsmoke all rolled into one. Are books like wine? The more they age, the finer they become?
Either way, he'll never forget the scent. He might even be a little addicted now.
Curse you, Kakyoin Noriaki.