novelraw Chapter 111: Absolute Certainty! A Comedy Grand Prix From the Previous World's Japan!
Chapter 111: Absolute Certainty! A Comedy Grand Prix From the Previous World's Japan!
Time quickly flew to early August. The scorching summer sun spilled across the back of the giant beast built of steel and glass that was Tokyo. Every inch of the air seemed distorted by the intense heat, as if space and time themselves were trembling slightly in this endless light and heat.
TV Tokyo, Production Bureau Headquarters Building.
Asumi's office.
The atmosphere at this moment was like the eye of the deep sea, isolated from all the noise and heat of the outside world, leaving only an almost solidified heaviness, like the calm before a torrential storm.
"Nohara-kun, are you... really certain?"
Asumi at this moment was like a young man stepping onto the gambling table for the first time, holding a half-burned cigarette between his fingers, his eyes filled with anxiety.
In front of him, lying quietly on the mahogany desk, was the final Proposal and Master Tape for Kasou Taishou—a television show crafted by Nohara Hiroshi himself that could be called the bible of variety shows.
It weighed heavily on his mind.
"Deputy Director Asumi, you have already asked three times today." Nohara Hiroshi sat opposite him, smiling gently.
He refilled Asumi's already empty teacup with boiling water, his movements unhurried. It was as if the storm of public opinion outside the window—a storm he had personally ignited and which was now raging intensely—was nothing more than an insignificant wisp of smoke curling up from a teacup."The filming of the variety show is going smoothly. The post-production for the first three episodes of the first season is already fully complete, and they can be submitted for review and broadcast at any time. Director Tanaka Kei and his team have fully gotten into the groove."
Nohara Hiroshi reported, his tone still carrying absolute confidence. "As for the Viewership Ratings, there's even less need for you to worry. I assure you, it will not disappoint."
"Sigh..." Asumi let out a long breath, a murky exhalation mixed with tobacco and anxiety.
Of course, he believed in Nohara Hiroshi.
This young man, from Yamishibai to Tales of the Unusual, had created miracles that had long surpassed the boundaries of common sense.
But this time was different.
"Hiroshi-kun, do you know what this Kasou Taishou means for our entire Kanto Faction?"
Asumi ruthlessly crushed his cigarette butt into the ashtray. An unprecedented seriousness appeared on his normally refined and steady face.
"This is no longer a simple battle for Viewership Ratings! This is war! It's a life-and-death struggle that will determine whether our Kanto Faction can plant our own flag in the barren wasteland of variety shows—a field monopolized by the Tokyo Faction for decades—over the next ten years!"
"That old fox, Takada Toshihide, might seem like he's hyping you up out of praise, but in reality, he's using the most vicious of overt schemes to push you, and our entire Kanto Faction, to the edge of a cliff with no way back! He has turned all the media and all the viewers into spectators of this public execution! Once we fail, what we lose won't just be a project, but our entire faction's last hope of a comeback in the field of variety shows!"
Asumi actually saw things very clearly.
However, Nohara Hiroshi just smiled calmly, a smile carrying the clarity and understanding of someone who had seen it all.
"Deputy Director Asumi, have you ever heard of 'infamous popularity'?"
"Infamous popularity?" Asumi was stunned. This term, full of the flavor of the modern internet, was clearly beyond the comprehension of someone from his era.
"Yes, even infamous popularity is still popularity."
Nohara Hiroshi's knuckles gently rubbed against the warm teacup. His clear eyes flickered with a wise light that seemed to have grasped the rules of future media. "Public opinion is a double-edged sword. Deputy Director Takada and the others think that by using overwhelming manufactured hype to raise the audience's expectations to the maximum, they can make me fall even harder when I fail. This calculation is indeed vicious."
"But, they overlooked one thing."
He paused, his lips curving into a cold arc.
"This expectation, pushed to the absolute extreme, is also pushed to the extreme in terms of... Traffic. It's like a massive whirlpool, forcibly and irresistibly drawing the gaze of everyone in Japan toward our work. Whether they hold expectations or doubts, whether they want to come on a pilgrimage or just to watch a joke, the moment the program airs, they will all be sitting in front of their televisions."
"As long as our work is good enough—good enough to overturn their perceptions, good enough to crush all their doubts—then this 'infamy' will instantly transform into the most fanatical 'fandom.' The massive backlash brought about by this excessive hyping will ultimately only burn Deputy Director Takada and his people until they are scorched black."
This was the reason why later generations pursued the traffic of infamous popularity.
With traffic came topics of discussion.
With traffic came Viewership Ratings.
With traffic came an endless stream of viewers!
Infamous popularity was still popularity!
Anti-fans were still fans!
People in this era would never know just how incredibly crazy the incendiary traffic manipulation tactics of later generations were in their scramble for fans and attention.
For Nohara Hiroshi, this current public opinion of being hyped up to be killed wasn't something he hadn't experienced before.
In the end.
Didn't it all turn from infamous black to fanatical pink?
These words were like a bolt of lightning tearing through chaos, instantly illuminating Asumi's brain, which had long been shackled by the mindset of a traditional television worker!
He stared blankly at the young man in front of him. All the anxiety on his refined face had faded away, replaced by a bottomless shock that emanated from the very marrow of his bones—the kind of shock that came from witnessing a true Dimensional Strike!
He finally understood.
This young man wasn't just rising to the challenge.
He was using the enemy's offensive to whip up a monstrous wave for his own soon-to-set-sail titan—a wave massive enough to completely overturn all the rules of the old era!
...
The first Saturday of August, 2:25 PM.
All of Japan seemed to be enveloped in a bizarre atmosphere filled with contradiction and expectation.
In countless homes, countless offices, and countless cafes and Izakayas that were still open, televisions were unanimously locked onto TV Tokyo's channel.
Many of them were not fans of variety shows.
They had simply been forcefully dragged to this controversial poker table by the overwhelming storm of public opinion that had lasted a full week.
They wanted to see if the young man who had been praised to the heavens by the media would create a new myth, or if he would be reduced to a massive joke ruthlessly punctured by the times.
Tokyo, inside the elegantly decorated study of an apartment.
The veteran Film Critic, "Spicy Kara-Jishi," was sitting at his desk with a solemn expression.
In front of him was the latest Sony television, and beside it lay a stack of pristine white manuscript paper, prepared in advance, along with a Montblanc Pen filled with ink.
The corners of his mouth held a cold sneer, full of the haughty superiority of a professional.
He had already thought of the title for today's column—[The Fall of a Genius: A Magnificent Suicide Sparked by Arrogance.]
He had even drafted the opening of the article.
"...When a storytelling genius attempts to use his cold cinematic logic to challenge the iron walls of variety shows, an arena filled with fire and passion, all we can see is a preordained failure—a tragic, Quixotic charge..."
He only needed to wait. Wait for that young man to deliver a clumsy performance, offering the perfect footnote to his manifesto, the ending of which had already been decided.
2:30 PM arrived on the dot.
A burst of electronic music—childlike, magical, and simple almost to the point of brainwashing—rang out from the television speakers without warning.
The melody was like a mischievous child, using the most unreasonable method to instantly grab the ears of every listener.
The screen lit up.
There was no magnificent stage, no dazzling lights.
There was only a seemingly simple, yet incredibly familiar studio that looked like a community center.
In the center of the stage stood two figures.
"Huh? Isn't that... Hagimoto Kinichi and Katori Shingo?!"
Spicy Kara-Jishi's brow furrowed imperceptibly.
He naturally recognized these two.
Hagimoto Kinichi, a veteran Geinin well-known in the Kanto region, was famous for his approachable and amiable style.
Katori Shingo was a young idol formerly heavily promoted by Kanto TV, sunny, handsome, and full of boyish charm.
Compared to the dazzling top-tier stars of the Tokyo Faction, these two might not be considered huge names.
But to the older viewers who had grown up watching Kanto TV programs, they held an irreplaceable, family-like familiarity.
"Hello, everyone! Good afternoon!"
Hagimoto Kinichi waved at the camera with his signature infectious smile. "Welcome to Kasou Taishou—the all-new, nationwide creative imitation show produced by us here at TV Tokyo!"
"Yeah!" Katori Shingo beside him cooperated enthusiastically, striking a vibrant victory pose.
This opening was standard, traditional, even... a bit outdated.
The sneering arc on the corners of Spicy Kara-Jishi's mouth deepened.
However, just as he prepared to put pen to paper and write down his first biting critique...
Following the hosts' introductions, the first performance began.
"Hm? That was fast?" Spicy Kara-Jishi noticed something unusual about this variety show—the pacing was surprisingly quick.
The stage background suddenly dimmed.
A spotlight turned on, and the first act formally commenced.
There was no announcer, no introduction.
There was only a man in black tights against a pure black background, performing a pantomime full of fun and visual impact.
His two white-gloved hands transformed at times into a rolling bowling ball, at times into scattering pins, and at times into a typewriter frantically striking keys...
"...This!"
Spicy Kara-Jishi's hand gripping the fountain pen suddenly stopped.
In his eyes, which were always full of scrutiny, a flash of undisguised astonishment appeared for the very first time.
What... what kind of game was this?
Then the judges on the stage were shown. They were all veteran actors and producers from the old days of Kanto TV. Although Spicy Kara-Jishi couldn't name everyone, they all looked familiar.
And these judges directly gave out scores based on the performance they had just seen, conducting a standard grading process.
This aspect didn't exceed his expectations.
But...
For Spicy Kara-Jishi, the performance just now was truly too brilliant. Even now, he felt as if he hadn't fully recovered.
"What a novel way to perform..." Spicy Kara-Jishi murmured.
Before he could fully recover from the shock of this novelty, the second, third, and fourth performances followed one after another at a dazzling speed, as if the film reel had been placed on fast-forward!
He saw the brilliant idea of using piled-up bodies to imitate a beer glass being filled!
He saw the whimsical creativity of using nothing more than a simple bedsheet and a fan to perfectly recreate Marilyn Monroe's classic moment!
He saw the astonishing concept of using just the limbs of a few people to flawlessly reconstruct a grand fireworks display!
One after another, concepts filled with Unconstrained Imagination yet rooted in daily life and bursting with familiarity, smashed into the senses of every viewer like a sudden, impenetrable deluge!
Spicy Kara-Jishi felt as if his brain had been thoroughly pureed by a high-speed blender!
His rational defenses as a professional Film Critic—defenses hammered solid as rock by countless terrible movies—were in this moment completely and utterly washed away by a more primal, more pure, and more powerful force known as "fun"!
He even forgot what he was supposed to do, forgot what he was supposed to write.
The corners of his mouth uncontrollably crept upward little by little.
Finally, when a comical scene of "a ramen chef tossing noodles" appeared on the screen, imitated using the simplest of props...
"Pfft—"
He couldn't hold it in any longer and sprayed out a mouthful of tea.
"Haha... hahaha... hahahahaha!"
A burst of unrestrained, almost out-of-control hysterical laughter erupted without warning in this quiet study!
He slapped the desk as he laughed, tears uncontrollably streaming from the corners of his eyes. On his face, which was normally so full of harshness and solemnity, there was now only the exhilarating joy of being completely conquered by the purest form of happiness!
"Genius... this... this is a fucking true genius!"
Laughing, he used his tea-stained hand to frantically scribble on the manuscript paper. The handwriting was messy, yet full of the thrill of surviving a disaster.
"This is no longer a simple variety show! This is a nationwide carnival of imagination! Nohara Hiroshi... he... he's not shooting a variety show at all! He's using a method that none of us understand to inject the strongest, most potent shot of 'happiness' into this era that has long since been corroded by boredom and numbness!"
He crumpled the piece of manuscript paper filled with praise and aggressively tossed it into the trash can.
Then, he picked up the Montblanc Pen and wrote down a brand new title on a fresh sheet of white manuscript paper—a title powerful enough to shake the entire Japanese television industry.
[God Has Descended.]
...
This hurricane of pure joy brought about by Kasou Taishou swept across all of Japan with an unstoppable momentum in just half an hour.
Inside the Midnight Diner, the night club bouncers who had just been worrying about the quality were now bent over laughing, slapping the bar counter as tears streamed down their faces.
"Holy shit! That 'human typewriter' is too fucking funny! Hahaha! I can't, I can't! I'm going to die laughing!"
In the boys' dormitory of the University of Tokyo, the top students who had just been furious about the "betrayal" were now lying haphazardly on the floor, clutching their stomachs and laughing like a bunch of three-hundred-pound toddlers.
"I... I take back everything I said before! Sensei Nohara! You are my god! No! You are the faith I will forever believe in!"
Countless homes, countless offices, countless cafes, and Izakayas erupted in the exact same heaven-shaking laughter filled with pure joy.
They forgot all their worries, forgot all their stress, forgot all their disappointments.
In their eyes, there were only those simple, pure moments of happiness packed with childlike wonder and imagination.
And at the center of that storm, inside the office of the Nohara Hiroshi Special Production Team.
Nohara Hiroshi simply watched the television calmly. He saw the close-ups of the judges' faces distorted by laughter, and a Calm and Indifferent smile of a victor touched the corners of his lips.
He knew that this war was already over.
From the moment he decided to bring out that proposal—one capable of completely overturning the era—from a spacetime belonging to the future into this world, the ending had already been determined.