novelraw Chapter 15: First Broadcast
Chapter 15: First Broadcast
"Yamamoto-kun?" Suzuki Kiyoto blanked for a moment. The Broadcasting Department? Why would they call?
"It's like this, Section Chief Suzuki. Section Chief Takeshita just personally called and gave a very high evaluation of your 'Yamishibai'."
Yamamoto's tone didn't have the slightest ripple. "We looked at the recent schedule, and there happens to be a vacancy in the late-night slot next Monday morning. So I wanted to ask, if it airs every day at 12:20 AM starting from next Monday, can you keep up with the production schedule?"
"Next Monday? Every day?" Suzuki Kiyoto's brain buzzed.
"Yes, our broadcasting custom here is continuous broadcasting seven days a week. If possible, we hope you can prepare the first week's videotapes, which are seven episodes, and hand them over to us before this Friday."
Yamamoto said, "This is a very good opportunity, Section Chief Suzuki. Although the competition in the late-night slot isn't as fierce as prime time, continuous broadcasting can accumulate viewers and word-of-mouth the fastest!"
Setting down the phone, the ecstatic joy on Suzuki Kiyoto's face had already been swiftly replaced by a stern expression.
He looked at his subordinates, who had been cheering just a moment ago, and said in a deep voice, "Everyone, we have a new task."
When he stated the Broadcasting Department's requirements, the previously fervent atmosphere in the office instantly cooled down.
Produce six new animated episodes within a week?Are you kidding!?
Although they finished producing the first episode, "The Talisman Woman", today, it was entirely because of Nohara Hiroshi's storyboards.
They could almost just blatantly copy them.
And Nohara Hiroshi's storyboards only covered the first three episodes. For the remaining four episodes, even if they drew them on the spot, could they actually draw them out?
"This... this is impossible, right?" Minamura Hoshi's face turned pale. "Our budget and manpower simply..." Saying this, he also looked toward Nohara Hiroshi.
"Yeah, Section Chief, this is too rushed."
Everyone showed looks of difficulty. This was no longer a challenge; it was simply a fantasy tale.
Suzuki Kiyoto's brows were also tightly locked together. He knew the arduousness of this task. But the opportunity was right in front of them; once missed, there would be no more.
Just when everyone felt despair, a calm voice rang out.
"Dekimasu."
(We can do it.)
The group unanimously turned their heads and looked toward the source of the voice.
Nohara Hiroshi.
He still stood there with a calm expression, yet his eyes revealed an unquestionable firmness.
"Nohara-kun?" Suzuki Kiyoto looked at him.
"We discussed many alternative stories before, and we basically have the script outlines for them." Nohara Hiroshi walked to the whiteboard, picked up a marker, and rapidly wrote down a few titles, speaking as he wrote: "'Tragic Veneration', 'Family Rules', 'Hair', 'The Next Floor', 'Overhead Rack', 'Contradiction'... Moreover, I also have a complete train of thought."
He turned around, his gaze sweeping over everyone. "As long as we have a clear division of labor and focus all our specific energy, it can be accomplished. The stylized art style gives us the possibility of compressing production time."
His words were like a shot of adrenaline injected into everyone's hearts.
Looking at those bizarre names on the whiteboard and Nohara Hiroshi's confident appearance, the originally panicked hearts of the crowd miraculously settled down.
After all, Nohara Hiroshi was currently a somewhat famous manga artist.
The produced "Yamishibai" had even passed the audit by the TV Tokyo headquarters' Production Bureau Audit Department, which was always known for its difficult audits.
This was enough to prove Nohara Hiroshi's abilities and talent!
Now that Nohara Hiroshi had said so...
Then how could they possibly retreat anymore!?
"Alright! We'll do it like this!"
Looking at the young man before him, Suzuki Kiyoto's eyes were filled with appreciation and gratification. He forcefully slapped the table and issued battle commands. "Hashishita, go interface with the Broadcasting Department immediately and confirm all the details! Minamura, Haseji, Kitagawa, all of you, starting from now, completely follow Nohara-kun's commands! This week, we'll make our home here! I will solve the meals and accommodation! Everyone, perk up your spirits for me! By the end of the workday on Friday! Produce all the videotapes! Hand them in!"
"Yes!"
A neat and uniform roar announced the start of an extreme challenge.
For the next seven days, the Suzuki Section transformed into a high-speed operating war machine.
The floor was piled with empty takeout bento boxes and instant ramen packaging bags, and the air was permeated with the peculiar mixed smell of coffee, paint, and sweat.
Nohara Hiroshi became the absolute core of this small team.
His workstation was covered in storyboard sketches, every single one using the simplest lines to outline the most precise terrifying atmosphere.
"Minamura-kun, here, add a bit more eerie atmosphere in the hospital for 'Tragic Veneration'. There needs to be a feeling of wanting to knock their heads into the ground."
"Kitagawa-san, for 'Hair', don't use pure black for the hair color. Use several different shades of gray overlapping each other, so that it will have a sense of flow in a static image."
"Haseji-kun, for the stairs in 'The Next Floor', the perspective needs to be distorted a bit more, making people feel uncomfortable the moment they look at it."
He rarely spoke loudly, but every instruction was clear and explicit, pointing straight to the core. His brain was like a precise computer, perfectly disassembling and combining the production workflow for the six stories and allocating them to everyone.
And he himself took on the heaviest workload—drawing the key animation frames for all the crucial scenes.
When the others were so tired that they collapsed and fell asleep on the camp beds, the desk lamp at his workstation always stayed lit the latest.
As long as anyone looked over, they could find that Nohara Hiroshi's hands were forever drawing.
Without the slightest hesitation.
Time flew by rapidly amidst this extreme busyness.
On Friday afternoon, when Hashishita Ichiro neatly handed over the seven brand-new videotapes into the hands of Mr. Yamamoto from the Broadcasting Department, he felt as if his legs were turning to jelly.
And inside the Suzuki Section office, everyone seemed to have their strength drained dry, lying haphazardly on the chairs and sofas, falling into a deep sleep.
...
Sunday, late night.
There was less than half an hour until Monday.
The Suzuki Section office was pitch black. Only an old television set emitted a faint glow, illuminating the tired yet incomparably excited faces gathered around it.
Cold pizza and a few cans of beer lay on the table, but no one touched them.
Everyone's eyes were fixed intently on the constantly ticking time in the bottom right corner of the screen.
00:18:45
"It... it's coming." Hashishita Ichiro's voice carried a tremor, his hands nervously rubbing together.
"I wonder... if anyone will watch it," Kitagawa Yao said in a small voice, tightly grasping the cushion beside her.
Suzuki Kiyoto didn't speak. He merely stared intently at the screen. That weather-beaten face was written full of the tension and anticipation of parents waiting for their child to be born.
Nohara Hiroshi sat in the corner, leaning against the back of the sofa with his hands crossed in front of him. His gaze calmly fixed on the television; only those eyes, still bright in the darkness, leaked the lack of peace in his heart.
Time ticked by second by second.
00:19:58...
00:19:59...
00:20:00!
The commercial for the previous program ended, and the screen suddenly went black.
Inside the office, everyone subconsciously held guiding their breath.
In the darkness, a crisp, wooden knocking sound rang out.
It was the sound of a drum.
Following closely behind was that hoarse and bizarre voice, seemingly transmitted from the Showa era.
"Step right up, don't walk on by, it's time for Yamishibai..."
The screen lit up, and that kamishibai uncle wearing a yellow mask appeared on the screen.
The story belonging to them officially began in the silent late night of this massive city.