novelraw Chapter 235: Reform! Suzuki Kiyoto's Advice! Nohara Hiroshi's Resolve! Misae's Wishes!
Chapter 235: Reform! Suzuki Kiyoto's Advice! Nohara Hiroshi's Resolve! Misae's Wishes!
As the Toyota Crown rolled to a stop outside Sakurasaki Izakaya, the clock had just struck seven.
Hiroshi pushed open the car door, and the night breeze, carrying the aroma of grilled mackerel, swept over his face. This izakaya, tucked away in the backstreets of Ginza, boasted a modest storefront. A wooden signboard bearing the characters "Sakurasaki" basked in the warm yellow light, gleaming with a gentle luster—looking exactly like an old photograph from the Showa era.
As soon as he stepped onto the porch, he spotted a familiar figure in a window seat.
Suzuki Kiyoto was wearing a navy blue cardigan with the top two buttons undone, revealing a white dress shirt underneath. He was staring blankly at the street view outside the window.
The last vestiges of the sunset had just faded. The streetlights cast their glow onto his gaunt cheeks, highlighting the fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, yet failing to conceal the composure in his gaze.
Hiroshi quickly walked over, bowing slightly, his tone laced with obvious apology. "Senior Suzuki, I apologize for making you wait. I ran into a bit of traffic on the way and am ten minutes late—making my senior wait is inexcusable."
Suzuki Kiyoto snapped back to reality. Seeing him, a mild smile graced his face, and he waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, Hiroshi-kun, you're being far too formal. I got here shortly after five. I was originally discussing business with Kanto Station's advertisers, but they said they 'prefer to cooperate with City TV' and ended the meeting early. It just so happened I could wait for you here, so it doesn't count as waiting."
He pointed to the seat opposite him. "Sit, sit. I've already asked the owner to save our usual grilled mackerel, as well as your favorite chilled tofu. They just arrived at the table not long ago and are still warm."
As Hiroshi sat down, he noticed two small side dishes already laid out on the table: a plate of neatly sliced chilled tofu drizzled with light brown bonito soy sauce, and a plate of salt-grilled ginkgo nuts, their shells slightly charred and crispy.
The izakaya owner, an elderly man with graying hair, walked over holding a ceramic bowl. He smiled at Hiroshi and said, "Nohara-san, it's been a while! Last time you said our house sake was too strong, so this time I specifically saved some Tanrei sake from Akita for you. It has a lower alcohol content and pairs perfectly with grilled mackerel.""Thank you for your trouble, Matsumoto-san." Hiroshi nodded in thanks, his gaze sweeping over the adjacent tables. Several salarymen in suits were gathered around, drinking and chatting. Their conversations were peppered with terms like "real estate prices" and "stock market," interspersed with hearty laughter. This was the most common sight on a Tokyo night near the end of the bubble economy.
Following his gaze, Suzuki Kiyoto sighed softly. "Business is tough these days. The client I was just talking to was 'Marui Soy Sauce' from Kanto. They've partnered with Kanto Station for ten years, investing twenty million in advertising annually. But this year, they said they're shifting their budget to Tokyo City TV—they claim City TV's 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit' will feature their soy sauce factory and has even hired Kamiki Shunsuke to host. Young people love watching him, which will drive sales."
He picked up his newly filled sake cup, took a sip, and his tone was full of helplessness. "Do you know how hard it is for Kanto Station to pull in advertising right now? Last month, I accompanied Kanto Station's ad department chief to visit five companies. Four said 'we'll wait and see,' and one bluntly stated 'the budget has been given to City TV.' In the past, Kanto Station's ad department could sign a billion yen just from the year-end investment conference. Now look at us—half a year has passed, and we've only signed three hundred million. It's barely enough to pay the production department's salaries."
Hiroshi picked up his chopsticks, picked up a piece of chilled tofu, and placed it in his mouth. The delicate tofu enveloped the umami of the bonito flakes, yet he could barely taste anything.
Looking at Suzuki Kiyoto's exhausted expression, he suddenly understood why Suzuki had advised him not to take this job over the phone earlier. This wasn't merely about producing programs;
it was about stepping into a pile of messes and trying to reheat a Kanto Station that had already gone completely cold.
"Matsumoto-san, could you please prepare a private room? We need to discuss some things," Hiroshi suddenly looked up and said to the owner.
He knew the upcoming conversation wasn't suitable for the main dining area. Sakurasaki's private rooms had excellent soundproofing and were their usual spot for discussing work in the past.
Elderly Matsumoto immediately nodded. "Hai! It's already prepared, the 'Matsu' room at the very end of the second floor. I'll take you up right away."
The two followed the owner to the second floor. The private room wasn't large. An ink painting of cherry blossoms hung on the wall, and a charcoal fire burned in the corner heater, making the room toasty warm.
Matsumoto brought in the food and sake, smiling as he said, "Please enjoy, gentlemen. I'll come back in twenty minutes to serve the hot dishes so I won't interrupt your conversation. Nohara-san's favorite pan-seared foie gras—I've told the kitchen to keep a close eye on the heat, I guarantee it will be piping hot when it comes up."
"Many thanks." Hiroshi nodded. Waiting for the owner to close the door, he picked up his sake cup and raised it toward Suzuki Kiyoto. "Senior Suzuki, a toast to you first. Regardless of how difficult the Kanto Station situation is, I will remember the favor of you being willing to tell me the truth."
Suzuki Kiyoto also raised his sake cup and clinked it gently against his. The crisp sound echoed in the quiet room. "You rascal, playing these games with me. I've watched you grow from a rookie into the 'Ten-Billion Director' you are now. I don't want you falling into the pit that is Kanto Station. Takada and Asumi handing this matter to you shows their trust, but the twists and turns inside are more numerous than the plot twists in your Tales of the Unusual."
He set down his cup, tapping his fingers lightly on the edge of the table, as if organizing his thoughts. "When you first joined Tokyo Station, you might not have heard about the old grudge between Tokyo Station and Kanto Station. Back in the mid-eighties, Kanto Station was formidable! 'Kanto Landscapes' could reach an 18% viewership rating—three points higher than our station's 'Tokyo Wide-Angle Lens.' Advertisers were fighting tooth and nail to collaborate, and even NHK came to poach their directors. How could the Tokyo Station of that era stomach this?"
The hand Hiroshi used to hold his cup paused. He had heard of the name "Kanto Landscapes," but he hadn't known the history behind it.
"The Station Chief of Tokyo Station back then was none other than the current Governor of Tokyo, Koike Ryuichi. He told the board of directors, 'We must surpass Kanto Station.' How did they do it? By snatching advertising resources—Tokyo Station offered advertisers a 30% discount, provided they didn't cooperate with Kanto Station. By poaching talent—they offered Kanto Station's core directors double salaries and promised them positions as production chiefs. They even fought over broadcast timeslots. Since Kanto Station's 'Kanto Landscapes' aired at 8 PM on Sundays, Tokyo Station moved 'Tokyo Wide-Angle Lens' to the exact same timeslot and hired the hottest actress of the time to host."
Suzuki Kiyoto's voice lowered, carrying the bitterness of recollection. "After ten years of fighting like this, Kanto Station couldn't hold on. Advertising revenue halved, seven core directors left, and ratings for 'Kanto Landscapes' dropped to 8%. Their capital chain broke completely. Four years ago, Tokyo Station acquired it at a bargain price of 8.4 billion yen. They called it an acquisition, but it was practically picking up trash;
Kanto Station's debt alone was 5 billion at the time."
Hiroshi frowned. "Since it was an acquisition, why wasn't it properly integrated? Why let it survive on rebroadcasts instead?"
"Why wasn't it integrated?" Suzuki Kiyoto smiled wryly. "Right after the acquisition, Sakata was the Bureau Chief of Production. He wanted to merge Kanto Station's production team with Tokyo Station's. But what happened? The veteran employees of the Tokyo Faction said 'Kanto Station people don't understand how to make national programs,' while Kanto Faction veterans said 'Tokyo Station people are too flighty.' The two sides argued every single day;
they couldn't even hold a topic selection meeting. Later, Sakata had no choice but to let Kanto Station rebroadcast Tokyo Station's programs for the time being, waiting for the tensions to die down. But that wait lasted four years, completely draining Kanto Station's vitality."
At that moment, a knock sounded at the door, and elderly Matsumoto entered carrying the hot dishes.
A plate of grilled mackerel, its skin charred and crispy, steaming hot;
a dish of Sukiyaki, beef sizzling in the pot;
and a plate of pan-seared foie gras drizzled with blueberry sauce. The aroma instantly filled the room.
"Please enjoy, gentlemen. I'll take my leave now." Matsumoto set down the dishes and quietly closed the door.
Hiroshi picked up a piece of foie gras and placed it in his mouth. The rich fat of the foie gras mixed with the sweet-and-sour blueberry sauce, the texture so delicate it felt like melting.
He looked at Suzuki Kiyoto, suddenly understanding why Suzuki had advised him to decline. Tokyo Station had used many underhanded tactics to suppress Kanto Station back then. To revive Kanto Station now was akin to "rearing a tiger that would eventually bite you." Once Kanto Station rose again, it would undoubtedly fight Tokyo Station for resources and viewers.
"Senior Suzuki, are you worried that if Kanto Station truly revives, it will become Tokyo Station's rival?" Hiroshi set down his chopsticks and asked earnestly.
Suzuki Kiyoto looked up, a hint of surprise in his eyes, then nodded. "You really are smart. Right now, Tokyo Station's Variety Department secured the top annual viewership spot with Kasou Taishou;
the TV Drama Department dominates the sub-prime time slot with your Tales of the Unusual and Midnight Diner;
the Film Department has broken twenty billion in box office with your two movies. If Kanto Station rises, creating local variety shows to steal viewership and shooting local dramas to split advertising revenue, do you think those departments at Tokyo Station will be happy?"
He picked up his sake cup, took another sip, his tone filled with the wisdom of experience. "Last year, when Asano Takata directed 'Warm Family', the ratings barely reached 15% before people started saying 'he stole Kanto Station's local drama audience'. Asano even got into an argument with a veteran director from Kanto Station. Now, you want to prop up Kanto Station;
those people will only be more dissatisfied. When the time comes, not only will you have to fight the old and stubborn at Kanto Station, but you'll also have to fight our own people at Tokyo Station. Why put yourself through that?"
Hiroshi fell silent.
Previously, he had only focused on how to produce good programs and revive Kanto Station, entirely overlooking the conflicts of interest within Tokyo Station.
Just as Suzuki had said, a television station wasn't just about "producing programs";
it also involved factions, interests, and human relations—factors far more complex than shooting a movie or creating a variety show.
"Then why do you think Station Chief Sakata wants me to take on this task?" Hiroshi suddenly asked.
He didn't believe Sakata Nobuhiko was blind to these issues. If he dared to hand this task to Hiroshi, he definitely had deeper considerations.
Suzuki Kiyoto set down his sake cup, his gaze sharpening as if he had seen through the crux of the matter. "Because of City TV. Tanaka Mikami approved a one billion yen 'Development Fund' for City TV, and even had Takahashi Kazuo poach our people. It's explicitly an attempt to snatch the market away from Tokyo Station. The Kanto region has thirty million viewers, accounting for a third of the Greater Tokyo Area. If City TV steals this market, Tokyo Station will be reduced to 'a television station inside Tokyo City,' and no longer 'the leading power of the Greater Tokyo Area'."
He traced a circle on the table with his finger. "Sakata's strategy is to 'use a station to counter a station'—revive Kanto Station to serve as Tokyo Station's 'local shield,' blocking City TV's offensive. Kanto Station is familiar with the local market. It can produce local programs that City TV cannot, and it can attract local advertisers that City TV cannot steal. Once City TV is suppressed, then we can slowly integrate Kanto Station and Tokyo Station to build a 'Greater Tokyo Area programming belt.' For example, Tokyo Station handles national variety shows, while Kanto Station focuses on local news and cultural programs. A clear division of labor, mutually non-conflicting."
"But executing it won't be that easy, right?" Hiroshi probed.
He knew Sakata's concept was sound, but those below him might not be willing to cooperate. Tokyo Station's veteran employees wouldn't want to share resources, and Kanto Station's veteran employees wouldn't want to be managed. There were simply too many contradictions between them.
"Of course it won't be easy."
Suzuki Kiyoto sighed, picking up a piece of beef from the Sukiyaki and eating it. "Take Matsui Yuichi, Kanto Station's production department chief. He worked with me at Kanto Station back in the day. He's as stubborn as a mule and feels Tokyo Station owes Kanto Station. If you ask him to cooperate with reforms now, he definitely won't be happy about it. And then there's Tokyo Station's Variety Department. Kasou Taishou is their baby. If Kanto Station produces a similar local variety show, even if you just create a new variety program entirely, the head of the Variety Department would storm into Sakata's office and pound the desk."
Hiroshi picked up his cup and took a sip of sake. The cold liquid slid down his throat but brought remarkable clarity to his thoughts.
He looked at Suzuki Kiyoto and smiled suddenly. "Senior Suzuki, you telling me all this... you aren't really trying to persuade me to decline, are you? You want me to understand the difficulties involved so I can be prepared, right?"
Suzuki Kiyoto was momentarily taken aback, then he too smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes bunching together in relief. "You clever rascal. If I genuinely wanted you to decline, I wouldn't have told you so much. Kanto Station is a tough nut to crack, but it's also an opportunity. If you can revive it, not only will you establish a firm foothold in the station, but you'll also let more people see the value of 'local programming.' That's more important than directing a few movies."
He picked up his chopsticks and grabbed a piece of grilled mackerel, sighing. "Years ago when we shot 'Kanto Landscapes,' we went to the countryside in Kanto for interviews. An old grandmother said to us, 'I hope the TV shows more things happening right around us.' Nowadays, TV stations all want to make 'mega-productions' and 'national programs,' forgetting that local viewers also need to be seen. Didn't your Midnight Diner become popular exactly because it was close to ordinary people's lives? The reform at Kanto Station is conceptually identical to Midnight Diner. As long as you shoot what the audience wants to see, there's hope."
Hiroshi's heart stirred.
Suzuki was right. Whether in Tokyo or Kanto, what the audience wanted was never truly "mega-productions," but content that allowed them to feel "warmth." Just like a bowl of cat rice in Midnight Diner or a local tale in 'Kanto Landscapes'—those were the things capable of retaining an audience.
"Senior Suzuki, I've made my decision." Hiroshi set down his sake cup, his gaze resolute. "Tomorrow I will go to Kanto Station to investigate. I'll start by chatting with Chief Matsui and the young directors to discern their perspectives. You've been at Kanto Station a long time and know many people. Could you help me make some connections? For example, with Chief Matsui, and that Director Honda you mentioned who wants to do the 'Old Street Visit'."
Seeing his firm expression, Suzuki Kiyoto let out a sigh of relief internally and smiled with a nod. "No problem! Even though Matsui is stubborn, he also understands television. As long as you can present a good proposal, he'll be willing to cooperate. As for that young girl Honda, I've spoken with her. She has excellent ideas but lacks an opportunity. If you can grant her a chance, I'm sure she can produce a great show."
He picked up his sake cup and raised it once more toward Hiroshi. "Then let me toast you again! Wishing you victory right from the start. If you encounter any difficulties, call me anytime. While I might not be able to offer immense help, I still have some old connections at Kanto Station capable of bridging some gaps."
Hiroshi raised his cup and clinked it against Suzuki's. "Thank you, Senior Suzuki. Whatever the final outcome may be, I will give it my all. If nothing else, I'll do it for the audience still waiting for Kanto Station to deliver good programs."
The charcoal in the heater crackled, highlighting the silhouettes of the two men.
Night thickened outside the window, and Sakurasaki Izakaya's lights spilled onto the street like a string of warm pearls.
Looking at the food on the table, Hiroshi suddenly found his appetite. The umami of the grilled mackerel, the sweetness of the sukiyaki, the richness of the seared foie gras, mingled with the crispness of the sake spreading in his mouth. This was the taste of a Tokyo night, and also the taste of a "beginning."
He knew the road ahead would be difficult.
There would be resistance from veteran employees, internal clashes of interests, and competition from City TV—but he wasn't afraid.
It was exactly like when he started Yamishibai;
no one was optimistic, yet he persisted. When he shot Seven Samurai, people said "samurai films are outdated," yet he delivered something entirely different.
Reforming Kanto Station was realistically just another "program" requiring dedicated effort. As long as the direction was accurate, he could always capture the stories audiences wanted to see.
"By the way, Senior Suzuki," Hiroshi suddenly recalled something. "Earlier you mentioned a severe drain of young directors from Kanto Station. I'm thinking of selecting ten young directors from Kanto Station to train in my production department for three months. What do you think of that?"
Suzuki Kiyoto's eyes lit up. "That's a fantastic idea! Young directors require exposure to new production concepts. Your production department possesses individuals who have engineered high-quality programs. Learning alongside them will unquestionably be fruitful. Once they return, they can propel Kanto Station's production team forward. That's infinitely more efficient than you teaching them personally."
He added with a smile, "I'll speak with Kanto Station's human resources department tomorrow and instruct them to compile a roster of their younger directors so you can make selections during your investigation. Oh, are Hashishita and Ito accompanying you? One understands animation and the other excels at lifestyle programming;
they'll offer immense assistance."
"Yes, I've already spoken with them," Hiroshi nodded. "Hashishita will review animation-related materials, and Ito will consult regarding lifestyle program concepts. Having them there will smooth out the investigation."
The two men continued to discuss specific details regarding Kanto Station.
Elderly Matsumoto came in twice to pour sake. Seeing the two engaged in enthusiastic conversation, he smiled and refrained from disturbing them further.
Nearing nine o'clock, Hiroshi checked his watch, stood up, and said, "Senior Suzuki, it's getting late, and you have work tomorrow. Allow me to escort you home."
Suzuki Kiyoto also stood up, smiling as he shook his head. "No need. My house isn't far from here;
it’s just a ten-minute walk. You should head back early. Misae-san is still waiting for you at home—don't make her worry."
Recalling Misae's message on his pager, Hiroshi's lips curved upward. "Then let me at least walk you to the door."
The two exited the private room and descended the stairs. Elderly Matsumoto was standing behind the counter calculating bills. Seeing them descend, he smiled and said, "Please take care, gentlemen! Come back again next time!"
Hiroshi nodded in thanks and accompanied Suzuki Kiyoto to the izakaya's entrance.
The glow from the streetlights cascaded over Suzuki Kiyoto, casting a long shadow.
"Hiroshi-kun, remember," Suzuki Kiyoto suddenly halted and addressed him earnestly. "Kanto Station's reform is not about 'duplicating Tokyo Station's programs at Kanto Station,' but about 'making programs the Kanto audience wants to see.' Don't let internal station politics restrict you, nor let others' skepticism sway you. Follow your own ideas—that's what you've always done, haven't you?"
Hiroshi felt a warmth in his heart and nodded. "I will keep that in mind, Senior Suzuki."
Suzuki Kiyoto patted his shoulder, turned around, and walked off into the night.
Hiroshi watched his departing figure disappear around the street corner before turning to start his Toyota Crown.
The car merged onto the streets of Ginza, the neon lights rushing past the windows in a blur.
Gripping the steering wheel, Hiroshi felt surprisingly calm. Though Kanto Station's problems were complex, as long as he focused on the core element—the "audience"—there would always be a solution.
Just like the owner in Midnight Diner;
regardless of the stories his customers brought with them, he could always serve them a warm meal. What Hiroshi needed to do was provide Kanto Station's audience with a program that would allow them to feel warmth.
...
It was already 9:30 PM when the Toyota Crown pulled up beneath his apartment building.
Hiroshi turned off the engine and picked up the bag of sweets he'd specifically taken a detour to buy from the passenger seat. The cheese omelet from the "Marina" bakery in Ginza was still slightly warm. Inside the paper bag, surrounded by ice packs, was a strawberry cake, its pale pink cream and bright red strawberry chunks visible through the packaging—an item Misae had mentioned craving several times last week.
As he approached the apartment door, he heard the faint scratching of a pencil against paper.
Opening the door, a warm yellow light spilled from the living room. Misae was sprawled over the coffee table, gripping a colored pencil. The tip of her nose was almost touching the drawing paper, so engrossed she didn't even notice him enter.
The coffee table was covered in design sketches of Kumamon. Some depicted Kumamon holding strawberry daifuku running near Mt. Aso;
others showed it wearing a kimono attending a festival at Kumamoto Castle. The sketch at the very top even had a tiny chocolate smudge on it, obviously resulting from her careless snacking earlier.
"You're not asleep yet?" Hiroshi changed his shoes, placed the dessert bag on the entryway cabinet, and intentionally softened his footsteps as he approached.
Misae snapped her head up. Seeing it was him, her eyes instantly lit up, and the pencil in her hand dropped onto the coffee table with a clatter.
She pounced on him like a little rabbit, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his suit jacket. Her voice carried the soft, drowsy cadence of someone not quite awake. "Hiroshi-kun! You're back! I waited for you for so long, I thought you were going to be talking until very late!"
Hiroshi smiled and ruffled her hair, catching the faint citrus scent of her shampoo. "I ended up talking with Senior Suzuki for a bit longer. I bought you some desserts on the way back—the strawberry cake you mentioned wanting."
"Strawberry cake?!" Misae instantly released him, her eyes glued onto the paper bag on the entryway cabinet. She sprinted over, opened it, and carefully extracted the strawberry cake.
Seeing the sugar-dusted strawberries topping the cake, she couldn't help but swallow hard. She looked back at Hiroshi, an ingratiating smile on her face. "Hiroshi-kun, can I eat a piece first? Just a tiny slice. I'll finish drawing the remaining sketches after."
Hiroshi shook his head helplessly, walking over to help her open the cake box. "Go ahead and eat, just don't get it on your drawing paper. I'll put the cheese omelet in the kitchen;
we can heat it up later. It won't taste good cold."
"Yay!" Misae cheered, grabbing a small fork and shoveling a piece of cake into her mouth. The sweet cream and tart strawberries blossomed on her tongue. She narrowed her eyes in satisfaction, resembling a cat that just got an extra fish treat. "Wow! So delicious! Even better than the honey cake I had in Kumamoto last time! Hiroshi-kun, you have a piece too!"
She forked a piece and held it to Hiroshi's lips, her eyes sparkling.
Hiroshi opened his mouth and accepted the bite. The sweet flavor melted on his tongue, simultaneously dispelling much of his accumulated fatigue.
He sat on the sofa, watching Misae eat her cake in small bites. He unconsciously brushed his fingers over the sketches on the coffee table and suddenly noticed a detail on the bottommost sketch. Embroidered onto Kumamon's scarf were the tiny characters "Hiroshi". The handwriting was a bit crooked, but very clearly drawn with meticulous care.
"Is this one going to be the final draft for the Prefectural Office?" Hiroshi asked, pointing at the lettering on the scarf.
Misae's cheeks flushed slightly. She reached out to take the drawing back. "Of course not! It was just a doodle... I was thinking, since we created Kumamon together, adding your name would be nice. If the Prefectural Office doesn't like it, I'll just change it."
Hiroshi handed the paper back to her, his tone earnest. "No need to change it, it looks great. If Governor Muto sees it, he'll definitely like it—this represents a design with warmth, far superior to those cold, commercial illustrations."
Misae took the drawing, offering a quiet "mm," and sat back down by the coffee table, although she didn't pick up her pencil again.
She peeked an investigative glance toward Hiroshi, observing him leaning back against the sofa, massaging his brow with his fingertips. The exhaustion trailing his gaze was irrepressible, sharply contrasting his customary composed and unflappable demeanor.
"Hiroshi-kun, is something weighing on your mind?" Misae abandoned her pencil, walked over, and sat beside him, placing her small hand gently on his knee. "Earlier on the pager you said you were discussing work with Senior Suzuki. Is the Kanto Station matter proving unmanageable?"
Hiroshi opened his eyes and looked at Misae's worried gaze, releasing a gentle sigh internally.
He hadn't intended to worry her with these workplace complexities. However, despite Misae's typically carefree personality, she possessed a remarkably sensitive core, consistently capable of detecting shifts in his mood.
"Yeah, it's slightly troublesome," Hiroshi clasped her hand, registering the warmth across her palm with his fingertips. "Kanto Station's current predicament is dire. Veteran employees resist reform, most younger personnel have departed, and they can't even secure advertisements. Bureau Chief Takada and Executive Director Asumi assigned me to concurrently serve as Kanto Station's Content Director, enforcing revitalization within a trimester. Failure won't solely trigger their penalization;
the station's hierarchical standing will concurrently suffer."
He broadly summarized Kanto Station's dilemma, omitting the factional combat and conflicting interests to spare her auxiliary anxiety.
Upon hearing this, Misae's eyebrows furrowed tightly, her small hand firmly gripping his. "Then... won't that be excruciatingly grueling? You're already directing the Production Department's affairs;
appending Kanto Station obligations on top... will you possess zero resting intervals?"
A surge of warmth enveloped Hiroshi's chest. He generated a smile, shaking his head gently. "It's manageable. Hashishita and the team within the Production Department are independently capable;
they barely necessitate my supervision. Furthermore, Senior Suzuki will assist me;
having operated within Kanto Station exceeding two decades, his familiarity regarding their ecosystem is paramount."
"But..." Misae gnawed casually upon her lip, abruptly elevating her head, her gaze piercing him with absolute certainty. "I believe definitively that Hiroshi-kun will achieve miracles! When manipulating Yamishibai initially, universally everyone dismissed 'urban legends', declaring them commercially defunct. Consecutively, you engineered colossal popularity. Executing Seven Samurai witnessed identical dismissals classifying samurai cinema as obsolete, invariably producing stellar box office numbers. Acknowledging Kanto Station represents a formidable challenge, you nonetheless harbor the capability generating a triumphant solution!"
She paused momentarily, extracting a miniature Kumamon keychain from her pocket—a prototype fabricated yesterday constructed completely from fabric, an infinitesimal sun embroidered onto its stomach.
She firmly shoved the keychain within Hiroshi's grasp: "Here! Consider this a protective talisman. Integrating this aboard your expedition navigating Kanto Station guarantees impeccable success!"
Grasping the plush keychain, Hiroshi recognized an indescribable fulfillment swamping his core.
Locking eyes upon Misae's sincere expression, he instinctively leaned downward, depositing a feather-light kiss against her forehead: "Thank you, Misae. Bolstered traversing your reinforcement, tackling insurmountable monstrosities feels completely conquerable."
Misae's cheeks adopted a ferocious scarlet hue instantaneously. Immediately ducking her head, her fingers agonizingly twisted her clothing's hemline, whispering softly: "Then... then are you traversing navigating Kanto Station tomorrow? Shall I fabricate a morning bento? I recently acquired mastery executing my mother's pickled plum onigiri recipe;
legitimately delicious!"
"Acceptable," Hiroshi nodded, grinning. "However, mobilizing toward the station to rendezvous alongside Bureau Chief Takada necessitates precipitous departure. Forsake waking exceedingly early;
acquiring convenience store breakfast is completely adequate."
"Unacceptable!" Misae snapped her head upward vehemently, her gaze radically serious. "Fabricating bento is mandatory! Programming the alarm targeting 6:00 AM absolutely prevents delaying your departure timeframe!"
Hiroshi was deeply acquainted with her temperament;
reversing an absolute decision remained impossible, thereby compelling him generating an assenting nod.
The duo engaged discussing auxiliary Comic Club logistics momentarily—Misae declaring Kobayashi-san's Kumamon merchandise blueprints approached finalization, guaranteeing conveyance reaching Kumamoto Prefectural Office subsequent week, requesting Hiroshi's presence traversing the submission. Hiroshi grinned affirmatively, pledging accompaniment provided schedule flexibility permitted.
Consuming until neighboring 11:00 PM, Misae retreated targeting slumber, emitting generous yawns, stubbornly enforcing concluding instructions: "Hiroshi-kun, prioritize prompt sleep, abandon contemplating occupational logistics;
precipitous morning awakening guarantees!"
Monitoring her silhouette evaporating traversing the bedroom threshold, Hiroshi hefted Kanto Station's operational documentation originating across the coffee table, settling against the sofa initiating review.
Warm yellow illumination washed across the parchment;
the dense data matrices and compiled complications inexplicably surrendered a fraction characterizing their aggressive intimidation.
His fingers stroked the Kumamon keychain nestled within his pocket;
the compliant texture radiating absolute reliability. Supported unilaterally traversing Misae, integrated alongside team reinforcement, and bolstered by Senior Suzuki's facilitation, confronting formidable barricades ensured systematic conquering.
Proceeding morning, 6:30 AM saw Hiroshi awakened triggered crossing culinary commotions.
Navigating isolating his bedroom, he located Misae standing anchored abutting the stove, donning his apron, maneuvering a spatula, painstakingly frying eggs.
Arranged identically upon the contiguous counter stood tandem bento containers—one sequestering pickled plum onigiri, the alternate harboring sliced tamagoyaki paired beside miniature tomatoes. A thermos containing his preferential green tea completed the formation.
"Hiroshi-kun, you're awake!" Identifying him, Misae flourished the spatula cheerfully. "Egg frying nears completion;
tolerate an auxiliary five minutes, breakfast consumption initiates subsequently!"
Hiroshi navigated toward her, securing a tender embrace projecting rearward, nesting his chin bridging her crown: "Why initiate awakening exceedingly early? Pronounced dark circles manifest."
"Absolute fabrication!" Misae pouted, yet instinctively nestled deeper crossing his embrace. "Alarm deployment enforced functionality;
sleepiness registers zero magnitude. Release me immediately;
the eggs stand threatened confronting immolation!"
Hiroshi retreated smilingly, aiding tightening the apron strings comprehensively.
Scrutinizing Misae's meticulous egg frying methodologies, an abrupt epiphany struck—this categorized identically summarizing definitive "reliability": awaking detecting blazing hot breakfasts, possessing personnel inherently willing allocating worries targeting his well-being, translating confronting tortuous professional obligations toward generating sustainable operational momentum.
7:30 AM, elevating Misae's fabricated bento container, Hiroshi initiated departure flawlessly punctual.
The Toyota Crown dominated traversing dawn-lit Tokyo thoroughfares. Pedestrian traffic remained sparse, sparsely populated reflecting suited salarymen executing rapid transits, simultaneously clutching convenience store rice balls accompanied alongside coffee—symbolizing Tokyo's omnipresent weekday morning realities encapsulating bubble economy paradigms.
Arriving entering Tokyo Station's subterranean parking facility clocked identically bypassing 8:00 AM.
Pushing isolating the vehicle door, he immediately identified Hashishita and Ito flanking the elevator portal, tandemly gripping briefcases, communicating overt premeditated arrival.
"Manager!" Spotting him, Hashishita closed proximity instantly, clutching a documentation folder. "Compiled Kanto Station animation group archives precisely as ordered, bundled paired alongside resumes highlighting tandem selected junior animators yesterday, awaiting review."
Ito identically proffered documentation: "Manager, Owner Mizukami Sho's diner reconstruction progress report. Executed physical inspection yesterday afternoon, vintage wall photography installations finalized, counter arrangements identically mimic televised configurations, completion projected navigating next week."
Receiving documentation, Hiroshi performed cursory examinations, dispensing affirmative nods targeting the tandem: "Endured impressive labor, deeply appreciated. Invade the meeting room concurrently, executing abbreviated briefing aligning alongside auxiliary Section Chiefs;
subsequent conclusion initializes Kanto Station departure."
"Understood, Manager!" The tandem chorused harmoniously.
Penetrating the 12th-floor operations domain, elevated activity levels uniformly registered.
Yamamoto conducted telephonic communications interfacing screenwriters manipulating Tales of the Unusual script alterations, wielding patient yet meticulous tones;
Tanaka gripped Kasou Taishou contestant manifesting, debating resurrection match logistics intersecting variety group personnel.
Kitagawa Yao occupied the central desk, assembling Kanto Station expeditionary manifestation indexing. Identifying Hiroshi's penetration, she immediately achieved standing: "Manager, you've arrived! Bureau Chief Takada transmitted telephonic instructions recently, mandating immediate transition accessing his office upon arrival, Executive Director Asumi concurrently present."
"Acknowledged." Hiroshi nodded, transferring bento containment navigating Kitagawa Yao. "Provide refrigeration storage within my office;
consumption initiates confronting hunger metrics."
"Understood, Manager!" Kitagawa Yao assumed possession, scrutinizing the imprinted Kumamon iconography, successfully repressing a grin. "Misae-san's fabrication explicitly? Visuals project supreme edibility."
Hiroshi smiled benignly, forsaking verbal commentary, pivoting tracking elevator coordinates.
Hashishita alongside Ito shadowed tracking rearward. Tandemly locking gazes, corresponding expectations communicated flawlessly—shadowing Hiroshi extensively ingrained knowledge demonstrating his consistent deployment formulating surprising triumphs confronting virgin directives;
current Kanto Station reform protocols unequivocally bypassing exemption.
Takada Toshihide's office environment manufactured intensified severity eclipsing yesterday.
Takada occupied positioning rearward traversing his desk, gripping Kanto Station advertising data arrays, profoundly furrowed brows dominating his visage.
Asumi commandeered window coordinates, manipulating an ignited cigarette, accumulating substantial ash length, projecting extensive cerebral processing.
Spotting Hiroshi's ingress, Takada instantaneously jettisoned data arrays, forcing a smile fundamentally failing obfuscating profound ocular gravity: "Hiroshi, you've arrived. Sit. Miyazawa manifested matcha recently;
temperature remains elevated."
Assuming seated positioning, securing Miyazawa's proffered teacup, Hiroshi initiated direct inquiry: "Bureau Chief, novel complications originating Kanto Station?"
Takada sighed violently, propelling the advertising data arrays navigating Hiroshi's proximity: "Review metrics independently. Kanto Station's preceding month advertising revenue plummeted 45% referencing corresponding yearly cycles. Legacy client 'Marui Soy Sauce' boasting decadal cooperation surgically redirected current fiscal allocations targeting City TV. Takahashi Kazuo initiated telephonic communication yesterday, boasting City TV's 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit' commenced filming Kanto topography, incorporating Kamiki Shunsuke functioning host, blatantly engineering viewer hijacking protocols combatting our station."
Asumi extinguished his cigarette violently, approaching coffee table coordinates, plunging vocal tonalities: "Severely escalated complication: Kanto Station's legacy directors executed joint correspondence targeting Station Chief Sakata yesterday, declaring 'uncompromising rejection accepting Tokyo Station personnel interference'. Attempting deploying Tokyo Faction personnel guarantees collective absentee protesting. Subsequently, current Kanto Station expeditions mandate exclusive Kanto Faction personnel integration, minimizing resistance metrics."
Picking up the report, Hiroshi scanned it rapidly. The densely packed red numbers glaring back at him were painfully stark.
He looked up, his gaze calm yet resolute. "I understand. I spoke with Senior Suzuki yesterday. He will help me coordinate with Matsui Yuichi, the Chief of Kanto Station's Production Department. Although Matsui is stubborn, he understands television. As long as we bring a solid proposal, he should cooperate."
"That's a relief." Takada exhaled, leaning forward slightly, his tone laden with earnestness. "Hiroshi, the station has pinned all its hopes on you for this Kanto Station reform. Station Chief Sakata even told me yesterday that if you can raise Kanto Station's viewership within three months, he will make an exception and promote you to Level 2 Director, and he will also inject an additional one billion yen into your production department's budget."
Hiroshi was momentarily stunned. Becoming a Level 2 Director was a milestone many spent their entire lives trying to reach. He was only twenty-three;
if he were truly promoted as an exception, his position at Tokyo Station would become even more unshakeable.
However, he didn't reveal much excitement on his face, merely replying calmly, "Thank you to the Bureau Chief and Station Chief for your trust. I will do my absolute best—if for nothing else, then to ensure everyone's hard work doesn't go to waste."
Watching his composed demeanor, Takada felt even more satisfied. This young man not only possessed talent but also wasn't greedy for credit—vastly superior to those juniors who let minor achievements go to their heads.
He nodded. "Excellent! The vehicle is ready downstairs;
it's a bus. Asumi has already arranged the accompanying personnel. They're all former veteran employees of Kanto Station who currently work at Tokyo Station. They know the people at Kanto Station well, which will make coordination much easier."
Asumi stood up, grabbing the jacket draped over his chair. "Let's head out now. If we aim to reach Kanto Station before ten o'clock, we can hold a preliminary meeting with Matsui and the others to grasp the actual situation in the production department."
Hiroshi nodded and followed the two men out of the office. In the elevator, Asumi suddenly patted him on the shoulder and whispered, "I felt awkward mentioning it earlier, but last night when you dined with Senior Suzuki, why didn't you invite me? I've known Suzuki for over a decade;
it would have been the perfect opportunity to discuss Kanto Station matters together."
Hiroshi couldn't help but laugh. "The arrangement with Senior Suzuki yesterday was impromptu;
I didn't have time to inform you. Next time the opportunity arises, I will treat both you and Senior Suzuki to drinks."
"That's more like it." A hint of a smile touched Asumi's lips, significantly dissipating his previous grimness. "By the way, Suzuki called me yesterday. He said he has a meeting this morning with 'Asakusaya Ramen' in Kanto regarding advertising and won't be back at Kanto Station until noon. He'll head straight to the meeting room to find us."
"Asakusaya Ramen?" Recalling Suzuki's mention of the difficulties securing ad revenue yesterday, Hiroshi couldn't help but sigh. "Senior Suzuki really is working hard. Running all over the place at his age."
"Indeed." Asumi also sighed. "Suzuki underwent lower back surgery last year. The doctor advised plenty of rest, but he can't let go of Kanto Station's affairs, so he runs around chasing advertising every day. If you manage to revive Kanto Station this time, you'll be answering one of his greatest prayers."
The elevator doors opened, and the bus was already waiting downstairs.
The sides of the bus bore the Tokyo TV logo, and several familiar silhouettes could be seen through the windows. They were all veteran Kanto Station employees currently staffing Tokyo Station's Variety and TV Drama Departments. Hiroshi had collaborated with them previously during the filming of Tales of the Unusual. One director named Sato was responsible for filming the 'Old Postman' episode.
"Department Manager Nohara!" Seeing Hiroshi approach, the occupants of the bus immediately stood up, bearing respectful smiles and nodding eagerly in greeting.
Hiroshi boarded the bus, greeting them with a smile. "Sato-san, Watanabe-san, it's been a while. Thank you all for coming with me to Kanto Station. I appreciate your hard work."
Sato quickly waved his hands, his tone laced with admiration. "You are too polite, Manager! It is our honor to work alongside you. Last time when you guided me through shooting the 'Old Postman' episode, teaching me how to capture fine details—I still remember it clearly to this day!"
Watanabe echoed the sentiment. "Yes, Manager! I took my whole family to see Seven Samurai. My father said it was a true samurai film, even more to his taste than Director Akira Kurosawa's work!"
Hiroshi chatted with them smilingly for a few moments before finding a window seat. Asumi sat beside him. Watching the bus passengers interact so enthusiastically with Hiroshi, Asumi whispered, "You see, these people all originated from Kanto Station. They harbor strong feelings for Kanto Station, and they also admire your talent. Going with them will lessen Matsui's resistance. If we had taken Tokyo Faction personnel, let alone chatting, they might have started fighting before we even reached Kanto Station."
Hiroshi nodded and looked out the window.
The bus slowly pulled out of the Tokyo Station parking lot, heading in the direction of Kanto Station.
The vehicles on the road began to multiply. The real estate agencies lining the streets had already opened their doors, their glass doors plastered with conspicuous posters advertising "Luxury Apartments in Minato Ward." The fervor of the bubble economy remained fiercely potent on the early morning streets of Tokyo.
"By the way, Manager," Sato, sitting toward the front, suddenly turned around holding a notebook. "I spoke with a former colleague at Kanto Station yesterday. He mentioned that Chief Matsui recently got into a clash with a young director in the production department. It's because the young woman named Honda wanted to produce the documentary 'Old Street Visit.' Matsui felt no one would watch it and rejected the proposal. Honda is still quite upset about it."
Hiroshi's interest was piqued;
Honda was the ambitious young director Suzuki had mentioned yesterday.
He pulled out his pen and noted "Honda - Old Street Visit Proposal" in his notebook. Looking up at Sato, he said, "Thank you, Sato-san. Once we reach Kanto Station, please speak with Honda for me. Tell her I'd like to discuss the proposal. Regardless of whether Matsui agrees or not, I want to hear her ideas."
"Yes, Manager!" Sato immediately nodded, an excited expression appearing on his face. He had always felt Honda's proposal was solid, but Matsui was just too stubborn. Now that Hiroshi was supportive, perhaps this documentary could actually be produced.
The atmosphere on the bus grew livelier as everyone began chatting about their past experiences at Kanto Station. Someone recalled how, during the filming of 'Kanto Landscapes', an elderly woman in the countryside cooked sweet potatoes for them. Another mentioned the Kanto Station year-end parties, where everyone would sing Kanto folk songs together, as lively as New Year's celebrations. Getting caught up in the excitement, someone even hummed the theme song to 'Kanto Landscapes'. The familiar melody drifted through the bus, carrying a hint of nostalgia.
Observing this scene, Asumi sighed softly and said to Hiroshi, "You see, these people still care deeply about Kanto Station. Kanto Station used to be so lively. People in the production department would often work overtime late into the night, then head to the izakaya downstairs to drink, talk about programs, and discuss the future. But now, the morale is gone. There's not even a person to work overtime with anymore."
Hiroshi fell silent for a moment before whispering, "Things will get better. As long as we produce good programs and let everyone see hope, morale will naturally gather again. Just like the customers in Midnight Diner;
no matter how far they wander, they always return to the diner, because it houses the food they crave and the people they care about."
Seeing the determination in his eyes, Asumi nodded.
He suddenly felt that Station Chief Sakata had made the absolute best decision in handing this task to Hiroshi. This young man could always find the spark of "warmth" capable of making people persevere in seemingly hopeless situations.
After driving for over an hour, the bus finally arrived at Kanto TV.
Kanto Station's office building was significantly older than Tokyo Station's. Some tiles had peeled off the exterior wall, and the logo at the entrance was still the ten-year-old design, looking quite dated.
Two suited staff members stood at the door. Seeing the bus arrive, they immediately approached, somewhat tentative smiles on their faces. "Are you from Tokyo Station? Our Chief sent us to wait for you here. The meeting room is already prepared."
Hiroshi stepped off the bus, looking up at Kanto Station's office building, feeling a sudden surge of emotion. This building had once housed countless dreams and produced classic programs like 'Kanto Landscapes';
now, it had been reduced to surviving on rebroadcasts.
He took a deep breath, his hand gripping the Kumamon keychain in his pocket tightly. Misae's words seemed to ring in his ears: "Hiroshi-kun will definitely accomplish this." Indeed, he would accomplish this and bring this old building back to life.
"Let's go," Hiroshi turned to the people behind him, his tone calm yet powerful. "Let's go in and have a good chat with Chief Matsui."
The group followed him into the Kanto Station office building.
The hallway was very quiet, disturbed only by the occasional sound of a printer. The walls still bore program posters from several years ago, covered in a thin layer of dust.
Looking at all this, Hiroshi strengthened his resolve. No matter how difficult it was to salvage Kanto Station, he had to try. Not only to fulfill the station's expectations, but more importantly, for those viewers still eagerly awaiting good programs, and for the people who had once fought hard within these walls.
(Chapter Ends)