novelraw Chapter 237: Kanto TV's Reform! Nohara Hiroshi's Thoughts!
Chapter 237: Kanto TV's Reform! Nohara Hiroshi's Thoughts!
Kanto Station's meeting room was older than Hiroshi had imagined.
The wall plaster was cracked with a shallow fissure near the air conditioning vent, exposing the yellowed concrete beneath. The edges of the long, wooden conference table were polished shiny from wear. Near the end where Matsui Yuichi sat, a stubborn, dark brown coffee stain remained lodged in the table's crevice—allegedly spilled accidentally by Matsui during the 'Kanto Landscapes' celebration party ten years prior.
Three framed photographs hung on the wall.
The center held a group photo of the 'Kanto Landscapes' production crew, with a youthful Asumi standing on the right, hoisting a placard reading "18% Viewership."
The left side featured a photograph from Kanto Station's peak advertising investment conference, the venue packed with suit-clad individuals clutching contracts.
The right side displayed a faded painting of cherry blossoms, signed "Presented by all staff, Showa 62 (1987)"—marking Kanto Station's final profitable year.
Matsui Yuichi stood at the meeting room door, wearing an old, dark gray suit. His tie was still the one distributed at last year's Tokyo Station annual meeting, and his cuffs were somewhat frayed.
Seeing Asumi enter, the previously tight corners of his mouth relaxed slightly, though he didn't immediately smile. He simply extended his hand, his voice carrying a slight hoarseness: "Asumi-kun, long time no see."
"Matsui-san."
Asumi grasped his hand, his thumb feeling the calluses on the older man's palm—the result of gripping a video camera year-round. "I wanted to visit you last winter, but got tied up with station meetings and never found the time."Matsui snorted, but stepped aside to make room. "Take a seat inside. Our Tokyo Station-appointed Kanto Station Deputy Station Chief Asumi, and Nohara-san, this way please."
His gaze swept over Hiroshi, pausing for two seconds. Evidently, he had long heard the name of this young director. His eyes held scrutiny but no overt hostility.
Asumi smiled and nodded, keeping his thermos in hand. "Matsui-san, pardon the intrusion this time. We're all here for the sake of Kanto Station;
we can discuss things slowly."
"First, arrange seating for the colleagues from Tokyo Station." Matsui turned to Yamada behind him. "Have the Production Section prepare the small meeting room on the 3rd floor and pour tea for the accompanying personnel from Tokyo Station—use the leftover Uji tea from last year, don't fool them with instant."
"Hai!" Yamada immediately complied, turned, and walked out briskly.
Kimura pushed up his glasses and hurriedly followed. "I'll go to the administrative office for teacups, and have logistics send over some snacks—dorayaki bought just this morning, still hot."
Fujishita Ken patted his beer belly and said with a smile, "I'll go with Kimura-san, and check if we have enough tea—the owner of Asakusaya gave us two tins of Sencha last time, perfect for entertaining guests."
Before long, the accompanying personnel from Tokyo Station followed Yamada to the small meeting room. Only Asumi, Hiroshi, and the five local men—Matsui, Yamada, Kimura, Kobayashi, and Saito—remained in the large meeting room.
Everyone sat around the conference table. Kimura placed a brewed cup of tea in front of each person. The steam rising from the pottery cups, mixed with the faint scent of tea, somewhat eased the tense atmosphere.
"Speaking of which, Asumi-kun."
Matsui picked up his teacup but didn't drink, his gaze fixed on the tea leaves at the bottom of the cup. "Do you still remember when we filmed 'Kanto Landscapes' twenty years ago? That time we went to Chiba Prefecture to film the Inari Festival, you camped outside the shrine entrance for three whole days just to get a good shot. You ended up with a fever from the cold, but still forced yourself to finish editing the film."
Asumi smiled, a touch of nostalgia in his eyes. "How could I forget? Matsui-san, you scolded me then, asking if I didn't want my life anymore, but then secretly boiled ginger soup for me at night—that soup was so spicy, I still remember it to this day."
Yamada immediately chimed in. "I remember too! After that episode aired, the viewership rating shot straight to 18%, 3 points higher than Tokyo Station's 'Tokyo Wide Lens'! The advertising department folks were frantic back then;
the phones rang from morning till night. The president of Marui Soy Sauce even visited personally, insisting on adding 20 million to our advertising budget."
"Exactly!"
Kobayashi flipped open his notebook, pointing to an old newspaper clipping tucked inside. "Look, this is the report from Asahi Shimbun at the time. It said our 'Kanto Landscapes' 'captured the soul of Kanto'—who wasn't envious of our Kanto Station back then? NHK even tried to poach me, offering double my salary, but I didn't go."
Fujishita Ken slammed the table, his voice filled with excitement. "I still remember the investment conference that year! At the 'Kikusui' Hotel in Ginza, over thirty companies attended, and we ended up signing 1.2 billion in advertising contracts! Matsui-san, you even drank too much that time, holding the mic and singing the 'Kanto Love Song.' Everyone in the station sang along with you, and the party didn't break up until midnight."
Kimura pushed up his glasses, smiling and nodding. "Our employee benefits were so good back then! Ice pillows in the summer, down jackets in the winter, and a company trip to Hokkaido at the end of the year—my daughter still asks me when we'll go back to Hokkaido to see the snow."
Kobayashi interjected. "And the late-night snacks for the production department! Working overtime until 8 PM every day, the logistics staff would deliver ramen with pieces of roast pork bigger than your face—now look at us, we have to buy our own instant noodles for overtime, and fix the equipment ourselves when it breaks."
Asumi sighed, his tone filled with emotion. "We were so driven back then! The folks in the production department frequently worked overtime together until late at night, then went to the izakaya downstairs to drink, discussing what program to shoot next, discussing the future of Kanto Station—who could have imagined that in just ten years, it would become like this."
Yamada's eyes darkened, and his grip on the teacup tightened. "Yeah... the programs we shot back then were all things the people of Kanto loved to watch. Like filming the old streets of Kamakura, the rice harvest in Ibaraki, the hot spring festivals in Gunma—viewers wrote letters saying they felt an incredible sense of intimacy seeing their own homes on television. And now? Broadcasting Tokyo Station's programs every day, with a pitifully small number of shots of Kanto."
Fujishita Ken patted his belly, his tone laced with resignation. "Advertising is hard to secure now, too. In the past, we could just shoot a short film about some local specialty, and merchants would come knocking;
now, we run our legs off and no one is willing to invest. The owner of Asakusaya just told me yesterday that City TV offered an ad slot price 20% higher than ours, and even hired Kamiki Shunsuke to shoot their promo video. He was tempted."
Matsui didn't say anything, merely taking a sip of tea, his brow furrowing deeper.
Hiroshi sat quietly to the side, listening, his gaze sweeping over everyone's expressions—Matsui's fingers unconsciously stroking the rim of his cup, Yamada staring at the old photos on the wall, Kobayashi flipping through his notebook filled with proposals, Fujishita Ken brushing breadcrumbs off his suit, Saito gripping his pager, knuckles white.
He knew clearly in his heart that while these people spoke of past glories, what they harbored inside was dissatisfaction with the present, and resistance against Tokyo Station—after all, Tokyo Station couldn't escape responsibility for Kanto Station becoming what it was today.
"Speaking of which, Asumi-kun." Matsui suddenly spoke up, his tone becoming more serious. "Four years ago, when Tokyo Station acquired us, you were still at Kanto Station, right? After you were transferred to Tokyo, did you also feel... that our Kanto Station was simply crushed by Tokyo Station?"
With these words, the meeting room instantly fell silent.
Everyone's gaze focused on Asumi, containing expectation, scrutiny, and a touch of grievance.
Asumi set down his teacup, tapped his fingers lightly on the edge of the table, and spoke with a heavy tone. "Matsui-san, everyone... I won't hide it from you. At the time of the acquisition four years ago, I opposed it. I told the old Station Chief that Kanto Station has its own characteristics, its own audience, and shouldn't just be swallowed up like this. But Kanto Station's board of directors had already finalized the decision;
as a mere Deputy Bureau Chief, I couldn't stop it."
He paused, his voice lowering further. "After I was transferred to Tokyo Station, things weren't easy for me either. The Tokyo Faction people called me an 'outsider from Kanto.' They wouldn't let me touch important projects, and I couldn't even get a word in during meetings. For three whole years, I was doing trivial, inconsequential tasks, not even touching a video camera. Do you think I didn't want to help Kanto Station? I couldn't even look out for myself."
Matsui's body visibly shuddered, and the teacup in his hand swayed, spilling a bit of tea, but he paid it no mind. "I knew it... those people at Tokyo Station never treated us as one of their own. The first year after the acquisition, we wanted to shoot a sequel to 'Kanto Landscapes.' The script was all written, but Tokyo Station said it 'doesn't align with the positioning of a national program' and just killed it directly!"
"It's not just the programs!" Yamada chimed in immediately, his tone full of indignation. "The production department's budget was slashed in half, several young directors were poached by Tokyo Station, and even Old Zhou's camera was broken for half a year. When we applied for a new one, we were told it was a 'waste of money'—Old Zhou had no choice but to pay for the repairs out of his own pocket in the end, and he's still lying in the hospital now!"
Fujishita Ken smacked the table, breadcrumbs falling onto it. "The advertising department has it even worse! Tokyo Station stole all our major clients. Marui Soy Sauce had cooperated with us for ten years, but last year they shifted their budget to Tokyo Station's Kasou Taishou! I went to argue with the advertising department people there, and they even said, 'Kanto Station has no presence, investing there is a waste.' Isn't this just bullying?"
Kimura pushed up his glasses, his voice filled with grievance. "The personnel department is the same. I wanted to give the veteran employees a small increase in subsidies, but Tokyo Station said we 'must unify standards with headquarters' and rejected it directly. There was a veteran editor who worked at Kanto Station for twenty years and retired last year, and even his pension was cut in half! I went to finance to argue, but they said, 'These are the regulations.'"
Kobayashi flipped through his notebook, tapping his finger on a proposal. "Last year, I submitted a proposal for 'Kanto Old Street Visit,' wanting to film some old crafts that are on the verge of disappearing, but the Tokyo Station people said, 'No one likes to watch these niche programs,' and bounced it right back. That young girl Honda cried several times over this proposal, and is still throwing a tantrum over it."
Saito finally spoke, his voice low like thunder. "The technical department's equipment hasn't been updated in five years. Last time we were shooting local news, the camera suddenly broke down. I drove to Tokyo overnight to borrow one, but the Tokyo Station people said 'equipment is not to be loaned out.' I had to buy a home video camera at a roadside electronics store to make do—the footage shot was incredibly blurry, and viewers wrote in to scold us, saying Kanto Station was 'fooling people.'"
"And me too!" Matsui's voice rose, and he slammed his teacup down heavily on the table. "Last winter, I wanted to film the snowscapes in Kanto and applied for a 50,000 yen budget. Tokyo Station only approved 20,000, saying, 'What's so great about a snowscape? They have them in Tokyo Station's weather forecasts.' They don't understand at all! The snow in Kanto is different from the snow in Tokyo! Our snow in Kanto falls heavy, falls thick, it can bury you up to your knees. Kids build snowmen in the snow, and old folks boil rice cakes indoors—that is the winter of Kanto!"
Asumi listened quietly, occasionally nodding, his eyes full of understanding. Hiroshi sat by, also silent, just lightly tapping his notebook with his fingers—he remembered the ostracization he faced from veteran directors when he first entered Tokyo Station.
When he wanted to make Yamishibai, some said "no one watches urban legends," others tried to steal his production budget, and some even secretly boycotted him.
He could understand the feelings of Matsui and the others;
he knew better than anyone the grievance of having one's cherished things belittled by others, of having one's intended work obstructed.
"Everyone." Asumi waited until everyone had mostly finished before speaking slowly. "I know you're aggrieved, and I know you hate Tokyo Station. But now is not the time to complain—City TV has already started stealing our audience. If things continue like this, Kanto Station will truly be finished."
Matsui took a deep breath, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his teacup. "Asumi-kun, do you think we want to complain? We have no other choice! Tokyo Station has almost uprooted us entirely, and now they come saying they want reform, want us to survive—how can it be that easy?"
"It's not easy." Asumi nodded, his tone growing firmer. "But we can't give up. Matsui-san, do you still remember that old grandmother in Chiba Prefecture when we were filming 'Kanto Landscapes'? She said, 'It's so wonderful to be able to see the affairs of our Kanto on television.' We can't let those viewers down."
Matsui's body paused, a flash of emotion passing through his eyes. Yamada also sighed. "Asumi-kun is right... Last time I went to Gunma Prefecture to shoot the news, an old grandpa grabbed me and said it had been a long time since he'd seen Gunma's hot spring festival on TV, and asked when we'd be filming it again—I almost cried at the time."
"Actually, it's not that we don't want reform." Fujishita Ken patted his belly, his tone softening. "We're just afraid... that after the reform, Kanto Station won't be Kanto Station anymore. If we become exactly like Tokyo Station, shooting those national programs, then what difference is there between us and a Tokyo Station affiliate?"
"That won't happen." Asumi immediately said. "This time, the reform is not to turn Kanto Station into a Tokyo Station affiliate, but to let Kanto Station do what it's best at. For example, shooting Kanto's local programs, soliciting Kanto's local advertising, serving Kanto's audience—these are things Tokyo Station cannot do, and City TV cannot steal away."
He looked towards Hiroshi, a hint of expectation in his tone. "Nohara-san, why don't you speak? Didn't your 'Midnight Diner' become popular precisely because it stayed close to the lives of ordinary people? The principle behind Kanto Station's reform is actually the same as 'Midnight Diner.' As long as we shoot what the audience wants to see, there's hope."
Everyone's gaze immediately focused on Hiroshi.
Matsui's eyes held scrutiny, Yamada's anticipation, Kobayashi flipped his notebook ready to record, Fujishita Ken and Kimura awaited his answer, and Saito, though still expressionless, also looked at him.
Hiroshi set down his teacup, leaned his body forward slightly, his tone calm yet firm. "Senior colleagues, I know you harbor resistance towards Tokyo Station and lack confidence in the reform. But I want to tell you that when I produce programs, it is never for Tokyo Station, nor for some 'national positioning,' but for the audience—just like Matsui-san said, the snow in Kanto is different from the snow in Tokyo, and the audience in Kanto also wants to watch their own programs."
He paused, then continued, "Coming to Kanto Station this time, I am not here to 'command' everyone, but to brainstorm together. For example, the 'Old Street Visit' proposal Kobayashi-san mentioned, I think it's very good;
regarding the equipment issue Saito-san brought up, I will apply for a budget from Tokyo Station to get them replaced as soon as possible;
as for Fujishita-san's advertising problem, we can go together to secure Kanto's local merchants, such as Asakusaya and Marui Soy Sauce. They are old Kanto brands and will definitely be willing to support Kanto Station."
Matsui looked at Hiroshi, the scrutiny in his eyes diminishing, replaced by a touch of earnestness. "Nohara-san, do you really believe... Kanto Station can still be revived?"
"Yes." Hiroshi nodded, his tone affirmative. "As long as we find the right direction, and as long as we are still willing to work for the Kanto audience, it will definitely be revived. Just like the saying in Seven Samurai: 'As long as there are still people willing to protect it, no matter how many enemies there are, we can win.'"
The meeting room fell silent. The sunlight outside the window filtered through the glass, spilling onto the conference table, illuminating the tea in the cups and the faces of everyone present.
Matsui's grip on his teacup slowly loosened;
the light returned to Yamada's eyes;
Kobayashi closed his notebook, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth;
Fujishita Ken patted his belly and stopped complaining;
Saito's pager beeped, but he didn't check it immediately, merely looking at Hiroshi and nodding.
Seeing this scene, Asumi breathed a sigh of relief inside—this was precisely the effect he desired.
These people held deep affection for Kanto Station and nostalgia for the past in their hearts. As long as these feelings were awakened and their dissatisfaction was vented, they would be willing to put up a fight for Kanto Station once more.
"Alright." Asumi stood up and picked up his jacket draped over the back of his chair. "It's getting late. Let's go have lunch first. We'll have another meeting in the afternoon to discuss the reform plan in detail. I've already had logistics order ramen from Asakusaya, as well as some local Kanto side dishes. We can chat while we eat."
Matsui also stood up, a slight smile finally appearing at the corner of his mouth. "Good! Then we'll chat while we eat. Just perfectly, I also want to discuss Seven Samurai with Nohara-san—that movie was shot incredibly well."
"Thank you for the compliment, Matsui-san." Hiroshi nodded with a smile.
Everyone filed out of the meeting room. The sunlight in the corridor was just right, shining on the old photos on the wall, showing the young Asumi and Matsui standing at the very front, smiling radiantly.
Hiroshi walked at the rear, looking at the crowd ahead. He suddenly felt that Kanto Station's reform perhaps wouldn't be so difficult—these people still loved Kanto Station and were still willing to work hard for it. That was enough.
...
When the Asakusaya takeout was delivered, the long table in Kanto Station's meeting room had just been wiped clean.
Fujishita Ken rushed to open the door, still clutching the packaging of the half-eaten tuna sandwich from the morning. As soon as the door opened, the rich aroma of pork bone broth wafted in—the owner of Asakusaya had specially included two extra portions of roast pork, wrapped in foil and still steaming.
"Hurry and set it out, hurry!" Fujishita Ken shoved the sandwich packaging at Kobayashi next to him, reaching for the takeout box. His beer belly rubbed against the table with a creaking sound. "I'm telling you, Asakusaya's roast pork is fatty but not greasy! Last year when Suzuki-san and I came to eat, we could polish off three huge slices each!"
Kimura brought over folding chairs from the administrative office, shaking his head with a smile. "Fujishita-san, brush the breadcrumbs off your suit first. If Suzuki-san sees you when he arrives, he'll say you're untidy again."
As he spoke, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Fujishita Ken. It was a handkerchief his daughter had given him last year, printed with Chibi Maruko-chan, which slightly clashed with his serious appearance.
Saito remained silent, wordlessly picking up the disposable chopsticks, snapping them apart one by one, and arranging them neatly. His movements were as methodical as if he were adjusting a camera.
Yamada stared at the old photos on the wall, his fingers unconsciously tracing the coffee stain on the edge of the table. He suddenly said, "We used to come to Asakusaya often after finishing a 'Kanto Landscapes' shoot. Suzuki-san always said, 'Pork bone broth can replenish the spirit drained away during filming.' Every time, he would order two extra soft-boiled eggs."
Hiroshi sat in the corner, watching everyone bustling about, a smile touching the corners of his mouth.
The atmosphere among everyone was quite good.
Asumi sat beside him, currently unwrapping a pair of disposable chopsticks, and suddenly whispered, "Suzuki-san looks strict, but he's actually the most protective of his subordinates. Back when Kanto Station was fighting Tokyo Station over the time slot for 'Kanto Landscapes,' he led the production department in staying up for three consecutive nights, editing the film until it was absolutely watertight, and finally managed to forcefully snatch the viewership rating back."
Hiroshi nodded, recalling the words Suzuki Kiyoto had said in the izakaya the previous day. His respect for this senior colleague deepened further.
"Suzuki-san is here!" Fujishita Ken suddenly shouted from the door, almost dropping the roast pork onto the table in his excitement.
Everyone looked up to see Suzuki Kiyoto wearing a navy trench coat. His hair was neatly combed, though a hint of exhaustion lingered around the corners of his eyes. He carried a black briefcase in his hand, clearly having rushed over straight from Marui Soy Sauce.
He was taken aback when he saw the setup in the meeting room, but then the corners of his mouth tilted up into a smile. "Oh, quite lively? I could smell Asakusaya's ramen from afar."
"Suzuki-san!" Yamada was the first to greet him, reaching out to help him with his briefcase. "You're finally back! We thought you were going to miss lunch."
"I made it, I made it."
Suzuki Kiyoto patted Yamada on the shoulder, his gaze sweeping over the people in the room. Matsui stood by the table, holding an empty sake cup, the previous tension gone from his eyes.
Asumi sat in the corner, smiling and nodding at him.
Hiroshi also stood up and bowed slightly in greeting.
He let out a quiet sigh of relief;
it seemed his morning worries were unfounded. These old subordinates hadn't soured relations with Asumi and Hiroshi.
"Suzuki-san, hurry, sit down!" Fujishita Ken gave up the best seat and specially handed him a can of cold beer. "Just taken out of the fridge. It's your favorite Asahi draft beer."
Suzuki Kiyoto took the beer, cracked open the tab with a "pop," took a large gulp, and sighed contentedly. "Still the same taste! I talked with the boss of Marui Soy Sauce this morning, drank a bellyful of cheap sake, and my mouth was completely bitter."
He paused, his tone deepening. "But fortunately, we managed to finalize next year's advertising intent—although it's only 10 million, half of what it was last year, it's still better than being snatched away by City TV."
"Ten million!" Fujishita Ken's eyes immediately lit up, and the ramen bowl in his hand shook. "Suzuki-san, you're amazing! I negotiated with Asakusaya three times, and they were only willing to give 3 million, paid in quarterly installments!"
Kimura pushed up his glasses and nodded in agreement. "With Marui Soy Sauce's ad, our ad department's bonus for this month is finally secured. The Tokyo Station finance department was pressing us to cut the budget before, but with this money, we can at least breathe a sigh of relief."
Suzuki Kiyoto smiled and waved his hand, his gaze falling on Asumi as he teased, "Asumi-kun, long time no see. Your belly hasn't changed much—last time I saw you in the Tokyo Station cafeteria, you said you were going to lose weight. Seems you couldn't keep it up."
Asumi also laughed, picking up his chopsticks and taking a bite of ramen. "I can't compare to you. You run around for ads every day, so you get enough exercise. I sit in an office at Tokyo Station. I'm either in meetings or looking at reports. It'd be hard not to gain weight."
Everyone burst into laughter, and the atmosphere in the meeting room completely warmed up.
Matsui walked over to Suzuki Kiyoto and handed him a cigarette. "Suzuki-san, I was just chatting with Nohara-san about Seven Samurai. His shot composition during the final battle in the rice paddies was even better than Senior Kurosawa Eiji's."
"Oh?"
Suzuki Kiyoto looked towards Hiroshi, a bit more expectation dancing in his eyes. "Hiroshi-kun, I haven't had the time to watch Seven Samurai yet. However, I heard from Senior Kurosawa that you managed to thoroughly capture the 'Gi' (honor/duty) of the samurai, imbuing it with more human emotion than his own Seven Samurai directed back in the day."
"Suzuki-san flatters me." Hiroshi smiled modestly. "I merely stood on the shoulders of seniors and added some of my own understanding."
Suzuki Kiyoto said no more, simply nodding. He felt even more satisfied with this young man—neither arrogant nor impatient, completely different from those juniors who got carried away with a bit of success.
"Alright, alright, let's eat first. The noodles are going to get soggy." Asumi smilingly smoothed things over, placing a slice of roast pork in Suzuki Kiyoto's bowl. "You definitely couldn't have eaten well this morning;
eat some more."
Everyone picked up their chopsticks, and the meeting room immediately echoed with slurping sounds.
Fujishita Ken ate the fastest. With his mouth stuffed full of ramen, he mumbled, "Suzuki-san, you don't know, we were just chatting with Asumi-kun and Nohara-san about a lot of things from the past. Do you remember when we filmed the Inari Festival for 'Kanto Landscapes'? Matsui-san camped outside the shrine entrance for three days just to get a good shot, and ended up with a fever from the cold."
"How could I not remember?" Suzuki Kiyoto set down his beer can and picked up a soft-boiled egg. "I scolded him at the time, asking if he didn't want his life anymore. But that night, he secretly boiled ginger soup for me, and it was so spicy it brought tears to my eyes."
Matsui's weathered face flushed. He picked up his sake cup, took a sip, and muttered, "That was for the film... Back then, Tokyo Station's 'Tokyo Wide Lens' was breathing down our necks. If we'd screwed up the shoot, our Kanto Station would have completely lost face."
"Exactly!" Kobayashi put down his chopsticks and flipped through his notebook. "I still have the viewership data for that episode noted here—18%! Three points higher than Tokyo Station! The phones in the ad department were ringing off the hook back then, and the boss of Marui Soy Sauce came knocking personally, insisting on adding 20 million to our ad budget."
Kimura pushed up his glasses and reminisced as well. "Our employee benefits were so good back then! Ice pillows in the summer, down jackets in the winter, and a company trip to Hokkaido at the end of the year. My daughter still asks me when we'll go back to Hokkaido to see the snow."
Listening to everyone's words, Suzuki Kiyoto's eyes filled with nostalgia. He set down his chopsticks, looked at Asumi, and said with a touch of emotion: "Asumi-kun, back when we were shooting the second season of 'Kanto Landscapes,' we said we were going to travel all over the mountains and rivers of Kanto. In the end, we'd only filmed half of it before we were acquired by Tokyo Station."
Asumi sighed and nodded. "Yes... if we hadn't been acquired back then, we might have filmed the tenth season of 'Kanto Landscapes' by now."
"But it's not too late now either." Hiroshi suddenly spoke up, his tone calm yet firm. "As long as we work hard together, perhaps we can shoot a program even better than 'Kanto Landscapes' and make the Kanto audience fall in love with Kanto Station once again."
Everyone looked at Hiroshi, their eyes holding expectation. Suzuki Kiyoto looked at him and suddenly smiled. "Hiroshi-kun is right! We can't always live in the past;
we have to look forward. By the way, I haven't formally introduced everyone yet."
He stood up, pointed at Asumi, and joked, "This gentleman, Asumi-kun, a former leader from our Kanto Station, is now the Executive Deputy Director of Tokyo Station's Production Bureau, and also oversees our Kanto Station's affairs—I don't need to introduce him further, do I? You've been dealing with him for so many years;
who here doesn't know he's fiercely protective of his own?"
"Hahaha!" Everyone burst into laughter, and Matsui also laughed, the sake cup in his hand shaking, not caring that a little sake spilled out.
Suzuki Kiyoto waited for the laughter to subside before formally pointing towards Hiroshi, his tone full of admiration. "This gentleman, Nohara Hiroshi-kun, a Level 3 Director at Tokyo Station, and the Manager of the Independent Production Department, promoted by our station as an unprecedented exception—don't let his youth fool you, his abilities are immense."
He paused, and began counting off Hiroshi's achievements on his fingers:
"You've all seen Yamishibai, right? A late-night anime that forcefully pushed its viewership rating up to 13%, and pioneered the new genre of 'urban legends.' Right now, TV stations across Japan are trying to imitate it. There's also Tales of the Unusual, formulated as standalone episodes where each features a plot twist;
its viewership rating is stable above 15%, even prompting NHK to come and study from it. Kasou Taishou goes without saying—the number one variety show nationwide, which has pulled the connections between people closer. Governor Koike even specifically praised it, saying the program 'changed the apathy of Japan.'"
Everyone nodded in agreement—they had watched these programs, especially Yamishibai. Achieving a 13% viewership rating in a late-night slot was nothing short of a miracle.
But Suzuki Kiyoto wasn't finished. "There's also his film, Seven Samurai, which broke 8.9 billion at the box office and was evaluated by Senior Kurosawa Eiji as 'the true originator of samurai films,' having thoroughly captured the essence of 'the era,' 'human nature,' and 'class.' His manga work is even more formidable. YuYu Hakusho, Doraemon, and Midnight Diner are all top-tier works under Shueisha. Currently, children all across Japan are reading Doraemon. My grandson pesters me every day for a robotic cat's pocket."
"My god..." The chopsticks in Fujishita Ken's hand nearly dropped onto the table. "So many achievements? I thought Yamishibai alone was impressive enough. I had no idea there were so many more!"
Yamada was also stunned, his eyes full of shock as he looked at Hiroshi. "I went to the cinema to see Seven Samurai. The composition of those shots... it felt even more authentic than Senior Kurosawa Eiji's work. I thought it was shot by some veteran director. I never imagined it was someone as young as Nohara-san..."
"13% viewership rating..." Matsui murmured, the sake cup in his hand suspended in mid-air. "The viewership ratings for our current prime-time programs at Kanto Station don't even break 5%. Nohara-san gets 13% with a late-night anime... the difference is just too massive."
Kimura pushed up his glasses, his tone filled with emotion. "When I was 23, I was still fetching coffee for my seniors. Nohara-san has already won Best New Director at the Tokyo International Film Festival and become a key contracted manga artist for Shueisha. Truly, the Yangtze River's rear waves push the front waves (the new generation surpasses the old)."
Kobayashi flipped through his notebook and suddenly said, "I also have the viewership data for 'Midnight Diner' here. The last time it aired as a rebroadcast, the viewership was still able to reach 8%. Viewers wrote in saying that watching this program made their hearts feel warm—it's quite similar to the 'Kanto Landscapes' we used to film, both sticking close to the lives of ordinary people."
Seeing everyone's shock, Suzuki Kiyoto smiled and said, "How about it? I wasn't lying to you, was I? Hiroshi-kun is a treasure of our Tokyo Station. Sending him to Kanto Station this time is to have him help us execute true reform, not to force Tokyo Station's programs down our throats like before."
He looked at Asumi, and the two exchanged a smile—a smile full of unspoken understanding, the kind of trust that only exists between comrades-in-arms of many years.
The meeting room suddenly fell silent, everyone lowering their heads, lost in thought.
Matsui set down his sake cup, tapping his fingers lightly on the edge of the table. Suddenly, he looked up at Suzuki Kiyoto, his tone tinged with frustration: "Suzuki-san, I know Nohara-san is capable, and I know that you and Asumi-kun are acting for the good of Kanto Station. But I'm still worried—if Kanto Station genuinely shows signs of improvement, will Tokyo Station suppress us again, like they did before? Last time, we wanted to film 'Kanto Traditional Crafts.' The script was fully rewritten, but Tokyo Station stated it 'doesn't align with the positioning of a national program' and killed it instantly! Then there's the production budget—every time we apply, it gets slashed in half, and they won't even assign us adequate equipment..."
"Matsui-san is absolutely right!" Fujishita Ken immediately chimed in, his tone heavy with agreement. "Last time I was negotiating for the Asakusaya advertisement, Tokyo Station personnel suddenly intervened, offering Asakusaya a 20% higher rebate than us, nearly ruining our cooperation entirely! If Suzuki-san hadn't personally negotiated with Marui Soy Sauce this time, who's to say Marui Soy Sauce wouldn't have been poached by Tokyo Station as well?"
Kimura also nodded, his voice harboring grievance: "I sought to provide a modest subsidy increase for our veteran employees, yet Tokyo Station retorted, 'Must adhere to headquarters' unified standards,' rejecting it outright. We had a senior editor who dedicated twenty years to Kanto Station, retiring last year, yet his pension was inexplicably halved! When I sought an explanation from the finance department, they merely stated, 'These are the regulations.'"
Kobayashi flipped his notebook, his tone heavy: "My 'Kanto Old Street Visit' proposal from last year, intended to chronicle disappearing traditional crafts, was abruptly rejected by Tokyo Station personnel who claimed, 'Nobody watches such niche programming.' That young girl Honda cried multiple times over this rejection and remains distressed."
Saito broke his silence, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder: "The technical department hasn't witnessed equipment upgrades in half a decade. Recently, while filming local news, our camera failed suddenly. I drove through the night to Tokyo begging for a loaner, yet Tokyo Station declared, 'Equipment is non-transferable.' Left with zero alternatives, I purchased a consumer-grade camcorder from a roadside electronics store to suffice—predictably, the resulting footage was severely compromised. Viewers mailed complaints accusing Kanto Station of 'peddling garbage.'"
Observing the collective agitation, Suzuki Kiyoto remained silent, directing his gaze toward Asumi.
Understanding the cue, Asumi cleared his throat and addressed the room: "I completely comprehend everyone's anxieties. Previously, I shared your apprehension expecting Tokyo Station to suppress Kanto Station continuously. However, the current situation represents a fundamental paradigm shift—Station Chief Sakata has explicitly mandated defining Kanto Station as a crucial component of the 'Greater Tokyo Area,' operating not as a subordinate appendage, but an independent entity boasting unique characteristics."
He paused briefly, referencing Hiroshi with heightened solemnity: "Furthermore, the nucleus of this reform initiative is Hiroshi-kun. Hiroshi-kun possesses not only phenomenal talent but, fundamentally, a historical connection with our Kanto Faction—when I initially relocated to Tokyo Station, numerous Kanto Faction employees faced severe underemployment;
Hiroshi-kun independently engineered solutions, incorporating them into the 'Tales of the Unusual' and 'Kasou Taishou' production crews, offering vital financial opportunities."
"Such events transpired?" Yamada regarded Hiroshi, visibly astonished. "Why was I oblivious? Last year, my nephew functioning as an assistant director at Tokyo Station boasted collaborating alongside a young department manager producing exceptional programming, translating into substantial bonuses;
was it Nohara-san?"
Hiroshi smiled and nodded in confirmation: "Most likely. During the production of the 'Old Postman' segment for 'Tales of the Unusual' last year, the requirement for directors intimately familiar with Kanto local customs arose;
consequently, I selected several individuals originating within the Kanto Faction. Your nephew likely represented one of them."
"No wonder!" Yamada experienced a sudden epiphany. "My nephew continuously emphasized that department manager's extreme competence, highlighting his guidance regarding detail extraction and actor communication. Currently, he possesses the capacity orchestrating minor projects independently."
Witnessing this exchange, Suzuki Kiyoto's eyes registered a flicker of satisfaction—it appeared Hiroshi had cultivated connections with the Kanto Faction considerably earlier, greatly smoothing the impending reform trajectory.
He cleared his throat, announcing: "Gentlemen, Asumi-kun speaks truth;
Hiroshi-kun demonstrates genuine intent assisting Kanto Station. Presently, let us analyze Hiroshi-kun's perspectives, exploring his conceptualizations regarding effective reform initiatives."
Collective gazes converged upon Hiroshi, radiating anticipation.
Hiroshi experienced momentary surprise encountering the sudden conversational pivot targeting him. Instinctively reverting to humility, he responded: "The senior personnel present possess deep roots within Kanto Station, boasting experience vastly exceeding mine. I harbor merely an immature conceptualization, necessitating everyone's extensive critique and guidance."
"Hiroshi-kun, abandon the excessive humility!" Asumi patted his shoulder, laughing warmly. "Possessing the capability engineering 'Yamishibai' alongside 'Seven Samurai,' you undeniably harbor exceptional ideas. We function representing internal allies;
express your thoughts freely, allowing collective deliberation."
Observing the universally expectant gazes, Hiroshi drew a deep breath, speaking methodically: "My perspective dictates Kanto Station should abandon attempting competition targeting Tokyo Station's national market share, concurrently dismissing entertainment-focused competition against City TV—our optimal strategy dictates pivoting, manifesting a 'Specialized Television Station.'"
"Specialized Television Station?" Matsui's brow furrowed, radiating confusion. "Could you elaborate?"
"Specifically, a television station prioritizing humanities documentaries, while adequately servicing local news and specialized regional advertising," Hiroshi elucidated.
"The Kanto region shelters numerous traditional crafts facing imminent extinction, such as Kamakura woodblock printing, Gunma Washi papermaking, Chiba ceramics, alongside numerous historically rich thoroughfares, including Yokohama Chinatown and Kawasaki's historical districts—these subjects consistently evade Tokyo Station and City TV's operational radar, yet represent elements Kanto audiences recognize intimately and cherish profoundly."
He paused, elaborating further: "We possess the capability filming a documentary series tentatively titled 'Kanto Traditional Crafts.' Each episode focuses exclusively upon one traditional craft, documenting the lifestyle of veteran artisans, archiving their manufacturing processes, and uncovering their underlying narratives. This dual-purpose methodology preserves these traditional crafts while allowing Kanto audiences witnessing familiar, proximate narratives;
high viewership ratings remain mathematically guaranteed."
"Also advertising!" Fujishita Ken's eyes gleamed brightly, articulating excitedly, "We possess the capacity integrating local specialty advertisements seamlessly alongside documentaries—for instance, while filming Chiba ceramics, seamlessly demonstrating the artisan utilizing Marui Soy Sauce containers functioning as decorative elements;
while filming Gunma Washi, filming Asakusaya ramen adopting Washi packaging—this renders the advertising organic, incentivizing merchant financial investment!"
Kobayashi hurriedly flipped through his notebook, adding excitedly: "My 'Kanto Old Street Visit' proposal from last year aligns perfectly parallel alongside Hiroshi-kun's concept! I accumulated extensive data regarding historical thoroughfares, referencing Yokohama Chinatown's century-old steamed bun shops, Kawasaki historic district's antique bookstores—provided adaptation generating documentaries, audience enthusiasm remains guaranteed!"
Matsui stroked his chin, engaging deep contemplation: "This concept possesses considerable merit... However, humanities documentary production entails substantial financial expenditure;
furthermore, can viewership ratings sustain? Provided production yields microscopic viewership, our efforts remain futile."
"That concern remains invalid."
Hiroshi answered with a reassuring smile. "We can initially shoot three pilot episodes to gauge the response. If the response is positive, we can then apply to Tokyo Station for a production budget to expand the scale. Furthermore, we can collaborate with local governments, such as the Kamakura City Government or the Gunma Prefecture Government. They would definitely be willing to support programs that promote local culture, and we might even secure subsidies."
Suzuki Kiyoto looked at Hiroshi methodically explaining his ideas, his eyes full of admiration. "Excellent idea! This entirely sidesteps the strengths of both Tokyo Station and City TV while highlighting Kanto Station's unique characteristics. Additionally, cooperating with local governments can pull in more advertising resources—for instance, local tourism bureaus and specialty merchants all require such promotional platforms."
Asumi also nodded, saying with a smile, "I believe this concept is viable. I'll report back to Station Chief Sakata and apply for pilot funding. Once the pilot succeeds, we'll formally launch this project, making 'Kanto Traditional Crafts' Kanto Station's signature program."
Everyone grew excited and began discussing the details—
Yamada suggested they could find the veteran cameramen who shot "Kanto Landscapes" in the past, as they were the most familiar with Kanto's local customs.
Kimura stated they could select a few young directors with potential to study under Hiroshi.
Fujishita Ken, meanwhile, declared he would immediately go negotiate advertising cooperation with the owners of Asakusaya and Marui Soy Sauce, fighting to increase next year's advertising budget even further.
The atmosphere in the meeting room was more enthusiastic than ever before. The previous misgivings and dissatisfaction had vanished, replaced by anticipation for the future.
Hiroshi sat in the corner, a smile forming on his lips as he watched everyone's excitement. He knew Kanto Station's reform had finally taken its first step.
Taking a sip of beer, Suzuki Kiyoto looked at the scene before him, suddenly feeling that perhaps the glorious Kanto Station of the past really could make a comeback.
He looked at Hiroshi, his eyes full of gratitude. This young director possessed not only talent but also warmth;
he truly understood Kanto Station and its audience.
"Alright, alright."
Suzuki Kiyoto clapped his hands, saying with a smile, "Everyone, don't just focus on discussing;
let's finish our meal first. We'll hold a formal meeting this afternoon to finalize the reform plan. I believe that as long as we work hard together, Kanto Station can stand back up and let all of Japan know that our Kanto Station has its own unique characteristics, its own soul!"
"Yes!" Everyone chimed in unison, their voices filled with determination.
Outside the window, the sunlight filtered through the glass, spilling onto the meeting room table. It illuminated the remaining ramen in the bowls and lit up the face of every person present.
It was the radiant light of hope accompanying its arrival!
PS: Hoping for more recommendation tickets, monthly tickets, thank you!
(Chapter Ends)