My Name is Hiroshi Nohara, Star of Neon Film and Television!

Chapter 238: A Bite of Neon! Nohara Hiroshi's Whimsical Ideas!

The air conditioner in the Kanto Station meeting room was still humming. The residual excitement from the morning's discussion on reform plans hadn't entirely dissipated. The empty ramen bowls and beer cans on the table had just been cleared away by logistics when Yamada pushed the door open, carrying a thick stack of documents. The edges of the paper were still stained with a bit of pork bone broth from the morning.

"Everyone, I just dug this out from the archives room."

Yamada placed the documents on the conference table and pointed to the yellowed booklet on top. "This is the documentary production report from Showa 56 (1981). At the time, our Kanto Station filmed 'Kanto Folklore Travelogue.' Unfortunately, it was canceled due to low viewership after broadcasting only three episodes—back then, Tokyo Station's 'Tokyo Wide Lens' was popular, and audiences loved urban themes;

no one wanted to watch slow-paced folklore documentaries."

Matsui reached out and picked up the report, his fingertips tracing the gold-stamped title on the cover, his tone tinged with regret. "I remember this piece. Old Tian was in charge of it at the time. To film the Kamakura Dragon Boat Festival, he took the team and camped out at the shrine for half a month. In the end, the viewership rating was only 2.3%, and the board of directors axed the project outright. Thinking about it now, if we had persevered back then, perhaps our Kanto Station would have had its own signature documentary long ago."

Asumi sat in the head seat, holding a freshly brewed cup of Sencha, gently blowing on the rising steam. "It's not just Kanto Station;

the entire documentary market in Japan right now isn't exactly booming. I looked at Tokyo Station's annual report previously, and all the documentaries produced by the station last year added up to only 12. That's not even a fraction of the variety shows, and most of them were historical subjects commissioned by NHK, lacking any novelty."

Hiroshi leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly tapping the tabletop, his gaze sweeping over everyone present—Matsui flipping through the old report with a slight frown.

Fujishita Ken patted his beer belly, a look of confusion on his face.

Kobayashi opened his notebook, his pen hovering over the paper but not writing.

Saito remained his usual self, gripping his pager, his gaze fixed on the sycamore tree outside the window, lost in thought.

He cleared his throat and spoke slowly: "Actually, the main reason documentaries aren't thriving right now is that their era hasn't arrived yet. We are currently in 1991. Although the household penetration rate of televisions has reached over 85%, most families still treat the TV as an 'entertainment tool.' During the prime time slot from 7 PM to 10 PM, viewers are more willing to watch TV dramas and variety shows;

no one wants to sit down and watch a slow-paced documentary."With these words, everyone looked over.

Matsui put down the report, his tone carrying curiosity: "Nohara-san, then when do you think the 'era will arrive'? Must we wait until the household TV penetration rate reaches 100%?"

"It's not just about the penetration rate;

more importantly, it's about the shift in audience demand."

Hiroshi sat up straight, his tone certain. "I estimate the situation won't change until after the 21st century, around 2005. By then, household televisions will basically be in every home, and many families will even have two or more TVs. Viewers will no longer flock to watch prime-time programs;

instead, they will choose according to their own interests—some will like late-night anime, some will like weekend documentaries. The market will become more segmented."

He paused and continued explaining: "Furthermore, by that time, economic development will reach a certain stage, and the audience's aesthetic appreciation will also change. Right now, everyone is still pursuing 'stimulus' and 'liveliness' in entertainment, such as highly interactive variety shows like Kasou Taishou, or movies with grand scenes like Seven Samurai. But over a decade from now, audiences will begin to pursue 'depth' and 'warmth.' They will want to understand more about the people and events around them through television, to understand those neglected cultures and stories—that is when the market for documentaries will arrive."

Asumi nodded and added, "Nohara-san is correct. When I went to NHK for an exchange previously, their head of documentaries mentioned that signs have already begun appearing in recent years—the attention of viewers over 35 towards history and folklore subjects is slowly increasing. Last year, NHK's 'Tales of Old Japanese Streets,' despite being broadcast in a non-prime-time slot on Sunday afternoon, achieved a viewership rating of 4.7%, which was significantly higher than anticipated."

"4.7%?" Fujishita Ken's eyes lit up. "That's higher than some of our current prime-time programs! I recall the 'Kanto Family Drama' we broadcast last month only garnered a 3.9% viewership rating, and we were even ridiculed by Tokyo Station for it."

Kimura pushed up his glasses, his tone analytical: "This illustrates that it's not that viewers dislike documentaries, but rather that we haven't found the right subjects and formats. The 'Kanto Folklore Travelogue' we filmed in the past leaned too much towards 'preaching';

it immediately dove into historical backgrounds, the shots were entirely static landscapes, and viewers easily grew drowsy watching it. But NHK's 'Tales of Old Japanese Streets' is different;

it follows ordinary people in the old streets, such as the bakery owner or the bookstore proprietress, using their stories to draw out the history of the old street, which makes it much more interesting."

Kobayashi immediately jotted down "bring out history through character stories" in his notebook, then looked up at Hiroshi: "Nohara-san, then if we produce a documentary now, shouldn't we also follow this path? Avoid rigid knowledge dissemination, and instead film people and events with warmth?"

Hiroshi smiled and nodded: "Exactly. Furthermore, our Kanto Station possesses a natural advantage—the Kanto region has far too many people and events worth filming. For instance, the traditional crafts Matsui-san mentioned earlier: the woodblock artisans of Kamakura, dedicating their entire lives to a single pursuit. How their craft is inherited, how they face the impact of modern industry—there are so many stories to tell within that. There's also Kanto's local customs, like the rice harvest in Chiba or the hot spring festivals in Gunma. These scenes inherently possess strong visual appeal. Paired with local people's narration, it will undoubtedly attract viewers."

Matsui's eyes gradually brightened. He flipped through the old report in his hand, pointing to one page and saying, "When we filmed 'Kanto Folklore Travelogue' back then, we also thought about filming woodblock artisans, but the board of directors said it was 'too niche and no one would watch it,' so in the end we changed it to filming the history of shrines. Thinking about it now, if we had persisted in filming artisans back then, the outcome might have been entirely different."

"It's not too late now either."

Hiroshi took over the conversation, his tone encouraging. "We can initially start from three directions—the first is 'Kanto Traditional Crafts,' specifically filming vanishing traditional crafts. Each episode will focus on one artisan, starting from his daily work to the crafting process, and finally delving into the culture behind the craft. The second is 'Kanto Landscapes.' We can keep the old name, but the content must be changed to film festivals and customs across Kanto, such as the Kamakura Dragon Boat Festival or the Yokohama Chinatown Spring Festival, using the camera to record these bustling scenes, interspersed with the memories of locals. The third is 'Kanto Region Scenery Tales,' filming Kanto's natural landscapes, but not merely shooting scenery;

instead, filming the people within the scenery, such as the farmers at the foot of Mount Fuji or the fishermen in Tokyo Bay, integrating the scenery with character stories."

As soon as he finished speaking, the meeting room became lively.

Fujishita Ken was the first to raise his hand, his tone excited: "I think the direction of 'Kanto Traditional Crafts' is excellent! We can collaborate with Marui Soy Sauce. Doesn't their boss like traditional culture? Let them sponsor the production budget, and we'll give their soy sauce bottles a close-up in the film. It promotes the craft and secures advertising;

killing two birds with one stone!"

"I support 'Kanto Landscapes'!"

Kobayashi immediately chimed in, his pen flying across his notebook. "When I went to Yokohama for street interviews last year, I discovered a dumpling shop there. The owner is the third-generation heir and also knows how to make traditional red bean buns. Young people nowadays don't like to learn it, and he's worrying about how to pass it on—if this story is filmed, it will definitely move people!"

Yamada also nodded in agreement: "'Kanto Region Scenery Tales' isn't bad either! I have a classmate who grows apples at the foot of Mount Fuji. Their family has been growing them for five generations, and the apple variety has been passed down since the Meiji era. Now facing competition from imported apples in supermarkets, times are tough—filming how they persevere and try to find ways to sell their heirloom apples will definitely find an audience."

Kimura pushed up his glasses, his tone calm: "I think all three directions can proceed simultaneously. Let's film one pilot episode for each to gauge audience reaction. Regarding the production team, we can select a few experienced veteran cameramen from the production department and pair them with young directors. The veterans understand Kanto's local customs, while the youths have fresh ideas. The resulting films will possess both warmth and novelty."

Saito finally spoke, his voice as low as ever: "There's no need to worry about the technical side. I can requisition the idle high-definition camera from the technical department. Although it's been used for five years, the image quality is still good;

filming scenery and craft details will be no problem. If special shots are needed, like slow motion, I can modify the equipment myself without applying for new ones."

Seeing everyone discussing so enthusiastically, a long-absent smile appeared on Matsui's face. He set down the old report, his tone tinged with emotion: "I didn't expect that after all these years, our Kanto Station could discuss documentaries once again. When we filmed 'Kanto Folklore Travelogue' back then, I thought we'd never have the chance to make our own documentaries again. Looking at it now, I worried too much."

Asumi smiled, picked up his teacup, and raised it towards the group: "This is all thanks to Nohara-san. If he hadn't proposed the documentary direction, we'd still be agonizing over how to wrestle variety show resources from Tokyo Station. Come on, everyone, substitute tea for liquor, let's toast Nohara-san and thank him for pointing out a new path for our Kanto Station!"

Everyone raised their teacups towards Hiroshi. The atmosphere in the meeting room was even more enthusiastic than in the morning;

even the humming of the air conditioner didn't seem as grating anymore.

Hiroshi hurriedly waved his hand, his tone modest: "Seniors, you are too polite. I merely suggested a direction;

specific implementation requires everyone's hard work. Moreover, the three directions we are discussing now actually possess immense potential for exploration. For instance, 'Kanto Traditional Crafts' includes not only woodblock printing and Washi paper but also Tokyo's kimono embroidery and Kanagawa's lacquerware—these are all worth filming. 'Kanto Landscapes' can also feature Kanto's culinary customs, such as the origins of eating Soba noodles on New Year's or the history of eating shaved ice in the summer. These are closely connected to viewers' lives and more easily resonate with them."

"Culinary customs?" Fujishita Ken's eyes immediately lit up. He patted his beer belly, his tone expectant, "This is great! I love eating the most. If we're filming food, I'll be the first to sign up as a follower! The owner of Asakusaya also told me that their pork bone broth has been simmered for three generations and has a secret recipe. If we can feature it in the film, it will definitely attract more customers!"

His words elicited laughter from everyone. Matsui also laughed, his fingers gently tapping the edge of the table. Suddenly, he looked at Hiroshi: "Nohara-san, you mentioned culinary customs just now, and it suddenly occurred to me, could we produce a documentary dedicated entirely to food? After all, food is something both young and old people love to watch. It might be even easier to attract audiences than traditional crafts or folklore travelogues."

This remark instantly silenced the meeting room;

everyone's gaze centered upon Hiroshi.

Asumi also looked at him, eyes filled with curiosity—food hadn't been among the three directions discussed earlier, and he was eager to hear Hiroshi's thoughts.

Meeting everyone's gazes, a smile crossed Hiroshi's face as he nodded gently: "Matsui-san speaks truth. Actually, I possessed this concept initially, yet hesitated introducing it beforehand—given current perceptions regarding documentaries remaining tethered defining 'serious' alongside 'niche', abruptly proposing culinary subjects potentially invited accusations signifying insufficient 'professionalism'."

"Insufficient professionalism?" Fujishita Ken immediately countered, expressing defiance. "How categorizes culinary subjects representing unprofessional? Conversing discovering Asakusaya's proprietor confirmed their pork bone broth demands twelve-hour simmering methodologies, selecting Kyushu black pig marrow, supplementing exceeding twenty spices;

containing immense complexities! The resultant footage undeniably eclipses those tedious historical documentaries demanding entertainment value!"

Kobayashi vigorously nodded agreement, transcribing "Culinary Documentary" utilizing massive characters bridging his notebook, articulating excitedly: "My absolute support! Current market parameters boast zero documentaries exclusively documenting culinary subjects;

initiating this characterizes representing pioneering 'eating the first crab'! Furthermore, culinary subjects circumvent conflicting regarding anterior highlighted traditional crafts alongside folklore travelogues—for instance, whilst filming Kamakura woodblock printing, sequential filming integrating regional seafood bowls remains feasible;

whilst filming Yokohama Chinatown, incorporating centennial steamed bun shop narratives functions equivalently, engineering synergistic propulsion elevating content diversity."

Looking at Hiroshi, Matsui's tone carried anticipation: "Nohara-san, what are your specific thoughts? How do you plan to shoot this food documentary? What foods will be featured?"

Hiroshi sat up straight, his tone turning serious: "I intend to name this documentary 'A Bite of Neon'."

"'A Bite of Neon'?" Everyone repeated in unison, their eyes full of surprise.

Matsui stroked his chin thoughtfully: "This name... sounds very evocative. It's as if hearing the name brings various delicious foods right in front of you."

Asumi also nodded, his tone appreciative: "It's well-named. It clarifies the theme is food while carrying a touch of poetry;

it's much more attractive than a straightforward name like 'Kanto Culinary Travelogue'. And what about the content? Will it only feature Kanto's food, or all of Japan's?"

"At first, we'll only film Kanto. Once we've built a reputation, we'll expand to the whole of Japan."

Hiroshi explained, "The Kanto region inherently possesses copious culinary diversity—for instance, Tokyo's sushi, Yokohama's cuisine, Kamakura's seafood bowls, Gunma's Onsen Tamago, Chiba's rice. Every culinary item harbors underlying narratives. Consider Tokyo's sushi chef: how fish selection occurs, analyzing sushi gripping techniques, maintaining traditional methodologies across an entire lifespan—this embodies absolute craftsmanship. Regarding Yokohama Chinatown's centennial steamed bun shop: analyzing historical modifications adapting Chinese steamed buns fulfilling Japanese palatial requirements—this embodies cultural integration. Regarding Gunma's Onsen Tamago: investigating why exclusively regional hot springs generate that specific textural profile—this embodies regional distinction."

He paused before continuing: "Furthermore, filming culinary subjects sidesteps merely filming the food itself;

prioritizing the humans residing behind the culinary items dominates. For instance, filming Chiba's rice demands filming farmers cultivating the rice, spanning sequential transitions originating spring plowing culminating autumn harvesting, documenting experiential transversions encompassing climatic adversities;

filming Gunma's Onsen Tamago demands filming the hot spring inn proprietress, navigating pre-dawn awakenings executing egg boiling, maintaining persistence traversing decades;

filming Tokyo's sushi chef demands filming his interactions navigating fishmongers, analyzing selection methodologies extracting optimal freshness—these human narratives constitute the intrinsic soul defining a culinary documentary."

"Well said!" Matsui couldn't help but clap his hands, his tone full of agreement. "When I went to Chiba for an interview in the past, I met an old farmer who had grown rice his whole life. He said, 'Rice is like a child;

you have to care for it attentively for it to grow well.' Every time before harvesting, he would tell the rice, 'Thank you for your hard work'—if a story like this is included in the film, it will definitely move the audience."

Asumi looked at Hiroshi, admiration in his eyes: "Nohara-san, your understanding of documentaries is much deeper than I imagined. I originally thought you were only skilled in variety shows and movies. I didn't expect you to have such unique insights into documentaries."

Hiroshi smiled and waved his hand, his tone modest: "Actually, I also referenced some ideas from the past. I think a good documentary shouldn't aim to educate the audience, but rather to move them. Past documentaries focused too much on 'knowledge popularization,' for example, when explaining the history of a certain place, they would immediately say, 'This is what it was like in the Meiji era, and this is what it was like in the Taisho era,' which easily makes the audience sleepy. But if you explain the history through the story of an ordinary person, for example, an old person recalling their life in this place as a child, the audience is more likely to accept it and resonate with it."

He picked up a pen from the table and sketched a simple framework on the paper: "For the first episode of 'A Bite of Neon,' we can film 'Breakfast in Kanto.' For instance, Tokyo's Tsukiji Market starts getting lively at 4 AM, with fishmongers busy unloading goods, sushi chefs busy preparing ingredients, and office workers busy buying breakfast. In Yokohama's Chinatown, bun shops open at 6 AM, with the proprietress busy steaming buns and regular customers sitting in the shop waiting for the first batch of buns to be ready. On the beach in Kamakura, fishermen go out to sea in the morning to catch fish, and when they return, they sell seafood directly at the dock. Tourists can buy seafood and have it processed at a small shop nearby. Through these breakfast scenes in different places, we show the pace of life and food culture of the people of Kanto. In this way, it is both good-looking and deep."

"This framework is excellent!" Kobayashi immediately jotted it down in his notebook, his tone excited. "I'll go to Tsukiji Market tomorrow for a preliminary visit and chat with the fishmongers and sushi chefs to see if I can find suitable character stories."

Fujishita Ken also raised his hand: "I'm familiar with Yokohama Chinatown! Last time I went there with the owner of Asakusaya to discuss cooperation, I met the owner of a century-old steamed bun shop. He also chatted with me about his family's history, saying his grandfather came to Japan from Southeast Asia and Australia. At first, they sold steamed buns from a pushcart, and only opened a shop later—this story is definitely filmable!"

Yamada added: "I've been to the seaside in Kamakura. There's an old fisherman who goes out to sea every morning and comes back in the afternoon. He said, 'I'm getting old, I can't catch too many fish, just enough to eat myself and sell a little to tourists'—he has a very good mentality, and filming it will definitely move people."

Seeing everyone's high enthusiasm, Hiroshi also breathed a sigh of relief. At first, he was worried everyone would think a food documentary was "not doing one's proper work," but now it seems that everyone not only accepted it but was very interested.

Asumi picked up his teacup, took a sip, and spoke in a steady tone: "Since everyone agrees to film 'A Bite of Neon,' let's finalize this project. Regarding the production team, Kobayashi will be in charge of preliminary research and character interviews, Fujishita Ken will assist in contacting merchants and venues, Yamada will be in charge of coordinating the camera team, Saito will provide technical support, Matsui-san, with his rich experience, will serve as the general consultant, and Nohara-san and I will be in charge of overall control."

He paused and continued: "Regarding the budget, I will apply for a pilot budget from Tokyo Station, about five million yen, to shoot the first episode 'Breakfast in Kanto'. If the response is good, we will apply for more budget to shoot the subsequent 'Lunch in Kanto', 'Dinner in Kanto' and 'Snacks in Kanto'. In addition, we can cooperate with local tourism bureaus, such as the Kamakura Tourism Bureau and the Yokohama Tourism Bureau. They will certainly be willing to sponsor, after all, this is also promoting their local characteristics."

Matsui nodded, his tone carrying emotion: "I didn't expect our Kanto Station to have the opportunity to do such a meaningful project. Back when we were filming 'Kanto Folklore Travelogue,' I thought, if only we could film a documentary that viewers would remember. Now it seems that this wish might come true."

Looking at the light in Matsui's eyes, Hiroshi suddenly felt that making a documentary was not just for the reform of Kanto Station, but also to retain those people and things that were about to be forgotten—just like 'A Bite of Neon', not only filming food, but also filming the lives of Kanto people, filming Kanto culture, and filming the warmth and persistence hidden in food.

He suddenly remembered the phrase 'A Bite of China' he had seen in his previous life. The reason why that documentary became so popular was because it not only filmed good food, but also the people behind the food, the life attitudes and cultural inheritance of the Chinese people.

The "A Bite of Neon" he was going to film now actually followed the same principle—using food as a link to connect the land, people, and culture of Kanto, so that while seeing delicious food, the audience could also feel the warmth of Kanto.

"Oh, by the way, Nohara-san." Matsui suddenly remembered something, his tone carrying a bit of hesitation. "Just now you said that to film food, you have to 'film people.' But we haven't filmed this type of documentary before. Will the cameramen be unaccustomed to it? For example, how to capture the expressions of people, how to follow the production process, these are all different from filming TV dramas and variety shows."

Hiroshi had anticipated this long ago. He pulled a notebook from his briefcase and flipped open a few sheets of paper tucked inside—it was the filming plan he had stayed up late writing the night before, featuring simple storyboard sketches.

"I wrote a preliminary filming plan last night;

everyone can take a look."

He handed the plan to Matsui. "It details a few key points. For instance, during filming, we must 'follow without interfering,' meaning the cameraman should track the subject's movements without disrupting their work rhythm. There are also 'macro details,' like the finger movements of a sushi chef forming a piece, or the strength in a bun shop proprietress's wrists while kneading dough—these details give viewers a stronger sense of immersion. Additionally, we need to 'capture natural reactions,' such as the expression of a diner tasting the food, or the smile of a fisherman catching a fish. These natural moments are far more moving than deliberately acted scenes."

Matsui took the plan, put on his reading glasses, and perused it carefully, his eyes brightening as he read. "This plan is incredibly detailed! Even the storyboards are sketched out. For example, when filming Onsen Tamago, start with the steam rising from the hot spring, then slowly focus on the egg, and finally shoot the yolk flowing out when it's bitten into—this shot is appetizing just reading it!"

Kobayashi leaned over to take a look and immediately noted it in his notebook. "When I go to Tsukiji Market tomorrow, I'll communicate with the cameraman according to this plan, focusing on the hand movements of the sushi chefs and the reactions of the diners. We'll definitely get good shots."

Saito also leaned in, his brow smoothing slightly. "Technically, there's no problem. I can set the camera to 'cinema mode,' which makes the image quality finer and the colors of the food more realistic. For example, sushi rice needs to have a glossy sheen, and the Onsen Tamago yolk needs to show that orange-yellow texture."

Seeing the clear division of labor among everyone, Asumi breathed a sigh of relief. He stood up and clapped his hands. "Since the plan and the team are finalized, let's start as soon as possible. Kobayashi and Fujishita Ken will go scouting tomorrow. Yamada will contact the camera team, Saito will prepare the equipment, and Matsui-san will be responsible for overall coordination. I'll go to Tokyo Station the day after tomorrow to report and try to start filming next week."

"Understood!" Everyone replied in unison, their tone brimming with enthusiasm.

Right at that moment, Hiroshi's phone suddenly rang. He smiled apologetically, walked to the window, and answered the call.

"Hiroshi-kun, it's me." Sakata's voice came from the other end of the phone, carrying a hint of exhaustion. "How are the discussions about Kanto Station's reform plan going? Have you encountered any resistance?"

Hiroshi glanced at everyone in the meeting room, his tone relaxed. "Station Chief Sakata, everything is going very smoothly. We have finalized the direction for the documentary and plan to shoot 'A Bite of Neon' first, focusing on Kanto's food and the character stories behind it. We can start filming next week."

"'A Bite of Neon'?" Sakata's voice was tinged with surprise, then he laughed. "That's a good name! I was worried Matsui Yuichi and the others would be resistant earlier, but I didn't expect you to reach a consensus so quickly. It seems I didn't misjudge you;

sending you to Kanto Station was indeed the right move."

Hiroshi said modestly, "It's mainly because Matsui-san and the others have affection for Kanto Station and are willing to work hard for reform;

I just suggested a direction. Oh, by the way, Station Chief, we need a pilot budget of five million yen to shoot the first episode, 'Breakfast in Kanto'. Can you approve it?"

"Five million? No problem." Sakata readily agreed. "I'll have the finance department transfer the funds tomorrow. Additionally, I've spoken with Minister Hattori Tadashi. He is the Tokyo Metropolitan Publicity Manager, and he also came from Tokyo Station, so he looks after our station's people. If you need support from local governments while filming your documentary, you can ask him for help, like contacting the Kamakura City Government or the Yokohama City Government;

they'll definitely be willing to cooperate."

Hiroshi felt a warmth in his heart: "Thank you, Station Chief! With Minister Hattori's help, our filming will go much smoother."

"No need to thank me." Sakata's tone carried a hint of gratification. "Work hard at Kanto Station;

there's no rush to produce results. Take it slowly and build a solid foundation. By the way, Takada Toshihide told me that City TV's 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit' is also starting to film next week, and they've hired Kamiki Shunsuke as the host. You need to be careful and not let them seize the initiative."

Hiroshi's eyes darkened, but then he smiled. "Don't worry, Station Chief. Our 'A Bite of Neon' is different from their program. They focus on 'visiting scenic spots,' while we focus on 'human stories.' The target audiences are different, so there won't be a conflict. And I believe that stories with warmth can attract viewers more than a celebrity host."

"Good, with you saying that, I'm relieved." Sakata's tone lightened. "If you encounter any problems at Kanto Station that you can't solve, call me anytime. Don't carry the burden alone."

Hanging up the phone, Hiroshi returned to the conference table and said with a smile, "Station Chief Sakata has already approved our plan. The 5 million yen budget will be transferred tomorrow, and Minister Hattori Tadashi will also help coordinate with local governments, so our filming will go much smoother."

"Excellent!" Fujishita Ken excitedly slapped the table. "With the budget and the support of the local government, we can definitely shoot the best documentary!"

Matsui also smiled and nodded: "I'll call the Kamakura City Government tomorrow. They have wanted to promote local seafood before, and they will definitely be willing to cooperate with our filming."

Looking at everyone's excited appearance, Asumi suddenly remembered twenty years ago when they were filming "Kanto Landscapes"—back then, everyone was also like this, working together towards a program goal, full of motivation. He picked up the Sencha from the table and raised it to Hiroshi: "Hiroshi-kun, we really have to thank you this time. Without you, our Kanto Station might still be spinning its wheels, not knowing which direction to go."

Hiroshi hurriedly waved his hand: "Executive Director Asumi is too polite. I just did what I should do. The ones who are truly working hard are Matsui-san and the others, who are willing to put aside their concerns and work hard for the future of Kanto Station."

Matsui looked at Hiroshi, his eyes full of admiration: "Nohara-san, to be honest, I was a little resistant to you at first, thinking you were too young and didn't understand the difficulties of Kanto Station. But now I understand that you not only have talent, but you know better what the audience wants and what path our Kanto Station should take. In the future, in terms of shooting documentaries, just give orders, and we will listen to you."

"Yes!" Yamada also chimed in, "When you were filming 'Yamishibai' and 'Seven Samurai', you were very good at grasping the audience's psychology. This time, filming 'A Bite of Neon', you can definitely grab the audience's stomach and heart!"

Looking at everyone's trusting eyes, a warm current surged in Hiroshi's heart—after crossing over to this world, from an ordinary time-traveler to a third-level director of Tokyo Station, and now in charge of the reform of Kanto Station, he had encountered many doubts and resistance along the way, but he had also met many people like Matsui and Asumi who were willing to believe and support him.

He took a deep breath and spoke firmly, "Seniors, thank you for your trust. I promise everyone that 'A Bite of Neon' will definitely become the signature program of Kanto Station. It will let all of Japan know that our Kanto Station can not only shoot good local news, but also produce warm and profound documentaries, allowing more people to understand the food, culture, and humanity of Kanto!"

"Yes!" The crowd answered in unison again, their voices full of confidence.

...

The air conditioner in the Kanto Station meeting room was still humming. The enthusiasm from discussing "A Bite of Neon" had not yet dissipated, and the filming plans and storyboard sketches spread on the table still carried the scent of ink.

Kobayashi had already pocketed his notebook and was heading to Tsukiji Market for scouting. Fujishita Ken patted his chest, saying he would contact the bun shop in Yokohama's Chinatown overnight. Yamada held the manual for the old camera and went to the technical department with Saito.

Several people hurried away, even forgetting to take their coats draped over the backs of their chairs. They were enthusiastically driven by the new project.

When the meeting room door finally closed, the room instantly quieted down, leaving only the soft clicking sound of Asumi's fingers tapping the thermos, and鈴木清斗(Suzuki Kiyoto)'s unconscious rubbing of the briefcase clasp.

The two looked at each other, both seeing the unspoken concerns in the other's eyes. In the end, Asumi spoke first, his tone carrying some uncertainty: "Hiroshi-kun, I was too embarrassed to ask in front of everyone just now. Are we really going to focus on documentaries?"

Hiroshi wasn't in a hurry to answer. Instead, he pulled a bottle of oolong tea from his briefcase, poured a cup for each of them, and then said slowly, "Is Executive Director Asumi worried about the ratings? Or are you afraid people at the station will have have a different opinion?"

"Both."

Asumi took the cup, pinching the cold wall of the cup, his frown undecreased. "You know, documentaries in Japan have always been NHK's territory. They film history and folklore, backed by government subsidies, so they're not afraid even if the ratings are low. But our Kanto area is different. We still depend on advertising to survive. If 'A Bite of Neon' films, and the ratings can't even reach 3%, the advertisers will definitely make a fuss, and Deputy Station Chief Takada will probably invite me for tea again."

Suzuki Kiyoto nodded in agreement. He helped cheer everyone up just now, but actually harbored doubts himself: "Hiroshi-kun, I don't want to pour cold water on you. Ten years ago, Kanto Station also filmed 'Kanto Folklore Travelogue.' Matsui-san and his team camped out for three months, but the ratings didn't even reach 2.3%. In the end, the board cut the project, and the production department's budget was halved. Our foundation is even thinner now than it was back then. If we stumble again, I'm afraid we won't even have a chance to recover."

He paused, his voice dropping lower: "And those old foxes at the station, they already dislike you because of your youth. If the documentary gets botched, who knows how they'll gossip—last time 'Seven Samurai' was a huge hit, some people still said you 'stepped in dog shit.' If you fail with the documentary this time, their words will only be uglier. You're only 23;

if this affects your mindset, it's not worth it."

Hiroshi wasn't surprised listening to the two of them.

He leaned back in his chair and looked at the faded cherry blossom painting on the wall—presented by all the staff in Showa 62. At that time, Kanto Station was still profitable, and the smiles on the employees' faces could be felt through the frame.

He remained silent for a few seconds before saying, "Executive Director Asumi, Suzuki-san, do you think Kanto Station's current problem is a lack of good programming, or a lack of distinctive features to stand upon?"

This question stumped them both.

Asumi hesitated, replying instinctively, "Of course, it's a lack of distinctive features! Before, Kanto Station was able to capture the Kanto market utilizing 'Kanto Landscapes' precisely because it filmed matters locals recognized. Now, broadcasting Tokyo Station's variety shows daily, lacking even minimal localized Kanto footage, audiences naturally reject purchasing the offering."

"Precisely." Hiroshi tapped the table lightly. "Producing documentaries functions attempting retrieving that distinction. Consider this: City TV currently produces 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit', deploying Kamiki Shunsuke functioning representing the host, pivoting towards entertainment alongside exploiting celebrity mechanics;

Tokyo Station's variety shows naturally require zero elaboration, 'Kasou Taishou' alongside 'Run for Money', universally relying upon atmospheric excitement attracting audiences. Assuming mimicking their methodology, can we generate competitive parity?"

He retrieved the production proposal traversing the table, indicating the 'Kanto Traditional Crafts' page: "Conversely, documentaries maintain fundamental differences. Our Kamakura woodblock printing recordings, alongside Gunma Washi recordings, universally document exclusively Kanto attributes, elements remaining unfilmable by Tokyo Station alongside City TV. Despite hypothetically compromised initial viewership, provided retaining viewership exceeding 35 years chronological age—individuals harboring emotional connectivity toward archaic elements—progressive reputational accumulation remains guaranteed. Assuming reputational elevation, advertisers naturally migrate;

naturally, who actively rejects attaching their merchandise alongside 'Kanto Characteristics'?"

Asumi furrowed his brow and pondered for a while, seeming somewhat persuaded, but still not entirely at ease: "But what if... I mean what if, the reputation doesn't build up, and the ratings still tank? We can't put all our eggs in the documentary basket, can we?"

"We haven't bet everything on it."

Hiroshi pulled another document from his briefcase, listing several project names. "I also plan to have Hashimoto-kun's animation production section make a short animation called 'Kanto Little Master,' telling the story of a child learning to make Kanto food from his grandfather, to tie in with the documentary. Moreover, Yamamoto-kun's TV drama production section is writing a script for 'Old Street Eatery,' set in Yokohama Chinatown, which can drive traffic to and from 'A Bite of Neon' when the time comes."

He paused, his voice ringing absolute confidence: "Moreover, support originating Minister Hattori exists. His position representing Tokyo Metropolitan Publicity Manager, concurrently maintaining friendship alongside Governor Koike, guarantees provided 'A Bite of Neon' successfully manifests Kanto's cultural characteristics, securing metropolitan government publicity subsidies remains possible—accomplishing this mitigates compromised advertising revenue, utilizing subsidies functioning representing stabilization, obliterating concerns regarding budgetary explosions."

Looking at the document in Hiroshi's hand, which clearly listed the person in charge and the schedule for each project, Suzuki Kiyoto's concerns gradually dissipated.

He remembered cooperating with Hiroshi on "Tales of the Unusual" last year. This young man was also like this, appearing relaxed, but actually having already considered all the risks. He couldn't help but smile: "You, always thinking things through so thoroughly. You didn't say this in front of everyone just now because you were afraid of putting too much pressure on them, right?"

Hiroshi also smiled, took a sip of oolong tea: "Mainly, I wanted everyone to focus their energy in one direction first. Now that 'A Bite of Neon' has just started, if I said 'there's a backup plan' right at the beginning, it would have made everyone relax. Once the filming goes smoothly, we'll roll out the tie-in projects, and everyone will be even more motivated."

Asumi was completely relieved at this point. He leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh: "Speaking of which, when Matsui-san saw the filming plan just now, his eyes lit up—he's wanted to make a documentary that preserves Kanto culture his whole life, and this time he might just get his wish."

"Matsui-san truly loves Kanto Station," Suzuki Kiyoto sighed emotionally. "Ten years ago, when filming 'Kanto Folklore Travelogue,' he camped at a shrine entrance for three days just to capture a shot of the Inari Festival. He ended up with a fever but still pushed through to edit the film. If 'A Bite of Neon' becomes a hit this time, he probably won't be able to sleep from happiness."

Hiroshi remembered how Matsui-san had touched the old report earlier, a hint of warmth in his eyes: "Actually, making documentaries isn't just for Kanto Station's reform, it's also for these veteran employees. They've been with Kanto Station for so many years, watching the station go from prosperity to decline;

it hurts them more than anyone else. If we can let them personally film a good documentary, it can be considered fulfilling their dream."

He paused and looked out the window—a few more sycamore leaves had fallen downstairs, blown by the wind and stuck to the old wall of Kanto Station, looking very much like those traditional crafts that were about to be forgotten.

He suddenly remembered a sentence he had seen in his previous life: "Documentaries are the living fossils of history." Now what he had to do was to keep the "living fossils" of Kanto on the screen, so that more people would remember the people and things on this land.

"Oh, right, Executive Director Asumi." Hiroshi suddenly thought of something. "When we film next week, could you please ask Deputy Station Chief Takada to have the station's director of photography come over and help? Although Kanto Station's cameramen are experienced, filming this kind of 'follow-without-interfering' documentary still requires some guidance—like how to capture natural reactions, how to handle macro details;

these are different from filming TV dramas."

Asumi immediately nodded: "No problem! I'll call Deputy Station Chief Takada tomorrow. He's on the same page as us now and will definitely be willing to help. He might even come over personally to take a look—last time during the recording of the Kanto division of 'Kasou Taishou', he specially rushed over to watch for a day, saying 'we need to support Hiroshi-kun's projects more'."

Suzuki Kiyoto also added: "If you need to deal with the local government, tell me anytime. I know the Publicity Section Chief of Gunma Prefecture. I drank with him last time I secured the Marui Soy Sauce advertisement. He is very straightforward. As long as it is about promoting local characteristics, he will definitely be willing to cooperate."

Looking at the two, Hiroshi suddenly felt that although the road to reforming Kanto Station was still long, with the support of these people around him, no matter how difficult the hurdle was, he could overcome it.

He picked up the oolong tea and raised it to the two of them: "Then let's work hard together and strive to make 'A Bite of Neon' the signature of Kanto Station—not only to make the Kanto audience like it, but also to let everyone in Japan know that our Kanto has delicious food, fun places, and a group of people who work hard."

Asumi and Suzuki Kiyoto also picked up their cups and clinked them with him.

The fragrance of oolong tea spread in the meeting room, mixed with the autumn wind outside the window, carrying a long-lost hope.

(Chapter Ends)