novelraw Chapter 241: Tokyo City TV's Contempt for Documentaries! Tanaka Mikami's Sense of Smell!
Chapter 241: Tokyo City TV's Contempt for Documentaries! Tanaka Mikami's Sense of Smell!
Tokyo City TV's meeting room was a size smaller than Tokyo Station's. Taped to the wall was a promotional poster for "Tokyo Suburbs Visit"—Kamiki Shunsuke, wearing a brightly colored jacket, flashed a V-sign at the camera. In the corner of the poster were the words: "Every Friday night at 8 PM, explore Tokyo's suburbs with Shunsuke."
The conference table was dark solid wood with some bump marks on its edges. The canned coffee sitting on the table had long since gone cold. Several men in suits sat around the table, their faces carrying a bit of careless casualness.
The first to speak was Morikawa Keisuke from City TV's Information Department. He pinched a crumpled report in his hand, his tone carrying a bit of deliberate understatement, "Everyone, I just received news. Tokyo Station intends to unite with the Kanto Station they just acquired for a reform. The direction is set on humanities documentaries—saying they want to film some 'Kanto local culture', and even specially approved a budget."
As soon as these words fell, Section Chief Yamada Jun of City TV's Production Section, sitting opposite Morikawa, burst into laughter. He twirled a fountain pen in his hand, his eyes full of disdain. "Humanities documentaries? Is Tokyo Station out of people to use? Or has Sakata Nobuhiko gone senile? Our station is filming 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit', and we got Kamiki Shunsuke as the host. Just in the warm-up phase, we pulled in 30 million in ad sponsorships. What are they doing? Placing their bets on documentaries that nobody watches—isn't this obviously making way for us?"
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Director Sato Ryu of City TV sitting next to him also nodded along. He had previously filmed several short films on rustic themes, and the viewership was not ideal. Mentioning documentaries, he was full of resistance: "Exactly! Section Chief Yamada, did you forget? Last year, NHK's 'Kyoto Ancient Temple Travelogue' took half a year to film, and the final viewership was only 2.8%. The advertisers almost stirred up a huge fuss. Now Tokyo Station is asking Kanto Station to film this, they probably want Kanto Station to completely go cold—after all, Kanto Station was already on the verge of collapsing. Tossing about like this again, I'm afraid they won't even be able to rent their office building next year."
Morikawa Keisuke corresponded congruently, tossing the report forcefully upon the table alongside leaning backward into his chair, "Information indicates Kanto Station practically possesses zero operational video cameras;
preceding local news filming mandated borrowing equipment. Proposing documentary filming currently? Presuming resulting visual quality falls below VHS tape standards. Furthermore, who intends observing elderly craftsmen boiling Soba noodles alongside fishermen retrieving nets? Audiences navigating television viewing during evening schedules pursue celebrities simulating Kamiki Shunsuke alongside lively variety shows, excluding documentaries moving sluggishly enough precipitating slumber."
Takahashi Kazuo, sitting at the head of the table, hadn't spoken the whole time. His fingers tapped lightly on the desktop, his eyes carrying a bit of the scrutiny peculiar to politicians. He waited until the others had laughed enough before slowly speaking: "Don't be in a hurry to laugh. I actually want to know, why would Tokyo Station choose the direction of documentaries? I've seen several NHK humanities documentaries before, and they were filmed quite well. For example, 'Hokkaido Fisherman Story' from last year. Although the viewership wasn't high, the word-of-mouth was quite good, and it even won a small award—maybe Tokyo Station wants to gain attention through word-of-mouth?"
Hearing this, Yamada Jun immediately shook his head. He leaned forward, his tone carrying a bit of certain rebuttal: "Executive Deputy Station Chief Takahashi, you don't understand this! Can word-of-mouth feed you? When we run a TV station, what we want is viewership ratings, it's ad revenue! Look at our station's 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit.' Although word-of-mouth is average, the viewership is stable at 8%, and Marui Soy Sauce alone invested ten million in ads—what about documentaries? Even if word-of-mouth is good, will merchants be willing to invest money? Those local old shops hesitate for half a day even to sponsor a filming location, and you expect them to pay advertising fees?"
Sato Ryu also added. Remembering the frustrating things he experienced pulling sponsorships before, his tone became more agitated: "Exactly! Last time I filmed 'Chiba Fishing Port Story', I went to the local seafood market to find sponsorships. The boss told me directly, 'Filming this is useless, better to invite a star to do promotion'—you see, even merchants know nobody watches documentaries. Tokyo Station doing this now is pure waste of money. It would be better to use the budget to invite a second-tier star to film a variety show, at least they could pull in some young viewers."Morikawa Keisuke also nodded. He took out the flip phone the station had just issued to senior management—the screen was very small, only capable of sending text messages and making calls. He looked down at a message, then looked up again and said, "There's more, I heard from an informant that the budget Tokyo Station approved for Kanto Station this time is only ten million yen, not even enough to cover the fee for our station to invite Kamiki Shunsuke to film one commercial. Wanting to film a good documentary with this little money? I'm afraid it's not even enough for travel expenses, let alone renting professional equipment and hiring editors."
Takahashi Kazuo frowned, his fingers stopped on the desktop. He was still a bit uneasy: "That's what you say, but over at Tokyo Station, isn't there a Nohara Hiroshi? That young man is not simple. Filming 'Yamishibai' saved the late-night slot, and filming 'Seven Samurai' the box office broke eight billion. Maybe he has a way to produce a novel documentary—we can't be too careless."
This statement halted the laughter in the meeting room.
The smile on Yamada Jun's face faded a bit. He rubbed his chin, his tone carrying a bit of uncertainty: "You say Nohara Hiroshi? He's also participating in Kanto Station's reform this time? I thought Tokyo Station just let Asumi or Takada Toshihide keep an eye on it—if he's there, maybe he really can stir up some commotion."
Sato Ryu's face also darkened. He had previously been at Tokyo Station for two years and had seen how Nohara Hiroshi was when filming "Tales of the Unusual"—clearly only in his twenties, yet he understood camera angles and the audiences' psychology better than veteran directors. Remembering these things, he felt a little apprehension in his heart. "If Nohara Hiroshi is taking the lead, then this matter really needs attention. The 'Midnight Diner' he filmed had no big stars, no big scenes, but didn't it still become a hit? The viewership rating is stable above 10%, and it even pulled a long-term sponsorship from Nissin Ramen—what if he films the documentary with the effect of 'Midnight Diner'? Our 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit' might have its audience stolen."
Only then did Morikawa Keisuke put away his previous disdain. He picked up the report on the table, flipped through it again, and his tone carried more tension. "My report doesn't mention Nohara Hiroshi... I'll confirm with the informant again."
Saying this, he picked up the landline phone on the desk, dialed a number, spoke a few words into the receiver, and hung up. His face turned even uglier. "Everyone, the informant replied—this reform at Kanto Station is indeed being led by Nohara Hiroshi, and he has already set the first project. It's a food documentary called 'A Bite of Neon', and they are going to the Chiba seafood market to start filming next week."
"A food documentary?"
Takahashi Kazuo's frown deepened. He leaned forward, his tone carrying a bit of worry. "'Midnight Diner' is also a food theme, and it became an incredible hit. If Nohara Hiroshi films the documentary like 'Midnight Diner', taking the 'food + human touch' route, maybe it really can attract the audience—after all, the audience is currently a bit aesthetically fatigued with purely entertaining variety shows. If the documentary can be filmed with warmth, maybe it can succeed."
Yamada Jun's expression changed too. He had always thought documentaries had no audience, but the success of "Midnight Diner" shook his confidence. "It can't be, right? 'Midnight Diner' is a TV drama;
each episode has a plot and conflict, keeping the audience hooked. But a documentary? You can't just film a master craftsman boiling noodles every episode. That's too monotonous;
the audience will switch channels after two episodes. Besides, aren't food documentaries just about showing how ingredients are prepared and cooked? Seeing it but not being able to taste it—who's going to keep watching?"
Sato Ryu nodded congruently, recollecting previous short seafood films he directed;
his tone projected self-comforting elements. "Section Chief Yamada articulates correctness! Neon populace emphasizes 'restraint';
overtly exhibiting 'desire for consumption' induces perceptions suggesting 'lacking refinement'. Analyze 'Midnight Diner';
although food constitutes elements, the primary focus remains 'narrative,' not 'consumption' intrinsically. However, documentaries addressing food inevitably demand close-ups illustrating raw fish oil sheen alongside steaming buns;
isn't this explicitly stimulating audience appetites? Audiences abstain from verbalizing this, however internally they inevitably perceive it as 'vulgar'—how could this genre potentially achieve popularity?"
Morikawa Keisuke also recovered his senses. He leaned back in his chair, his tone regaining its former certitude: "Moreover, don't forget that a large part of 'Midnight Diner's' success is because it's a TV drama that can be aired during prime time. What about documentaries? Tokyo Station definitely won't give it a prime time slot. High probability it will be placed in the late-night slot, or an unpopular slot on weekend afternoons—the audience during those times is small to begin with. Even if the film is shot well, not many people will be able to see it."
Listening to their words, Takahashi Kazuo tapped his fingers lightly on the desktop, the worry in his eyes slowly dissipating.
He picked up the canned coffee on the table and took a sip. The coolness spread in his throat, making his brain a little clearer. "You have a point. The social ethos of Japan is like this;
everyone is very sensitive to 'gluttony', feeling it's an 'original sin', and is unwilling to show it in front of the camera. If a documentary focuses on food, it will easily make the audience feel 'uncomfortable'—after all, no one is willing to admit that they will be attracted by the food on the screen."
Yamada Jun chimed in immediately, sounding eager to claim credit. "That's exactly right! Think about it, Executive Deputy Station Chief Takahashi. When we film 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit', although we also film local food, the focus is on the 'visit process', it's Kamiki Shunsuke chatting with shop owners and interacting with tourists. The food is merely an 'embellishment'. But Tokyo Station's documentary, if they make food the protagonist, that's equivalent to putting 'want to eat' on the table. The audience will definitely be resistant—after all, no one wants to be called 'lacking self-control'."
Sato Ryu also added his piece. Recalling television industry exchange meetings he attended, his tone held professional certainty. "I heard senior NHK directors mention before, Japanese documentaries either cover history and culture or social issues. Very few cover food. It's not that no one wants to film them;
it's that even if filmed, no one watches. For instance, ten years ago, TBS spent a lot of money filming 'Osaka Food Travelogue'. In the end, it only got a 1.9% viewership rating and was criticized by the media as 'vulgar', saying it 'filmed eating like showing off'. Tokyo Station filming this now... I'm afraid they'll repeat the same mistakes."
Morikawa Keisuke also took out his phone, flipped out the viewership data he had saved previously, and handed it to Takahashi Kazuo. "Look, this is the viewership data for all food documentaries in Japan over the past five years. The highest is only 3.5%, and that's NHK's 'Okinawa Seafood Story', which relied on the strong promotion of the Okinawa Tourism Bureau to barely achieve this result. Tokyo Station's 'A Bite of Neon' has neither the word-of-mouth foundation of NHK nor the full support of the tourism bureau. Wanting to exceed this viewership? Impossible."
Takahashi Kazuo looked at the data on the phone, then looked at the confident expressions of the people in front of him, and the last bit of worry in his heart disappeared.
He leaned backward occupying his chair, exhaling an extended, relieved breath;
his tone conveyed distinct relaxation. "So that explains it. Previously, I maintained apprehension concerning Nohara Hiroshi's potential innovations;
current analysis indicates my overthinking. Documentaries intrinsically lack markets;
compounding this featuring food, an inherently sensitive subject... even possessing Nohara Hiroshi guarantees nothing regarding altering their trajectory. Ultimately, irrespective of his competence, opposing prevalent societal ethos remains impossible."
Yamada Jun laughed immediately. He raised his canned coffee in a toast toward Takahashi Kazuo: "Executive Deputy Station Chief Takahashi, please rest assured! Our 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit' premieres next week. Yesterday, Kamiki Shunsuke even went to Senso-ji Temple for a warm-up event, and many fans came to the scene. The topic discussion on Weibo is also very high. Even if Tokyo Station's documentary is produced, it can only be broadcast in the late-night slot, which completely doesn't conflict with us—perhaps when the time comes, they will have to envy our viewership ratings!"
Sato Ryu nodded concurrently. Recollecting previous collaborative interactions alongside Kamiki Shunsuke, his tone transmitted excitement. "Kamiki Shunsuke's fan demographic predominantly encompasses youths spanning 15-25;
this specific audience segment constitutes the prime demographic coveted by advertisers. We finalized negotiations alongside three prominent cosmetics corporations;
achieving viewership exceeding 10% triggers an additional 20 million advertising budget insertion. Regarding Tokyo Station? Their documentary... assuming sponsorship acquisition occurs, these exclusively manifest as minor advertisements originating local traditional shops, completely incomparable alongside our capabilities."
Morikawa Keisuke joined in, folding his report and putting it in his briefcase. "I've already briefed my informant to keep a close eye on Tokyo Station's movements. If their documentary tries any new tricks, we'll be ready to counter. But in my opinion, it'll probably not make much of a splash. After all, Kanto Station's equipment is inferior, and the team lacks documentary filming experience. Even with Nohara Hiroshi there, it'll be hard to produce anything good."
Takahashi Kazuo assented, taking the "Tokyo Suburbs Visit" broadcasting schedule from his desk and flipping several pages;
satisfaction colored his tone. "Excellent. Our impending priority remains concentrated resolving 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit's' premiering protocols. Section Chief Yamada, synchronize details further engaging Kamiki Shunsuke's team, guaranteeing immaculate premiering next week. Director Sato, assuming responsibility regarding post-production editing, assemble multiple trailers utilizing the inaugural episode's primary highlights;
initiate continuous station-wide broadcasting cycles tomorrow. Morikawa, consistently monitor Tokyo Station's subsequent maneuvers, reporting information promptly—however, extreme anxiety is unnecessary. Ultimately, evaluating their position: prioritizing them as genuine threats remains completely unfounded."
"Yes!"
The three answered in unison, their tone carrying a bit of relaxed certainty. The atmosphere in the meeting room became lively again. The few men started discussing the ad solicitation and follow-up filming plans for "Tokyo Suburbs Visit." When they occasionally mentioned Tokyo Station's documentaries, it was only with a teasing smile, no longer carrying a trace of the previous worry.
The sunlight outside the window spilled in through the glass, falling on the promotional poster for "Tokyo Suburbs Visit." Kamiki Shunsuke's smile looked exceptionally bright in the sunlight. Takahashi Kazuo looked at the poster, then remembered the analysis the three had just made, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curl up—he suddenly felt that this competition between City TV and Tokyo Station probably lacked suspense right from the start.
After all, Tokyo Station bet their treasure on documentaries that nobody watches, while they held the stars the audience liked and lively variety shows. The odds of winning this were simply too great.
Morikawa Keisuke suddenly remembered something, took out a photo from his briefcase, and placed it on the table. "By the way, everyone, the informant sent this. It's a photo from when Nohara Hiroshi went to Kanto Station for a meeting yesterday. What he's holding should be the storyboard draft for 'A Bite of Neon'. It looks quite detailed, but what's the use of being detailed? If the content is bad, no one will watch it no matter how well it's drawn."
Yamada Jun picked up the photograph and scrutinized it. Within the image, Nohara Hiroshi, garbed in a dark suit, gripped paper saturated with simple sketches. He appeared currently communicating alongside several Kanto Station employees;
his expression manifested considerable focus.
Yamada Jun scoffed and threw the photo back on the table: "What's the use of being serious? If the direction is wrong, being serious is useless. When our station filmed 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit', Kamiki Shunsuke was also very serious, and even specially learned the local dialect. This is called 'seriousness in the right place'—what Nohara Hiroshi is doing can only be called 'wasted effort'."
Sato Ryu also nodded. He picked up the photo, looked at it twice, and threw it back on the table. "Look at the storyboards he drew, fishermen hauling in nets, steamed bun shops steaming buns, all unoriginal stuff. The first episode of our 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit' is going to the seaside in Kamakura, filming Kamiki Shunsuke learning to surf from a surfing coach, and also going to a local viral coffee shop to make handmade coffee—this content is much more interesting than watching fishermen haul in nets. The audience will definitely like it better."
Takahashi Kazuo looked at the photo on the table, then at the relaxed expressions of the people in front of him, and felt completely at ease.
He stood up, picked up the broadcasting schedule on the table, his tone carrying a bit of determination: "Alright, it's getting late, everyone hurry up and get busy. 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit' premieres next week, we must show our best form, let Tokyo Station see what a truly popular program is—as for their documentaries, let them slowly toss about, we just wait and see the result."
"Yes!" The three responded again, stood up one after another, packed up the documents and canned coffee on the table, and walked towards the door of the meeting room.
Yamada Jun walked at the end. When passing the poster, he specially patted Kamiki Shunsuke's smiling face, his tone carrying a little complacency: "Shunsuke, ah Shunsuke, whether we can surpass Tokyo Station this time depends entirely on you."
The meeting room door slowly closed, leaving only the photo and the cold canned coffee on the table.
The sunlight still spilled in through the glass, falling on Nohara Hiroshi's serious face in the photo, as if silently saying—this seemingly suspense-free competition, perhaps, will not be as simple as the people at City TV think.
...
The Mayor's office at Tokyo City Hall was simpler than imagined. A dark brown solid wood desk occupied more than half the space. On the left side of the desk lay thick stacks of documents, while a black landline phone sat on the right, its edges somewhat worn.
A map of Tokyo City hung on the wall, with several areas awaiting development circled in red pen—these were the real estate projects actively promoted by Tanaka Mikami.
Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting mottled shadows on the floor. A faint aroma of tea lingered in the air.
Takahashi Kazuo stood before the desk, tightly holding the report he had just brought from City TV. His tone was laced with forced casualness. "Your Excellency Mayor, this is the latest news from City TV. Tokyo Station and Kanto Station have finalized the direction for their reform. It's humanities documentaries. They've even specially approved a ten million yen budget. The project is called 'A Bite of Neon', and they're starting filming at the Chiba seafood market next week."
Tanaka Mikami possessed his head lowered, analyzing a real estate development proposal. Acknowledging the verbalization, he elevated his visual focus, his fingers tapping lightly against the desk's surface. "Humanities documentaries? A ten million yen budget? Takahashi-kun, quantify your assessment classifying the probability this directional strategy achieves success."
Takahashi Kazuo immediately straightened his back, his tone conveying the certainty the City TV team had previously analyzed: "According to the professional judgment of City TV's Production Section and directing team, the probability of success is very low. As you know, Japan's documentary market has always been sluggish. The highest viewership rating in the past five years was only 3.5%, and that was NHK barely achieving that result relying on strong promotion from the tourism bureau. This time, Tokyo Station has neither the word-of-mouth foundation of NHK nor the full support of the local government. Coupled with the sensitive theme of food—Japanese people value restraint, and too straightforward food shots easily disgust the audience. It will probably be difficult to see any improvement."
"Oh?"
Tanaka Mikami raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, a hint more scrutiny in his eyes. "Are you sure? I recall NHK's 'Hokkaido Fisherman Story' last year. Although the viewership wasn't stellar, it had excellent word-of-mouth and even won an industry award. Besides, over at Tokyo Station, Sakata Nobuhiko and Shimazu Yoshihiro aren't fools. If they were really that unsure, would they simply approve a ten million yen budget?"
Takahashi Kazuo froze briefly. Remaining unanticipated regarding Tanaka Mikami's specific inquiry, he unconsciously initiated explanatory procedures: "However... City TV's Section Chief Yamada alongside Director Sato previously analyzed this: documentaries intrinsically lack market demand, concurrently advertisers decline engagement. Observe our City TV's 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit';
utilizing Kamiki Shunsuke functioning as host generated thirty million advertising sponsorships strictly during preliminary warm-up phases. Conversely, Tokyo Station's documentary programming necessitates late-night broadcasting schedules exclusively, entirely avoiding conflicting against our scheduling—evaluating their strategic maneuvering: this obviously constitutes highly risky gambling."
Tanaka Mikami snorted softly, picked up the teacup on the table and took a sip. His tone carried an imperceptible mockery: "Risky move? Takahashi-kun, you are still too young, thinking of things too simply. Sakata Nobuhiko has been in the television industry for more than forty years, and Shimazu Yoshihiro rose from a reporter to Station Chief. If they couldn't see a sliver of hope, would they invest resources into documentaries? Especially Shimazu, after losing the election to me last time, he has been holding his breath. This Tokyo Station reform might just be the pawn he uses to pull votes—do you think he really cares whether Kanto Station can recover? What he cares about is whether he can use this project to please the voters in the Kanto region."
Takahashi Kazuo finally realized. He had only been staring at the market prospects of documentaries before, forgetting the political considerations behind it. He quickly bowed: "I was not thoughtful enough;
I ask Your Excellency the Mayor to clarify."
Tanaka Mikami put down the teacup, his finger tracing over the "Real Estate Development Proposal," his tone slowly deepening: "Although I don't understand TV station viewership ratings, I understand my opponents' vision. Don't forget, the one leading this reform of Tokyo Station and Kanto Station is neither Sakata nor Shimazu, but that young man named Nohara Hiroshi."
"Nohara Hiroshi?" Takahashi Kazuo raised his head in astonishment. He had seen this name in the report before, but didn't pay much attention. After all, the other party was only 23 years old. Even with the achievements of 'Yamishibai' and 'Seven Samurai', he was just a young director. "Are you saying... this reform is led by him? But no matter how powerful he is, he can't go against the entire market environment, right?"
"Cannot?"
Tanaka Mikami smiled, extracting a newspaper from his drawer, unfolding it confronting Takahashi Kazuo. The article documented Akita Prefecture's Tourism Bureau's report from the preceding year. The headline articulated: "Akita Inus Stimulate Tourism Industry;
Q3 Tourist Volume Increases 40% Year-Over-Year." Accompanying the text lay a photograph depicting several charmingly naive Akita Inus. Adjacent formatting included a brief sentence: "Akita Inu character designer: Tokyo Station Director Nohara Hiroshi."
"Look at this."
Tanaka Mikami indicated the report, his tone carrying a bit of gravity. "Early last year, Akita Prefecture's tourism industry was declining, and the local government was worried to death. As a result, Nohara Hiroshi designed an Akita dog image and shot a short three-minute promotional video, inserting it into the broadcast break of 'Kasou Taishou'. Guess what? Within three months, Akita Prefecture's tourist volume directly increased by 40%, and sales of local specialties doubled—a 23-year-old young man, able to reach this point, do you think he would touch documentaries without being sure of himself?"
Takahashi Kazuo looked at the data in the newspaper, his heart skipping a beat, and his previous certainty slowly dissipated: "But... but the Akita dog is a mascot, it's not the same as a documentary."
"What's the difference?" Tanaka Mikami retorted, his tone razor-sharp, cutting to the core. "Fundamentally, both are about 'unearthing local character.' The only difference is the medium: one's a mascot, the other's a documentary. Think about Kumamoto Prefecture. Before Kumamon blew up last year, did anyone know anything about Kumamoto? But thanks to the Kumamon design by Nohara Hiroshi, it's now a nationwide viral mascot. Kumamoto's tourism revenue tripled, and even their local agricultural products have become highly sought-after goods."
He paused, tapping his finger on the newspaper:
"Do you think these are all coincidences? What Nohara Hiroshi is best at is turning things that others think are 'useless' into 'useful.' Previously, who thought highly of late-night urban legend animations? The 'Yamishibai' he filmed had a viewership rating breaking 12%. Who thought samurai films were outdated? The 'Seven Samurai' he filmed had a box office breaking 8.9 billion. Now no one thinks highly of documentaries. Do you dare to guarantee that he won't create a miracle again?"
Takahashi Kazuo nodded silently. He recollected previous City TV team assessments failing prioritizing predicting Nohara Hiroshi's established "breakthrough capability." Encountering consistently undervalued domains repeatedly, he routinely carved unprecedented pathways forcibly.
The previous contempt slowly turned into worry. He subconsciously tightened his grip on the report in his hand. "Then... what should we do now? City TV's 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit' is going to air next week. If Tokyo Station's documentary really becomes a hit, I'm afraid it will affect our viewership ratings, which will in turn affect our ad revenue and subsequent promotional plans."
Tanaka Mikami picked up the landline phone on the desk, pressed a number, and said to the other end: "Have the people in the Publicity Department organize all reports and data related to Nohara Hiroshi in the past six months, and send them to my office in ten minutes."
After hanging up the phone, he looked at Takahashi Kazuo, his tone carrying undeniable seriousness: "Starting now, pay close attention to the movements of Tokyo Station and Kanto Station. First, have City TV's Information Department strengthen contact with informants, especially those inside Kanto Station, to figure out the filming plan, broadcasting slot, and promotional strategy of 'A Bite of Neon'. Second, have Yamada Jun and Sato Ryu prepare several backup plans. If Tokyo Station's documentary shows signs of becoming popular, adjust the content of 'Tokyo Suburbs Visit' in advance, such as increasing the proportion of local food, or inviting second-tier stars for guest appearances, to attract the audience before them. Third, say hello to Sato Tokugawa of the Kirin Group and have him keep an eye on Nohara Hiroshi—Sato has always wanted to poach Nohara to Kirin;
maybe we can fish some information from him."
Takahashi Kazuo swiftly produced a notebook, transcribing Tanaka Mikami's directives efficiently;
the acoustic feedback produced by the pen tip scratching against the paper was distinctly audible. "I comprehend your directives completely. Returning toward City TV immediately initiates implementation addressing these assignments. Additionally, should we initiate dialogue communicating with local tourism bureaus concerning restricting collaboration supporting Tokyo Station? Considering Chiba Prefecture or Gunma Prefecture tourism bureaus specifically;
their lack of support potentially negatively impacts Tokyo Station's filming progression."
Tanaka Mikami shook his head, his fingers tapping lightly on the desktop. "No need. Tearing faces with the local tourism bureaus now will instead provide a pretext for others, letting Shimazu Yoshihiro grasp the leverage of 'suppressing local culture', affecting our voter support ratings. Besides, even if the local tourism bureaus provide support, it may not necessarily help Tokyo Station's documentary become a hit—what we need to do now is to make foolproof preparations, rather than proactively engaging in petty tricks."
He paused and added:
"Also, have City TV's Public Relations Department pay more attention to media trends. If there's positive coverage regarding 'A Bite of Neon,' find some industry 'experts' to express opposing views. For example, question the documentary's authenticity or claim Nohara Hiroshi is 'exploiting local culture'—don't make it too obvious;
just touching upon it is enough. The main goal is to plant a seed of 'doubt' in the audience's minds."
Takahashi Kazuo nodded rapidly, "I'll remember. By the way, Your Excellency, City TV also received news that the team Nohara Hiroshi brought this time consists mainly of Kanto Station veterans. They haven't filmed documentaries before, there's only one cinematography instructor transferred from Tokyo Station—could... could lack of team experience negatively impact filming quality?"
Tanaka Mikami lifted the teacup, taking a sip, his gaze somewhat complex. "Lack of experience? Perhaps. But don't forget, when Nohara Hiroshi filmed 'Yamishibai', the team was mostly newcomers. What was the result? He stayed up late drawing storyboards himself, taught the newcomers how to film step-by-step, and didn't it succeed in the end? The most terrifying thing about this person is not his talent, but his ability to turn the 'impossible' into 'possible'—you cannot measure him with conventional standards."
Right then, the office door was pushed open gently. A staff member from the Publicity Department carried a stack of materials inside, bowed, and placed them on the desk. "Your Excellency Mayor, these are the reports and data regarding Nohara Hiroshi you requested."
Tanaka Mikami picked up the materials and flipped through a few pages. Inside were the viewership data for "Yamishibai", the box office report for "Seven Samurai", and analysis on the tourism impact of Kumamon and Akita dogs. He pointed to one of the pages and said to Takahashi Kazuo, "Look here. 'Kasou Taishou' had no applicants at first. Nohara Hiroshi took his team to the streets and schools for promotion, and personally designed disguise plans. In the end, it became the number one variety show in national ratings, and even Governor Koike praised him for 'changing Japan's apathy'—this person never relies on luck;
he relies on solid ability and drive."
Takahashi Kazuo leaned in to look. The material showed the viewership curve for 'Kasou Taishou', rising all the way from the initial 5.2% to 40.2%. Attached next to it was audience survey data, with 83% of viewers stating, "Because of this program, interaction with family and friends has increased."
His internal apprehension amplified significantly;
evidently, the earlier City TV team analysis completely disregarded Nohara Hiroshi's exceptional "breakthrough capability" concerning this specific individual.
"Therefore, we absolutely cannot be careless."
Tanaka Mikami placed the materials on the table, his tone carrying a bit of gravity. "Shimazu Yoshihiro is putting his bets on Nohara Hiroshi now. If this documentary really becomes popular, he will definitely use the pretext of 'paying attention to local culture' to canvass for votes. This is very disadvantageous for our upcoming mayoral election. Takahashi-kun, I leave this matter to you. You must keep a close eye on it. Report to me immediately at the slightest sign of trouble—even if it's Nohara Hiroshi, I cannot let him affect our plans."
Takahashi Kazuo immediately bowed, his tone carrying unprecedented seriousness: "Please rest assured, Your Excellency the Mayor! I will definitely arrange all the work of City TV, pay close attention to the movements of Tokyo Station and Kanto Station, and absolutely will not let them affect our projects and election plans."
Tanaka Mikami nodded favorably, recommencing evaluation regarding the Real Estate Development Proposal positioned atop the desk, his tone reverting toward its established stable cadence. "Excellent, proceed returning towards City TV immediately;
mandate fulfilling the aforementioned parameters entirely. Additionally, concerning communications engaging Sato Tokugawa, exercise restraint preventing him ascertaining our utilization regarding his resources—ultimately, Kirin Group's real estate projects mandate his continued patronage."
"Yes!"
Takahashi Kazuo bowed again, picked up the reports and materials on the table, turned around, and walked towards the office door.
When he reached the door, he couldn't help but look back—Tanaka Mikami was looking down at the real estate plan, his fingers gently tracing the "Shinjuku Pending Development Area", his eyes carrying a sharp determination to win.
The sunlight shone through the blinds, falling on him, as if coating the politician with a layer of cold and hard light.
Takahashi Kazuo took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the materials.
He comprehended subsequent daily operations prohibited relaxation. Nohara Hiroshi referencing 'A Bite of Neon' potentially materializes constituting City TV alongside Tanaka Mikami's most critical unstable variable.
His earlier disdain had evaporated entirely, replaced by high alert. After all, nobody dared underestimate a young man who had single-handedly ignited nationwide viral frenzies over Akita dogs and Kumamon.
Exiting the City Hall building, the sunlight outside was somewhat piercing.
Takahashi Kazuo pulled out his pager and sent a message to City TV's Yamada Jun: "Convene an emergency meeting of the Production Section immediately to discuss a response plan for 'A Bite of Neon.' Bring all materials related to Nohara Hiroshi."
The pager quickly returned a reply: "Received, meeting in ten minutes."
Takahashi Kazuo tucked the pager away and strode towards his car parked by the curb.
He knew that behind this seemingly simple "TV station competition," too many political interests and election chips were involved. Nohara Hiroshi and his documentary were the most unpredictable pieces in this game.
Meanwhile, in Kanto Station's filming prep room, Hiroshi was inspecting tomorrow's equipment alongside Matsui Yuichi and Honda Sakurako.
Saito Shigeru hunkered down calibrating the high-definition video camera. Aiming the lens toward the wall clock, the sweeping second hand registered with crystal clarity. Matsui Yuichi methodically checked items against the filming itinerary. "Ten spare batteries, twenty memory cards, three windshields, two reflectors... all present and accounted for."
Honda Sakurako gripped her notebook, the pages crammed with details about Sato Seafood Shop. "Sato-san mentioned that the 3 AM tide tomorrow is prime for fishing, so we're required to be at the docks by 2:30 AM. He even prepared hot soup, noting the freezing coastal dawns, to warm us up before we start shooting."
Hiroshi nodded affirmatively, selecting a reflector testing optimal alignment referencing ambient lighting. "Throughout tomorrow's recording, dedicate focus capturing acute details;
instances like calluses marking Sato-san's hands while retrieving nets, parallel with the communicative visual exchanges shared utilizing his son—these elements constitute the genuinely emotionally resonant components. Matsui-san, you possess extensive experience;
please provide expanded guidance assisting the junior assistants, preventing their nervousness."
Matsui Yuichi patted his chest immediately: "Rest assured, Hiroshi-kun! I've been making films for thirty years. I can't even handle this little thing? I guarantee to capture the freshest pictures tomorrow!"
Saito Shigeru also stood up, holding the camera in his hand. His tone was still deep but carried a bit of drive: "The equipment has all been debugged. The wind by the sea is strong. I added double-layer windshields to the recording equipment to ensure the sound of the wind won't be recorded. I'll follow beside the cameraman tomorrow and handle emergencies at any time."
Hiroshi looked at the busy people in front of him, and a smile appeared on his lips.
He remained ignorant regarding the discussions transpiring within Tokyo City Hall, additionally ignorant concerning his acquired status constituting a priority "subject of interest" for Tanaka Mikami. He simply comprehended tomorrow's recording manifested exceeding importance—representing simultaneously 'A Bite of Neon's' genesis alongside Kanto Station's hope regarding resurrection.
The autumn wind outside the window gently whistled by, gathering a few fallen leaves before spinning them through the air.
Inside Kanto Station's office building, the lights burned bright. Everyone's face glowed with anticipation and determination. They might not know how many hurdles lay ahead, but the thought of producing a truly heartwarming documentary alongside Nohara Hiroshi filled them with strength.
At that same moment, in the Tokyo City Hall, Tanaka Mikami stared at the promotional report for the Akita dogs, his fingers gently tapping the desk.
Nohara Hiroshi was a formidable opponent, but he believed his years of accumulated political capital and real estate projects wouldn't be easily bested by a simple documentary. This game had only just begun.
(Chapter Ends)