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

Chapter 246: Shock! Excitement! Everyone's Attention! "A Bite of Neon"'s Filming Technique Goes Viral!

At 7:50 PM, the "Future Comic Club" studio was as bright as day.

Sashimi bento boxes and chilled beer that had just been delivered were laid out on the long table. Seven or eight young manga artists sat around the television. Misae stood at the front, clutching the remote control, her knuckles white from gripping it so tightly.

"Everyone, wait ten more minutes! We'll be able to see Hiroshi-kun's new film right away!" Misae turned and shouted, her voice brimming with excitement, her cheek still smudged with blue paint from drawing comics that afternoon.

Sato Rina, sitting on the far left, was applying lipstick in front of a mirror. Hearing this, she looked up and smiled: "President Misae, you're more nervous than we are! Didn't you say yesterday that Hiroshi-kun's films are definitely good?"

"That's different!" Misae immediately retorted, but still couldn't help glancing at the TV screen. "This is Hiroshi-kun's first documentary. I'm afraid that some people might not appreciate it..."

"How could that be!"

Yamada Keisuke, the manga artist next to her, put down his beer can, his tone certain. "Hiroshi-kun can even draw 'Doraemon' stories that both kids and adults love, his documentary definitely won't be bad either! Did you forget that when 'Midnight Diner' aired last time, the whole club watched it together, and you even cried!"

Misae's face instantly turned red, and she hurriedly picked up a bento box to hide it: "That's because the oden in there was exactly the same as what my mom makes... By the way, look! The trailer for 'A Bite' is playing on TV!"

Everyone immediately looked at the screen—in the shot, Nomizu Masayasu's hands were untying the boat rope in the morning mist. The sound of bidding during the tuna auction mingled with the sound of ocean waves, finally freezing on the subtitle "October 15th at 8:00 PM."

"Wow! This sequence is shot so beautifully!" Sato Rina couldn't help but sigh. "Look at the color of the seawater, it's brighter than the comics we draw! Hiroshi-kun is too good at filming!""I feel like Nomizu-san's hands tell such a story," Yamada Keisuke rested his chin in his hand. "They're much more interesting than those idol stars' faces—in the commercial Kamiki Shunsuke filmed last time, his hands were thinner than a girl's, clearly he's never done any hard work."

Misae immediately nodded: "Exactly! Hiroshi-kun said that when filming people, you have to film the details. The calluses on Nomizu-san's hands convey his hardship better than any dialogue."

Just as they were talking, the wall clock pointed to eight. The TV screen instantly went dark, followed by the clear sound of ocean waves.

Misae consciously held her breath. The studio instantly quieted down, leaving only the sound from the television.

When Nomizu Masayasu piloted the fishing boat out to sea, and the fishing net unfurled in the air, Sato Rina couldn't help but gasp softly: "Oh my god! This scene is too spectacular! It's even more beautiful than what I saw when I traveled to the seaside!"

Yamada Keisuke also leaned closer, pointing at the screen: "Look at the texture of this morning mist, it must be Saito-san's lighting! Last time Hiroshi-kun mentioned that Saito-san is the best at shooting these atmospheric shots."

Misae remained silent, her eyes firmly fixed on the screen. Observing the slow-motion sequence of Nomizu Masayasu slicing sashimi, the tuna’s texture starkly illuminated under the lights, she involuntarily swallowed, murmuring, "I shouldn't have ordered the sashimi bento;

the sashimi on screen looks much fresher..."

Everyone in the studio laughed, but the atmosphere remained focused.

When Nomizu Masayasu said at the end of the film, "The sea gives what it gives, and we eat what it gives, we can't be greedy," Misae's eyes suddenly reddened—she remembered that her grandfather was also a fisherman. Every time he returned from sea, he would tell her to "cherish the gifts of the sea," exactly the same words as Nomizu-san.

"It's so good..." Misae sniffled, her voice a little choked. "Hiroshi-kun really understands the stories of us ordinary people. He didn't film those glamorous things, but he captured the truest warmth."

Sato Rina handed over a tissue and said with a smile: "Don't just focus on crying! The second episode is coming up next, filming the Soba shop in Gunma, it might be even warmer than this one!"

Misae took the tissue, wiped her tears, and looked back at the screen.

The soft lighting in the studio reflected everyone's focused faces. The piano music drifting from the television, mingling with the occasional sound of cars passing outside, felt exceptionally warm—this was their first time concurrently watching a documentary, yet it felt akin to a grand cinematic experience, their hearts brimming with emotion and anticipation.

...

In a high-end restaurant in Ginza, Tokyo, Saeki Akira and several other senior film critics sat around a private room. Exquisite Kaiseki Cuisine was laid out on the table, but the TV was deliberately tuned to Kanto Station.

Saeki Akira held a sake cup, but his eyes never left the screen. His fingers tapped lightly on the table, clearly taking serious mental notes.

"I originally thought documentaries would only film boring processes. I didn't expect Nohara Hiroshi to be able to capture such delicate shots."

Sato Kiyoshi, the film critic sitting next to him, put down his chopsticks, his tone full of surprise. "Look at the look in Nomizu Masayasu's eyes when he hauls in the net—there's exhaustion, persistence, and reverence for the sea. This level of depth is richer than the protagonists of some TV dramas!"

Saeki Akira nodded and took a sip of sake: "This is Nohara Hiroshi's brilliance. He never films 'events', he only films 'people'. Last time in 'Seven Samurai', he profoundly captured the cowardice of the farmers and the pride of the samurai. This time filming fishermen, it's just as delicate. Did you notice that when Nomizu-san untied the boat rope, his finger movements were very skilled but slightly sluggish? That's the trace left by years of labor. An ordinary director wouldn't notice this kind of detail at all."

Another film critic, Yamada Keisuke, pushed up his glasses and pointed at the screen: "And the soundtrack! This piano piece perfectly matches the sound of the ocean waves. It doesn't steal the scene, but it sets the atmosphere wonderfully. I watched the sample of City TV earlier. Kamiski Shunsuke's variety show uses explosive pop music. It doesn't match the food at all and makes it seem impetuous."

"Speaking of City TV,"

Sato Kiyoshi suddenly laughed. "This afternoon at the press conference, Kamiki Shunsuke stated he'd make Nohara Hiroshi taste defeat. Looking at it now, he's likely to be the one tasting it. Nohara Hiroshi's documentaries captivate viewers through substantive content, while Kamiki Shunsuke relies on fan mobilization—these aren't even comparable tiers of competition."

Saeki Akira set his sake cup down, retrieved his notebook, and swiftly scribbled: "I intend to highlight two pivotal elements in my critique: firstly, the nuance of the cinematic language;

secondly, the warmth of its humanistic concern. Nomizu Masayasu's assertion, 'The sea gives what it gives, and we eat what it gives,' is not merely a fisherman's philosophy of survival, but a profound reflection upon the 'greed' inherent in modern society—this profound depth is a realm idol variety shows will perpetually fail to attain."

Yamada Keisuke added: "I must also mention Saito Shigeru's lighting! The backlighting in the auction area was handled impeccably—no overexposure, yet it accentuated the subjects' silhouettes, maximizing the tension. NHK's previous coverage of the tuna auction was entirely gray and lacked any atmospheric depth;

there's simply no comparison."

As they spoke, the scene on the television transitioned to a close-up of Nomizu Masayasu slicing sashimi. The grain of the fish gleamed with a fresh pink hue under the lights.

Saeki Akira couldn't help but exclaim: "This sequence is captured too enticingly! Tomorrow, an expedition to Chiba is imperative to sample Nomizu-san's sashimi—it's more enthralling than the Kaiseki Cuisine before me!"

Sato Kiyoshi nodded with a smile: "I shall join you! We can coordinate a joint interview with Nomizu-san, inquiring about anecdotes from the filming process. Nohara Hiroshi's capacity to produce such an exemplary documentary is undoubtedly linked to his profound understanding of his subjects—this is the appropriate endeavor for content creation;

not concocting narratives from behind a desk, but immersing oneself in the lives of ordinary citizens and listening to their tales."

The Kaiseki Cuisine in the private room gradually cooled, yet the film critics paid it no heed.

Their gaze remained entirely captivated by the television screen. Their pens moved swiftly across their notebooks, interspersed with occasional murmured exchanges, their tone brimming with validation and admiration for 'A Bite'—

Initially, they approached it with a critical, "professional evaluation" mindset, yet the documentary's genuine warmth profoundly moved them. This unanticipated emotional resonance afforded them a satisfaction surpassing any exquisite cuisine.

...

In an office building in Shinjuku, Tokyo, 28-year-old office worker Yamada Ichiro had just returned home from overtime. He was still carrying his briefcase, but without even changing his clothes, he sat on the sofa and turned on the TV.

His wife, Suzuki Hanako, walked over carrying a bowl of freshly cooked miso soup, placed it on the coffee table, and smiled, "Why are you in such a hurry today? You usually take a shower first when you come back from overtime."

"Today is different," Yamada Ichiro stared at the TV, his tone carrying a bit of excitement. "Nohara Hiroshi's new documentary has started! The last time I watched 'Midnight Diner', I was moved by the stories he filmed. This time will definitely be good too."

Suzuki Hanako sat beside him, took a sip of miso soup, and also looked at the screen.

When she saw the scene of Nomizu Masayasu going out to sea early in the morning, she suddenly said: "This reminds me of my grandfather. He used to be a fisherman in Chiba too. He would go out to sea before dawn every day, and when he came back, he was always cold and wet, but he still smiled and brought me fresh sea fish."

Yamada Ichiro held his wife's hand, his tone gentle: "My dad also told me that when he was a kid, he followed my grandfather to the seafood market and liked watching the tuna auction the most. He thought it was very lively. Now looking at the auction scene in the film, it's exactly the same as what he said—Nohara Hiroshi is really good at filming these kinds of scenes with a sense of eras, it makes people think of things from their childhood."

On the TV, when the scene of Nomizu Masayasu gently pressing the tuna to check its freshness appeared, Suzuki Hanako couldn't help but sigh: "Look how serious Nomizu-san is! Now many merchants only think about making money and don't care about the freshness of ingredients at all. The last time we went to that sushi restaurant in Shinjuku, the sashimi didn't taste fresh, and it was ridiculously expensive."

"That's why Nohara Hiroshi's documentary is meaningful,"

Yamada Ichiro nodded. "He lets us see how much effort from so many people goes into a good plate of sashimi. Fishermen must head out to sea early in the morning, auctioneers must precisely establish valuations, and chefs must meticulously prepare it—all these individuals treat their food with earnestness;

we should likewise cherish it."

When the film concluded with Nomizu Masayasu standing on the pier stating, "The sea gives what it gives, and we eat what it gives," Suzuki Hanako's eyes grew misty: "That's precisely what my grandfather used to declare. He invariably maintained that the sea is bountiful, yet one must eschew greed, lest retribution follows. Contemporaneously, many have forgotten this principle, engaging in overfishing and environmental degradation—did Nohara Hiroshi film this piece partially to serve as a reminder?"

Yamada Ichiro nodded, retrieved the remote control, and marginally increased the volume: "Let's visit Chiba next weekend, observe Nomizu-san’s fish shop, and savor the pristine sashimi. Nohara Hiroshi's documentary is not merely visually engaging, but also a catalyst for recalling numerous forgotten principles;

this embodies the essence of a superior work."

Suzuki Hanako nodded with a smile, leaning against her husband's shoulder. The warm lighting in the living room, the sound of the waves and piano music from the TV, mingling with the aroma of miso soup, made the atmosphere exceptionally cozy.

They rarely watched documentaries together, yet because of 'A Bite', they not only enjoyed a wonderful time but also reminisced about childhood stories. This emotional resonance brought them more satisfaction than any entertainment program.

...

In an old apartment building in Setagaya Ward, Tokyo Metropolis, 72-year-old Grandma Tanaka Sumie sat on the sofa, holding a magnifying glass and earnestly scrutinizing the television screen.

Her grandson, Sato Kenta, sat beside her, occupied with his game console, yet intermittently glancing at the television, evidently fascinated by the visuals.

"Isn't this Kanto Station's old cinematic style?" Grandma Tanaka suddenly remarked, her tone laden with astonishment. "Observe the texture of this morning mist;

it's verbatim 'Kanto Fishing Song' filmed by Kanto Station ages ago! I presumed post-acquisition, Kanto Station would never again produce such evocative pieces."

Sato Kenta put down his game console and leaned over: "Grandma, how did you know? You watched 'Kanto Fishing Song' before?"

"Of course I have!"

Grandma Tanaka nodded with a smile, her eyes full of memories. "That was a film from thirty years ago, also about the fishermen in Chiba. At that time, your grandfather and I guarded the TV every week to watch it. Now watching 'A Bite', it feels like going back to that time—Kanto Station's films always manage to capture the lives of ordinary people, very real, very warm."

On TV, when Nomizu Masayasu's hands untying the boat rope appeared, Grandma Tanaka pointed at the screen: "Look at these hands, they are exactly the same as your grandfather's! He used to be a fisherman too. His hands were full of calluses and his knuckles were thick, but he was particularly agile. He untied the boat rope faster than young people. Now that he's gone, seeing Nomizu-san's hands is like seeing him."

Sato Kenta's gaze softened;

he relinquished the game console and observed the screen intently: "Grandma, Nomizu-san appears remarkably skilled, heading out to sea in the early hours and accurately determining the tuna's freshness."

"Naturally,"

Grandma Tanaka nodded. "Fishermen all possess unique aptitudes. Your grandfather formerly ascertained fish school locations merely by observing the seawater's coloration;

he invariably returned with a bountiful catch. Contemporary youth eschew the fishing profession, dismissing it as arduous labor. Did Nohara Hiroshi create this documentary conceivably to broaden awareness regarding the fishermen's tribulations and perseverance?"

Upon the appearance of the tuna auction sequence, Grandma Tanaka’s eyes luminous: "This auctioneer’s cadence identically echoes the veteran auctioneer from the seafood market! I frequently accompanied your grandfather to the market;

the auctioneer’s vociferations were my favorite auditory experience—profoundly vital. Observing this sequence transports me back to those market excursions—Kanto Station’s productions consistently capture imagery that evokes a profound sense of belonging."

Observing his grandmother’s enthusiasm, Sato Kenta smiled: "Grandma, henceforth we shall watch 'A Bite' weekly;

I will accompany you."

Grandma Tanaka nodded, a joyous smile gracing her features. The antique grandfather clock in the living room chimed rhythmically;

the televisual soundscape of waves and auction cries harmonized with the intergenerational laughter, creating an ambiance of exceptional warmth.

For Grandma Tanaka, "A Bite" was not merely a documentary;

it constituted a reminiscence of bygone eras, a long-absent sense of belonging for veteran Kanto Station viewers—an experience she deemed infinitely more precious than any contemporary variety show.

...

In the Production Department conference room of Osaka Yomiuri TV, Department Manager Matsumoto Kiyoshi and several directors sat around the television. Viewing monitoring equipment was arranged on the table, and the screens simultaneously displayed the broadcasts from Kanto Station and City TV.

Matsumoto Kiyoshi held a teacup, his gaze fixed intensely on the Kanto Station broadcast, his fingers rapidly transcribing notes into his notebook.

"Nohara Hiroshi's cinematic language is extraordinarily delicate,"

Matsumoto Kiyoshi set down his teacup, his tone brimming with approbation. "Observe Nomizu Masayasu's actions during the net retrieval;

the camera smoothly transitions from a panoramic view to a close-up, illustrating the ocean's vastness while simultaneously isolating the subject's minutiae—his mastery of pacing substantially exceeds that of our station's junior directors."

Beside him, Director Yamada Keisuke nodded, indicating the screen: "Furthermore, the musical score! The synthesis of this piano composition with the ambient ocean waves is flawless;

it remains unobtrusive while masterfully enhancing the atmosphere. During our 'Osaka Culinary Expedition' shoot, we utilized traditional shamisen;

despite its regional authenticity, it lacked contemporary resonance. In comparison, our effort falls significantly short."

"Even more commendable is the altruistic perspective,"

Another director, Sato Takashi, appended, "Nomizu Masayasu's declaration, 'The sea gives what it gives, and we eat what it gives,' represents not merely a fisherman's existential philosophy, but subtly conveys reflections concerning environmental conservation—a profundity we rarely entertain when producing culinary programming."

Matsumoto Kiyoshi nodded, seizing the viewing monitoring report: "Presently, Kanto Station's real-time viewership has surpassed 5%, while City TV languishes at 2.3%;

the disparity is escalating. The success of Nohara Hiroshi's production is not incidental—he intimately understands demographic desires and the methodologies necessary to evoke emotional resonance. Forthcoming culinary productions at our station must emulate his approach;

we cannot exclusively document the preparation process, but rigorously chronicle the individuals behind the cuisine and their authentic narratives."

Yamada Keisuke concurred: "I propose initiating contact with Tokyo Station to negotiate acquisition of the broadcasting rights for 'A Bite'. The Osaka demographic similarly appreciates content imbued with such warmth;

theoretically, it could catalyze our station's viewership. Furthermore, we could adapt the 'A Bite' paradigm to develop 'Osaka Culinary Chronicles', highlighting Osaka's distinctive cuisine alongside the narratives of ordinary citizens. I am confident it will be received favorably."

Matsumoto Kiyoshi nodded, his tone resolute: "It is decided! Tomorrow, I will establish communication with Tokyo Station's Executive Director Asumi, striving to secure the broadcasting rights. Concurrently, mobilize the Planning Department to conceptualize the 'Osaka Culinary Chronicles' proposal, referencing the cinematic techniques of 'A Bite', specifically focusing on the artisans behind Okonomiyaki and Takoyaki. I possess absolute certitude in its popularity."

The directors within the conference room unanimously signaled their agreement, their eyes brimming with anticipation.

For them, "A Bite" transcended the classification of merely an excellent documentary;

it represented a critical professional developmental opportunity—it illuminated novel trajectories for culinary programming, subsequently inflating their confidence regarding future creative endeavors.

...

In the conference room of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government, Governor Koike Ryuichi, Department Manager Hattori Tadashi, and several officials from the Ministry of Education and the Publicity Department sat around the dining table. Exquisite cuisine was spread across the table, but the TV was tuned to Kanto Station.

Koike Ryuichi put down his chopsticks, his eyes full of admiration, and addressed the group: "This documentary by Nohara Hiroshi is very meaningful. Not only does it showcase Japan's culinary culture, but it also conveys the correct values."

Hattori Tadashi nodded, his tone full of agreement: "You are right. Nomizu Masayasu's saying 'The sea gives what it gives, and we eat what it gives' reflects the Japanese people's reverence for nature and their adherence to traditional culture—this is exactly the philosophy we want to convey to the public. The Ministry of Education can recommend this film to schools as teaching material for local culture, so children can understand the hardships of fishermen and cherish food."

The Ministry of Education official immediately nodded: "We will issue a notice tomorrow to organize elementary and middle school students to watch 'A Bite' and carry out related discussion activities. In addition, we can also cooperate with Tokyo Station to produce an educational version of 'A Bite', adding more content about marine protection and the inheritance of traditional culture, making the educational significance of the documentary more prominent."

The Publicity Department official also added: "We can utilize the popularity of 'A Bite' to launch 'Local Food Culture Promotion' activities, partnering with Chiba, Gunma, and Saitama prefectures to launch a 'A Bite Journey' tourism route. This will not only stimulate the local economy but also allow more people to understand Japan's food culture. The Kumamon mascot designed by Nohara Hiroshi has already boosted tourism in Kumamoto Prefecture. We believe 'A Bite' can produce the same effect."

Koike Ryuichi smiled and nodded: "Nohara Hiroshi is a very talented young man. He not only understands content creation but also how to drive social value through content. Previously, his 'Kasou Taishou' promoted communication between neighborhoods, 'Midnight Diner' reminded more people of the taste of family, and now 'A Bite' can boost the development of local culture and tourism—we should support talents like him more."

Hattori Tadashi nodded, his tone firm: "We will continue collaborating with Tokyo Station to provide support for the subsequent filming of 'A Bite'. Furthermore, we will concurrently submit 'A Bite' to international documentary festivals, facilitating broader global comprehension of Japan's culinary culture and humanistic spirit. The creations of Nohara Hiroshi serve not solely as national pride but additionally act as conduits for cultural exchange."

The atmosphere in the conference room was exceptionally vibrant. Officials concurrently observed 'A Bite' via television while actively deliberating strategies to leverage the documentary's influence towards advancing their respective departmental objectives.

To them, 'A Bite' transcended the status of an exceptional documentary;

it constituted a pivotal instrumentality for disseminating cultural values and propelling societal evolution—a value metric immeasurably more significant than any entertainment programming.

...

At 7:55 p.m., within the monitoring conference room on the zenith floor of Tokyo City TV, the atmosphere was redolent with the acrid aroma of instant coffee and residual tobacco smoke.

Over a dozen individuals were seated around the expansive table, its surface strewn with viewership monitoring reports and promotional brochures for 'Shunsuke's Tokyo Roaming'. The television screen broadcasted City TV's proprietary variety show—Kamiki Shunsuke, clad in a sequined jacket, formed a heart gesture toward the camera within a trending restaurant. His exaggerated grin, juxtaposed with the explosive background music, rendered the scene exceptionally clamorous.

Takahashi Kazuo occupied the principal seat, his digits rapidly tracing the report's columns;

his brow furrowed progressively.

"Why hasn't real-time viewership eclipsed 3% yet?" He directed his gaze toward the Technical Department head, his voice tinged with suppressed fury. "Wasn't it assured that Shunsuke-san's fan mobilization would yield comprehensive coverage? How can viewership within Shinjuku Ward languish at a mere 2.8%?"

The Head of the Technical Department mopped the perspiration from his temple, murmuring, "Executive Deputy Station Chief Takahashi, based upon the data monitoring, Kanto Station's concurrent real-time viewership has surged to 5.2%. A substantial demographic of younger viewers has transitioned channels..."

"Transitioned channels?"

Kamiki Shunsuke violently set down his coffee cup;

the silver spoon clattering harshly against its base. His smile instantaneously vanished, replaced by profound disdain. "What comprehension do those individuals possess? Nohara Hiroshi's derelict documentary exclusively features destitute, elderly fishermen;

where is the entertainment value? Upon the broadcast of my vocal performance segment, viewership will unequivocally reverse!"

Sato Takashi occupied a corner seat, gripping his fountain pen;

its nib hovered over his notebook yet remained suspended.

He surreptitiously glanced at Kamiki Shunsuke's broadcast image—during the 'hands-on sushi preparation' sequence, Shunsuke demonstrated an inability to differentiate between sushi vinegar and soy sauce, necessitating over ten retakes preceding a marginal success. Post-production required substantial editing to disguise his ineptitude;

juxtaposed against Nomizu Masayasu's practiced dexterity in 'A Bite', the spectacle was fundamentally farcical.

At this juncture, the conference room doors were abruptly thrown open. A secretary rushed in, visibly flustered, her voice trembling: "E-Executive Deputy Station Chief Takahashi, M-Mayor Tanaka Mikami has arrived! He is already in the corridor!"

The entire room froze instantly. Takahashi Kazuo sharply stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"Why wasn't I informed in advance?" He adjusted his suit collar while walking quickly towards the door. "Quickly! Turn down the TV volume and prepare tea!"

Everyone rushed to clean up the table. Kamiki Shunsuke also quickly reapplied his lipstick, putting his textbook smile back on his face.

But before they were ready, a slightly plump man in a dark suit walked in—it was the Mayor of Tokyo City, Tanaka Mikami. Followed by two city government officials, his sharp gaze swept across the conference room, and the air instantly seemed to freeze.

"Mayor Tanaka, what brings you here so suddenly?" Takahashi Kazuo quickly bowed, his tone full of respect. "If you had let us know in advance, we could have prepared..."

Tanaka Mikami ignored his pleasantries and walked straight to the TV. His gaze fell on Kamiki Shunsuke's face on the screen, and his brows furrowed imperceptibly.

"Is this the variety show you spent a thirty million budget on?" His tone was flat, but with unquestionable authority. "Change the channel to Kanto Station. I want to see Nohara Hiroshi's 'A Bite of Neon'."

These words fell like a bomb in the conference room, stunning everyone.

The smile on Takahashi Kazuo's face froze, and he subconsciously said: "Mayor Tanaka, it's currently the prime time slot for our station's variety show, and... and Nohara Hiroshi's documentary has nothing worth watching, it's all rustic content..."

"I said, change to Kanto Station," Tanaka Mikami reiterated, his voice elevating marginally. The frigid glint in his eyes instantaneously silenced Takahashi Kazuo.

The official behind him took a step forward and signaled the Technical Department head, who, devoid of hesitation, promptly reached for the remote control.

Standing adjacent, Kamiki Shunsuke’s complexion deteriorated instantaneously.

He clenched his fists, his nails practically embedding themselves into his palms—his meticulously prepared singing segment was imminent, yet Mayor Tanaka elected to watch Nohara Hiroshi’s dilapidated documentary?

This constituted an absolute humiliation!

"Mayor Tanaka, it is unnecessary to subject yourself to such a production."

Kamiki Shunsuke inhaled deeply, coercing a smile as he approached Tanaka Mikami, his tone adopting a calculated intimacy. "Nohara Hiroshi's documentary exclusively portrays elderly fishermen drying nets and aging men milling flour;

it tenuously claims 'humanistic concern', yet lacks any genuine entertainment value. Our station's variety show is distinctive;

it integrates gastronomy, interplay, and musical performances. This is the content the audience genuinely craves."

Yamada Jun concurred immediately: "Indeed, Mayor Tanaka. While Nohara-kun's documentary possesses adequate repute, it's a 'critical success but commercial failure'. NHK's previous gastronomic documentary achieved a peak viewership of merely 3.5%;

it's fundamentally incomparable to our variety show."

"Precisely!"

The director of the City TV Planning Department interjected, "Our variety program is capitalized by the Kirin Group, with marketing expenditure alone exceeding eight million yen. Considering Shunsuke-san's substantial fan demographic, the forthcoming vocal performance segment will unequivocally supersede their viewership!"

Sato Takashi remained positioned in the corner, a smirk surfacing internally.

He recalled yesterday's telephone conversation with his erstwhile Kanto Station colleague, who remarked—"During the net retrieval sequence in 'A Bite', Saito Shigeru employed side lighting supplemented with slow motion, capturing even the seawater's granular texture;

that authentic potency eclipses staged variety programming an hundredfold."

However, he dared not voice these sentiments—Tanaka Mikami and Takahashi Kazuo were aligned with Kamiki Shunsuke;

any refutation would constitute playing with fire.

Tanaka Mikami dismissed their justifications, his gaze unswervingly locked upon the television screen.

The Technical Department Head effectively modified the channel. The screen now displayed the 'A Bite' promotional trailer—the Chiba pier shrouded in morning mist;

Nomizu Masayasu's hands grasping the mooring rope, his weathered skin possessing a coppery sheen under the morning luminescence;

the ambient sound of ocean waves harmonizing with a gentle piano composition, instantaneously vanquishing the preceding clamor of City TV’s variety program.

"Silence."

Tanaka Mikami commanded. His volume was muted, yet it eliminated the room's cacophony instantaneously. He retrieved a chair, seating himself while leaning marginally forward, his gaze arrested by the screen. "It has commenced."

Takahashi Kazuo and the others exchanged glances and could only sit down one by one.

Kamiki Shunsuke sat down beside them, the smile on his face as stiff as a mask.

Exactly at 8:00 PM, the trailer on the television screen ended, and 'A Bite of Neon' officially began its broadcast.

The sound of the waves slowly playing, the camera slowly zoomed in from the vast ocean, and the Chiba pier in the morning mist gradually became clear—wooden fishing boats moored on the shore, fishing nets swaying gently in the wind. Nomizu Masayasu, wearing dark blue fishing pants, bent to untie the boat rope. The calluses on his fingers and the sea salt in his fingernails were clearly visible.

"This shot..." The head of the technical department muttered to himself subconsciously, his eyes full of surprise. "The lighting and shadows are handled too well, right? The layered feel of the morning mist, and the texture of the characters, it's so much more delicate than our station's variety show..."

Takahashi Kazuo glared at him fiercely. The head of the technical department immediately shut his mouth, but still couldn't help sneaking a glance at the screen.

When the camera cut to the scene of Nomizu Masayasu steering the boat out to sea—the morning sun rising from the horizon, golden rays spilling over the sea, the fishing boat breaking through the waves, and the fishing net tracing a graceful arc in the air—the entire picture looked like a flowing oil painting. No one in the conference room spoke again;

there was only the sound of the ocean waves and the narrator's deep voice coming from the TV.

Kamiki Shunsuke's fingers tightly gripped his pants, his face draining of color bit by bit.

He had originally assumed "A Bite" to be exclusively comprised of monotonous documentation, yet the current cinematic portrayal was saturated with dynamic tension—devoid of exaggerated filters or calculated staging, it possessed a compelling resonance far superseding his meticulously engineered sequences.

Notably, the close-up capturing Nomizu Masayasu's net retrieval—the musculature taut beneath the sun, the profound reverence for the ocean conveyed in his gaze—these elements represented an authenticity unachievable through acting.

Sato Takashi observed the screen, a sudden surge of relief washing over him—fortunately, he had refrained from participating in Takahashi Kazuo's disparagement of 'A Bite'.

Nohara Hiroshi's cinematic perspective demonstrated an acute mastery of detail apprehension. Nomizu Masayasu's tactile evaluation of the tuna's freshness, the rhythmic cadence of the auctioneer's vocalizations, and the banter exchanged between veteran patrons and Nomizu Masayasu within the fish shop;

all elements were captured with a realism and vitality reminiscent of a tightly paced narrative feature, substantially diverging from a tedious documentary design.

When the sequence progressed to the slow-motion depiction of Nomizu Masayasu slicing sashimi, the conference room descended into absolute silence.

The tuna’s striations shimmered with a pristine pink hue under the illumination, the auditory resonance of the blade severing the flesh rendering distinct clarity. Even Tanaka Mikami instinctively inclined forward, his gaze projecting an imperceptibly profound focus.

"This isn't a documentary..." Yamada Jun grumbled under his breath, his voice laced with incredulity. "This is clearly being shot using cinematic techniques! Look at the pacing of this editing—there's build-up, a climax, and emotional resonance. It's vastly more compelling than our variety show..."

Cold sweat beaded upon Takahashi Kazuo's forehead. He stealthily observed Tanaka Mikami's profile;

despite an outward exhibition of tranquility, Tanaka's digits produced a rhythmic cadence upon the desk's edge, signifying verifiable capitulation to the documentary's allure.

An ominous premonition materialized within him—this time, their defeat was seemingly unequivocal.

At exactly 8:50 PM, the premiere episode of 'A Bite of Neon' concluded.

Upon the television screen, Nomizu Masayasu stood on the pier against the setting sun, delivering the final line: "The sea gives what it gives, and we eat what it gives, we can't be greedy."

The gentle piano melody commenced, the end credits scrolling upwards, yet the conference room sustained its deathly silence;

even respiratory sounds amplified to a distinct clarity.

After several seconds, Tanaka Mikami slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping across the room. The chill in his eyes made everyone look away.

"Is this what you called 'nothing worth watching'?"

He picked up the ratings report from the table and slammed it down vehemently in front of Takahashi Kazuo. The pages of the report scattered in the air and fluttered to the ground. "Kanto Station's real-time ratings have broken 10%! What about you? 4.7%! Not even half of theirs!"

Takahashi Kazuo shuddered all over and quickly bowed: "Mayor Tanaka, it was us who underestimated Nohara Hiroshi, and we didn't expect the audience to like documentaries so much... We will definitely adjust the plan next time and guarantee to pull the ratings back up!"

"Next time?"

Tanaka Mikami sneered, his voice full of anger. "Do you still have a next time? I just received news that Shimazu Yoshihiro has already taken his team to the seafood market in Chiba! He is using the buzz of 'A Bite' to be interviewed alongside Nomizu Masayasu, and he even promised to increase support for the fishing industry—what about you? Besides filming Kamiki-san's fake smiles, what else have you done?"

This sentence hit everyone like a heavy hammer.

Kamiki Shunsuke's face instantly turned purplish red. He wanted to retort, but he was forced to swallow his words by Tanaka Mikami's icy glare.

He never expected that Nohara Hiroshi's documentary would not only have high ratings but also become a boost for Shimazu Yoshihiro's election campaign—this made him feel even worse than his own low ratings.

Looking down at the scattered reports, Sato Takashi suddenly realized: City TV not only lost its ratings this time but also lost its political chips.

Tanaka Mikami always wanted to use City TV's programs to boost public support, but now, "A Bite" became his opponent's stepping stone. How could he not be angry?

"Mayor Tanaka, we truly failed to anticipate Nohara Hiroshi’s utilization of televisual cinematic techniques in documenting reality."

Yamada Jun hastily stood, his tone fraught with panic. "Observe the narrative progression within 'A Bite'—the interaction between Nomizu-san and the fishermen, the palpable tension of the tuna auction, terminating with that concluding declaration. Emulating a dramatic script, it features suspense, undulation, and emotional climaxes. This deviates entirely from traditional documentary paradigms!"

"Indeed!"

Another director appended, "Preliminary market research indicated a historically low demographic receptivity towards documentaries within Japan. The eventuality of Nohara Hiroshi producing an entirely divergent piece was unforeseeable. His synthesis of 'humanism' and 'narrative' was impeccably executed;

the audience was powerless to resist..."

Kamiki Shunsuke gnashed his teeth and attempted justification: "Mayor Tanaka, Nohara Hiroshi's success is circumstantial, predicated upon selecting an advantageous demographic. The thematic material focuses upon rustic elements designed to solicit effortless resonance. Following the dissipation of novelty, the viewership will indubitably regress. I have several subsequent fan engagement events scheduled;

augmenting the promotional campaign will predictably recover the audience demographic!"

"Circumstantial?"

Tanaka Mikami cast a sidelong glance, his tone heavily saturated with derision. "Does circumstance facilitate such nuanced cinematic execution? Does circumstance permit the apprehension of demographic psychology? Scrutinize your proprietary productions—Kamiki-san necessitates over ten retakes merely to slice sashimi, subsequently relying upon post-production editing to conceal ineptitude. Juxtaposed against Nomizu Masayasu's authenticity, you resemble a buffoon!"

Kamiki Shunsuke's complexion instantaneously blanched to a ghastly pallor;

his mouth opened, yet articulation failed him.

He recognized the veracity of Tanaka Mikami's declaration, prioritizing pride over concession—as Kirin Group's preeminent idol, capitulation to a documentary director was unfathomable.

Observing the resultant chaos, Takahashi Kazuo succumbed to profound impotence.

He formerly postulated that Kamiki Shunsuke's fan demographic guaranteed victory, neglecting the fundamental axiom: "exceptional content" is the prerequisite for audience retention.

'A Bite' featured no celebrities or explosive soundtracks, yet leveraged authentic narratives and nuanced cinematic execution to move the demographic;

an achievement perpetually unattainable via staged methodology and superficial traffic manipulation.

Taking a deep breath, Tanaka Mikami actively suppressed his fury, refocusing upon Takahashi Kazuo: "The present situation forbids prevarication. I afford you a three-day moratorium to formalize a resolution—either orchestrate the suppression of 'A Bite's' viewership, or conceptualize a production superior to 'A Bite'. Failure necessitates the immediate submission of your resignations!"

Takahashi Kazuo shuddered violently, bowing hastily: "Hai! We will unequivocally furnish a resolution expeditiously;

we shall not betray your expectations, Mayor!"

"You better,"

Tanaka Mikami stood up and adjusted his suit jacket. "Shimazu Yoshihiro's camp has already started canvassing for votes using the heat of 'A Bite'. If you drop the ball, not only will City TV be affected, but my campaign will also be put in a passive position—you cannot afford to bear the consequences."

After speaking, he turned and walked out, with the two officials following closely behind.

The door of the conference room closed, leaving the room full of people standing in place with grave expressions. The TV screen was still paused on the end credits of 'A Bite', and Nomizu Masayasu's smile seemed exceptionally piercing under the light.

"What should we do?"

The head of the technical department asked softly, his tone full of panic. "How is it possible to come up with a better program than 'A Bite' in three days?"

Takahashi Kazuo slumped in his chair, rubbing his temples hard with his fingers. He looked at the 'Shunsuke's Tokyo Roaming' brochure on the table, then at the ending of 'A Bite' on TV, and suddenly felt incredibly ironic—they spent a lot of money to hire an idol and do promotions, only to lose to a documentary with no stars and no gimmicks. This was not only a disgrace to City TV, but also a stain on his career.

Kamiki Shunsuke stood next to him, his eyes full of malice.

He took out his phone and quickly dialed his manager's number, his voice carrying gnashing hatred: "Contact Watanabe Toru and have him release the 'material' we prepared earlier! I don't care what methods he uses, he must cause problems at Nomizu Masayasu's fish shop and crush the reputation of 'A Bite'!"

Looking at Kamiki Shunsuke's appearance, Sato Takashi couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

He knew that Kamiki Shunsuke would only resort to these underhanded tactics, but he didn't know—truly good content can never be defeated by smearing.

The success of "A Bite" relied on the respect for authenticity and understanding of human nature, which was something City TV would never learn.

The night view of Tokyo outside the window was brilliant, but in the conference room of Tokyo City TV, there was only a room full of depression and despair.

They all knew that in this prime-time duel, they not only lost the ratings, but also their original intention of making content—and this was the real irreparable failure.

And now, what they wanted to do was to hope that in the end, they would not really be kicked out.

Tokyo City TV had just been established.

If they were really kicked out...

It would affect their whole lives!

(Chapter Ends)