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

Chapter 54: Hashishita Ichiro's Choice

The banquet dispersed, it was already late into the night.

The slightly cool night wind blew on the face, carrying a bit of post-drinking intoxication.

Suzuki Kiyoto and Hashishita Ichiro walked side-by-side, the dim yellow streetlights stretching their shadows thin and long.

"Hashishita, let's rest for a bit."

Suzuki Kiyoto stopped his steps and sat down on a long bench by the roadside. He fished out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, handed one to Hashishita Ichiro, lit one himself, and took a deep drag. Amidst the swirling smoke, his voice appeared somewhat drifting: "You... are you willing to come with me to Kanto TV?"

This was the final arrangement he, as an old superior, could make for this confidant who had followed him for over a dozen years.

Hashishita Ichiro didn't answer immediately. He merely smoked silently, that speck of scarlet firelight flickering indeterminately on his face.

A long time later, he finally mashed out the cigarette butt on the trash can by the roadside, using an almost persistently muffled voice to say: "Section Chief, I want to... stay behind."

"I still want to, relying on my own works, openly and honorably obtain that Level 3 Director position."

Hearing this, Suzuki Kiyoto let out a long sigh.He knew the temper of this subordinate of his, also knew that pride in his heart.

"Fine."

He patted Hashishita Ichiro's shoulder, his tone carrying a bit of regret: "Your promotion application failed this year, if you want to be evaluated again, you'll have to wait until next year. I originally wanted to let you go to Nohara-kun's production team first, to take charge of the executive work for 'Yamishibai' Season 3. This way, it would look much better on your resume. However, since you have your own arrangements, I won't force you."

He thought Hashishita Ichiro was merely unable to swallow his pride to be an underling for a junior ten years younger than himself.

He didn't see that when he spoke those words "Nohara-kun's production team", a trace of stung humiliation and that suppressed to the extreme, almost twisted jealous hatred flashed in those eyes Hashishita Ichiro hid in the shadows.

"Mhm." Hashishita Ichiro merely responded muffledly, his voice seeming squeezed out from his throat.

"I... have my own arrangements."

And in his heart, he also thought of the person he met together with Iwata Masao this morning, an existence on the same level as Deputy Bureau Chief Asumi, even somewhat higher in status and authority... Takada Toshihide.

At this time Hashishita Ichiro's eyes flickered. When his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of Suzuki Kiyoto still smoking his cigarette, a trace of guilt surfaced in his heart.

But thinking about how Suzuki Kiyoto praised Nohara Hiroshi so much in front of Deputy Bureau Chief Asumi.

Yet didn't even praise himself a single sentence.

That trace of guilt in Hashishita Ichiro's eyes vanished, turning incomparably solemn instead, and deep within his eyes also carried complacency—

"There is no 'Yamishibai Season 3' for him." His heart mocked, thinking about how Nohara Hiroshi could actually sit beside Deputy Bureau Chief Asumi and even be praised as the Kanto Faction's rising star of tomorrow, he scoffed even more: "After all, Deputy Bureau Chief Takada actually intends to personally take over Yamishibai Season 3, and let me and Iwata Masao partner up for it!"

...

The night wind carrying intoxication and slight coolness brushed past those neon signs on the Tokyo streets that still didn't know fatigue, cutting the light and shadows into fragmented pieces, then piecing them back together on the icy asphalt pavement into brilliantly glowing ukiyo-e paintings.

Hashishita Ichiro escorted Suzuki Kiyoto downstairs to his apartment.

Looking at the back of that once reliable-as-a-mountain senior who was now already soaked in alcohol and joy to the point of staggering, his expression was incomparably complex.

Because he had already made his decision.

That respectfulness and concern belonging to a junior maintained for an entire night was silently receding from his face rapidly right now like the seawater after an ebb tide.

Leaving only a piece of numbness.

He didn't leave immediately, merely standing under that dim yellow streetlight, lighting a cigarette.

Scarlet firelight flickered on his face. That swirling blue smoke, like his chaotic state of mind at this moment, couldn't find a place to settle into.

He didn't know how long he stood there, until the cigarette between his fingers burned to the end, the scorching temperature stinging his skin. He finally, as if waking from a dream, threw the cigarette butt into the trash can by the roadside, turned around, and prepared to immerse into this night belonging to him.

'Thud!'

However, right at the moment he turned the street corner, dazzling headlights, like two unsheathed sharp blades, without any warning cut off the darkness and his retreat path in front of him simultaneously.

A black Toyota Century, like a giant beast hibernating in the dark night, slid to his front completely silently.

The car window rolled down slowly, revealing Iwata Masao's face that always wore mockery and astute calculating.

He didn't get out of the car, merely leaning against the driver's seat.

One hand resting on the steering wheel, using a teasing gaze like a cat catching a mouse, he sized up Hashishita Ichiro whose face looked somewhat awful under the lights.

"Yo, isn't this Hashishita-kun?"

Iwata Masao's voice carried ridicule: "Truly loyal and devoted ah, to still personally escort that old guy Suzuki home at this time. What, are you afraid that if he gets drunk he might accidentally drop that pitiful book of merits into the sewer?"

Hashishita Ichiro's lips pursed into a stiff straight line. He didn't speak, but those clenched fists exposed the ripples within his heart.

He looked at Iwata Masao's face written full of complacency, looked at that luxury car still able to manifest power and status in the late night. A stinging pain of being publicly humiliated, together with that jealousy that had long entrenched in the bottom of his heart, like two intertwined poisonous vines, fiercely strangled his heart.

"After all... Section Chief Suzuki in the past, also could be considered to have taken care of me."

From between his teeth, he squeezed out this explanation that even he himself felt was pale and powerless.

"Hah? Exactly what are you babbling about? Hashishita-kun! Can what he did in the past be considered taking care of you? Look at the current Nohara Hiroshi, he hasn't even been employed at TV Tokyo for a month and he already became a Level 4 Director, the exact same level as you! And you say that old thing Suzuki Kiyoto took good care of you in the past!?" Hearing this, Iwata Masao let out an undisguised sneer as if hearing the most ridiculous joke in the world.

Yet his laughter was interrupted the next moment by a steadier and also icier voice.

"Get in."

The rear window had also rolled down at some unknown time.

In the shadows, a square face slowly surfaced. That wasn't a face that could be described with handsome or ugly; on that face, was a profoundness and suppression unique to those who occupied high positions for a long time.

It was Takada Toshihide.

"Deputy Bureau Chief Takada!" Hashishita Ichiro's heart shrank violently, standing straight to bow and lowering his head to use the honorific: "I didn't expect you to be here too."

He looked at those eyes that remained sharp as an eagle in the darkness, feeling all his disguises and struggles becoming so laughable, having absolutely nowhere to hide under that gaze.

He had no choice, and couldn't choose.

He could only open the car door, sitting into this cage like a convicted prisoner.