novelraw Chapter 6: Reverence!
Chapter 6: Reverence!
Indeed, Suzuki Kiyoto was genuinely thunderstruck by Nohara Hiroshi.
And he wasn't the only one.
Even Hashishita Ichiro — the Executive Director and Grade 4 Director whom they'd only just met — was staring wide-eyed.
Watching Hiroshi stand before the blackboard, methodically laying out his production approach, Hashishita's hands were practically trembling.
To say nothing of Minamura Hoshi and Haseji Hashiru, the two assistant directors.
Or Kitagawa Yao, for that matter.
"Sugoi!" "Soka..." Exclamations of disbelief tumbled from their lips as if they couldn't help themselves — as if scales had just fallen from their eyes.
Every one of them gazed at Hiroshi with barely contained admiration.
"That's my concept, Mr. Suzuki. We don't need to chase after fluid, polished animation. We don't need to compete with those high-budget productions over visual fidelity."
"All we need to do is tell the story and deliver the horror atmosphere. That's enough!""That's my approach."
Hiroshi had transplanted every strength and defining feature of the wildly successful Yamishibai horror anime from his previous life's memories into this parallel Japan.
Looking at everyone — from Suzuki Kiyoto down to Hashishita Ichiro, then to the three younger members, Minamura, Haseji, and Kitagawa Yao—
All of them wore the same shell-shocked expression.
A confident smile spread across Hiroshi's handsome face. He raised his fist and declared, "Not only can we keep the animation costs extremely low, but when it airs, the ukiyo-e and vintage slideshow style will create a striking contrast that hooks the audience!"
But after Hiroshi finished speaking, none of the five people listening uttered a word.
They all just stared at him in stunned silence.
"What's wrong?"
Hiroshi actually felt a pang of self-doubt.
He briefly worried that borrowing a twenty-first-century Japanese anime's style and storytelling might be out of step with the viewing preferences of this early-twentieth-century parallel world.
But then Suzuki Kiyoto and the other four simultaneously raised their hands and burst into applause, dispelling Hiroshi's anxiety in an instant.
"That was incredible! Hiroshi-kun! You truly are brilliant!"
"How did you even come up with something this clever?!"
"Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps!"
"Absolutely amazing!"
Hashishita Ichiro, Minamura Hoshi, Haseji Hashiru, and Kitagawa Yao — all of them were clapping vigorously, their faces alight with astonishment and reverence as they looked at Hiroshi.
Suzuki Kiyoto, too, stood behind them, applauding. His face was wreathed in a gratified, approving smile, and he nodded again and again.
Everyone had been won over by Nohara Hiroshi.
Completely.
Won over.
Even Suzuki Kiyoto — a Grade 3 Director who had worked at TV Tokyo and its affiliate stations for nearly twenty years, a man with extraordinary directorial experience — couldn't help marveling at Hiroshi.
Because he understood, better than the other four, that what Hiroshi had just outlined wasn't merely a director's job.
He had mapped out the work of the director, the producer, the set coordinator, the director of photography, the art director, the editor — every single role.
All at once!
In fact, he could say with confidence that if they used Hiroshi's storyboards and followed his plan, they could have the first episode's animation produced within two days and ready for submission to the Production Bureau's review department!
That kind of ability — it was something only renowned, seasoned directors possessed after years and years of hard-won experience, tempered like steel through fire.
And now, Suzuki Kiyoto was witnessing it in a young man.
How could he not be astonished?
"Everyone!"
Suzuki Kiyoto was still the veteran of the group. He recovered quickly from his shock.
He cleared his throat softly, drawing everyone's eyes to himself.
Then he walked over to Hiroshi, gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and turned to face the team — Hashishita Ichiro, who had been with him for quite a while; Minamura Hoshi and Haseji Hashiru, who had joined in the past two years; and Kitagawa Yao. His voice was resolute.
"Let us follow Hiroshi-kun's plan and create the weapon that will turn the tide — the tool of our section's counterattack!"
"Hai!" The five subordinates leapt to their feet the moment Suzuki Kiyoto finished, standing tall and responding in unison with their chests puffed out.
They were brimming with energy — and their fighting spirit was blazing.
They had no choice.
From the moment they'd joined Suzuki's section, they'd already sensed the dark undercurrents swirling around them.
If they wanted to rise, to succeed — or simply to survive in this workplace without being trampled — there was only one option: charge forward.
Now, as Suzuki Kiyoto had said, a decisive weapon had appeared before them.
Of course they were going to seize it with both hands!
Especially since they'd all read the Yamishibai manga stories in the artbook, and they knew the material not only met TV Tokyo's Production Bureau requirements for horror atmosphere and folklore content—
It also wove in urban elements from the Showa era, making the stories feel exactly like the ghost tales people whispered about.
The combination of grotesque curiosity and spine-tingling atmosphere was dialed up to the maximum.
It was absolutely a great story!
And if the story was great—
Then as long as the animation wasn't terrible, it would easily carve out a place for itself in the late-night time slot.
It would become the key to their counterattack!
Just thinking about it—
Set their blood on fire!
And so, with everyone diving even deeper into enthusiastic discussions with Hiroshi, time slipped away unnoticed until the late afternoon.
Ding-dong! The end-of-day chime echoed through TV Tokyo.
All six of them suddenly realized it was time to clock out.
But just then, Minamura Hoshi — sitting in the corner — seemed to remember something. He shot to his feet and looked at Hiroshi with barely contained hope. "Hiroshi-kun, would it be terribly presumptuous of me to invite you out to an izakaya tonight for some drinks and a chat?"
He'd barely finished when Haseji Hashiru, sitting nearby, piped up with obvious displeasure. "Hey, wait! I was going to invite Hiroshi-kun! You can't just jump ahead of me!"
Both of them were fans of YuYu Hakusho, the manga Hiroshi had published.
And now they'd become his colleagues, too.
After spending a full day together, each of them had privately grasped the full scope of Hiroshi's talent, ability, and limitless potential.
So this wasn't just fan-meeting-artist excitement — they were eager to seize the moment.
To hitch themselves to Hiroshi's rising star!
"Huh?" Hiroshi was caught off-guard by their competing invitations.
He'd been planning to go shopping with Misae tonight!
But then again, he understood that this was simply part of Japanese workplace culture — and even rooted in the family dynamic itself.
Once you started working, you didn't just go home for dinner. You were expected to go out every evening with your colleagues — seniors and juniors alike — to an izakaya or a small restaurant for obligatory social dining.
That was what proved you were well-liked at the company.
Going straight home like a dutiful husband? Something praised as admirable in China?
That would never fly here.
Instead, you'd be branded as friendless, unpopular — a loser.
Everyone around you would keep their distance.
But before Hiroshi could politely decline or come up with some excuse, Hashishita Ichiro — the thirty-something Executive Director — slammed his hand on the desk and stood up.
"Fools! You two juniors — do you really think you can invite Hiroshi-kun before I, Hashishita Ichiro, your senior, have even opened my mouth?"
"Besides — why don't we all go out together as a section? To celebrate a wonderful beginning?"
"Section Chief Suzuki, what do you say?"
Hashishita Ichiro turned to Suzuki Kiyoto. His tone was inquiring but carried a note of eager deference.
The moment he said it, the two young men who'd been competing — Minamura and Haseji — turned visibly pale.
They realized, with a sinking feeling, that they'd just committed a workplace faux pas.