novelraw Chapter 8: After the Hangover
Chapter 8: After the Hangover
The next morning, Hiroshi pressed a palm to his throbbing skull as he crawled off the tatami. "Ugh... my head is killing me."
"Whose fault is that for drinking so much last night?"
A slender figure in an apron emerged from the kitchen, cheeks puffed with indignation. One hand gripped a spatula, the other rested on her narrow waist. Her lips were set in an adorable pout. "Get in the shower already. You came home reeking of booze last night and still tried to kiss me. The smell was absolutely foul!"
Hiroshi blinked himself fully awake. He looked at the tall, slender silhouette with her hands on her hips and let out a rueful chuckle. "Sorry about last night."
It was, of course, Koyama Misae.
But Misae wasn't about to accept his apology so easily. She spun on her heel and marched back into the kitchen. Amid the sizzle and hiss of hot oil meeting moisture, she declared with palpable displeasure, "Hmph! Hiroshi-kun, you should know — last night you did something even worse!"
"What did I do?" Hiroshi peeled himself off the tatami and headed to the bathroom to freshen up.
But Misae didn't answer.
While she prepared the omurice in the kitchen, a soft blush crept across her fair, pretty face, and she unconsciously straightened up, puffing out her chest ever so slightly.
Last night — those strong hands reaching for her, and the words he'd whispered while kissing her, promising to make her happy — they still echoed in Misae's ears, filling her with a sweetness so intense it felt like the peak of existence itself.But then those hands had tightened their grip, and just as the tingling pleasure had begun to surge through her body — it all came crashing to a halt with the sudden rumble of his snoring.
To say she hadn't slept well that night was an understatement!
"Infuriating! Absolutely infuriating!"
Misae eyed the omurice on the stove. Then she picked up the little sausages she'd prepared beforehand — no longer in the mood to cut them into cute octopus shapes.
Instead, she snatched up the kitchen knife and went chop-chop-chop.
The sausages became flat little discs on the cutting board.
"Hee-hee!"
Misae's teeth grazed her lower lip, and a mischievous, wicked little grin spread across her face.
Hiroshi — who had just finished using the bathroom, washed his face, brushed his teeth, and given his stubble a quick shave, looking clean and presentable — caught that grin and felt a chill creep along his spine.
"What's the matter, Misae?" He walked over and wrapped his arms around her slender waist from behind.
Savoring the height difference and the youthful vitality radiating from her body—
He drew in a deep, intoxicated breath.
"Misae..."
"You smell so good!"
Hiroshi couldn't resist burying his face in the curve of Misae's neck, letting his lips brush against her translucent earlobe. He murmured his admiration right beside her ear, his voice low and intimate.
It made Misae's knees buckle. Her whole body trembled, and both her face and ears flushed with heat.
"L-let's eat first," Misae whispered, biting her pink lip.
"Sure."
Hiroshi felt the undeniable advantage of being barely twenty — in the prime of his youth. A quiet grin tugged at his lips. "But... I get to decide what you eat first."
......
TV Tokyo, headquarters Production Bureau.
Suzuki's section.
"Good morning, Hiroshi-kun!" Kitagawa Yao, always the first to arrive as the office assistant, was sweeping the room with a broom when Hiroshi walked in. She greeted him with a smile.
Though as she did, a hint of confusion crossed her face.
Hiroshi-kun...
Why does he look so exhausted?
"Morning, Kitagawa-san." Hiroshi replied, then slowly — one hand bracing his lower back — eased himself into his seat. He leaned back against the chair and sighed, thinking about how Misae had wolfed down breakfast that morning with an appetite that could only be described as ravenous — going through the sausages twice. It left him feeling rather wistful.
He could barely keep up. That was his honest, private assessment.
Of course, it had to be related to all the drinking last night and the lingering hangover. He hadn't been in peak condition.
Yes. That was definitely it.
While Hiroshi rested, Minamura Hoshi and Haseji Hashiru — the two young staffers — arrived as well.
They exchanged morning greetings.
Then they all sat around, exchanging glances, waiting for Section Chief Suzuki Kiyoto to show up.
"Why hasn't Section Chief Suzuki come in yet?" Kitagawa Yao checked the time curiously and noticed they were already past the normal start of the workday.
"And Deputy Section Chief Hashishita isn't here either," Minamura Hoshi added, equally puzzled.
"What happened?" Haseji Hashiru wondered aloud.
It was strange.
Both Suzuki Kiyoto and Hashishita Ichiro were known for being punctual, rule-abiding people.
This was connected to the fact that Hashishita Ichiro was Suzuki Kiyoto's personally groomed protege, brought over from one of TV Tokyo's affiliate stations. The two shared similar temperaments.
Both were steady and dependable.
Not showing up to the office on time? That was unheard of!
"You don't think... something happened to Section Chief Suzuki and Deputy Section Chief Hashishita?" Minamura Hoshi pursed his lips, his face uneasy.
The others — Haseji Hashiru, Kitagawa Yao, and Hiroshi, who had opened his eyes with a look of surprise — all exchanged bewildered glances, unable to find words.
"Forget it — let's just get to work," Minamura Hoshi said with a sigh after a moment. "We should at least get our tasks done."
Coming to work and getting things done was what mattered most.
After all, Suzuki Kiyoto had already assigned them their respective duties yesterday; today they just needed to follow the plan.
Combined with Hiroshi's guidance — producing the animation in the slideshow format—
The storyboards were ready-made.
A few tweaks and they could start producing right away.
So at Minamura's suggestion, he and Haseji — the only two hands-on animators in the room — quickly threw themselves into the work.
Hiroshi, meanwhile, offered guidance and suggestions from the side.
However Yamishibai had been produced in the Japan of his previous life—
That's exactly how they'd do it now!
Standing on the shoulders of the future Japanese entertainment industry — the mature, fully-developed shoulders of the twenty-first century — against this parallel world's 1990s Japan?
It was a total paradigm shift!
"Sugoi! Sugoi!"
"Yosh! Yosh!"
Minamura and Haseji exclaimed as they worked, rapidly hand-drawing the initial animation frames based on Hiroshi's storyboards and instructions.
This was traditional hand-drawing.
Japan's anime production process was already quite sophisticated by the 1990s.
You took individual hand-drawn frames, strung them together at a certain number of frames per second, merged them using computer technology — and you had an animated film.
Ordinarily, this was labor-intensive, tedious hand-drawn animation production.
Monotonous and exhausting.
But Hiroshi's slideshow approach completely simplified the process, almost circling back to something deliberately archaic.
Which made it remarkably easy to produce.
On top of that, Hiroshi's storyboards already contained the complete script and storyline. The character designs were fully fleshed out. The manga itself already had its shot composition and framing done. Even the coloring was predetermined.
All they had to do was follow Hiroshi's boards — replicate, and replicate again — until they had reasonably fluid animation.
The simplicity was almost absurd!
After all, compared to standard animation at sixteen or twenty-four frames per second — meaning sixteen or twenty-four individual hand-drawn images for every single second of footage—
Now it was essentially one frame every two or three seconds.
In other words, one drawing per two or three seconds.
How could that not be simple?
"This is incredible — at this rate, we might have the first episode of Yamishibai finished before end of day today!" Even Kitagawa Yao couldn't help exclaiming.
But just then — it was exactly ten in the morning—
Suzuki Kiyoto finally walked in, his expression dark as a thundercloud.
Behind him trailed Hashishita Ichiro.
"Section Chief!"
Everyone in the room rose to greet him, exchanging baffled looks as they took in Suzuki Kiyoto's stormy face and Hashishita Ichiro's equally grim expression following behind.
They had no idea what had happened.
"How's the production going?" Suzuki Kiyoto walked over to where Minamura Hoshi and Haseji Hashiru were working on their hand-drawn frames.
He studied their output and gave a satisfied nod. The gloom on his face eased somewhat. "Your drawings are quite good. When it comes time to color them, make sure you give it the same care."
"Yes, sir!" Minamura and Haseji responded with solemnity.
"Hiroshi-kun." Suzuki Kiyoto turned to face him.
"Here!" Hiroshi responded immediately.
"Come to my office." Suzuki Kiyoto pressed his lips together, slowly exhaling through his nose. Looking at this young powerhouse who could turn his fortunes around, his mood improved noticeably.
He pushed open his office door and ushered Hiroshi inside. Then he turned to his trusted subordinate — his protege, really — Hashishita Ichiro, and said, "Keep at it."
"I understand, Section Chief!" Hashishita Ichiro nodded firmly. He sat down, reviewed the current production progress, and joined the effort.
But a cloud of worry still hung visibly on his face.
"Section Chief Suzuki... did something happen?" Hiroshi closed the door at Suzuki Kiyoto's gesture.
Looking at the man's still-darkened expression, he asked with concern.
"Mm." Suzuki Kiyoto didn't try to hide it. His voice came out strained, as though squeezed through clenched teeth. "Hashishita Ichiro's promotion to Grade 3 Director has been rejected. And the licensing fee for your Yamishibai has been slashed by twenty percent."