Chapter 116: This Is 《doraemon》! A Request From Weekly Shōnen Jump!
August, the scorching summer sun baked Tokyo into a giant griddle, making even the air sound with a sizzling, burnt crispness.
However, amidst this drowsy heat, the seventeenth floor of the Tokyo Television Production Bureau Headquarters Building felt like a brand new kingdom, separate from the season, filled with passion and vitality.
Ever since Iwata’s Classroom had sheepishly moved to the dimmest corner on the seventh floor, this entire spacious half-floor had been planted with the flag of Hiroshi Nohara.
That zelkova nameplate, “【Hiroshi Nohara · Independent Production Department】,” personally inscribed by Director Sakata, gleamed under the bright corridor lights like a medal of glory announcing a new king’s ascension, causing everyone who passed to unconsciously slow their steps and cast awestruck glances.
To have Director Sakata personally inscribe it was enough to explain the situation!
Inside the department, the initial cramped, makeshift atmosphere was long gone.
Nearly thirty elites from three core classrooms, like precision gears injected with new fuel, were operating at a breathtaking speed with astonishing efficiency.
The sound of telephones, the tapping of keyboards, and the occasional bursts of heated discussion sparked by a brilliant idea merged into a symphony brimming with life, playing a triumphant score on this once desolate territory.
Hiroshi Nohara’s office, located at the innermost part, was exaggeratedly like a small private club.
The nearly eighty square meter space was divided by an elegant screen, with the work area on one side featuring a massive rosewood desk and a wall of bookshelves, and a reception area on the other, equipped with top-tier projection equipment and leather sofas.
Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows was a magnificent view that could encompass all of Tokyo.
It felt as if the entire world lay prostrate at his feet.
Hiroshi Nohara mused.
No wonder leaders liked to have offices in high places!
“Minister.”
A clear and pleasant voice sounded, and the office door was gently pushed open.
Yō Kitagawa, now holding the dual positions of secretary and office director, had long shed her initial inexperience.
She wore a perfectly tailored professional suit, her long hair neatly tied back, and her usually energetic and pretty face now exuded the competence and composure of a workplace elite.
She gently placed a cup of freshly ground Blue Mountain Coffee on Hiroshi Nohara’s desk, her movements elegant and precise. Then, she began her report:
“Outside, there’s an editor from Shueisha’s 《Weekly Shonen Jump》, Mr. Masato Tadokoro. He says he’s an old friend of yours and wishes to see you.”
“Mr. Tadokoro?” Hiroshi Nohara looked up from the proposal for the audition process of the second season of 《Super Change Change Change》, a gentle smile on his face. “Please invite him in.”
Soon, a slightly awkward figure appeared at the office doorway.
It was Masato Tadokoro.
He was still in his signature attire: slightly messy hair, thick black-rimmed glasses, and a white shirt that seemed perpetually a little dingy and carried a faint smell of ink.
However, when his gaze fell upon this excessively spacious office and he saw the young man smiling and rising from behind the massive desk, an undisguised shock involuntarily appeared in his eyes.
He felt as if he were not meeting a manga artist, but a young king who had just ascended the throne.
The change was too drastic.
When he first met Hiroshi Nohara, he was just an intern who had just joined Tokyo Television.
Now, after only half a year apart.
He had become a highly influential minister at Tokyo Television!
This was astonishing, and awe-inspiring!
“Minister Nohara…”
He instinctively bowed, his address becoming somewhat dry due to nervousness.
“Mr. Tadokoro, do we need to be so formal between us?” Hiroshi Nohara walked forward with a smile, patted his shoulder warmly, and led him to sit on the sofa in the reception area. His posture was so casual, as if they were not in the center of power at the television station, but in a coffee shop on a street corner.
This warmth, unchanged by his status, allowed Masato Tadokoro’s already anxious heart to finally settle.
He looked at the young man before him, a wave of unprecedented emotion washing over him.
A few months ago, he was just a newcomer manga artist, talented but still reliant on his editor-in-chief.
But now, he had become the god of ratings, known throughout the entire neon television industry.
This rocket-like ascent was more… magical than any hot-blooded manga protagonist he had ever worked on!
“Teacher Nohara, I…”
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Masato Tadokoro finally mustered the courage to state his purpose.
He took out a report on the latest sales of 《Yu Yu Hakusho》 from his bulging briefcase. A bitter expression, etched deep in his bones, appeared on his usually tired face.
“The Dark Tournament Arc of 《Yu Yu Hakusho》 will officially conclude next month. The sales of the tankōbon have officially surpassed the ten million mark. This… this should be a tremendous success.”
He paused, and a hint of embarrassment that was hard to articulate flashed in his eyes, hidden behind his thick glasses. “But… to be honest, there’s been a bit of a situation in our editorial department recently.”
“Hmm?” Hiroshi Nohara raised an eyebrow.
“As you know, some of our 《Jump》 pillars, like Teacher Yonayama and Teacher Inoue, have recently entered a leave of absence due to health reasons. And the new artists’ works haven’t quite picked up the slack yet. This has led to… a huge, generational gap in our serialization lineup for the latter half of the year.”
As Masato Tadokoro spoke, his face turned as red as his ears. He could barely meet Hiroshi Nohara’s eyes, his voice as low as a mosquito’s buzz:
“So… the editorial department was hoping… we were hoping to shamelessly ask you. Do you… do you have any new ideas? Of course! I know you’re very busy now! Extremely busy! I honestly didn’t expect you to become a minister at Tokyo TV. I’m truly sorry… for bothering you… My… my request is simply… simply shameless!…”
He spoke more and more incoherently, the humility and helplessness of an adult appearing so real and pathetic in the face of the absolute disparity in strength.
However, just as he was about to apologize for his “shamelessness,” a calm yet powerful voice interrupted him.
“Yes, I do,” Hiroshi Nohara replied.
“Huh?!” Masato Tadokoro suddenly looked up, disbelief and shock instantly flooding his eyes, which had been dominated by embarrassment.
Hiroshi Nohara simply looked at him calmly, a faint, carefree smile gracing his lips.
“Mr. Tadokoro, what kind of story are you looking for?”
“…” Masato Tadokoro felt his brain struck by a thunderbolt, plunging into complete blankness.
He… he just agreed?
Without even discussing terms? Without even thinking?
Just… so casually, agreed?!
“Um… the editorial department’s intention is… we hope… we hope it can be a work for children, with some… some sci-fi elements,” he stammered out the request he had thought was absolutely impossible to fulfill.
“Children, friends, and sci-fi?”
Hiroshi Nohara stroked his chin, a knowing smile flashing in his clear eyes.
This request was practically tailor-made for him.
“Mr. Tadokoro, have you ever heard of… robots?”
“Robots?” Masato Tadokoro paused, instinctively answering, “You mean those toys that children play with, that move when you put batteries in them?”
“That’s right,” Hiroshi Nohara turned around, his clear eyes burning with a fire that could ignite the entire world. “But what if such a toy were no longer just a simple toy?”
“What if it had a cute appearance, intelligent intellect, and even a pocket from another dimension filled with all sorts of wondrous gadgets?”
“What if it could take its friends on all sorts of wonderful adventures during childhood, have all sorts of marvelous experiences, and live a wonderful life full of childlike fun?”
He paused, painting a grand vision for Masato Tadokoro, who was already stunned speechless by his words, a vision that would make any young boy’s heart pound with excitement.
“A child who is average in studies and a little clumsy suddenly acquires a parenting robot from the future.”
“It’s not a cold machine, but one with good upbringing, its own unique thinking abilities, and can even help inspire children’s interests and hobbies, helping them grow better.”
“The robot also has a dimensional pocket, holding countless tools from the future world, a bamboo-copter that can fly anywhere, a dimensional door that can pass through any barrier, and bread that can remember all knowledge, and so on and so forth…”
Tanaka just stared blankly at the young man before him.
His face grew more astonished.
He hadn’t expected that with just a casual request, this young man would confidently outline a complete story.
It made his heart, already dulled by reality, uncontrollably begin to beat violently again!
“Then… then what is this work called?” His voice trembled with suppressed excitement.
Hiroshi Nohara turned around, looking at the sky outside the window, dyed gold by the setting sun, a confident, brilliant smile on his lips that could command the attention of an entire era.
“Let’s call it…”
“Doraemon.”
A tidal wave of emotion surged through Masato Tadokoro.
“Dora…emon?”
Masato Tadokoro unconsciously repeated the name, full of childlike wonder and charm, feeling his tongue getting tied.
However, Hiroshi Nohara didn’t give him much time to think.
“Mr. Tadokoro, please wait for me for a moment.”
He stood up, walked to his massive rosewood desk, and casually took a stack of brand-new A4 drawing paper and a common 2B pencil from the side.
Then, under Masato Tadokoro’s astonished and bewildered gaze, he sat down.
No brainstorming, no sketches, not even a hint of hesitation.
The moment the pen tip touched the paper, the whole world seemed to quiet down.
Only the rustling sound of the pencil moving across the paper remained, like silkworms tirelessly chewing mulberry leaves, or like the spinning wheel of fate weaving a brand new legend about to be born.
Masato Tadokoro watched in a daze.
He watched as the outline of the weak and kind young boy, “Nobita,” wearing glasses, was gracefully sketched by that pen.
He watched as the round, blue, earless cat-like robot, “Doraemon,” with its iconic, warm smile full of healing power, sprang to life from the void of the paper.
He even saw how the bamboo-copter, pulled from the four-dimensional pocket filled with whimsical ideas, carried the two boys towards the blue sky symbolizing freedom and dreams…
Time seemed to lose all meaning in that moment.
Masato Tadokoro felt as if he were not watching a painting, but witnessing firsthand the birth of a miracle that would drive all of Japan crazy.
This was so imaginative!
This was so sci-fi!
When Hiroshi Nohara put down his pen and gently pushed the dozen or so sheets of drawing paper, still emitting the fragrance of graphite, towards him, Masato Tadokoro felt his breath completely stop.
These were uncolored sketches, with simple, even rough lines.
But the precise storyboards, the childlike art style, and the unparalleled warm power of friendship, dreams, and the purest yearning for the future revealed between the lines…
It struck his soul like a bolt from the blue!
“A… masterpiece…”
He reached out a trembling hand, his eyes hidden behind thick glasses now filled with sheer ecstasy. “This… this will definitely become, no! I’ve never seen such a cute art style! Such an interesting theme! It’s a unit drama! It’s Teacher Hiroshi Nohara’s specialty, unit drama! That’s right! Exactly!”
He knew the value of these manuscripts all too well!
Children, friendship, sci-fi… this was an ace card tailor-made for their 《Jump》!
And indeed, it was an ace.
Hiroshi Nohara wasn’t drawing 《Doraemon》 with his initial style, but using a mature, later style for this classic children’s manga.
And the content was the same as when he first started drawing.
It naturally created an ace effect!
“Teacher Nohara, I… I’ll take it back to the editorial department immediately! No! I’ll call Editor-in-Chief Torishima right now! This… this is too perfect for us! Especially for children from first to fifth grade, they will go crazy for it!” Masato Tadokoro was extremely excited.
“Not just children,” Hiroshi Nohara shook his head, a gaze of all-knowing wisdom flickering in his clear eyes. “Mr. Tadokoro, have you forgotten that we were once children too?”
“Deep within each of us lives a part of ourselves that is weak and lazy like Nobita, yet incredibly kind. We also fantasized about having an omnipotent friend like Doraemon to accompany us through the world’s hardships and malice.”
“This manga is a fairy tale for children, and even more so… a most gentle love letter from childhood to us adults, whose edges have been smoothed by reality.”
These words completely stunned Masato Tadokoro.
He looked at the young man, his eyes reflecting many thoughts, but ultimately gaining a spark of brilliance.
“I… I understand…” He exhaled a long breath, which seemed to carry away all the confusion and bewilderment of his past half-life.
“Leave the coloring to you,” Hiroshi Nohara’s voice rang out again, with an undeniable composure. “Doraemon is blue, Nobita’s clothes are yellow, and Shizuka is pink… once these main color schemes are set, let your editorial department assistants handle the rest. After all, I don’t have time for such simple coloring work.”
This was filled with the absolute confidence of a top author.
Masato Tadokoro nodded repeatedly, his demeanor as respectful as a believer listening to divine revelation.
“Yes! Yes! I understand! I understand everything! Don’t worry! Our editorial department will use the top team to present the most perfect colors for this great work!”
He carefully placed the manuscripts into his briefcase as if holding a rare treasure, then bowed deeply, deeply to Hiroshi Nohara.
“Then, I’ll take my leave now! Minister Nohara!”
…
As Masato Tadokoro’s excited and fervent figure disappeared through the office door, Hiroshi Nohara finally let out a long sigh.
He leaned back on the soft leather sofa, feeling every part of his body groan under the strain.
Juggling three projects at once was indeed… a bit tiring.
‘Beep! Beep beep!’
Just then, the brand-new Panasonic P100 vibrated again, unsuitably buzzing.
He picked up the phone and saw the familiar name on the screen, the fatigue of work instantly replaced by a wave of tenderness.
It was Misae.
“Hello? What’s up?” His voice softened involuntarily.
“Hiroshi-kun~” From the other end of the line came Misae Nohara’s energetic, sun-like warm voice, with a hint of a pouty nasal tone. “When do you get off work? I… I suddenly really want to eat the yakitori from that ‘Toriyoshi’ place in Ginza~ Especially the crispy, fragrant chicken skin, I’ve been dreaming about it!”
“Okay, as you wish,” Hiroshi Nohara chuckled, his voice full of indulgence. “Get ready, I’ll be home in half an hour to pick you up.”
After hanging up the phone, he stood up and walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the steel city below, which was gilded with a layer of broken gold in the sunset’s afterglow.
He suddenly felt that Misae’s call had come at the perfect time.
She seemed to have been staying home alone for a while.
Although she didn’t say it, how could the curiosity and longing for the outside world of a young girl be confined to a small apartment?
It was time to take her out and let her relax properly.
And for himself to relax too!
…
Ginza, Toriyoshi.
The same private Japanese-style room, the same top-quality Binchotan charcoal, the same perfectly grilled, tender, and juicy top-quality yakitori.
Misae ate to her heart’s content, her usually endearingly cute face radiating happiness enveloped by delicious food and love.
However, after a few cups of sake, the slight tipsiness brought out a subtle, small sense of disappointment from the depths of her heart.
“Sigh…” She propped her chin on her hand, gazing at the brilliant neon lights outside the window, and sighed faintly. “Hiroshi-kun, do you think I’m very useless?”
“Hmm?” Hiroshi Nohara was slowly sipping the sake in his cup and raised an eyebrow at her words.
“Look at you, you’re doing such amazing things every day, making TV dramas, drawing manga, and now you’re even doing variety shows… And me? I just stay at home, cook, clean, like a… like a useless parasite.” Her voice grew smaller and smaller, and a dull mist clouded her beautiful eyes.
Hiroshi Nohara put down his wine glass and reached out, enfolding her soft, boneless hand in his palm.
“Silly, what are you talking about?” His voice was gentle but carried an undeniable strength. “I told you, just wait a little longer. All the funds are currently invested in Big Brother’s agricultural corporation. Once that’s on track, I’ll support whatever you want to do.”
“I know…” Misae pouted, her voice full of grievance. “But I just feel… so idle.”
“Let’s wait a bit longer then, help me find a good way, okay?” Hiroshi Nohara chuckled lightly.
“Mmm~” Misae naturally agreed.
Looking at her pitiful expression, Hiroshi Nohara’s heart stirred, and he thought about what Masato Tanaka had said today about the shortage of new manga artists.
He had an idea.
“If I brought over all the manga from my past life to this world, I’d plagiarize the sketches myself, then find some new manga artists to color and expand the content according to my requirements…”
“This way, I might be able to own a lot of manga copyrights!”
“If Tokyo Television wants to film adaptations of these manga again, then I can have Misae approach Tokyo Television in the name of the studio, and even sell them for more money, then I’ll handle the production and filming.”
The more Hiroshi Nohara thought about it, the more feasible it seemed.
After all, manga from Japan in his past life…
It was practically a treasure trove!
A gold mine!
Manga of all genres, not just children’s manga, but also shonen hot-blooded manga, and even crime manga, etc., etc.
There was everything.
If all these treasures could be unfolded in Japan in this parallel world.
“Then I’ll be set for life!” Hiroshi Nohara’s smile widened.
He had indeed found something for Misae to be busy with.
So, the two of them ate a little.
Following Misae’s suggestion to lose weight and not eat too much, they began to walk hand in hand like the most ordinary Tokyo couple, strolling through Ginza’s luxurious and enchanting night.
Even though it was past nine o’clock, Tokyo’s public security was still very good, and the streets were bustling with people.
The two leaned on each other as they walked slowly.
They talked about their embarrassing moments and happy times from their youth, forgetting many of the dirty dealings in the workplace.
Their mood grew more relaxed.
Just then, they crossed the brightly lit main road and turned into quiet alleys full of life.
Finally, deep in an inconspicuous, even somewhat dilapidated alley, Hiroshi Nohara stopped.
“Hmm?” Hiroshi Nohara frowned slightly.
In front of him was a small, humble restaurant with only a single lantern hanging at its entrance.
The dim, yellowish light cast the three hiragana characters “Meshiya” with a sense of storytelling.
“What’s wrong?” Misae looked curiously at the ordinary, somewhat rundown small restaurant, not understanding why Hiroshi Nohara had stopped there.
“It looks familiar, quite peculiar.” Hiroshi Nohara looked at the familiar scene, a hint of nostalgia flashing in his clear eyes.
“Familiar?” Misae was puzzled.
“Come on, let’s go in and take a look.” Hiroshi Nohara chuckled lightly, and then, pulling the curious Misae, pushed open the slightly worn wooden sliding door.
“Welcome.”
A hoarse, steady, and magnetic voice came from behind the bar counter.
A man wearing a blue kimono, with a faint scar on his face and eyes as calm as the deep sea, was slowly wiping a plate with a clean white towel.
A few customers were scattered around the bar counter.
There was an office worker in a suit, drunk and constantly complaining about his boss; a bar hostess in a gorgeous costume, but with a hint of loneliness on her face; the “Ochazuke Sisters” who always huddled together, chattering about men and always ordering only ochazuke; and those few men in black suits who looked fierce but were now arguing heatedly over a plate of octopus sausage, the guards of the nightclub…
This place seemed like a forgotten corner of this bustling city.
A warm haven after nightfall.
“Wait? Are you…”
“Hiroshi Nohara!?”
But when Hiroshi Nohara pulled Misae in, everyone present, including the boss, widened their eyes.
