Chapter 73: This Painting Style Can’t Be Imitated! The Gloom Of Iwata’s Classroom!
The Iwata Classroom, separated by a wall from the Nohara Classroom, was filled with an air of superficiality and restlessness.
Masao Iwata lounged with one leg crossed over the other, leaning back in the leather seat that symbolized his status as Section Chief. He held a newly lit cigarette between his fingers, but his eyes held a lingering shadow of gloom.
The office door was gently pushed open.
“Section Chief!”
The assistant named Kojima peeked in tentatively, his face alight with the excitement of someone expecting praise. He hurried to Masao Iwata’s desk, lowering his voice as if reporting top-secret military intelligence.
“Section Chief Iwata, I’ve found out everything!” Kojima’s voice dripped with fawning subservience. “The Nohara Hiroshi next door is indeed doing a unit drama live-action series! And… and…”
“And what? Stop stammering!” Masao Iwata impatiently flicked ash from his cigarette.
“And they’ve actually invited Director Eiji Kurosawa to join them!”
Kojima’s voice suddenly rose in pitch, his face a mask of disbelief. “I saw him with my own eyes! Director Kurosawa entered their studio, it seemed like… it seemed like he was playing a role!”
“What?!”
Masao Iwata jolted upright in his chair, a solemn expression settling on his usually arrogant face.
Eiji Kurosawa!
Although this name had once shone brightly at Kanto Television Station.
Even now, within Tokyo Television Station, especially among the old-timers in their Production Bureau, the weight it carried was far from ordinary.
It was not just the title of a first-class director, but a spiritual banner of ‘Samurai Drama’.
Even though this banner had faded somewhat in recent years, as long as it remained standing, it was enough to exert an immeasurable influence on the entire station’s power structure.
He had originally thought that Asumi entrusting the S-class project to Hiroshi Nohara was merely a desperate move by the Kanto Faction, pushing a young man forward as cannon fodder due to a lack of personnel.
But now, even a stubborn old man like Eiji Kurosawa, who almost never got involved in factional struggles, had been brought out of retirement…
The nature of this game had instantly changed.
“This is clearly the Kanto Faction about to unleash their big move…” Masao Iwata’s expression grew considerably more serious. He firmly extinguished his cigarette butt in the ashtray, muttering to himself.
This was no longer a simple encirclement and suppression targeting a newcomer.
This was clearly that old fox Asumi, using Hiroshi Nohara as a dangerously sharp blade, preparing to launch a long-planned full-scale assault on the territory the ‘Tokyo Faction’ had defended for years!
In the office, everyone felt the sudden tension in the air and fell silent.
Only Ichiro Hashishita, in the corner, looked even more distressed than Masao Iwata.
It was a liver-colored hue, a mixture of shame, unwillingness, and anger.
Just moments ago, he had only gone to the restroom, but those few steps felt like walking down a path paved with sharp knives.
In the corridor, former colleagues from the Kanto Faction, with whom he had exchanged nods or even shared drinks, all cast icy, contemptuous glances his way without exception.
Their gazes were like those of someone looking at a pile of nauseating garbage.
He could only lower his head and quicken his pace, as pathetic as a rat scurrying across the street.
But even so, he had seen in the restroom mirror a lighting technician, with whom he had once had a decent relationship, silently make a spitting gesture at him.
And after he retreated into a stall, the faint, deliberately lowered, yet perfectly audible taunts from outside felt like red-hot steel needles piercing his heart.
“Did you see that? That’s the ‘star student’ from Section Chief Suzuki’s class.”
“Heh, star student? I think he’s a traitor who sold out for personal gain.”
“He’s truly a disgrace to us people of Kanto, selling out his own kind for a Deputy Section Chief position. Look at him now, he doesn’t even dare to lift his head when he sees us.”
“Can’t be helped, that’s how dogs are, wagging their tails when they see a new master. I just wonder if he can sleep at night?”
Ichiro Hashishita clenched his fists tightly, his fingernails digging deep into his palms. The sharp pain, however, was far less intense than the humiliation and rage of being publicly shamed.
He wasn’t without guilt.
But that small amount of guilt had long been forcibly suppressed by his justifications like “The Kanto Faction never trained me” and “I also want to climb up.”
What was his mistake?
In Section Chief Suzuki’s class, all the spotlight belonged to that monster Hiroshi Nohara. He was like a satellite that would never shine, only able to orbit the sun.
He didn’t want to live like that anymore!
He wanted to prove himself, to stand out! Was that wrong?!
No!
Ichiro Hashishita gritted his teeth, emerged from the stall, and splashed his face with cold water. The icy stimulation brought his chaotic thoughts back to clarity and resolve.
He was going to achieve something!
He was going to use the success of An Shizhi Season 3 to slap these guys in the face!
He was going to let them know that he, Ichiro Hashishita, was not anyone’s subordinate, and he was just as capable!
So when he returned to the office, his flushed face showing a desperate resolve, he declared, “Section Chief Iwata! Everyone! We can’t wait any longer! They’ve already started next door, and we must also work overtime today to finish the beginning of Season 3!”
His words were like a shot of adrenaline, revitalizing the dull atmosphere in the office.
“You’re right! Mr. Hashishita is right!”
Masao Iwata also emerged from the office at this point. Seeing everyone so energized, he immediately stood up, clapped his hands, and in a highly rousing tone, encouraged them:
“Did everyone hear that? Our opponents are sharpening their knives, so we must not slacken! It’s true that An Shizhi’s golden reputation was built by Hiroshi Nohara, but now, it’s in our hands! We will show everyone that we in the Iwata Classroom can also lead it to new glories!”
He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone, his tone becoming exceptionally serious:
“I’ve already made a solemn pledge to the higher-ups! The ratings for Season 3 will definitely not be worse than Season 2! Therefore, I want to emphasize to everyone that what we need to do now is not innovation, but continuation! Strictly follow the successful mode of Season 1 and Season 2! As long as we stabilize this fan base, with the reputation accumulated by An Shizhi, a strong opening for Season 3 is absolutely within our grasp!”
“Ooh!!”
A wave of enthusiastic cheers erupted in the office.
However, amidst this forced surge of enthusiasm, a complaining voice, tinged with annoyance, echoed softly from a corner.
“Um… Section Chief Iwata, Deputy Section Chief Hashishita.”
A young illustrator with glasses, looking rather thin, raised his hand, his face etched with frustration. “This art style… it’s really too difficult to imitate.”
He was a moderately well-known manga artist Masao Iwata had hired at great expense from outside, specifically responsible for the original art of An Shizhi Season 3.
“It looks very simple, like a child’s doodle. But when I actually started drawing, I realized it’s nothing like that.”
The illustrator scratched his head, pointing at the crooked lines on his manuscript, his face full of confusion.
“Every stroke has a deliberately rough feel to it, and that’s hard to capture. And this color, look, it’s not just dark tones; it seems to be mixed with some strange, dirty colors. I’ve spent hours trying to mix it, but I can’t achieve that slightly eerie and aged quality.”
These words caused the faces of Masao Iwata and Ichiro Hashishita to immediately lose some of their composure.
They were not professional illustrators, so they couldn’t offer any specific insights.
Masao Iwata could only clear his throat and say in an irrefutable tone, “The difficulty is high, and the compensation is high. We only care about the result; figure out the process yourself. As long as you can complete it, the money is not an issue.”
“…Alright.” The illustrator sighed and had no choice but to knuckle down and continue drawing.
The client is always right.
Life is not easy, and the worker sighs.
Masao Iwata and Ichiro Hashishita leaned in, picked up the few recently drawn manuscripts, and examined them back and forth.
As they looked, both of them frowned.
“It just feels like… something is off,” Masao Iwata mused.
“Mm,” Ichiro Hashishita nodded in agreement. “It doesn’t have the feeling that Nohara’s drawings do. His pictures, even when still, you can feel a… a sense of the camera moving, a very oppressive feeling. This… this is too flat.”
Hearing their discussion, the illustrator finally couldn’t help but look up and retort.
“Gentlemen, I’m a manga artist. My focus is on the story and composition. That ‘camera sense’ you’re talking about is the job of the director and storyboard artist. I’ve looked at the original drafts you gave me; that’s not ordinary manga drawing, that’s using manga format to draw storyboards! The perspective and shot composition of each frame have been specially adjusted!”
Ichiro Hashishita subconsciously retorted, “But… but Nohara, by himself, can finish an episode’s manuscript in ten minutes, and fill in the colors in half an hour!”
As soon as he said that, the illustrator’s eyes widened, and he looked at Ichiro Hashishita as if he were an alien.
“Ten minutes? Half an hour?!” he exclaimed helplessly, “Are you kidding me?! That’s impossible! Unless he’s a god! No! Even if a god descended to earth, he’d have to follow basic principles, right?! With this kind of drawing method, every stroke needs to be calculated, every color needs to be adjusted repeatedly. Let alone ten minutes, even if you gave me a day, I might not be able to finish a single page! Unless… unless it’s direct tracing or copying, otherwise, no one could possibly complete this amount of work!”
The illustrator’s words were like a bucket of ice water poured over Masao Iwata and Ichiro Hashishita’s heads.
The two looked at each other, opened their mouths, but could not utter a single word.
The enthusiasm that had just been stirred up in the office instantly cooled down.
“…You, forget it! You continue drawing.” Masao Iwata was somewhat embarrassed. He waved his hand and pulled Ichiro Hashishita out of the office.
The two stood at the end of the corridor, lit cigarettes, and silently puffed away.
Night had fallen unnoticed. Outside the window, Tokyo’s neon lights twinkled brilliantly, casting a glow on their faces that made them look even more grim.
Just then, an assistant returning from next door saw them and quickly ran over, a look of schadenfreude on his face.
“Section Chief Iwata, Deputy Section Chief Hashishita, did you hear? Hiroshi Nohara next door has gone mad! He actually said he wants to finish filming the first episode of their unit drama in one afternoon and one night!”
This news made the two of them pause.
They exchanged glances.
Immediately, the suppressed emotions on their faces, after a brief moment of stunned disbelief, transformed into mocking laughter of schadenfreude.
“Hahahahaha!” Masao Iwata was the first to burst out laughing, his laughter filled with disdain and scorn. “Finish an episode? Does he think this is playing house? He’s clearly a novice who understands nothing!”
He was like hearing the funniest joke of the year, pointing in the direction of the neighboring office and said to Ichiro Hashishita:
“In live-action drama filming, the biggest taboo is rushing the schedule! Actors’ emotions need time to brew, lighting and sets need time to be polished, and every shot needs to be meticulously considered! If he does this, let alone producing a masterpiece, the final product will likely not even meet broadcast standards! The actors’ performances will collapse, and the finished product will be so crudely made that it’ll be unbearable to watch!”
“Exactly!”
Ichiro Hashishita also seemed to have found an outlet for his frustration and nodded heavily in agreement.
The gloom on his face from being humiliated vanished, replaced by a sense of intellectual superiority.
“He’s definitely gotten arrogant! He thought that because he succeeded in making animated films, he could do the same with live-action dramas! He doesn’t understand that these two fields are completely different! Animation is about efficiency and time, but live-action drama is about accumulation and finesse! His so-called S-class new project is going to be a huge failure this time! And a complete, irredeemable one at that!”
“Just wait and see.”
A cruel smile curved Masao Iwata’s lips. “Asumi putting all her eggs in his basket is simply blind. Once his project fails, let’s see what face the entire Kanto Faction will have left to stay in this station!”
The two exchanged knowing smiles, their laughter echoing in the empty corridor, filled with self-righteous triumph and pleasure.
They could already see the image of the impudent young man, his head bloodied, desperately crashing against the solid wall of reality.
And outside the window behind them, Tokyo Tower glowed softly, quietly observing the tragedies and comedies of ambition and dreams unfolding within this building.
No one wishes for their opponent to succeed.
Now.
That’s exactly how these two felt!
Moreover, the production of An Shizhi Season 3 was not going smoothly, casting a dark cloud over their hearts.
Now this news had emerged.
They were overjoyed!
PS: Brothers, if you can, please keep voting for recommendation tickets! And if you have any good ideas, feel free to share them in the comments section~ I’ll read them all~
