Chapter 100: Kei Tanaka Joins The Fray! The Assembled Tanaka Team!
“Yes… yes! Section Chief Nohara!” Kei Tanaka excitedly turned around quickly, every step feeling like it was stepping on a node of destiny, heavy yet carrying a newfound thrill of rebirth.
When he walked out that door and bathed again in the bright light of the Production Bureau corridor, he actually felt a sense of illusion as if worlds apart.
The light was no longer blinding; instead, it carried a long-missed warmth that washed over the deep chill that had lingered in his soul.
In the main entrance area of Tokyo Television Station, people came and went; every person passing by him seemed like a creature from another dimension, their faces either bearing confident smiles or the fatigue of work, but all filled with the breath of ‘being alive.’
And he, Kei Tanaka, in the past few months, had been nothing more than a walking corpse, a lone soul mercilessly abandoned by the flood of the era.
The strange gazes around him, like invisible needles, still pricked at him.
Some pity, some contempt, some schadenfreude, and some pure curiosity.
They were like spectators watching a pitiful insect that had fallen from the altar and shattered into pieces.
Familiar people gossiped about his past glory and current wretchedness.
Unfamiliar people questioned why a guy as wretched and rude as a homeless tramp was still in Tokyo TV.
Right on this execution ground under everyone’s gaze, two figures appeared before him as if by appointment.
Kenji Sato and Tsuyoshi Yamamoto.
After explaining Kei Tanaka’s current downfall to Hiroshi Nohara, they took a shortcut to the main entrance of Tokyo TV Production Bureau, just in time to block Kei Tanaka.
They were furious at this old friend.
Especially seeing this appearance.
Utterly enraged!
“Yo, isn’t this the once most renowned variety show genius of the Kanto Faction, great director Tanaka?”
Tsuyoshi Yamamoto’s voice carried undisguised mockery as he sized up Kei Tanaka’s vagrant-like appearance; his sharp eyes were full of anger at his incompetence: “What’s this? Drunk enough and finally crawled out of your moldy doghouse? Or are you here to rummage through the television station’s trash cans for leftovers to trade for a new bottle of sake?”
These words were vicious and cutting.
If it had been half an hour ago, it would have been enough to completely crush Kei Tanaka’s already fragile self-esteem into dust.
But now, Kei Tanaka silently endured it; on that somewhat swollen face from long-term alcoholism, a deep shame from the marrow appeared for the first time.
He didn’t retort or get angry; he just bowed to the two men.
“Sorry.”
His voice was hoarse yet carried an unprecedented solemnity: “Yamamoto, Sato… and Section Chief Nohara. It was me, blind to talent; it was me, with a frog’s view of the sky. It was me using my rotten soul to gauge true grand scope.”
This sudden apology instantly choked back Tsuyoshi Yamamoto’s prepared, even harsher words in his throat.
It showed that his old friend had finally come back to his senses.
No need for them to provoke him anymore.
A flicker of imperceptible surprise flashed in Kenji Sato’s eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses. He stepped forward, grabbed Kei Tanaka’s arm, frowning slightly: “You guy… why so solemn all of a sudden? We’re not really mocking you! But what exactly is in that proposal Section Chief Nohara showed you? Why are you so shocked?”
He knew his old friend too well.
Arrogant and talented, it was precisely this pride that made him wallow in failure after that crushing defeat.
To make him say such words, what terrifying magic did that proposal contain?
“I…” Kei Tanaka straightened up; those dead-fish eyes now burned with two blazing fires capable of setting the prairies ablaze. Looking at Kenji Sato, his voice trembled slightly from extreme shock: “What I saw wasn’t a proposal. It was a… brand-new universe capable of burying all old-era variety shows!”
He paused, as if recalling that grand blueprint that upended all his cognitions; on his face appeared, uncontrollably, a fanaticism akin to pilgrimage.
“It’s a proposal… a terrifying one that overthrows the existing variety show structure.”
“Terrifying?” Tsuyoshi Yamamoto’s brows furrowed deeper; he exchanged a glance with Kenji Sato, both seeing confusion in each other’s eyes.
Kenji Sato spoke directly: “I’ve seen the initial version of Section Chief Nohara’s plan before. Nationwide participation, creative imitation… it’s indeed astonishing and fun. But to call it ‘terrifying for overthrowing the existing variety show structure’… isn’t that too exaggerated? Can a variety show really film a horror film effect?”
“No, you don’t understand.” Kei Tanaka shook his head; his gaze was like that of a believer who had glimpsed divine prophecy, filled with a sense of superiority incomprehensible to mortals.
He didn’t explain further.
Because he knew the grand layout in that proposal, capable of shaking all of society and drawing in the entire nation, was beyond what language could describe.
Before seeing it with their own eyes, any explanation would seem so pale and powerless.
“I’ll take my leave first.” He gave the two another standard bow: “I need to… wash away this body’s stench of decay. Then, with a warrior’s posture, welcome that impending great war.”
After speaking, he ignored their gazes full of shock and doubt, turned, and walked out of the building he once thought he’d never set foot in again with unprecedented steady and resolute steps.
Sunlight fell on his hunched back, as if plating it with a newborn golden edge.
……
“This guy… possessed or something?” Tsuyoshi Yamamoto watched Kei Tanaka’s transformed back, subconsciously scratching his nape; that usually hawk-like sharp face was filled with pure confusion.
Kenji Sato didn’t speak.
He just pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses on his nose bridge; those eyes always carrying a scholarly smile now stared fixedly at the direction Kei Tanaka left, the gaze behind the lenses like a deep starry sky, flickering with an inscrutable, complex light.
In that light were curiosity, probing, and… an imperceptible scheming.
“That proposal… what exactly is it?” Kenji Sato murmured to himself.
“Hey, Sato.”
Tsuyoshi Yamamoto nudged him with an elbow, suspicion flashing in his eyes: “Why are you so invested in that variety show proposal? That’s not like you. Don’t forget, what we have now is 《World of the Strange》 season two! That’s the foundation of our Kanto Faction! Countless eyes in the station are watching us, waiting for us to slip up! If anything goes wrong, Deputy Director Asumi absolutely won’t let us off!”
“Of course I know.” Kenji Sato withdrew his gaze, his face resuming its signature gentle smile.
He shrugged, his posture casual as if just discussing today’s weather: “I’m just purely curious. Curious how many world-shaking whimsical ideas that young section chief still has in his brain.”
With that, he turned toward the office; his back still refined, still composed.
Tsuyoshi Yamamoto watched him, his sharp brows furrowing even deeper.
He always felt today’s Sato was off.
……
Ichiban Business Hotel, room 3306.
Kei Tanaka stood shirtless before the huge floor-to-ceiling window.
He had just used scalding hot water to thoroughly wash away the stench of decay from his soul and all his dejection.
In the mirror reflected a man whose eye sockets were deeply sunken and face pale, but whose gaze had regained knife-like sharpness.
The Kei Tanaka once hailed at Kanto Television Station as “most talented in variety shows” had returned.
He picked up the pager on the table, blackened with vomit stains, and wiped it clean with near-pious care.
Then, he took a deep breath and, with unprecedented powerful fingerwork full of strength, quickly edited a muster order capable of reawakening those long-dormant souls.
【I’m Kei Tanaka. 2 PM, ‘Ichiban’ Business Hotel, room 3306. Wear your most decent clothes. This concerns all our futures. Our Kanto Faction now has a genius-like variety show proposal! It can completely turn us around!】
The message was sent.
Like a stone thrown into stagnant water, it instantly rippled out hesitation, numbness, or disdain.
……
Nakano Ward, inside a single apartment.
The air was thick with sour rot and vomit stench, enough to make any normal person retch.
A once-famous genius variety show screenwriter at Kanto Stage was now sprawled like mud on tatami littered with countless empty sake bottles, snoring like a dead pig.
Beside him, a haggard-faced woman silently shed tears while cleaning up the mess.
‘Beep! Beep beep!’
The equally dust-covered pager on the bedside table suddenly emitted a piercing screech.
The woman walked over, glanced at the screen message, and a faint light like a candle in the wind appeared in her despair-filled eyes.
She reached out, using all her strength to shake the unconscious man hard.
“Kenta! Kenta! Wake up! It’s… it’s Director Tanaka’s pager!”
……
Suginami Ward, in a game console arcade filled with garish lights, noisy music, and cheap perfume.
A producer once somewhat famous even at Tokyo TV was now red-eyed, staring at the machine devouring his last savings; his puffy face from chronic all-nighters was etched with a gambler’s madness.
‘Beep! Beep beep!’
The pager in his pocket vibrated.
He irritably pulled it out, glanced, then shoved it back like trash.
“Tanaka? Still dreaming? Kanto Faction-produced variety shows can never beat Tokyo TV!” He sneered, feeding his last steel ball into the insatiable machine.
……
Setagaya Ward, in a still-decent-looking apartment.
An art director once renowned for “details” was now in a crisp suit, meticulously tying his tie before the mirror.
He was heading to interview for an assistant position at a small ad company.
Beside him, his wife silently straightened his collar; her gentle eyes full of worry and reluctance.
‘Beep! Beep beep!’
The pager rang.
The man glanced; a bitter smile appeared on his always scholarly face.
“Tanaka again… hasn’t he given up?”
“Go take a look.” His wife said softly, her voice carrying a woman’s intuition: “I feel like this time, maybe… it’ll be different.”
“Better than an assistant at a small company; after all, you’re already… over thirty.”
The man was silent for a moment, then finally nodded.
……
Messages scattered like dandelion seeds to every corner of Tokyo.
Some chose to ignore.
Some chose to watch.
Others, upon seeing the message, immediately dropped everything and dug from the deepest closet recesses their dust-covered yet pride- and dream-laden most decent suits.
They didn’t know what medicine the now laughingstock and loser Kei Tanaka was selling in his gourd this time.
How good that so-called excellent variety show proposal could be.
But they knew that phrase “concerns all our futures” pierced like a poison-tipped needle the softest, most unwilling scar in their hearts.
Then they soon arrived at the hotel Kei Tanaka had designated.
And saw him after he had dressed up.
Looking almost like the once extremely sharp, capable, and peak-in-form Kei Tanaka!
“Surprised?” Kei Tanaka now looked at the four or five who had arrived, waited a moment, then checked his watch and saw over 20 minutes had passed.
It seemed no one else was coming.
Kei Tanaka sighed somewhat regretfully but said nothing more, just slowly, deeply inhaling before saying to everyone: “This morning, Deputy Director Asumi called me to meet a young man named Hiroshi Nohara. You might be unfamiliar with the name, but know that 《World of the Strange》 and 《An Shizhi》 are both his works.”
“Original author of 《World of the Strange》 and 《An Shizhi》?”
“That guy named Hiroshi Nohara!”
But these old subordinates who came all exclaimed in surprise; even in their recent dejection, drowning in alcohol to escape reality, they had heard of these two explosively popular proposals and this young yet thunderous name.
Then they all thought of something and looked at Kei Tanaka with great delight: “Deputy Director Asumi sent Hiroshi Nohara to help us!?”
“Yes.” Kei Tanaka nodded slowly: “That’s right.”
“That’s great; I heard Hiroshi Nohara is like a monster—any proposal he handles explodes in ratings!”
“Didn’t expect it to be him! Deputy Director Asumi hasn’t forgotten us!”
The crowd was even more delighted.
In their eyes, this young Hiroshi Nohara had become a trustworthy savior.
After all, the myth Hiroshi Nohara created was too powerful: a sub-golden slot program maintaining around 21% ratings, higher than ordinary prime time slot programs.
And during broadcast, it closely trailed Keiko Matsumoto’s decade-honed romance drama 《Yesterday’s Cherry Blossom》 at 21.5% ratings.
It could be said they were evenly matched.
Even surpassing 《Yesterday’s Cherry Blossom》 on a few days.
This said it all.
After all, prime time starts at 8 PM, two episodes back-to-back, a slot deeply recognized by Neon Country citizens.
While 《World of the Strange》 starts at 9 PM, only one episode.
Including time for other programs.
The two had no comparability at all!
Yet they still fought evenly, meaning 《Yesterday’s Cherry Blossom》 was actually at a disadvantage.
Now, such an excellent director was to collaborate with them.
How could the crowd not be delighted?
“Yoshi! Good! Full of spirit!”
At this point, Kei Tanaka smiled too, nodded, looked at his revived self in the mirror, and nodded to everyone: “Then now, let’s go meet Hiroshi Nohara, our upcoming chief director, the section chief we’ll obey from now on!”
