Chapter 122: Let’s Turn Neon Upside Down! The Birth Of The Fan Circle!
Osaka Prefecture, Sakai City, inside a typical Showa-era cultural housing.
The head of the Tanaka family, Genichi Tanaka, this old worker who has spent his entire life at the nearby steel mill, was sitting upright at this moment, his pair of rough hands that had dealt with steel for years placed nervously on his knees, like a criminal about to face judgment.
Sitting across from him was a young person wearing the yellow work uniform of Kanto Television Station, with a professional and friendly smile on his face.
The young person’s name was Jun Watanabe, handpicked by Kiyoto Suzuki from within Kanto Stage, specifically responsible for 《Super Change Change Change Audition Version》 “offline audience relationship maintenance.”
Of course, this was just a nice way of putting it.
To use Hiroshi Nohara’s exact words from the internal training manual, their job was “public opinion agitator” and “fan instructor.”
“Tanaka-san, your son’s performance in the audition left a deep impression on all of us.” Jun Watanabe’s voice was gentle, yet carried an unquestionable professionalism as he pushed over a beautifully printed brochure: “That ‘vending machine of life’ was truly so creative! The leaders at the station are all very optimistic about him, believing he has the strength to represent all of Osaka and compete for the ultimate championship in Tokyo!”
“Really?!” Genichi Tanaka’s eyes lit up instantly, an unbelievable ecstasy appearing on his weather-beaten face.
“Of course.” Jun Watanabe smiled, but his words subtly shifted direction: “However… Tanaka-san, as you know, we Japanese people value ‘support’ the most. A contestant needs more than just strength; he needs momentum! With the support of his hometown folks behind him, he can stand taller and go further on stage.”
He paused, and under the puzzled gaze of the old worker, like the most patient mentor, he began his true “lesson.”
“For example, slogans. Just shouting ‘Tanaka, ganbatte’ is too bland. You need to open up the scope.” He picked up a pen and wrote a line of bold and powerful words on the paper—【Soul of Naniwa, Light of Sakai City! Taro Tanaka, Dominate Tokyo!】
“See, doesn’t this have much more momentum?”
Genichi Tanaka stared blankly at the words, feeling a surge of hot blood uncontrollably rushing from the soles of his feet straight to the crown of his head!
“Also, forming a support group. You can’t rely only on neighbors. You need to mobilize every force you can.”
Jun Watanabe’s voice, like a master imparting supreme secret techniques, was full of seductive magic: “Your labor union at the steel mill, your wife’s women’s association at the shopping street, your son’s classmates, your daughter’s alumni group… these are your strongest strongholds! Mobilize them all, tell them this isn’t just cheering for Taro Tanaka alone; it’s fighting for the honor of all of Sakai City, for all of Osaka!”
“Honor…?” Genichi Tanaka murmured to himself, a blazing fire named “local pride” igniting in his turbid eyes.
“That’s right, honor!” Jun Watanabe nodded emphatically, pulling out another document from his briefcase, which prominently featured materials on the Kyoto region’s audition representative.
“Look, this is the representative selected from Kyoto, a college student named ‘Masato Furukawa.’ They’ve already started building momentum among the public, saying things like ‘the heritage of the thousand-year ancient capital can’t be compared to Osaka’s commoners.’ Tanaka-san, can you tolerate this?”
“Baka yarou!” Genichi Tanaka slammed the table hard, the huge sound making the entire cultural housing tremble: “Those arrogant guys from Kyoto! What do they know about creativity! Besides fiddling with flowers and plants, what else can they do?!”
“So, we can’t lose!” Jun Watanabe struck while the iron was hot, pushing over a detailed “support group action guide,” which covered everything from unified bright yellow clothing representing Osaka, to font styles for support banners, to how to engage in “friendly” slogan confrontations with “rival” support groups during offline events—all details clearly marked.
This was practically an introductory textbook for modern fan circle wars.
“This… these seem very powerful! This brings glory to my hometown too!” Genichi Tanaka looked at the guide, and for the first time, a simple heart felt the anticipation of being in the spotlight.
After all, no one refuses the gimmick of representing a region in battle.
Even if it’s just a variety show.
“Of course.” Jun Watanabe shook his head, a profound smile appearing on his face: “What you represent is your hometown, isn’t it?”
……
This fire named “regional rivalry,” personally ignited by Hiroshi Nohara and quietly fanned by countless “Jun Watabe’s” behind the scenes, spread across the entire Kansai region in just a few short weeks with an unstoppable prairie fire momentum.
Under the Glico billboard in Osaka’s Shinsaibashi.
Two distinct formations were engaged in a powder keg-filled “friendly exchange.”
On one side was the “Osaka Soul of Naniwa” support group, wearing unified bright yellow T-shirts and headbands with “Must Win.”
On the other side was the “Kyoto Thousand-Year Elegance” support group, wearing purple robes symbolizing Kyoto’s ancient charm and holding fans printed with “Heian-kyo.”
“Soul of Naniwa, number one under heaven! Kyoto soft-legged shrimp, go back home!”
“Commoners, clueless! Thousand-year elegance, not to be desecrated by you lot!”
“Our creativity comes from life! Your creativity comes from textbooks!”
“Our idol brings glory to Osaka! Your idol just preens!”
Slogans grew louder one after another, the atmosphere surging higher with each wave.
Surrounding passersby stopped to watch, the scene more explosive than any street performer’s show!
And behind this seemingly spontaneous folk conflict, 《Super Change Change Change Audition Version》 cameras were hidden in the crowd, silently recording every dramatic moment.
These would all become the golden material for the next episode to explode topics and stimulate ratings the most.
……
Tokyo Television Station, seventeenth floor.
Hiroshi Nohara calmly watched as the fax machine spat out one sheet after another of public opinion reports from the Kansai region.
The reports detailed the scale of support groups in various regions, their slogans, and those black humor-filled “friction” incidents between them.
They even included hilarious official records from local police about “mediating public quarrels.”
“Department Head… this… isn’t this… going a bit too far?”
Kei Tanaka stood nearby, looking at the reports with unease on his face.
He felt like he was witnessing the birth of a massive vortex capable of shaking the entire neon television industry.
And the man at the center of the vortex just calmly sipped his now lukewarm black tea.
“Big?”
Hiroshi Nohara set down his tea cup, his clear eyes showing only indifference: “Tanaka Section Chief, do you know why in the Warring States Period, those daimyo always liked giving their armies names full of regional flavor? Like ‘Tiger of Kai’ or ‘Dragon of Echigo.'”
“This… this was to… boost morale?” Kei Tanaka ventured.
“Yes, but not entirely.”
Hiroshi Nohara stood up, walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, and overlooked the steel city below, surging with undercurrents from his stirring.
“It was more to create enemies.”
His voice was calm, yet like a heavy hammer striking Kei Tanaka’s heart.
“When a person is labeled ‘Osaka person,’ he is no longer himself. What he represents is the honor of all Osaka. His enemies are no longer specific individuals, but all ‘outsiders’ who threaten his hometown’s honor.”
“What I’ve done is merely provide them a stage to vent these emotions.”
He turned around, looking at his subordinate already shocked beyond words, a confident arc at his lips.
“Traffic is war. War needs soldiers, and even more, enemies.”
“Now, my soldiers are assembled. My enemies are established.”
“Next, let’s see what kind of gorgeous ratings this regional fire, suppressed for hundreds of years and now fully ignited, will contribute to our grand performance!”
……
A little later, Production Bureau Deputy Director’s office.
Kiyoto Suzuki, Kanto Television Station director group deputy director, was sitting upright on the office sofa, smiling with highly excited expression.
His eyes, once dulled by years, were now burning with fanaticism.
Deputy Director Asumi and Hiroshi Nohara were also in the office.
“Deputy Director Asumi, Nohara-kun… I… I really don’t know what to say.” His voice carried irrepressible excitement, his face flushed unnaturally.
He placed the ratings report printed with “16.3%” on the huge rosewood desk like a priceless treasure.
“This number… for Kanto Stage now, is simply… a miracle.”
His voice carried melancholy and bitterness: “To be honest without making you two laugh, since Kanto Stage was merged into Tokyo TV… it’s been nearly five years since we’ve seen double-digit ratings.”
These words were bitter, like icy cold ripples in a winter lake.
The smile on Asumi’s face quietly subdued a bit.
He picked up his green tea, the amber liquid swaying gently, reflecting the complex light in his eyes.
“Kiyoto, this… isn’t your fault.” His voice was low, with some helplessness: “There was no other way. It looks like Tokyo TV suppressing Kanto Stage, but there’s more to it.”
“No, this isn’t just competition between television stations.”
Asumi slowly exhaled a breath of turbid air, carrying a hint of awe toward higher powers: “This is… national policy.”
“National policy?” Kiyoto Suzuki’s face showed astonishment.
“That’s right.”
Asumi nodded, his shrewd eyes gazing at the vast Tokyo sky outside the window: “The Tokyo Metropolitan Area plan, you’ve heard of it, right? The government’s will is to fully integrate the entire Kanto Region into Tokyo’s massive furnace. Economy, transportation, culture… everything must be unified. In this context, do you think the government will allow two different ‘voices’ in this future super metropolis?”
These words were like a bucket of ice water poured over his head, extinguishing the flames in Kiyoto Suzuki’s heart from the ratings surge.
He fell silent.
And understood he faced not simple commercial competition, but an unstoppable era flood from the national level.
The office fell into long silence.
Only the expensive Swiss clock on the wall ticked, like a merciless countdown to an era’s end.
“But anyway…”
After a long time, Asumi finally broke the silence, his elegant face blooming again with a sly fox-like confident smile: “Different times. Our Kanto Faction… has finally made it through.”
His gaze fell on the young person who had quietly sipped black tea throughout, his eyes full of undisguised appreciation and pride.
“Nohara-kun, you’re not just our Kanto Faction’s ace now.” Asumi set down his beer mug, his voice loud with unquestionable affirmation: “You are the future of our entire Kanto Faction.”
He said this decisively.
Kiyoto Suzuki present showed no surprise.
Because this was already the consensus of the entire Kanto Faction.
From the moment that young person saved them from Toshihide Takada’s suppression with a 《World of the Strange》; from the moment he pushed the faction’s prestige to the peak with a 《Super Change Change Change》; from the moment he reunited countless Kanto Faction veterans with an “Independent Production Department”…
Hiroshi Nohara, this name, had become the synonym for “hope.”
Asumi had even half-jokingly, half-seriously called Hiroshi Nohara his “successor” at several private high-level banquets.
And no Kanto Faction elder had objected.
Because it was only natural.
“Deputy Director Asumi, you’re overpraising me.”
Hiroshi Nohara set down his tea cup, still smiling calmly: “The success of 《Audition Version》 is just the beginning. It proves my hypothesis—viewers don’t just want perfect performances. They want to see ordinary people like themselves, the most real, clumsy cuteness in chasing dreams.”
“And next, what I’ll do is turn this ‘cuteness’ into our sharpest weapon.”
He didn’t want to continue on political topics.
So he stood up, walked to the portable blackboard in Asumi’s office, picked up a pen, and wrote two unfamiliar terms that would stun Asumi and Kiyoto Suzuki—
【Fan economy】 and 【Topic manufacturing】.
“Fans?” Asumi frowned, “You mean those… fanatics writing letters to stars and chasing autographs?”
“That’s right, but not entirely.” A confident arc hooked at Hiroshi Nohara’s lips: “I don’t want traditional fans. I want ‘warriors.'”
“Warriors?” Kiyoto Suzuki’s face was full of confusion.
“Look.” Hiroshi Nohara drew a simple neon map on the whiteboard, then heavily circled core cities like Osaka, Tokyo, Fukuoka, Sapporo with a red marker pen.
“《Super Change Change Change》 season two is a regional showdown. Osaka viewers will cheer for the Osaka team; Tokyo viewers for Tokyo. This is the most primal sense of belonging. What we do is provide a battlefield for this belonging to vent.”
He paused, and under their stunned gazes, slowly unveiled the ultimate weapon that would upend the entire neon television industry rules.
“Starting next week, we officially open—telephone voting channel in the program.”
“Every viewer can dial our designated paid telephone to cast a precious vote for their supported team. Every vote directly affects their final ranking and the one hundred million yen prize!”
“Boom—!”
This decision exploded like a real atomic bomb in Asumi and Kiyoto Suzuki’s minds!
“P-Paid telephone?!” Asumi’s voice changed tone, “Nohara-kun, you… you’re making viewers pay money to buy ratings?!”
“No.” Hiroshi Nohara shook his head, his eyes like a deity overlooking mortal wars, full of calm indifference: “I’m not buying ratings. I’m selling ‘sense of participation.'”
“I want every viewer to feel ‘my choice can change the outcome.’ Turn them from passive ‘watchers’ to active ‘participants.’ They’ll pull votes, argue, build their own ‘support groups’ for their teams.”
“Osaka fans will look down on Tokyo’s creativity as flashy; Tokyo fans will mock Osaka’s performances as vulgar. They’ll argue fiercely in newspaper reader mail sections, community message boards, to defend their hometown honor.”
“And these arguments, these conflicts, these seemingly negative ‘anti-fan’ comments…”
Hiroshi Nohara turned around, looking at the two men already shocked beyond measure by his forward-thinking theory, a cold, scalpel-precise smile at his lips.
“…are exactly the free traffic we want most.”
Silence.
Dead silence.
Asumi and Kiyoto Suzuki stared blankly at the young person, feeling their professional brains, filled with traditional TV “rules” and “experience,” utterly crushed into powder by a more primal, purer force called “humanity”!
They finally understood this young person wasn’t just producing a program.
He was directing an unprecedented large-scale social experiment, with all of neon as the stage and 120 million people as actors!
And they didn’t even qualify as pieces on his chessboard.
They were merely mortals fortunate to witness the miracle from the sidelines.
“Haha… hahahahaha!”
After a long time, Asumi finally recovered from the massive shock, letting out a long-suppressed, ecstatic and excited hearty laugh.
“Good! Good ‘fan economy’! Good ‘topic manufacturing’!”
He slammed the table hard, all shock gone from his elegant face, leaving only a do-or-die madness!
“Do as you say! Nohara-kun! From today, you are our Kanto Faction’s one and only overall commander!”
“Stir up the entire neon for me, turn it upside down!”
