Chapter 125: Coercion In President Misae’s Office! Demon Hiroshi!
Akita Prefecture, Omagari City.
When that brand-new Toyota Land Cruiser, like a steel behemoth covered in urban dust, slowly drove into the modest courtyard of the Nohara Family Home, the dust it kicked up seemed to carry a trace of impatience foreign to this land.
The car door slammed shut with a “bang,” and Ginnosuke Nohara, his face dark as thunder, jumped down from the vehicle like a mobile wrathful guardian deity.
He didn’t even bother greeting his eldest son who was parking behind him, charging straight into that Japanese-style Old House filled with the marks of years.
“Outrageous!”
He yanked open the refrigerator door, pulled out a can of iced Asahi Beer, popped it open with a “snap,” and gulped down more than half in one go. The icy liquid slid down his throat, but it did nothing to extinguish the nameless fire in his heart.
Hiroshi Nohara parked the car, carrying a few boxes of side dishes bought from a convenience store in the city, his face equally full of helplessness and frustration.
He placed the plastic boxes containing edamame and fried chicken on the low table in front of his old man, then crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, his dark face flushed with suppressed anger.
“Oh dear, what’s wrong with you two?”
Tsuru Nohara, the pillar of the Nohara Family Home, walked out of the kitchen holding a plate of sliced iced watermelon.
She looked at her big and small men, who seemed betrayed by the entire world, and a trace of confusion appeared on her face that always carried a gentle smile.
“Weren’t you going to the city for that audition to give Ikuna a surprise? Why didn’t Ikuna come back with you, and instead you’re all pulling long faces?”
Her words pierced like a needle straight into Hiroshi Nohara’s already fragile heart.
His dark face instantly turned pig-liver red, his neck stiff, unable to utter a word.
Tsuru Nohara saw her eldest son’s reaction, and her heart sank with a thud, the mother’s instinct rising to her throat: “Hiroshi, you… you didn’t quarrel with Ikuna, did you?”
“No!” Hiroshi Nohara almost roared it out, then realized his outburst and quickly lowered his voice, filled with grievance, “I… I didn’t even go pick her up today.”
After speaking, he cast a pleading glance at the culprit who was drinking sullenly on his own: “Mom, don’t ask me. Ask Dad! Ask what he did out there today!”
“Hm?” Tsuru Nohara’s gaze, like two gentle yet piercing spotlights, fell on her husband.
After all, Tsuru Nohara knew her old man had designed a farmer’s creativity for the contest.
Even if the result wasn’t good, it didn’t matter.
It was just an audition, after all.
For fun.
“Ah… that… that…” Ginnosuke Nohara felt a bit guilty under her gaze, but his heart filled with “artist” pride wouldn’t allow him to back down.
He slammed the beer can heavily on the table, raised his neck, and declared in a tone brimming with the indignation of unrecognized talent: “Hmph! Those guys don’t know quality when they see it! They don’t understand art! Or avant-garde! Or expressionism!”
“I told them, today’s young people are too conservative in their thinking! Not open-minded at all! Not humorous at all! Our Neon Country should learn from our great ally, the United States! Learn their free-spirited nature! Only then can our nation truly grow strong!”
This impassioned speech full of grand narrative left Tsuru Nohara completely stunned.
She blinked her clear eyes and cautiously probed: “So… you went to the 《Super Change Change Change》 audition today and got eliminated?”
“Even though I got eliminated, that’s because they don’t know quality! They don’t understand art.”
At the mention of this, Ginnosuke Nohara instantly perked up, all the resentment fading from his old face, replaced by childish bragging and excitement.
This was also him deliberately changing the subject.
“Atsuru, you should’ve seen it! The scene was incredible!” He gestured animatedly, his small eyes gleaming with worldly wonder: “A sea of people! Drums and gongs blaring! More lively than our festivals here! Let me tell you, the young people in our Omagari City now are something else! That creativity, tsk tsk tsk, really… really…”
He racked his brains for a while, finally borrowing a trendy word from his promising youngest son.
“Really… insane!”
He vividly described the audition site’s hilariously imaginative performances, from office workers mimicking “Shinkansen arriving at the station” with their bodies to housewives playing “symphonies” with pots and pans, his heartfelt amazement and delight overflowing.
Tsuru Nohara listened with longing, her gentle eyes full of curiosity about city life: “Oh my, it sounds really interesting the way you put it. Hiroshi, next time, take Mom to the city to see it too? I want to experience it.”
“Mm!” Hiroshi Nohara nodded vigorously, a trace of guilt toward his mother appearing on his dark face.
He then remembered that he really hadn’t taken his mother to the city much.
“Next time I’m going too!” Ginnosuke Nohara perked up at this, puffing out his chest proudly, his thick eyebrows dancing: “By then, I’ll be famous! People might even ask for my autograph on the street!”
“Dad! Just get to the point!” Hiroshi Nohara’s face turned pig-liver red again; he felt like his old man had ruined his face all day.
“The point? What point?” Ginnosuke Nohara looked baffled.
Then he knew he couldn’t hide it.
As if remembering something, he slapped his thigh hard, his old face showing grievance from misunderstood artistic depth.
“It’s just… just performing our Nohara family heirloom, the elephant dance full of masculine vigor?!”
“…”
The entire Japanese-style Room seemed to hit mute.
Tsuru Nohara’s smile froze instantly.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned her head to look at Ginnosuke Nohara; all expressions vanished from her usually warm-smiling face, leaving only a deep gloom like storm clouds before a tempest.
The air filled with a suffocating terror called “killing intent.”
Hiroshi Nohara instinctively shrank his neck, silently picked up the watermelon in front of him, and slipped into the kitchen, pretending he heard nothing.
Meanwhile, Ginnosuke Nohara, immersed in his “artistic world,” remained oblivious to the approaching danger.
“I told them, this is the symbol of power and courage for us Nohara men! Full of vitality…”
‘Smack!’
Before he could finish his words laced with pink fantasies, an enraged housewife’s iron fist whistled through the air and smashed heavily into the back of his head!
Then, those two hands clamped like merciless iron pliers onto his temples, ruthlessly twisting back and forth in a rhythmic frenzy!
“Ow! Ow! Atsuru! It hurts! I was wrong! I really was wrong! Let go!”
“You shameless old coot! You actually… you actually performed that vulgar thing in front of so many people?! You… you’ve lost all face for the Nohara Family Home!”
Tsuru Nohara’s voice trembled with utter shame and fury, her usually gentle eyes now burning with hellfire capable of incinerating everything.
Piercing screams mixed with the woman’s suppressed roars echoed once more in the tranquil afternoon of Omagari City, Akita Prefecture.
In the kitchen, Hiroshi Nohara munched on watermelon silently, listening to the familiar “symphony” in the living room, a helpless wry smile on his dark face.
He knew the real reason he couldn’t bring Ikuna home today wasn’t that rival in the sedan.
It was because he truly lacked the courage to let that angelic girl witness his unreliable old man’s antics.
Especially that shameful performance scene!
“Sigh…”
Hiroshi Nohara sighed.
……
【Hiroshi Nohara · Independent Production Department】
Minister’s Office.
Hiroshi Nohara sat steadily behind the massive desk, stacks of manuscript paper piled like mountains before him, each sheet a world waiting for his pen to breathe life into it.
The complete storyboard drafts for the first ten episodes of 《Doraemon》 lay quietly on his left.
The rounded lines and childlike art style seemed to pierce the paper, transporting one back to carefree childhood summer days full of endless dreams of the future.
On his right was the first five episodes of the 《Late-night Diner》 manga.
No earth-shattering drama inside, yet it brimmed with the lonely yet warm worldly life of urban night owls.
Every story was like a cup of warm sake, enough to soothe any weary soul.
The pager lay quietly nearby, flashing a message from Akita Prefecture.
Regarding his old man Ginnosuke Nohara’s “nonsense” of joining the audition, he just smiled helplessly without interfering much.
He knew that the purest joy from ordinary people was the soul of the 《Super Change Change Change》 program.
As for his sister-in-law Mogae Nohara being “unexpectedly” eliminated in the Kumamoto Prefecture finals, it was entirely under his control.
That glamorous and tempting entertainment circle was actually a dark forest devouring innocence, an absolute forbidden zone he set for his family.
His wings were enough to shelter them worry-free for life, no need to stain themselves in that demon realm.
……
“Done drawing.”
With the final stroke, Hiroshi Nohara let out a long breath.
He stood, organized the two manuscripts poised to stir massive waves in the manga world again, put them in his briefcase, and strode out of his divine kingdom.
Future Manga Company.
This small office building near Tokyo Television Station had been completely renovated.
In the first-floor communal drawing studio, seven or eight young girls sat primly, some checking financial reports, others organizing personnel files, all in proper professional suits, faces solemn with responsibility.
Seeing Hiroshi Nohara appear, they stood almost simultaneously, bowing deeply to him.
“Hello, Minister Nohara~!”
Their voices crisp and sweet, filled with heartfelt awe and worship.
They knew this overly young man was not only their president’s lover but the legendary figure who single-handedly shook the entire Neon Television Industry.
“Mm, good.”
Hiroshi Nohara smiled and nodded, handing the manuscripts to the most capable-looking girl: “Scan and archive these, then notify President Misae that I’m here.”
“Yes!”
Soon, the door to the second-floor president’s office opened.
A striking figure emerged.
Misae Nohara wore a well-tailored beige Chanel professional suit, her long hair neatly pinned up, her pretty face carrying a touch of playfulness.
Her brows held the confidence of a workplace elite.
She was no longer the girl needing protection but the sole empress of this newborn kingdom!
This look was something Hiroshi Nohara had never seen.
Mm.
Hiroshi Nohara felt a stir.
Misae walked to Hiroshi Nohara, her obsidian eyes melting all ice, leaving only pure attachment and gentleness for her lover.
“You’re here.”
She naturally took his arm, leading him into the spacious, bright president’s office.
“How am I doing as president? Passable?” Misae spun playfully, her posture like a little queen eager to show her king her governance results.
“Extremely passable.” Hiroshi Nohara smiled, pulling her into his embrace and planting a gentle kiss on her smooth forehead: “My Misae, you’re born for great things.”
“Oh, business first!” Misae began reporting recent work in his arms:
“Shueisha’s Mr. Tasoro treats us like gods of wealth. He says Editor-in-Chief Torishima has issued a death order: any manuscripts from our ‘Future Manga Company’ skip review and go straight to 《JUMP》’s best recommendation spots! And if 《Doraemon》 maintains quality, single volumes launch next month with royalties at the industry’s highest top-writer rate!”
“Mm, as expected.” Hiroshi Nohara nodded calmly.
His status was different now.
Perhaps in the future…
Shueisha would need to cooperate with him!
“Also…”
Misae shared more on Future Manga Company’s progress.
Then her tone dropped, her pretty eyes clouding with loss: “Mogae called me yesterday, crying for ages. She said she felt she performed well, so why was she eliminated in the finals? She… she really seems to love being on stage.”
Hiroshi Nohara paused, cupping her small face, his clear eyes turning serious:
“Misae, what do you think the entertainment circle is like?”
“Eh?” Misae was stunned.
“It’s a smokeless battlefield, a demon arena built on fame and desire.”
Hiroshi Nohara’s voice was calm yet chillingly cold: “A small-city girl with no background, relying on looks and naivety to barge in—what do you think awaits her?”
“Countless unspoken rules, omnipresent scheming, wolves in human skin casting greedy, lustful gazes. I don’t want Mogae to go through that. I’d rather she stays an ordinary, happy girl forever.”
These words poured like ice water, extinguishing Misae’s unrealistic fantasies.
She stared blankly at Hiroshi Nohara, fear emerging in her teary eyes.
“I… I understand.” She buried her face in his chest, her voice trembling with aftershock.
If Mogae really stepped into it…
No different from falling into a swamp?!
After all, Neon had rumors about entertainers, even cruel fates exposed by some female entertainers.
Now thinking about it, Misae realized the seemingly glamorous entertainers hid utter filth.
“Alright, no more of that.” Hiroshi Nohara gently patted her back, soothing her like a startled kitten.
He looked down at the girl in professional suit still brimming with cute playfulness in his arms, a predatory flame igniting in his calm eyes.
“Speaking of which, President Misae.” His voice lowered, husky with magnetism: “This investor, after inspecting his territory… shouldn’t he collect a little return?”
“Ah! You… you’re being improper again!” Misae’s face flushed crimson; she tried to break free but was held fast by his iron-like hands.
“This is… the office…” Her voice was a mosquito-like whisper of shy protest.
“I know.” Hiroshi Nohara’s lips curved domineeringly: “That’s what makes it fun, isn’t it?”
Moreover, Hiroshi Nohara paused: “Misae.”
Misae hadn’t expected him to call her name, blushing as she melted in his arms, voice trembling: “Wh… what?”
Hiroshi Nohara showed a devilish expression, leaning to her ear, exhaling slowly on her crystalline, shyly red earlobe: “You don’t want to lose this president job, right?”
Misae shivered, biting her lip as she gazed at Hiroshi Nohara.
Finally, she closed her eyes.
A soft “mm.”
This coquettish sight made Hiroshi Nohara even more impatient; he scooped her up princess-style and strode to the massive president’s desk, big enough for any wild fantasy.
Outside the window: Tokyo’s suffocatingly prosperous cityscape.
Inside: A war of conquest and surrender between king and empress.
This empire he forged with his own hands—from commerce to emotion—he would grip firmly in his control.
After all, Hiroshi Nohara had deliberately arranged the president’s office layout from the start.
This president’s office was far from everyone’s work area.
Very far!
Plan successful!
