Chapter 127: Misae’s Dream Of Becoming A Glamorous President! Strategic Hiroshi Nohara!
Strategic project!
These four words, in Shueisha’s strictly hierarchical manga empire, meant something that he knew better than anyone.
It meant that the entire editorial department, from typesetting to printing, from promotion to distribution, all the best resources would be tilted unreservedly toward these three works!
It meant that he, Masato Tadokoro, would leap from an unknown little editor to a gold medal editor holding three aces, enough to make all his peers take notice!
And all of this was just because of that young person whom he had dug out from the vast sea of people based on a gut feeling back then.
After leaving Future Manga Company and returning to Shueisha.
Masato Tadokoro was still extremely excited.
Because this was equivalent to ascending to heaven in a single step.
He had to be excited!
“Editor-in-Chief, I…”
In Editor-in-Chief Torishima’s office, Masato Tadokoro was still so excited that he was incoherent, wanting to say some words of thanks, but feeling that any language seemed so pale and powerless before the deep, sea-like gaze of the editor-in-chief in front of him.
“Alright, alright, calm down.” Kazuhiko Torishima just calmly waved his hand, signaling him to sit down.
He didn’t look at Tadokoro again, his eyes returning to that Late-night Diner manuscript.
His fingertips gently, almost caressingly, brushed over the man on the paper who had a scar on his face but eyes as calm as the deep sea.
“Tadokoro-kun.” After a moment, he slowly spoke, his voice carrying a sigh from the depths of his bones: “Do you know? Shueisha, or rather, the entire Neon manga industry, hasn’t seen a work like this in a very… very long time.”
“It’s not hot-blooded, not bizarre, not even a proper villain. It just quietly tells the lonely, warm, helpless moments that every ordinary person living in this Icy Cold City might experience.”
Kazuhiko Torishima looked up, and a trace of fatigue unexpectedly appeared on that face always full of authority.
“Every day I sit in this office, what I see are reports full of ambition and desire, contracts full of scheming and compromise. I review manuscripts full of battles and slaughter, but it’s been a very… very long time since a story truly moved me.”
“But this one…”
He picked up the manuscript, his eyes like those of a traveler who had trekked through the desert for decades and finally seen an oasis, filled with irrepressible excitement: “It reminds me of that bowl of pork bone ramen I ate in a small ramen shop on the Shinjuku streets when I was young, enough to warm an entire winter night.”
“Or the nostalgia of drinking cool beer and eating delicious yakitori when I received my first manuscript fee back then.”
Masato Tadokoro was completely stunned.
He had never imagined that his editor-in-chief, known in the industry as the “cruel tyrant” for his iron fist and sharp eye, would say such… emotional words.
“Editor-in-Chief…” Masato Tadokoro opened his mouth to say something.
“Do you think why I value Hiroshi Nohara so much?” Kazuhiko Torishima interrupted him, his eyes complex: “Is it because of his talent that can subvert the era? Yes, but not entirely.”
“Shueisha now looks like the industry leader. But don’t forget, Kodansha’s Weekly Shōnen Magazine, Shogakukan’s Weekly Shōnen Sunday, which one isn’t eyeing us covetously? What keeps us in this position? It’s generation after generation of genius manga artists who can truly grasp the pulse of the era and resonate with readers.”
“But now?”
He let out a long breath, carrying the deep anxiety of an empire’s helmsman: “The older generation of manga artists are running out of inspiration; the new generation of young people are mostly immersed in imitation and following trends, no longer able to draw stories that truly touch hearts.”
“This empire of ours that seems impregnable is actually hollow inside, riddled with crises.”
“And Hiroshi Nohara…”
Kazuhiko Torishima’s gaze returned to the manuscript, his eyes filled with undisguised fanaticism:
“His appearance is like a thunderbolt tearing through the dead silent night sky! He shows us that manga can still be drawn like this! Stories can still be told like this!”
“One person propping up hot-blooded youth, children’s sci-fi, and now… urban warmth, these three completely different, brand new fields! He’s not just a simple genius; he’s a true king who can expand territory for our empire single-handedly!”
“So, Tadokoro-kun.”
Kazuhiko Torishima looked at his subordinate, who was already shocked beyond measure by his exaggerated words, and issued a command in an unquestionable tone: “From today on, mobilize all your resources to maintain our relationship with Minister Nohara and Future Manga Company. I don’t want to hear any more stupid rumors about ‘job-hopping’ or ‘poaching’.”
“In this Neon country, ‘trust’ and ‘loyalty’ are far more precious than those visible profits. Nohara-kun chose us, and we absolutely cannot betray his trust. Understood?”
“Yes!” Masato Tadokoro suddenly stood up, bowed deeply to him, his voice carrying a resolute determination as if entrusting his life!
……
The black Toyota Crown Majesta glided silently through the night.
Outside the car window were Tokyo’s brilliant lights that never fell.
Inside the car window, Misae was like a lazy kitten, resting her little head on Hiroshi Nohara’s shoulder, holding the freshly signed contract that emitted the fresh fragrance of ink, her beautiful big eyes already curved into a sweet crescent moon.
“Hiroshi-kun, we… we’ve really become Shueisha’s strategic partner!” Her voice carried a dreamlike tremble: “I saw the way Editor-in-Chief Torishima looked at you earlier; it was practically… like looking at a living god of wealth!”
“Pretty much.” Hiroshi Nohara chuckled lightly. While driving, he reached out his right hand and indulgently ruffled her hair: “From now on, you, the beautiful president of Future Manga Company, will be a big shot who can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Editor-in-Chief Torishima outside. Happy?”
“Hey, you’re teasing me again!” Misae’s face flushed red in an instant. She buried her little face into his arm, her voice as soft as a mosquito: “I’m not that great… it’s all thanks to you.”
“But…” She seemed to remember something, a trace of confusion flashing in her obsidian-like big eyes: “Hiroshi-kun, I still don’t quite get it. Didn’t Editor-in-Chief Torishima hint several times earlier that he could raise your royalties a bit? Why… did you refuse? That’s money!”
“Silly.” Hiroshi Nohara smiled, his smile carrying the insight and understanding of an experienced person: “Misae, remember, in business, especially with a behemoth like Shueisha, we can’t just look at the immediate small gains.”
“Shueisha isn’t yet the absolute hegemon that covers the sky with one hand, but its influence in Tokyo, even the entire Kanto Region, is still unmatched. What we need now is a stable, powerful, and benevolent partner, not a fragile alliance temporarily bound by interests.”
“By refusing his offer to raise royalties today, I sold him a favor. In the future, when we need to leverage Shueisha’s media resources to promote our TV dramas, our variety shows, or even our elder brother’s Agricultural Corporation, this favor will bring returns a hundred times more precious than those royalties.”
“This is the scope a true merchant should have.”
Misae was completely stunned.
She stared blankly at the man beside her who had laid out a shocking grand scheme affecting the future with just a casual chat, her young girl’s heart in this moment filled even more thoroughly with worship.
She suddenly felt that her dream of being a “beautiful president” might really no longer be a dream.
……
In the following days, a hurricane named “Hiroshi Nohara” swept through all of Neon once again under the push of the massive publicity machine Weekly Shōnen JUMP.
On the cover of the latest issue of JUMP, unprecedentedly, there was no color page for any serialized work, only a huge, suspense-filled black silhouette.
Beside the silhouette, in artistic font, was a promotional slogan enough to drive all readers crazy—
The man who defined “Urban Legends” will this time use “Gourmet” to heal your soul! Hiroshi Nohara’s latest masterpiece Late-night Diner, next month, officially opens!
This preview was like a depth charge exploding the entire fish pond!
“What?! Teacher Nohara is starting a new work again?!”
“Gourmet manga?! Damn! This span is too big! But what’s so good about gourmet?”
“Late-night Diner? Sounds so atmospheric! I can’t wait to read it!”
“After Yu Yu Hakusho and Doraemon, is Teacher Nohara… going for three serializations at once?! Is he… even human?!”
Countless discussions, countless expectations, countless shocks played out simultaneously in every corner of Neon.
The name Hiroshi Nohara once again became the hottest, most impossible-to-ignore absolute focus of this autumn.
……
The manga industry’s discussions soon reached the ears of those with intentions.
Tokyo Television Station, Production Bureau Headquarters Building.
Deputy Director’s office.
Deputy Director Asumi paced back and forth anxiously in front of that huge rosewood desk.
“Knock knock knock.”
A knock sounded.
“Come in.”
When Hiroshi Nohara’s tall and composed figure appeared at the doorway, Deputy Director Asumi almost instinctively rushed up, his eyes locking dead onto him.
His gaze was extremely complex.
Admiration, excitement, dependence, but more than that, an elder’s frustration and worry toward a junior like steel not forged into form.
“Hiroshi-kun, tell me the truth.”
He even forgot politeness, directly picking up a magazine just bought from Shueisha by his trusted aide from the desk.
“On the TV station side, World of the Strange, An Shizhi, Super Change Change Change, three projects advancing simultaneously—you’re already spinning like a top, too busy to touch the ground. Now, on the manga side, you actually… you actually went for three serializations too?!”
Deputy Director Asumi’s voice became somewhat hoarse from extreme shock and worry.
His face was full of incredulous horror.
“What the hell are you trying to do?! Do you want to become a god, or die young?!”
“Don’t you know you’re the hope of our entire Kanto Faction now! Our everyone’s future! If you burn out, what do we do?! What about your family?!”
These words were more like a helpless admonition than a question.
But Hiroshi Nohara just smiled and said: “Deputy Director Asumi, rest assured.”
“The variety show filming is going smoothly. An Shizhi’s fourth season has officially aired, with ratings stably above 15%, breaking all late-night slot records. World of the Strange’s second season production is over halfway, ratings still stable at the peak of 22%. Super Change Change Change’s nationwide audition has exploded across all of Neon, and the second season’s official broadcast is already on the schedule.”
With every sentence he said, the anxiety on Deputy Director Asumi’s face grew heavier.
When he finished the last sentence, that elegant face showed only sadness.
Everything was indeed developing in the best direction.
“But…” Deputy Director Asumi opened his mouth, but didn’t know where to start.
He couldn’t say anything excessive, could he?
“Deputy Director, I know what you’re worried about.”
Hiroshi Nohara set down the coffee cup and smiled helplessly: “Rest assured, I know my own body. These jobs aren’t too much of a burden for me.”
Of course, he couldn’t tell the other that his brain contained another world, an entire cultural treasure trove already proven countless times successful.
What he had to do was just be a diligent porter.
This ease, this leisure, was incomprehensible to any mortal in this world.
This was the dimensional reduction strike belonging to the transmigrator!
“Sigh…”
Deputy Director Asumi looked at his carefree demeanor and finally let out a long turbid breath, dejectedly waving his hand.
“Forget it, I can’t win against you.”
He rubbed his temples, swollen from long-term staying up late, his voice carrying an elder’s helpless indulgence toward a junior:
“But, Hiroshi-kun, I’m putting it bluntly upfront. Health is important. From today, I’ll arrange a medical team for you, on standby 24 hours. Your diet and schedule must strictly follow their requirements! That’s an order! No refusing!”
“…Yes.” Hiroshi Nohara looked at Deputy Director Asumi’s face that said “if you refuse I’ll die for you to see” and finally nodded helplessly.
He knew this was the most sincere care this elder could give him.
……
When Hiroshi Nohara’s tall and composed figure disappeared from the office doorway, Deputy Director Asumi slumped into the soft leather seat as if exhausted.
He looked at the sky outside the window dyed golden by the sunset, a wry bitterness appearing on that elegant face.
“Monster… a bona fide monster…”
He muttered to himself, his voice filled with the powerlessness from the marrow after being absolutely overwhelmed by strength, and… a huge pride of sharing the glory.
He knew the most correct thing he had done in his life was probably back then, going against the crowd to promote that young fourth-class director from Kiyoto Suzuki’s small classroom.
Now, the seed he had personally planted had grown into a towering tree enough to shelter the entire Kanto Faction, even… enough to change the entire Tokyo Television Station power structure.
And he, Deputy Director Asumi, would be the most steadfast guardian under this tree.
He slowly picked up the red internal telephone on the desk, a trace of unquestionable determination flashing in those eyes always gleaming with shrewdness.
“Hello, is this Dr. Watanabe? It’s me, Asumi.”
“Yes, about that matter I mentioned to you last time, it can start.”
“Money’s not an issue.”
“Right, that young person. His health, from today, is our entire Kanto Faction’s most important strategic asset.”
After hanging up, he looked at the gradually sinking dusk outside the window, and a sly, confident smile finally bloomed again on that elegant face.
He knew this fire named “Hiroshi Nohara” that he had personally ignited had only just begun.
And what he had to do was to keep adding the best fuel to this blaze, enough to burn down all the old era’s rules.
……
When Hiroshi Nohara returned to his special Production Department.
“Minister!”
The office door was knocked, and Kei Tanaka’s face full of excitement and anxiety poked in. He held a thick stack of materials.
“Representative teams from all eight major competition areas nationwide have arrived in Tokyo! This is their submitted performance creativity… I’ve looked; most have strong local characteristics, but…” Kei Tanaka’s voice carried a hint of hesitation.
The so-called “local characteristics” translated to— a bit tacky.
This was also what had been mentioned in the previous meeting.
These amateurs…
Actually really didn’t have great performance skills.
“What’s the rush?” Hiroshi Nohara just smiled, took an ordinary notebook from the drawer, and tossed it over casually.
“Look at these.” His voice was carefree: “These are ideas I came up with casually; let them reference. Use the good ones, and the bad ones to broaden horizons.”
“This…” Kei Tanaka caught it instinctively, but his heart skipped a beat.
Casually thought up?
With pilgrimage-like trepidation, he flipped open the first page.
Then, his pupils suddenly contracted!
On it weren’t just “ideas,” but complete-to-the-point-of-ridiculous, god-level creativities full of wild imagination!
From using bodies to imitate “washing machine spin cycle” to using lighting and white cloth for “ghost night parade”… every idea was ten times more ingenious, fun, and advanced than what those teams had racked their brains for!
Kei Tanaka felt his breathing stop.
He suddenly looked up at the still carefree Hiroshi Nohara and couldn’t help blurting out: “Minister, did you already think of this step back then?!”
Though it was a question, admiration for Hiroshi Nohara appeared in Kei Tanaka’s eyes.
Now everyone knew Hiroshi Nohara was a monster.
A strategic-level brain?
Seeing Hiroshi Nohara’s nonchalant manner now, he knew and was convinced this was something Hiroshi Nohara had thought of long ago, prepared in advance—a strategic step!
