Chapter 138: Social Etiquette! Hiroshi’s First Visit To Ikuna’s Home!
In the somewhat profound eyes on Kenji Ito’s face, honed by years in officialdom, there now shone genuine sincerity.
He gripped Hiroshi Nohara’s hand tightly with both hands, as if he weren’t holding a young person’s hand.
But rather the future hope of all of Omagari City, even the entire Akita Prefecture.
“Minister Nohara, rest assured! Regarding the grand vision you just proposed for the ‘Akita Dog cultural IP,’ I’ll set up a special task force immediately upon returning! Policies, funds, land—anything our city government can provide, we won’t hesitate! You… you are Omagari City’s greatest brain!”
This statement, brimming with political awareness, prompted all the city government leaders present to chime in agreement.
For a moment, praise surged like a tide, nearly overwhelming the Nohara Family Home’s small living room entirely.
After another round of warm, human-relations-filled pleasantries, Kenji Ito finally departed with his group of subordinates, still not fully satisfied.
Before leaving, however, he gave Hiroshi Nohara his personal business card, earnestly stating that Minister Nohara could call him anytime for anything, twenty-four hours a day.
The section chiefs followed suit, each handing over their business cards one by one.
Their earlier bureaucratic dignity upon arrival was now worlds apart.
Thus, the grand motorcade slowly drove away under the envious and awed gazes of the entire village.
The courtyard finally returned to tranquility.
“Whew—” Village Chief Yamada and those distant relatives all simultaneously let out long sighs, feeling as if they had just endured a battle ten times more exhausting than a day in the fields.
They looked at that young person who had remained calmly smiling throughout, their eyes beholding a living legend.
“Hiroshi, from now on… our village is counting on you!” Village Chief Yamada heavily patted Hiroshi Nohara’s shoulder, his dark face filled with pride.
After all, this was his own nephew’s generation.
So successful.
So outstanding.
It brought light to his own face too!
But as they glanced at Ginnosuke Nohara still grinning slyly nearby, helplessness appeared on their faces.
How could such an outstanding young person be the child of that guy Ginnosuke Nohara!?
So infuriating!
After another round of rustic politeness and entrustments, the relatives dispersed in twos and threes.
Tsuru Nohara watched the group leave, then looked at the somewhat trampled tatami in their home, her gentle face growing even happier and prouder.
“You old rogue!” Still, Tsuru Nohara glared irritably at the old man nearby, belly protruding, eyebrows nearly raised to the sky: “Hurry up and sweep the courtyard! What does this mess look like!”
“Heh heh, got it, got it.” Ginnosuke Nohara was immersed in immense vanity, in an extraordinarily good mood.
He carried out his wife’s order without complaint.
Humming a tuneless little tune, he picked up the broom, looking smug as if he were sweeping not fallen leaves, but the future of all Akita Prefecture.
Tsuru Nohara shook her head helplessly, pulling Misae and Ikuna into the kitchen to prepare the evening family banquet.
The living room finally held only the two Nohara brothers.
“Elder Brother, come sit.” Hiroshi Nohara poured a cup of warm barley tea for himself and his brother, a hint of amusement in his clear eyes.
Hiroshi Nohara sat cross-legged at the low table, his sturdy frame still tense from the earlier grand scene. He picked up the tea cup and gulped a large mouthful, his honest heart still pounding wildly.
“Hiroshi, are we… really going to collaborate on Akita Dogs like the mayor and them said?” His dark face still bore a dreamlike sense of unreality.
“Of course.” Hiroshi Nohara nodded, looking at his brother’s dazed expression; the helplessness in his heart was diluted by their blood-tied warmth.
Ordinary folk react that way to leaders.
For his brother, pure-hearted all his life, today’s events far exceeded his comprehension.
“Elder Brother, prepare some things.” Hiroshi Nohara set down his tea cup, speaking calmly.
“Prepare what?” Hiroshi Nohara asked blankly.
“Souvenirs.”
Hiroshi Nohara’s fingers gently rubbed the smooth tea cup: “The Juyondai I bought in Tokyo, Spanish ham, French cheese, and that batch of premium rice from our farm—prepare a few portions of each, package them decently. Tomorrow, drive there yourself and deliver one set to each of today’s visiting leaders.”
“Ah?!”
Hiroshi Nohara’s mouth gaped wide enough for an egg, his honest face etched with a stingy man’s pain and confusion at being forced to spend: “Still… send gifts? Hiroshi, today’s meal with tea and sweets already cost a lot. They’re officials, we’re citizens; we elected them, so they should serve us. Besides, didn’t they say they’d support us fully?”
Seeing his brother’s “I took a huge loss” expression, Hiroshi Nohara helplessly held his forehead.
He knew explaining “human relations” and “interest binding” to this pure-hearted brother all his life was like playing a lute to a cow.
“Elder Brother, listen to me.” His voice carried the worldliness of a societal person: “Words in officialdom are for listening, not fully believing. They’re polite today because I have exploitation value, because I can bring them achievements. This relationship seems solid but is actually fragile.”
“We give gifts not of things, but attitude, human relations. We’re telling them the Nohara family knows rules, knows how to conduct ourselves; from now on, we’re one of their own. With this bond, many things will go much smoother.”
“This…” Hiroshi Nohara nodded half-understanding; though he didn’t grasp the intricacies, he knew following his brother was always right.
“Moreover.” A meaningful curve hooked at Hiroshi Nohara’s lips, “Our Akita Dog breeding base project should officially launch. It still needs the city government to give it the green light all the way.”
“We… really doing it?” Confusion reappeared on Hiroshi Nohara’s face: “Hiroshi, I still can’t figure it out. We’re farming and now breeding—this spreading too thin? Besides, Akita Dogs… in our countryside, who doesn’t keep a few? Those things, besides guarding home and yard, can they make money?”
“Elder Brother, the era has changed.” Hiroshi Nohara smiled, his smile carrying the absolute confidence of one delivering a dimensional reduction strike: “Do you think we’re raising dogs?”
“Then what?”
“We’re raising a story, a brand, a… cultural symbol that can drive all of Neon Country, even the whole world, crazy.”
Seeing his brother’s face still full of “I don’t get it,” Hiroshi Nohara slowly unleashed the ultimate trump card to fully reassure him.
“I’m planning to make a movie.”
“Movie?!”
“Yes, a movie.” Hiroshi Nohara nodded, his clear eyes gleaming with foresight: “I’ve even thought of the name—《The Tale of Hachiko》.”
“Hachiko?” Hiroshi Nohara scratched his head; the name was as alien to him as a symbol from another world.
Hiroshi Nohara wasn’t surprised; he knew in this parallel world, that legendary tale moving countless people hadn’t yet hit the big screen.
He lifted his tea cup, the rising steam blurring his handsome face and the fleeting glint in his eyes.
He smiled silently in his heart.
‘In my previous life’s 1987, 《The Tale of Hachiko》 produced by Shochiku Motion Picture Company raked in over two billion yen at the Neon Country box office, with over three million viewers, becoming that year’s champion.’
He sipped the warm barley tea, the spicy liquid sliding down his throat, bringing a time-traveler’s clarity.
‘More importantly, the movie virally imprinted the concept “Akita Dog = loyalty” into every Neon Country citizen’s heart. Overnight, Akita Dogs’ value skyrocketed from a few thousand yen ordinary village dogs to luxury pets worth hundreds of thousands, even millions of yen each!’
“After all, ‘loyalty’ is a trait Neon Country culture has always promoted. Nearly a cultural symbol!”
‘And I, Hiroshi Nohara, will become the sole rule-maker in this wealth storm I’m igniting.’
‘Bloodline certification, identity chips, brand packaging…’
A light, chess-master’s smile curved Hiroshi Nohara’s lips.
‘Then, I won’t need to sell dogs myself. I just need to control pricing for Akita Dogs and defining “pure bloodline.”‘
‘That will be a money-printing machine more terrifying than all three of my Tokyo Television Station projects combined, running endlessly.’
He set down his tea cup, gazing at his brother still fretting over “can raising dogs make money,” his eyes like a god from a higher dimension overlooking the entire chessboard in a way mortals couldn’t comprehend.
“Elder Brother.” His voice was calm, yet brimming with confidence that turned the room: “You don’t need to understand why.”
“You just need to believe in me.”
“Then, build this breeding base that will change Akita Prefecture’s destiny—build it beautifully for me.”
……
The next morning, when Hiroshi Nohara returned from outside with faint dark circles but exhilarated energy, the “president” aura on his face had become utterly natural.
He steadily parked the imposing Land Cruiser in the courtyard, carrying several neatly packaged gift bags.
“Back?”
Hiroshi Nohara sat on the veranda, enjoying the countryside morning’s unique tranquility.
A cup of warm barley tea and crisp birdsong sufficed to wash away all urban noise and restlessness.
“Mm!” Hiroshi Nohara nodded vigorously, sitting beside his brother, his dark face full of irrepressible excitement and emotion: “Hiroshi, you’re a god! I finally get what enthusiasm means today! Those officials were enthusiastic seeing me too!”
Like a student eager to report to his teacher, he embellished his morning gift-delivery journey full of “human relations.”
“You should’ve seen it! At Chairman Suzuki’s doorway, his usually haughty wife saw what I carried, her wrinkles bloomed into a smile! Serving tea, offering water—warmer than to a close relative!”
“And Bank Manager Oshima—I delivered when he was scolding his useless son. Seeing me, he flipped, grabbed my hand, insisted I stay for lunch!”
He paused, a bemused expression on his honest face:
“The wildest was Mayor Ito. He wasn’t home when I arrived; his wife opened the door. Hearing I was your brother, she invited me in, chatted family talk for over half an hour! Asked my age, if married, even… said she’d introduce someone!”
“Pfft—” Hiroshi Nohara nearly spat his tea.
Seeing his brother’s “I almost became the mayor’s son-in-law” embarrassment, he burst into hearty laughter.
“Hahaha! Looks like, Elder Brother, you’re now Omagari City’s golden bachelor.”
“Get lost!” Hiroshi Nohara’s old face reddened, punching his brother irritably.
After the laughter, Hiroshi Nohara sobered, a knowing glint in his clear eyes: “The mayor’s wife being polite to you is just right.”
“Hm?”
“It means our ‘investment’ worked.” Hiroshi Nohara’s voice was calm: “Her accepting our gifts with such warmth means Mayor Ito himself has tacitly approved our ‘alliance.’ Henceforth, our ‘Nohara Agricultural Corporation’ is an untouchable gold-lettered signboard in Omagari City.”
Hiroshi Nohara nodded half-understanding.
Though he didn’t grasp the twists, he chose to follow his brother Hiroshi Nohara.
“Alright, you’ll understand these things gradually.” Hiroshi Nohara patted his brother’s shoulder, steering back to topic: “Keep buying land, push the breeding base soon. If money short, go to Bank Manager Oshima. If he says one ‘no,’ call me directly.”
“Mm!” Hiroshi Nohara nodded vigorously.
Seeing his brother’s enthusiastic vigor, warmth surged in Hiroshi Nohara’s heart.
Family matters were finally settled.
He could now pour all energy back into his true, boundless-possibility battlefield.
He returned to his room, that Japanese-style room retaining his boyhood look, air lazy with tatami and sunlight.
He ignored complex business strategy or the flurry of work reports from Tokyo.
He quietly sat at the low table, spread a sheet of white drawing paper, picked up his companion brush.
The tip dipped in ink, flowing like clouds and water on the paper.
A train station, a lonely waiting Akita Dog, an owner never returning…
Those classic images moving billions in his previous life flowed from his brush like fast-forwarded film reels onto the small drawing paper.
He needed no thought, no composition.
For all the story, all the storyboard, were etched profoundly in his soul.
He merely acted the most faithful recorder.
……
At dusk, sunset dyed the sky warm orange-red.
The Land Cruiser drove steadily on country roads, vast green rice fields outside rolling golden waves in the evening breeze.
The car interior, however, wasn’t as serene as the scenery.
Ikuna Sakuruda sat in the passenger seat, her usually gentle smiling clear eyes now uneasy, clashing with the joyful mood.
She looked at the man focused on driving beside her, his firm profile steadier and more reliable in the sunset glow.
Yet her heart felt weighed by a heavy stone.
She recalled yesterday’s shocking family banquet at the Nohara home.
Recalled that god-like “brother-in-law” who could summon the mayor with casual talk.
Recalled the “sister-in-law,” met for the first time, exuding big-city elite confidence and poise in attire and manner, utterly unlike her.
More recalled the Nohara family’s terrifying wealth in billions and grand blueprint to change Akita Prefecture.
And herself?
An ordinary country girl, parents farmers, home’s most valuable perhaps the decade-old tractor.
The gap between her and Mr. Hiroshi, or the Nohara family, was… too vast.
This chasm, uncrossable, weighed on her heart, her love-sensitive soul drowned by “inferiority”‘s bitter tide.
“What are you thinking?”
Hiroshi Nohara’s deep, rich voice pulled her from endless reverie.
Though not as perceptive as his brother, his farmer’s pure heart intuitively sensed the girl’s mood shift.
“N-nothing.” Ikuna shook her head hastily, forcing a strained smile.
Hiroshi Nohara didn’t press.
He slowed the car slightly, then pulled several exquisitely wrapped gift boxes from the passenger storage.
“Here, this is for Uncle and Aunt.” He handed them over, his dark face earnestly awkward: “Inside is some ‘Juyondai’ sake my brother brought from Tokyo, plus Spanish ham and cheese. He said city folk like these; not sure if Uncle and Aunt can stomach them.”
He paused, as if recalling something, scratching his head, a shy flush on his firm face.
“Um… Ikuna, I… I want to, in a few days, formally visit Uncle and Aunt. Mention… our two families sitting together.”
These sincere, respectful plain words, like warmest sunlight, instantly dispelled all gloom in Ikuna’s heart!
She stared dumbly at this inarticulate man proving his intent with direct, reliable action, her dimmed eyes reigniting with stellar brilliance!
She suddenly found her earlier inferiority-filled thoughts laughably silly.
No matter how great the Nohara family, it was the Nohara family.
She loved this man before her, in branded suit and luxury SUV, yet in the bones still the pure, reliable Hiroshi Nohara who beamed half a day over her handmade lemon soda.
“Mm!”
She nodded vigorously, her voice choked with emotion.
She said no more, just clutched the heavy gift boxes, her heart, filled with immense happiness and security, more grounded than ever.
……
The Sakuruda farmhouse was typical Showa-era wooden, worn but spotless courtyard with neatly trimmed bonsai silently showing owners’ diligence and simplicity.
When the imposing Land Cruiser parked at the doorway, the long-waiting Sakuruda couple rushed out immediately.
“Oh, is that Hiroshi-kun?”
Ikuna’s mother, slightly plump with kind smile, greeted warmly.
Beside her stood a dark-skinned, lean, taciturn man—Ikuna’s father.
His work-worn turbid eyes, hawk-like, sharply sized up the young man descending from the car.
He’d heard from his daughter this Hiroshi Nohara was an honest farmer running a small agricultural company, hardworking and ambitious.
He was satisfied with her choice.
In this restless era, a grounded, hardworking young man beat slick city boys with sweet talk.
Money mattered not.
Character did.
Yet when his gaze hit the man stepping from the driver’s seat, in crisp Armani suit, exuding mismatched “president” aura…
He was utterly stunned.
Th-this was daughter’s “honest farmer”?
This aura, this attire, this… car!
Staring at the Toyota Land Cruiser alien to Omagari City, his weathered farmer’s heart shattered under unprecedented bewilderment!
“Dad, Mom, I’m back. This is… Mr. Hiroshi.”
Ikuna carried the heavy gift boxes, cheeks flushed, introducing.
“Hello Uncle, hello Aunt.”
Hiroshi Nohara awkwardly scratched his head, honest nervousness on his dark face for first visit.
He offered the equally exquisite gift boxes, voice earnestly plain: “Um… Uncle, Aunt, first meeting, didn’t know your tastes. These are specialties my brother brought from Tokyo—poor token, hope you’ll accept.”
The Sakuruda couple were speechless.
They stared at these exotic “local specialties” seen only on TV and fashion magazines.
The “Juyondai” sake in rustic wooden box, aromatic Spanish ham, rich Parmesan Reggiano cheese, and Tokyo wagyu box marked “A5” with snowflake marbling…
Their brains felt mashed into pulp by a high-speed blender!
Th-this wasn’t “local specialties”!
This was walking Fukuzawa Yukichi notes!
“Th-this is too valuable! We can’t accept!”
Ikuna’s mother reacted first, waving hands, her kind face horrified disbelief.
“Yes, yes!” Ikuna’s father snapped awake, eyeing this honest-looking but big-spending young man worth a farmer’s lifetime toil, his paternal vigilance taut as a drawn bow!
He even suspected… ulterior motives?
Seeing future in-laws’ panic, Hiroshi Nohara’s honest heart panicked.
He fumbled explanations: “Uncle, Aunt, don’t misunderstand! These… really just my brother’s token! He… works at Tokyo Television Station, earns well, spends big. He said first visit must be proper, can’t lose Nohara family face.”
This plain truth left the Sakuruda couple exchanging glances.
Seeing this branded, luxury-driving man yet blushing nervously, spilling heart, their vigilant hearts softened.
This young man might not be as “complex” as imagined.
He just had an overly “exaggerated” brother.
“Alright, alright, don’t stand at the door—come in and sit.”
Finally, Ikuna’s mother broke the money-scented awkwardness.
She reverently carried the brag-worthy “local specialties” inside like deities.
Sensing Hiroshi Nohara’s honest nature, she inwardly approved more.
Especially seeing his sincere love in gazes at Ikuna, she knew her daughter found a lifelong-trustworthy golden son-in-law.
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