Chapter 184: The Shocked Crowd! This Is Truly Neon’s Golden Era!
In the screening room, the lighting was soft, and the air was filled with a slightly outdated film reel scent, completely different from the sandalwood and tea aroma in the club hall. Here was full of the sense of ritual of movies.
Hideaki Fujiwara was already seated in the center of the first row, with Mr. Asumi and Toshihide Takada beside him.
Eiji Kurosawa sat on the other side of Hideaki Fujiwara. His gaze had already turned to the huge screen, his eyes filled with expectation for the movie.
More than twenty review committee members sat scattered behind them, each taking their seats. Some of them had already begun talking in low voices, their whispers sounding especially clear in the quiet screening room.
“Did you hear? This time it’s Hiroshi Nohara’s new movie.” An elderly committee member pushed up his reading glasses on his nose, his tone carrying a hint of doubt: “《Seven Samurai》 was indeed done well, but that’s a samurai film, and he had Director Kurosawa’s foundation after all.”
“Yeah, I heard this time it’s that story of a dog and loyalty.” Another committee member chimed in, a helpless expression appearing on his face: “I feel like this one probably won’t do well. Hiroshi Nohara is just a young person in his twenties after all. It’s normal for him to be ambitious, but daring to cross over to make a pet movie after making a samurai film? And trying to do something about ‘loyalty’? What a pipe dream.”
“Exactly, can the loyalty of samurai and the loyalty of a dog even be compared? I admit 《Seven Samurai》 is really great, and I like it a lot too. But this movie about a dog and loyalty is simply insulting our Japanese people’s Bushido spirit!” A rather conservative-looking committee member couldn’t help but snort coldly, his face full of displeasure.
“I want to see what tricks he can come up with this time. Don’t make it a mishmash and end up ruining his own reputation.”
Various voices looking down on Hiroshi Nohara quietly spread through the screening room.
They had heard of Hiroshi Nohara’s talent, but they were still full of doubt about his bold cross-genre attempt.
Hideaki Fujiwara heard these whispers, and his brow furrowed slightly.
He was a bit worried too.
So he turned his head to look at Mr. Asumi and Toshihide Takada beside him, his tone carrying just the right amount of probing: “Sakata-kun, Mr. Asumi, Takada-kun, have you seen the finished film of 《The Tale of Hachiko》 before?”
Nobuhiko Sakata shook his head, a hint of regret on his face: “Fujiwara-sama, we haven’t seen it either. Hiroshi-kun basically isolated himself from the outside world during post-production editing, just to give us a surprise.”
Mr. Asumi also chimed in, his face beaming with a confident smile: “However, Fujiwara-sama, although we haven’t seen the finished film, according to feedback from the filming team, all the staff involved in the production praise this movie highly. They all say it’s a great work worthy of entering the history books!”
Toshihide Takada maintained his superior’s dignity, but at this moment he nodded too, his tone carrying an undeniable affirmation: “Yes, Fujiwara-sama. My two subordinates, Ashikaga and Asano, are both veteran directors with extremely high standards for film quality. But even they are completely convinced by Hiroshi Nohara’s this movie.”
Eiji Kurosawa didn’t say much. He just gazed calmly at the screen, his eyes full of trust in Hiroshi Nohara.
Hideaki Fujiwara looked at the three’s resolute expressions and revealed a thoughtful smile on his face. He knew these three would never lie in such a setting.
He nodded, his gaze turning back to the screen, his tone carrying a hint of expectation: “Good! In that case, let’s wait and see. I want to see what kind of surprise Hiroshi-kun brings us this time.”
Commissioner Matsumoto received the instruction from the screening staff that it was confirmed ready to start, and seeing Fujiwara-sama and the others arrive, he immediately stepped forward and bowed respectfully: “Director Fujiwara, all committee members and leaders are in place. We can begin the screening.”
Hideaki Fujiwara nodded and glanced around the screening room. His gaze calmly swept over the committee members, then turned to the huge screen, and he said softly: “Begin.”
“Yes!” Commissioner Matsumoto nodded, then raised his hand to signal the surrounding staff.
‘Click!’
The screening room’s lights slowly dimmed, the huge screen lit up, and 《The Tale of Hachiko》 officially began screening.
The movie opened.
The image was the Akita countryside in 1924, covered in white snow, a scene of tranquility. An abandoned little Akita dog, its eyes helpless yet full of curiosity.
Then, the lens shifted to Shibuya Station in Tokyo, with surging crowds and heavy traffic.
University professor Eizaburo Ueno, played by a respected veteran actor whose gentle and scholarly temperament perfectly matched the role, appeared on screen. He was anxiously searching for a lost little dog.
The moment Professor Ueno met the little Akita dog, the air in the entire screening room seemed to freeze.
The little dog’s wet eyes were full of innocence and longing for the new world, while the professor’s eyes held affection like winter sunshine, instantly melting everyone’s hearts.
“Is that the dog?” A review committee member muttered softly, his tone carrying a hint of oddity.
A very ordinary Akita dog… but it seemed…
A bit silly and cute?
However, as the movie progressed, the doubting voices gradually quieted.
The movie’s first act.
The little Akita dog was brought home by the professor and named “Hachiko”.
Hachiko’s life in the professor’s home was depicted warmly and full of fun. It clumsily learned to adapt to the new environment, interacting with the professor’s daughter and wife.
The image captured every moment of Hachiko’s growth: from the mischief of a puppy, to the playfulness of a young dog, to the steady loyalty of an adult dog. Especially the unspoken tacit understanding between Hachiko and the professor was presented delicately by the lens.
One morning, Hachiko sent the professor to Shibuya Station for the first time, wagging its tail and watching the professor’s figure disappear into the crowd.
In the evening, when the professor returned from work, Hachiko appeared punctually at the station doorway, wagging its tail to greet him. These daily scenes, like trickling streams, slowly nourished the audience’s hearts.
“This dog’s acting skills… incredible!” A committee member couldn’t help but praise softly. Looking at Hachiko’s soulful eyes on the screen, all his prejudices began to waver.
The movie’s second act.
Hachiko and the professor’s daily life became even more touching.
Every morning, Hachiko would wait punctually at the professor’s home doorway, seeing him off.
Then, at five in the evening, it would appear punctually at Shibuya Station, waiting for the professor’s return.
Rain or shine, cold or heat, Hachiko never missed.
There was a scene with heavy snow, Hachiko covered in a layer of thin snow, yet still holding its post at the station doorway.
When the professor’s figure appeared in the distance, Hachiko suddenly stood up, wagging its tail and joyfully pouncing toward the professor.
The professor squatted down and hugged Hachiko tightly. That love between human and dog transcending words made many in the screening room unable to hold back their tears.
“Woo…” A female committee member had already let out a slight sob.
“This Akita dog really is… loyal.” Hideaki Fujiwara also sighed softly, his gaze fixed tightly on the screen, his eyes full of emotion.
The movie’s third act.
Tragedy quietly descended.
One ordinary morning, Hachiko saw the professor off as usual.
The professor, as usual, patted Hachiko’s head and said with a smile: “See you tonight, Hachiko.”
However, this “see you tonight” became a final farewell.
That evening, Hachiko appeared punctually at Shibuya Station.
It waited, and waited, until night fell and the station was empty, but the professor’s figure never appeared.
The confusion, anxiety, and loss in Hachiko’s eyes were magnified infinitely by the lens, striking straight at the heart.
“The professor… he’s not coming back?” A young committee member couldn’t help asking softly, his voice trembling slightly.
Toshihide Takada and Mr. Asumi’s expressions also became solemn.
They knew the plot’s direction, but at this moment, they were still infected by the sad atmosphere created by the movie.
The movie’s fourth act.
The professor’s funeral.
Hachiko was locked in the professor’s home, struggling and howling, as if knowing its beloved master had left forever.
When it finally broke free and rushed to the catafalque, it just lay quietly beside it, its eyes full of endless sorrow.
After the funeral, the professor’s family tried to take Hachiko away, but Hachiko broke free again and again, stubbornly running back to Shibuya Station, stubbornly waiting at the place where it met the professor and bid him farewell.
Spring, summer, autumn, winter—seasons changing.
The movie used a series of beautiful montage images to show Hachiko’s decade-long wait.
Spring cherry blossoms in full bloom, Hachiko waiting amid falling petals.
Summer cicadas chirping, Hachiko waiting under the blazing sun.
Autumn leaves falling, Hachiko waiting under the golden yellow ginkgo tree.
Winter snow covering everything, Hachiko waiting in the icy snow.
Its body gradually aged, fur turning white, steps becoming unsteady.
But its clear eyes always shone with an unextinguished hope, a firm belief in its master’s return.
“It… it really waited ten years?” An elderly committee member asked hoarsely, his face already covered in tears.
In the screening room, sobs rose and fell.
Many committee members, including Hideaki Fujiwara, Mr. Asumi, Toshihide Takada, and even Eiji Kurosawa, were already in tears.
They were shocked by Hachiko’s loyalty transcending life and death, moved by that wordless love.
The movie’s climax.
Hachiko was old and frail, lying in a corner of Shibuya Station, body weak, but eyes still stubbornly looking toward the station entrance.
It seemed to see, in the crowd, that familiar figure smiling and walking toward it.
The professor was back.
Hachiko struggled to stand, wagging its tail, walking step by step toward the professor.
It collapsed.
In its dream, it reunited with the professor.
The image was the initial scene of Hachiko and the professor meeting at the station. The professor squatted down, hugging Hachiko tightly, human and dog smiling at each other under the sunset.
Then, the image gradually blurred, finally freezing on the bronze statue in front of Shibuya Station, symbolizing Hachiko’s loyalty.
The movie ended.
The screening room fell into dead silence.
Only the movie’s soundtrack, that melodious yet sorrowful melody, echoed slowly in the air, lingering in everyone’s ears.
Everyone stared blankly at the darkness on the screen, their bodies as if under some magic, motionless.
Tears had long blurred their eyes.
They were shocked by Hachiko’s story, moved by that loyalty transcending life and death.
Until the staff outside the screening room gently pushed open the door and turned on the lights, everyone snapped awake like from a dream, jolted out of that immense sorrow.
They looked at each other, seeing the same shock, the same emotion, and the same… tear stains in each other’s eyes.
Hideaki Fujiwara stood up first. Tears streaked his face, but he didn’t care.
He simply raised his hand and clapped with trembling hands.
“Clap! Clap! Clap!”
Applause erupted like raindrops in the screening room.
Mr. Asumi, Toshihide Takada, Eiji Kurosawa, and all the review committee members stood up in unison, clapping toward the screen.
The applause grew more enthusiastic, louder, thundering through the entire screening room.
This applause was not just praise for the movie, but respect for Hiroshi Nohara’s talent, tribute to Hachiko’s loyalty, and celebration of the pure emotion between human and dog.
The applause lasted a long time, so long that the air in the screening room seemed ignited by this fervent emotion.
Many committee members still had red eyes and tear stains on their faces, but their eyes were filled with indescribable shock and fanaticism.
“So… so moving!” An elderly female committee member said, her voice thick with emotion. She wiped the tears from her eyes and said excitedly: “I never thought a story about a dog could be made so… so straight to the heart! It reminds me of my old dog that accompanied me for ten years. It was just as loyal, just as selfless…”
Her voice choked, unable to continue, covering her mouth and sobbing softly.
“Yes! I… I simply can’t believe this movie was made by Minister Nohara!” Another committee member around forty, his face full of shock, waved the documents in his hand excitedly as if to vent his emotions: “《Seven Samurai》 is an epic, grand narrative, a classic deconstructing the era! But this 《The Tale of Hachiko》 uses the simplest lenses, the most sincere emotions, striking the softest place in our hearts! This… this is true art!”
“Minister Nohara he… he’s simply a monster!” A young committee member said, his voice trembling slightly. Looking toward the screen, his eyes full of fanatical worship: “He can not only capture the loyalty of samurai, but also the loyalty of a dog! Moreover, he uses the dog’s loyalty to contrast the complexity and preciousness of human emotions. This… this intent is simply brilliant!”
“I originally thought using a dog to tell loyalty was insulting our Japanese people’s Bushido spirit.” A conservative committee member, now with red eyes too, exhaled long and said with self-mockery in his tone: “Now it seems, I was… too narrow-minded. Minister Nohara is the one who truly understands ‘loyalty’! He uses the dog’s purity to cleanse our hearts polluted by the world, making us re-examine the most precious spirit of our nation!”
“Yes! This movie is not just moving; it has profound social significance!” A scholarly committee member from the cultural circle adjusted his glasses, his voice excited: “In today’s materialistic, indifferent society, people are increasingly alienated and lonely. But 《The Tale of Hachiko》 uses Hachiko’s selfless love and waiting to awaken our deep longing for warmth, connection, and loyalty!”
He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone present, his tone full of expectation: “I even think this movie will, like 《Super Change Change Change》, spark another social trend! It will make more people rethink relationships between people, emotions between humans and animals, and how our nation should inherit and carry forward the spirit of ‘loyalty’ in modern society!”
“I completely agree!” Another veteran review committee member, his face full of approval: “Moreover, this movie’s filming techniques are textbook-level! Every lens is full of emotion, every image strikes the heart! Especially Hachiko’s performance, it’s simply… a stroke of genius! I even suspect Minister Nohara can really communicate with dogs, otherwise how could he capture such soulful performance?!”
“This is no longer simple directing ability; this is… artistic talent transcending the era!”
“Yes! From 《Seven Samurai》 to 《The Tale of Hachiko》, Minister Nohara has completely proven himself! He’s not just a samurai film director; he’s a… all-around director who can master any theme and produce classic works!”
“All-around director? No, he’s an all-around artist! He’s also a manga artist! He’s also a variety show producer! He’s also a television drama producer! He’s simply a monster!”
“I even think he’s the one who can truly represent our Japanese culture and go to the world!”
Various praises and amazements surged like tides, completely overwhelming the screening room.
All committee members were so excited they were incoherent, vying to express their love for the movie, admiration for Hiroshi Nohara, and infinite longing for the movie’s future prospects.
Hideaki Fujiwara quietly listened to these discussions, tears still on his face, but his eyes full of gratification and pride. He knew Hiroshi Nohara had succeeded, and in a way beyond everyone’s imagination, succeeded again.
He exhaled long, as if that breath carried away all his worries and pressure.
He slowly turned, his gaze sweeping over the excited committee members behind him. His voice was slightly hoarse but still carried undeniable authority.
“Alright, everyone.” Hideaki Fujiwara spoke softly, his voice not loud but instantly silencing all the noise: “I’ve heard your emotion, your praise. Now, please return to the office and tally your review results. I hope this review can be fair and just, without any prejudice.”
As soon as he finished, all committee members jolted. They then remembered their identity here was movie review committee members, not ordinary audience.
“Yes! Director Fujiwara!”
All committee members responded in unison, their voices full of respect and obedience.
They bowed deeply to Hideaki Fujiwara again, then walked toward the screening room exit with slightly hurried steps.
Their faces still bore tear stains, but their eyes were filled with unprecedented determination and… fanaticism.
They knew this 《The Tale of Hachiko》 would sweep away all doubts in an unmatched manner and become an immortal legend.
And they would personally open the door for this legend.
The screening room was left with only Hideaki Fujiwara, Mr. Asumi, Toshihide Takada, Eiji Kurosawa, and Hiroshi Nohara, who was allowed in after the screening ended—five people.
Hideaki Fujiwara watched the hurriedly departing committee members and revealed a satisfied smile.
This review had no suspense.
He turned his head, his gaze falling on Hiroshi Nohara, eyes full of appreciation and expectation.
“Hiroshi-kun, you did very well.” Hideaki Fujiwara spoke softly, his tone full of emotion: “You exceeded my expectations again. This 《The Tale of Hachiko》 is not just a movie; it’s a… work that touches the depths of the soul.”
He paused, his tone becoming earnest: “It made me rethink the definition of ‘loyalty’ and re-examine emotions between humans and animals. It made me realize that sometimes, the purest love exists in the most unassuming places.”
“Thank you for the praise, Fujiwara-sama.” Hiroshi Nohara bowed humbly in return, his composure and steadiness making him stand out in this setting.
“Alright, let’s return to the office.” Hideaki Fujiwara said, standing up first and walking toward the screening room exit with steady steps.
Mr. Asumi, Toshihide Takada, and Eiji Kurosawa followed closely.
Hiroshi Nohara walked last. He looked back at the huge screen, a faint arc unconsciously forming at his lips.
He knew he had succeeded.
……
When they returned to Hideaki Fujiwara’s office, the faint sandalwood and tea aroma in the air seemed even richer.
Hideaki Fujiwara sat in the main seat, a mild smile on his face. His gaze swept over Mr. Asumi, Toshihide Takada, and Eiji Kurosawa, then fell on Hiroshi Nohara, eyes full of appreciation and expectation.
“Hiroshi-kun, please sit.” Hideaki Fujiwara gestured for Hiroshi Nohara to sit, his tone carrying some closeness.
Hiroshi Nohara sat respectfully. He knew the real “harvest” moment was next.
“Fujiwara-sama, your evaluation of 《The Tale of Hachiko》 in the screening room made us all sincerely admire you.” Mr. Asumi spoke first, his face beaming with an open smile, tone full of sincerity: “You’re right; this movie does touch the depths of the soul.”
Toshihide Takada wasn’t as exaggerated as Mr. Asumi, but he nodded now too, a barely perceptible emotion in his tone: “Yes, Fujiwara-sama. This movie really made me… rethink many things.”
Eiji Kurosawa didn’t say much. He just gazed calmly at Hiroshi Nohara, eyes full of appreciation and pride.
Hideaki Fujiwara just smiled and shook his head. He picked up his tea cup, took a sip, tone carrying some emotion: “This movie is indeed excellent. It’s not just Hiroshi-kun’s personal success; it’s the success of our Japanese film industry, and… the success of us Japanese people!”
He paused, gaze on Hiroshi Nohara, eyes full of expectation: “Hiroshi-kun, your work has proven you again. You’ve proven you can not only make grand epics but also heartwarming stories that touch the soul. You’ve proven you’re a… genius who can master any theme and produce classic works!”
As soon as he finished, there was a gentle knock on the office door.
Commissioner Matsumoto pushed the door open, holding a document, his face full of irrepressible excitement and respect.
“Director Fujiwara, the committee members’ review results have been tallied.” Commissioner Matsumoto said respectfully, handing the document to Hideaki Fujiwara, his tone trembling slightly: “All committee members unanimously approved! Not a single opposing vote! Even several committee members suggested rating this movie as Best Picture of the Year!”
“What?!”
Mr. Asumi, Toshihide Takada, and Eiji Kurosawa’s eyes widened instantly, faces full of incredulous ecstasy!
Though they had expectations for the quality of 《The Tale of Hachiko》, they never imagined it would receive such high praise!
Unanimous approval! Not a single opposing vote! And even suggestions for Best Picture of the Year?!
This… this was simply unprecedented honor!
And to think.
The movie hadn’t even been released yet!
Hideaki Fujiwara took the document, his gaze calmly scanning the content, a satisfied arc unconsciously forming at his lips.
This result was within his expectations.
He set down the document, gaze on Hiroshi Nohara, eyes full of appreciation and expectation: “Hiroshi-kun, congratulations. Your 《The Tale of Hachiko》 has officially passed review.”
“Thank you, Fujiwara-sama!” Hiroshi Nohara bowed humbly in return, his composure and steadiness making him stand out in this setting.
Mr. Asumi, Toshihide Takada, and Eiji Kurosawa looked at the committee members whose eyes were now red and swollen, all revealing emotional smiles.
Hiroshi Nohara had created another miracle.
Eiji Kurosawa exhaled long, looking at Hiroshi Nohara, tone carrying emotion, self-mockery, and sincere admiration for Hiroshi Nohara.
“Hiroshi-kun, you really… outdid us old guys.” Eiji Kurosawa spoke softly, tone full of helplessness: “When 《Seven Samurai》 was released, I told everyone this movie was you Hiroshi Nohara directing me; I was just assisting. But those guys didn’t believe it, saying I was hyping you, building momentum for you this young person.”
He paused, gaze sweeping over Mr. Asumi and Toshihide Takada, a wry smile on his face: “Now it’s good; they’ve all seen it. You can not only capture samurai loyalty but also dog loyalty. And you use dog loyalty to contrast human emotions’ complexity and preciousness. This… this intent is simply brilliant!”
“I even think your 《The Tale of Hachiko》 is more moving, more heart-touching than 《Seven Samurai》!” Eiji Kurosawa said, sighing long again, tone full of sincere praise: “Hiroshi-kun, your talent is simply… immeasurable!”
Mr. Asumi, hearing this, beamed with an open smile and patted Eiji Kurosawa’s shoulder, tone carrying just the right teasing: “Director Kurosawa, you know now, right? I said long ago, Hiroshi-kun is a genius! You shouldn’t have listened to those old guys back then; you should have openly admitted you were just assisting him!”
Toshihide Takada wasn’t as overt as Mr. Asumi, but he nodded now too, a barely perceptible emotion in his tone: “Yes, Director Kurosawa is right. Hiroshi Nohara-kun’s talent is indeed surprising. He can not only master various themes but also touch hearts and spark social resonance in the most unique ways.”
He paused, gaze on Hiroshi Nohara, eyes full of expectation: “I even think Hiroshi Nohara-kun is the one who can truly represent our Japanese culture and go to the world!”
Hideaki Fujiwara watched the three’s sincere praise and revealed a satisfied smile. He knew from this moment, the rift between the Production Bureau’s Tokyo Faction and Kanto Faction would be completely bridged in Hiroshi Nohara’s hands.
And Hiroshi Nohara would stand at the peak of the Japanese cultural circle in an unmatched manner.
Everyone smiled at each other, that unspoken tacit understanding quietly flowing in the air.
They knew a new era, Hiroshi Nohara’s era, had arrived with a bang!
Hiroshi Nohara just smiled, his composure and confidence making him stand out in this atmosphere full of praise and expectation.
It also made everyone present even more satisfied with Hiroshi Nohara!
This was the new generation rising in their Neon Country in the new era!
“Our Neon Country has such a promising future!” Hideaki Fujiwara’s gaze toward Hiroshi Nohara became even more indulgent.
Thinking of his overseas inspection in the United States, those special smells in schools, plants in trash cans, and students advocating happy education with declining basic subject scores.
Hideaki Fujiwara’s hands trembled slightly with excitement: “Though us Japanese people were defeated on the real battlefield, in economy and culture, we must be the victors!”
Thinking of this, Hideaki Fujiwara also thought of his child recently investing in a large apartment.
A proud smile involuntarily appeared on his face.
Japanese economy was soaring.
Culture was soaring.
Now.
What a great era for Japan!
