Chapter 214: Family Dinner Party! The Hotel Manager’s Shock! Yoshiharu Oyama’s Smugness!
The car door slid open in an elegant arc at the attendant’s touch, and the slightly cool air of Kumamoto City, mingled with the rich aroma from inside the hotel lobby, rushed in together.
“Wow…”
An off-key sigh came from Mogae Nohara, the third daughter of the Oyama family.
She poked her head out, her eyes, which always held a hint of confusion and innocence, looking at the brightly lit building before them, which had completely illuminated the scene.
The light from the crystal chandeliers poured out from behind the towering glass curtain walls like shattered stars, illuminating the plaza in front of the entrance as if it were daytime, stunning everyone.
“This… this place is incredible, isn’t it?” Mogae Nohara stepped out of the car, tilting her head back, her mouth slightly agape, like a fledgling bird seeing the ocean for the first time. “It feels, it feels no less impressive than the Imperial Hotel we stayed at in Tokyo last time with my sister!”
“It is indeed a very grand place,” said Masae Oyama, the eldest sister, walking behind her and adjusting her glasses, a hint of undisguised admiration in her tone.
She had a calm disposition, but the scene before her was enough to stir ripples in her usually placid heart.
“Uncle, thank you for your magnificent hospitality today.” Isshin Fujiwara, having gotten out of the car with Masae, walked up to Yoshiharu Oyama, the patriarch of the Oyama family, and bowed slightly, his words earnest.
His politeness and humility were like a spring breeze.
“Oh my, this place is truly so luxurious,” Misae Nohara, linking arms with her husband, Hiroshi Nohara, also got out of the car. Her gaze darted between the gleaming marble floor and the polite doorman, her eyes full of novelty and excitement.
Yoshiharu Oyama watched the reactions of his daughters and future sons-in-law. The face that usually looked somewhat stern due to his work as Dean of Students was now filled with irrepressible pride.
His wife, Takao Oyama, standing beside him, smiled with equal pride.
“Ahem,” Yoshiharu Oyama cleared his throat, hands clasped behind his back, trying to keep his tone casual, but failing to hide his pride: “Isshin and Hiroshi, you two, one is Masae’s fiancé, and the other is Misae’s fiancé. This is the first time you’re officially accompanying us back to our hometown in Kumamoto, so as a father, I have to show some sincerity.”
He puffed out his chest, his chin slightly raised, as if reviewing his own troops.
Just then, a hotel manager, dressed in a tuxedo and wearing a golden nameplate on his chest, approached with steady, swift steps.
His gaze swept over the crowd, and when it landed on Isshin Fujiwara, his eyes lit up, and a most professional and respectful smile spread across his face.
“Fujiwara-sama?” the manager’s voice held a perfectly judged surprise. He strode forward, stopped in front of Isshin Fujiwara, and bowed deeply, “I never expected to see you here, it is truly our establishment’s honor.”
He clearly recognized Isshin Fujiwara.
Isshin Fujiwara smiled gently and adjusted the manager’s arm, “Hello, Manager Takahashi. Today is not a business matter, but I’m accompanying my girlfriend’s family for a meal.”
“Oh?” Manager Takahashi’s gaze immediately shifted to Yoshiharu Oyama and Takao Oyama standing beside Isshin Fujiwara. His demeanor became even more deferential, and he bowed again, “So you are Fujiwara-sama’s father-in-law and mother-in-law, my apologies! I am Takahashi, the manager of this establishment. Welcome.”
He paused, his voice full of enthusiasm, “Of course I know Fujiwara-sama, a young talent working in the Ministry of Finance at the prefectural office, a pride of our Kumamoto! I never imagined you are Mr. Oyama’s son-in-law, this is truly… a great honor!”
Manager Takahashi straightened up and gave Yoshiharu and Takao Oyama a very sincere smile, “Mr. Oyama, Mrs. Oyama, please allow our establishment to offer you a 20% discount on your bill today. Additionally, I will immediately instruct the kitchen to send out our finest Horse Meat Sashimi and two bottles of ‘Juyondai’ Sake, as a token of our establishment’s respect to Fujiwara-sama and your family.”
“Oh my, this… this is too kind,” Yoshiharu Oyama demurred verbally, but the smile on his face bloomed like chrysanthemums in autumn, too brilliant to conceal. He glanced at his eldest daughter and Takao Oyama beside him, his eyes conveying the message, “See? My eldest son-in-law has so much face.”
Takao Oyama also smiled and nodded gently, enjoying the honor brought by her son-in-law.
Manager Takahashi’s gaze swept over everyone. When his eyes accidentally landed on the tall, rugged-browed, handsome man with a gentle smile standing next to Misae Nohara, he seemed to be struck by an invisible lightning bolt, and paused slightly.
He rubbed his eyes, as if unable to believe what he was seeing.
That face… that face, though younger and more real than on television, had those distinctive thick eyebrows and the faint stubble on his chin; there was no mistaking it.
Manager Takahashi’s breathing suddenly quickened. The professional respect in his eyes was instantly replaced by a reverence mixed with shock and fanaticism.
He tentatively, in a voice almost trembling, asked, “Excuse me… excuse me, are you… Mr. Hiroshi Nohara?”
Hiroshi Nohara, surprised to be recognized, paused for a moment, then offered a friendly smile and nodded, “Ah, yes, I am.”
“Oh my heavens!”
Manager Takahashi almost exclaimed. The joy on his face seemed about to overflow, and he trembled slightly with excitement. He stepped forward and bowed another ninety degrees, this time more devoutly and forcefully than any bow he had given to Isshin Fujiwara or Yoshiharu Oyama.
“Master Nohara! It’s really you! I’m a fan! A loyal fan!” He looked up, his eyes gleaming with the light of seeing an idol. “You… the An Shizhi you directed, that unique horror atmosphere, it’s simply a masterpiece of genius! And World of the Strange, every episode is breathtaking! I… my entire family are loyal viewers of Super Change Change Change, that program has practically changed the history of Japanese variety shows!”
His speech quickened, as if he wanted to pour out all his admiration at once, “And… and Seven Samurai! My goodness, you managed to remake Kurosawa-sama’s classic and give it a completely new flavor, it was so shocking! The Tale of Hachiko… I… I cried so much in the theater I almost dehydrated! And Late-night Diner, I watch it every day, it feels like more than just a TV drama, it’s life!”
The string of works, recited like a well-practiced list, left everyone present somewhat bewildered.
The expression on Yoshiharu Oyama’s face at this moment could no longer be described as “proud.”
It was a complex expression of shock, ecstasy, and immense satisfaction.
He looked at the hotel manager who was practically prostrating himself before his second son-in-law and puffed out his chest even further.
He stepped forward, gently patted Hiroshi Nohara’s shoulder, and said to Manager Takahashi in a tone that was outwardly casual but inwardly extremely boastful, “Well, Manager Takahashi, this is my second son-in-law.”
“Ah?!”
Manager Takahashi’s jaw almost hit the floor.
He looked at Yoshiharu Oyama in disbelief, then at Hiroshi Nohara, then at Misae Nohara standing beside them with a smile, and finally his gaze returned to Yoshiharu and Takao Oyama.
It was as if countless fireworks exploded in his mind simultaneously.
One son-in-law was an elite from the Ministry of Finance, holding the reins of Kumamoto Prefecture’s finances.
The other son-in-law was a genius director who had swept the Japanese television and film industries, revered by countless people as a master.
This seemingly ordinary man… what kind of divine being was he to have such two sons-in-law?!
Manager Takahashi took a deep breath and bowed deeply to Yoshiharu Oyama again. This time, his voice carried an almost reverent tremor, “Mr. Oyama… you… you are truly… truly amazing!”
“Not at all, not at all, the children are just accomplished,” Yoshiharu Oyama waved his hand, the wrinkles on his face smiling like a blooming flower.
“Everyone! Please! Please follow me!”
Manager Takahashi immediately regained his composure. He straightened up, made a “please” gesture, and personally led the way, his attitude as respectful as if he were welcoming royalty, “It is a rare honor for Fujiwara-sama and Master Nohara to grace our establishment at the same time! Today, our hotel’s most exclusive private room, ‘Kiku no Kai’ (Chrysanthemum Banquet), please allow me to represent the hotel and offer it to you free of charge!”
“‘Kiku no Kai’?”
Yoshiharu Oyama’s heart stirred. He had heard of that name. It was the top private room in the hotel, not open to the public, reportedly only used when entertaining cabinet ministers or international dignitaries.
Offered for free?
This flattery, this honor, made Yoshiharu Oyama feel as if he were floating on clouds.
He felt that in his entire life, he had never been so glorious.
Masae Oyama, Misae Nohara, and Mogae Nohara, the three sisters following behind, couldn’t help but exchange smiles as they watched their father’s nearly airborne demeanor, their smiles containing a hint of playfulness and immense pride.
The group passed through the splendid lobby, amid the curious or envious gazes of countless diners, and were personally led by Manager Takahashi to the deepest part of the corridor, before a thick wooden door carved with exquisite chrysanthemum patterns.
“Everyone, please,” Manager Takahashi personally opened the door, and an aroma mixed with high-class incense and fresh floral arrangements wafted out.
The luxury within the private room once again surpassed the Oyama family’s imagination. Outside the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows was Kumamoto City’s most dazzling night view.
The room’s decoration, from the master calligraphy and paintings on the walls to the antique porcelain in the corners, all showcased extreme taste and style.
“Fujiwara-sama, Master Nohara, and distinguished guests, please enjoy. I will immediately arrange for the finest dishes and drinks. If you require anything, please ring the bell at any time, and I will personally attend to you,” Manager Takahashi arranged everything and respectfully prepared to withdraw.
Before leaving, his gaze unconsciously swept around the room again, finally landing on Mogae Nohara, the youngest, standing beside Misae Nohara.
He felt a surge of emotion. This family was truly extraordinary. The elder and second daughters had found such remarkable partners. He wondered which proud young man was pursuing the youngest and cutest-looking lady.
As if sensing the manager’s gaze, Mogae Nohara, who had been quiet, suddenly pouted and mumbled somewhat dejectedly, “Sigh, I don’t have boyfriends as excellent as my older sister and second sister… I’m still a high school student, I don’t even have a shadow of a boyfriend.”
“Uh…”
Manager Takahashi’s expression froze, and then an awkward smile appeared on his face. He hadn’t expected the young lady to suddenly say that. He quickly bowed and, almost in a fluster, retreated from the room, gently closing the door.
Inside the room, due to Mogae’s unexpected remark, a brief silence fell.
Then, with a “pfft,” Misae was the first to laugh.
“Mogae, why did you say that to the manager?”
“I’m just telling the truth!” Mogae huffed and sat down on the chair covered with gorgeous brocade, dangling her legs. “Seeing my brother-in-law and second brother-in-law being so impressive, I feel so much pressure.”
“You child,” Takao Oyama shook her head, a mixture of helplessness and fondness.
And at the head of the table, Isshin Fujiwara sat to Yoshiharu Oyama’s left, and Hiroshi Nohara, warm and reserved, sat to his right. He looked at one, then the other, feeling that life had reached its peak at this moment.
The worries of a Dean of Students, the trivial matters of daily life, all became insignificant in the face of the immense glory brought by his two sons-in-law.
“Come, come, everyone, please sit,” Yoshiharu Oyama said beaming, “Isshin, Hiroshi, you are the main guests today, please don’t be shy.”
The dishes were served like a flowing stream, each one as exquisite as a work of art.
After a few rounds of drinks, the atmosphere became even more lively.
“Hiroshi,” Yoshiharu Oyama raised his sake cup and took a sip of the top-tier ‘Juyondai,’ feeling a sense of well-being throughout his body, “Speaking of which, I’ve always been curious. At Tokyo Television, how did you create so many interesting programs? Misae tells me your field is called… ‘entertainment industry’? It sounds very impressive.”
As this question was asked, everyone’s gaze focused on Hiroshi Nohara.
Isshin Fujiwara also looked at him with a curious smile.
Although they were both sons-in-law of the Oyama family, he knew that the bureaucratic system he belonged to was in a completely different dimension from the dazzling world Hiroshi Nohara inhabited.
Hiroshi Nohara put down his chopsticks, picked up a napkin to wipe his mouth. The gentle demeanor he displayed outside seemed to gain an ineffable depth when he was with his family.
“It’s not as mysterious as you think, Uncle Yoshiharu,” he smiled and began to tell his story.
“When I first started working on An Shizhi, it was actually quite difficult,” his voice was calm and magnetic, as if taking everyone back to the starting point of his struggle. “It was a very new form of expression, using static images with eerie narration to tell ghost stories. The TV station executives didn’t have high hopes for it, thinking it was niche and wouldn’t attract a wide audience. The budget was pitifully small, and the broadcast time was late at night when hardly anyone was watching.”
“Then how did it become popular?” Mogae asked curiously.
“Because of ’emotions’,” Hiroshi Nohara’s eyes became distant. “My ‘supernatural ability,’ to put it simply, is to sense and capture ’emotions’ that ordinary people cannot perceive, lingering in space, objects, and even people’s hearts. Fear, sadness, joy, hatred… these emotions have power. Each story in An Shizhi is actually a personification of real emotional fragments that I captured. Audiences may not know why, but they can feel the most primal, purest fear from those simple images and sounds. So, through word-of-mouth, it fermented little by little in the late night and eventually became a phenomenal work.”
Everyone listened with rapt attention. This explanation was far more mysterious and convincing than “genius creativity.”
“What about World of the Strange then?” Masae couldn’t help but ask.
“World of the Strange was a new project given to me by the TV station after they saw the success of An Shizhi. This time, there was more budget, and I could capture a wider variety of emotions,” Hiroshi Nohara took a sip of tea and continued, “The absurdity of urban legends, the desires deep within people’s hearts, the confusion about the future, the regret for the past… I wove these captured emotional fragments into bizarre stories with twists. At that time, the entire nation was at the peak of the bubble economy. Everyone seemed happy, but beneath that happiness lay immense anxiety and emptiness. My stories happened to strike a chord in their hearts.”
“So, Super Change Change Change too?” Misae blinked. Although she was his wife, she was hearing many details explained systematically for the first time.
“Yes, Super Change Change Change was an accident,” Hiroshi Nohara chuckled. “I was attending a celebration banquet, and I unintentionally sensed that the entire banquet hall was enveloped by an emotion called ‘collective creative joy.’ That pure joy, not for fame or profit, but for working towards a common goal and making people laugh, was incredibly powerful and contagious. So I suggested to the station manager that we create a show like that for ordinary people. As a result, it became more popular than all my previous works because it touched upon humanity’s most fundamental desire for ‘creation’ and ‘sharing joy’.”
Yoshiharu Oyama nodded repeatedly. He raised his sake cup and solemnly said to Hiroshi Nohara, “Hiroshi, I’ll toast you. I always knew you were capable, but today I realize your success is not accidental. You truly look at the world with your ‘heart’.”
Hiroshi Nohara clinked glasses with Yoshiharu and drank it all down.
“As for the three movies that followed,” he put down his wine glass, his tone becoming calm, “that’s another matter.”
“The remake of Seven Samurai was because I visited the filming location of that year, and there I sensed the powerful spiritual imprint of that era, called ‘integrity,’ left by Master Kurosawa and those actors. I wasn’t remaking a story; I was paying homage to that era.”
“The Tale of Hachiko, I truly felt at Shibuya Station the unwavering obsession with ‘waiting’ that Akita dog had, which had not dissipated even after decades. That emotion was too pure, too powerful, I had to film it.”
“And Late-night Diner…” Hiroshi Nohara’s gaze swept over the dishes on the table, finally landing on his wife Misae’s face, his eyes as gentle as water, “That was the emotion of ‘comfort’ I felt from every still-warm dish during countless late nights of overtime and returning home. Each dish had a person’s story behind it, a life. I just recorded them.”
The entire private room was silent.
The Oyama family, including Isshin Fujiwara, were deeply shaken by Hiroshi Nohara’s words.
In their eyes, Hiroshi Nohara was no longer just a successful director, a talented artist.
He was like a chronicler of an era, an observer who could discern people’s hearts and resonate with the emotions of all things in the world. The reason his works touched millions was not due to technique or creativity, but because he presented the most real, most profound emotions of this world itself.
Yoshiharu Oyama looked at his second son-in-law with unprecedented admiration and respect. He suddenly felt that the vanity he had felt earlier due to his son-in-law’s prestige was too superficial.
Having such sons-in-law was itself a true source of pride, immeasurable by money or status.
He raised his wine glass again, this time his voice was incredibly solemn.
“Hiroshi, our entire family is proud of you.”
“Cheers!”
So everyone clinked glasses.
Mogae Nohara picked up the glass of champagne with fine bubbles in front of her, the glass reflecting the molten gold night scene of Tokyo outside the window. She swirled it gently, looking at the man sitting at the head of the table, who was silent but exuded an aura of presence, her eyes filled with unconcealed admiration and… a hint of reverence.
“Brother-in-law, I really never dared to imagine it before.”
She spoke, her voice slightly tipsy from the wine and filled with genuine emotion, breaking the brief silence in the private room.
“What?” Misae Nohara, her sister, who was carefully picking the tender meat of a snail with a small silver fork, looked up and her face was filled with undisguised happiness and pride.
“It’s just something I never dared to imagine,” Mogae Nohara downed the wine in her glass, her fair cheeks flushed prettily, “When I first knew Misae-nee and brother-in-law were together, I always thought brother-in-law was just an ordinary office worker, squeezing onto the train every day, worrying about the section chief’s scolding, and stressing about the mortgage he hadn’t paid off… Who would have thought?”
She paused, her gaze sweeping over everyone present: her parents, her sister, and her elder sister’s husband, Isshin Fujiwara, who had been smiling silently, and finally settled back on Hiroshi Nohara.
“Who would have thought that my brother-in-law, who only used to smile foolishly for beer and snacks, is actually Japan’s top manga artist. The single volumes of Yu Yu Hakusho sold like crazy, and elementary school children are all imitating that guy named Yusuke Urameshi shouting ‘Spirit Gun.’ Doraemon is even more so; the Bamboo Copter and Anywhere Door are now the most desired birthday gifts for children all over Japan. And that book, Late-night Diner, my female colleagues at the office who only read fashion magazines now have a copy, discussing the Ochazuke sisters and the red sausage favored by the yakuza every day.”
Mogae Nohara finished in one breath, speaking like a torrent of beans, yet every word struck a chord in everyone’s hearts.
“Yes, yes,” her mother, Hiroshi’s mother-in-law Takao Oyama, quickly chimed in, smiling like a blooming chrysanthemum, “Last time I went to the community center, those old friends gathered around me, asking what my Mr. Hiroshi was planning to draw next, and saying that the stories in Late-night Diner were just like what happens around us, making people feel warm inside. Even us old folks like it!”
“Ahem.” Their father, the always serious former Dean of Students, Yoshiharu Oyama, also cleared his throat at this moment, raised his sake cup, and raised a toast to Hiroshi from afar, his eyes complex yet excited, “Hiroshi, I misjudged you before. I always thought you were a bit of a slacker, but I never expected… you had such a vast world hidden within you.”
Hiroshi Nohara just smiled and didn’t say anything, raising his wine cup in return.
The suit he wore was well-tailored, no longer the cheap, rumpled garment squeezed by the train. The glimpse of a wristwatch on his wrist, revealed inadvertently, flashed a calm light under the crystal chandelier.
He hadn’t changed; he was still the man with the thick eyebrows and stubble on his chin, but his entire aura seemed to have been recast by the steel and concrete of the bustling Tokyo metropolis – steady, reserved, and unfathomably deep.
Just then, the door to the private room was silently pushed open.
The waiters, like precisely trained mime actors, moved with light steps, serving exquisite dishes in a continuous stream.
The air was instantly filled with a wonderful and harmonious aroma.
On one side, the rich and mellow notes of French cuisine, the aroma of pan-fried foie gras mixed with the unique fragrance of black truffle; on the other, the crisp and elegant taste of premium Japanese cuisine, the marbled texture of the marbled wagyu beef like a work of art, and the freshly cut tuna belly, covered with a thin layer of fatty sheen, shimmering attractively under the lights.
“Quick, everyone, let’s start eating, the food will get cold,” Misae enthusiastically urged, she was increasingly taking on the demeanor of a company president.
“Hiroshi-kun is truly remarkable now,” Yoshiharu Oyama picked up a slice of wagyu beef, its melt-in-your-mouth texture making him close his eyes comfortably, “My old colleagues are all envious of me, saying I have two good sons-in-law.”
“That’s for sure!” Mogae Nohara chimed in, “Brother-in-law’s talent isn’t just limited to manga!”
This remark seemed to open a new floodgate, and the compliments and exclamations of everyone, along with the exquisite delicacies on the table, entered a new level.
Isshin Fujiwara, who had been silent and smiling, finally put down his cutlery. He gently wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin, his movements as elegant as a nobleman of old.
“Uncle Yoshiharu, little sister Mogae, what you’ve mentioned is actually just the tip of Mr. Nohara’s talent.”
His voice was not loud, but it had a strange penetrating quality that drew everyone’s attention to him.
Isshin Fujiwara, a man from the bureaucratic ranks of the Ministry of Finance, looked at Hiroshi with a sense of emotion.
“Manga, while it was Mr. Nohara’s starting point, what truly shocked me was what Mr. Nohara conveyed through his visual works,” Isshin Fujiwara leaned slightly forward, his eyes fixed on Hiroshi Nohara, “I’ve noticed that the animated films, television dramas, variety shows, and even the three movies that caused social phenomena all contain profoundly deep… what I call ‘educational value’.”
“‘Educational value’?” Yoshiharu Oyama looked somewhat puzzled. He was an old-fashioned educator and was sensitive to this term.
“Yes,” Isshin Fujiwara nodded, his tone firm.
“Mr. Fujiwara is absolutely right!” Mogae Nohara, as if finding a kindred spirit, excitedly chimed in, “Let’s take An Shizhi and World of the Strange! Oh my, they’re practically the pioneers of urban legends! Now, the late-night slots on our TV station are all imitating these two programs, but none of them can capture that soul-piercing terror and reflection on humanity!”
“And Super Change Change Change!” Takao Oyama also said excitedly, “I love watching that the most! Before, our neighbors would just nod when they met. Now it’s different. Several families in our neighborhood have formed teams to sign up for the program, discussing and rehearsing ideas together, and they’ve become so much closer! It feels like the indifference of Japan has been melted away a little by this program, and the connections between people have been re-established.”
“Exactly!” Yoshiharu Oyama nodded heavily. He clearly had more to say on this topic. “They used to say that our Japanese society had entered a ‘society of severed ties,’ where human relations were superficial. But the programs you’ve made, Hiroshi, are like invisible threads, re-connecting people who were drifting apart. This is more effective than me lecturing a hundred times in class about ‘unity and friendship’.”
Isshin Fujiwara smiled approvingly and continued to guide the conversation, “Then, what about the movies?”
“The movies are even more so!” Misae, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. She looked at her husband’s profile, stars twinkling in her eyes, “That Seven Samurai, it’s far more than just a remake of Kurosawa-director’s old film. Kambei, Katsushiro, Chiyo… they’ve portrayed what our era truly needs: a new samurai spirit, a spirit for the new era of Japanese people! Resilience, protection, and hope in the face of adversity! I heard that many major corporations now organize new employee training sessions where they show this movie!”
“And The Tale of Hachiko!” Misae Nohara’s eyes reddened slightly, “Brother-in-law, do you know, many of my colleagues at the company who own dogs cried profusely at home hugging their dogs after watching the movie. This movie taught us not just loyalty, but also the purest mutual understanding and devotion between humans and animals, and even between people. It was so moving, truly.”
“Indeed,” Isshin Fujiwara murmured softly, “A single movie has redefined the weight of the word ‘loyalty’ in modern society.”
“Speaking of which,” Takao Oyama, as the prospective mother-in-law, suddenly remembered something, “Hiroshi, your TV drama Late-night Diner is truly remarkable. Unlike other dramas that are always full of fighting or dramatic love stories. In your diner, it’s just ordinary food and a group of ordinary people. But for some reason, after watching it, I always feel very peaceful, as if no matter how wronged I’ve been outside, as long as I go back to that little diner and have a bowl of the pork miso soup made by the owner, everything will be alright. It’s a kind of… healing power.”
Everyone nodded in agreement. For a moment, the atmosphere in the private room became warm and filled with respect. These works were no longer mere entertainment products; they had permeated the daily lives of countless ordinary people in the country like air and water, changing their thoughts and comforting their souls.
And the creator of all this, Hiroshi Nohara, quietly ate the grilled cod sprinkled with sea salt in front of him, as if the discussions were about someone else entirely unrelated to him.
Just then, Takao Oyama spoke, as if she had thought of something, “Speaking of which, Hiroshi, weren’t you personally received by the Governor of Akita Prefecture because of The Tale of Hachiko?”
This question shifted everyone’s attention again.
“Yes, once,” Hiroshi Nohara replied concisely.
“More than just received!” Mogae Nohara’s eyes sparkled with longing, “Now Akita dogs are practically the most popular breed in all of Japan! I really want one! But I can’t get one at all!”
She complained with a crestfallen face, “Akita dogs are really in short supply on the market right now, and the prices have more than tripled! Especially for purebred puppies certified by the Akita Dog Association, the waiting list is apparently until next year! They’re so hard to find! It’s all your fault for making Hachiko so cute and so human-like!”
This spoiled complaint drew a burst of laughter from everyone.
Yoshiharu Oyama also recalled, stroking his chin and saying with emotion, “Mage is right. I saw in the newspaper a few days ago that Akita Prefecture’s tourism revenue this year has increased by nearly tenfold compared to the same period last year. Many tourists are making special trips to Akita just to see Hachiko’s hometown and to buy a purebred Akita Dog. It can be said that one movie of yours, Hiroshi, has directly boosted the fame of the entire Akita Prefecture.”
One movie influences a prefecture’s economy.
The weight of this statement made the atmosphere in the private room change once again.
If what everyone had discussed before was merely cultural influence, then now, this influence had transformed into tangible economic benefits and regional prestige.
A very bright light flashed in Isshin Fujiwara’s eyes. He had been listening quietly, like an experienced hunter patiently waiting for all the clues to come together.
From variety shows that eased social indifference, to movies that reshaped national spirit, to cultural IPs that boosted the local economy… these seemingly unrelated points gradually formed a clear line in his mind.
He seemed to have thought of something, sitting up straighter, his gaze sharply fixed on Hiroshi Nohara, as if the very air around him had become three parts more solemn.
He took a deep breath and, in a tone of unprecedented gravity, slowly began to speak.
“Mr. Nohara, forgive my presumptuousness…”
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at him.
Isshin Fujiwara’s voice was kept very low, yet each word was clear, like stones dropped into a deep pool.
“Since one movie can influence the governor of Akita Prefecture…”
“Then, may I understand it this way…”
He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, but his eyes never left Hiroshi Nohara’s face, as if trying to uncover the earth-shattering secret of the future of all Tokyo, and indeed all of Neon, from his calm, unruffled expression.
“…that even Governor Koike, who holds such sway over the entire Tokyo Metropolis, had, at a critical moment in the election, cooperated with you, is that correct?”
