Chapter 219: Misae’s Tears! This Is A Happy Future! Everyone Is Happy!
The banquet continued until the afternoon, and Hiroshi Nohara bid farewell and left.
The sliding doors of the hotel’s private room had just closed, and the air, still warm from the sake, hadn’t completely dissipated when Ichiro Yamamoto’s steps slowed as he saw them off.
He leaned against the corridor wall, his fingertips brushing against the cool wood paneling. He suddenly turned to Isshin Fujiwara, who was following behind him, and said with a lingering sense of emotion, “Isshin, you were quiet at the table just now. What were you thinking about?”
Isshin Fujiwara tightened his briefcase under his arm and stopped when he heard the question.
He looked up at Ichiro Yamamoto, his eyes behind his glasses still filled with thought, and said very seriously, “Minister, I was thinking about what Mr. Nohara just said about ‘extending the pet concept’—he suggested that in the future, Kumamon could collaborate with cartoon characters from other prefectures, like filming a short film with Osaka’s Takoyaki-kun, or even creating a ‘Neon Pet Alliance.’ Don’t you think this idea… is a little scary?”
“Scary?” Ichiro Yamamoto raised an eyebrow and leaned against the wall, laughing. His laughter was hoarse from the alcohol. “You mean too wild and imaginative, right? When I first heard it, I almost dropped my chopsticks. You know, the most we ever thought of was having Kumamon appear more often within the prefecture, but he opens his mouth and his idea spans the entire country.”
He paused, his eyes becoming more solemn:
“But if you think about it carefully, isn’t everything he said well-founded? From Purple An Shizhi Purple to Purple World of the Strange Purple, which turned ‘Urban Legends’ into a genre, to Purple Super Change Change Change Purple, which used ‘connection’ to break through indifference, and then to Purple Seven Samurai Purple, which broke out of the mold of Kendo films—this man never just thinks randomly, he considers every step to its core. Like today, talking about Kumamon, from the character design to the promotional rhythm, he even thought about using an invisible zipper for the mascot costume. This level of detail is something we old folks at the prefectural office can’t even dream of catching up to.”
Isshin Fujiwara nodded silently, recalling the design drafts Hiroshi Nohara had handed over—they clearly marked even the density of the fabric for Kumamon’s blush, and even noted, “Use local specialty red cotton to achieve texture and showcase Kumamoto’s characteristics.” At the time, he had also secretly flipped to the back of the design draft and found a small diagram in the corner, labeled, “The mascot costume needs an internal ventilation layer to prevent staff from suffering heatstroke.”
“You’re right.”
Isshin Fujiwara’s voice softened, but it carried a sense of conviction: “Before, I always thought Mr. Nohara’s success was due to luck, that he caught the right timing. After talking with him today, I realized there’s no such thing as luck! He uses the time others spend drinking coffee to ponder how to do things thoroughly. Just like he said, ‘First, make local people familiar with it, then make the whole country love it.’ We were only thinking about how to promote it outwards, but we forgot that the foundation must be laid locally—this kind of steady, step-by-step approach is more effective than any flashy promotion.”
Ichiro Yamamoto patted his shoulder and walked towards the office, smiling. “It’s good that you understand. Learn more from Mr. Nohara in the future. This man is not only capable, but he also doesn’t hide his knowledge—look at how he shared the ‘pet alliance’ idea with us today. Anyone else would have kept it as their exclusive secret.”
As they spoke, they reached the office doorway.
Ichiro Yamamoto opened the door and, as he stepped inside, he saw two young women in dark gray suits standing by the desk, holding thick notebooks. They were Zuo Na and Xiao Ling, the note-takers who had left the banquet early after being responsible for recording the morning’s discussions.
“Minister, Section Chief Fujiwara,” the two women bowed as they entered, their voices crisp and respectful.
Ichiro Yamamoto waved his hand, walked behind the desk, and sat down, pointing to the chair opposite him. “Sit down. How is the transcription coming along? Make sure not to miss a single word of what we discussed this morning, especially Mr. Nohara’s ‘pet concept’ and promotional steps.”
Zuo Na quickly stepped forward, handed over the notebook in her hand, and said very seriously, “Minister, we have already organized it. We have recorded every word Mr. Nohara said this morning, including the details of the design drafts he drew, the short film ideas, and the ‘offline penetration three-step method,’ all marked with key symbols.”
Ichiro Yamamoto took the notebook and, upon opening the first page, saw in neat handwriting, “Kumamon Project Core Idea—Pet Concept,” with “Core: Bind the image to the prefecture’s soft power, not just a single promotional image” marked in red pen.
He flipped through a few more pages and found that even the little anecdote Hiroshi Nohara mentioned, “having Kumamon mistakenly grab the wrong snack at the convenience store,” was recorded in detail, with a note even stating, “This scene can be used to feature local snack brands, such as ‘Kumamoto Strawberry Daifuku’.”
“Good work.”
Ichiro Yamamoto nodded with satisfaction, tapping lightly on the notebook with his finger. “You two heard this morning how brilliant Mr. Nohara’s ideas are. Especially what he said about ‘skin-suit mascots’ and ‘silly daily short films’; these are key to Kumamon’s success.”
Xiao Ling, sitting beside him, couldn’t help but interject, “Minister, when Mr. Nohara said this morning that he wanted Kumamon to appear on Purple Super Change Change Change Purple, I couldn’t believe it. That’s the variety show with the highest ratings in the entire country! If he can really get on there, Kumamon will surely become famous overnight.”
“Indeed,” Zuo Na agreed, her eyes full of excitement. “My sister is studying in Tokyo, and she called me yesterday saying that everyone in her dorm waits to watch Purple Super Change Change Change Purple every day. If Kumamon appears on the show, they’ll definitely love it! Imagine telling them, ‘This is our Kumamoto’s image,’ how much face would that give us!”
Ichiro Yamamoto smiled at the two excited young women. “It’s good that you have this enthusiasm. But don’t just be happy; there’s still a lot to do this afternoon—Zuo Na, contact the local mascot manufacturing companies, send them Mr. Nohara’s design drafts, and have them produce samples within three days. Tell them this is a key project for the prefectural office, and if they can’t do a good job, they shouldn’t expect any more business from us.”
“Yes, Minister!” Zuo Na immediately took out her notebook and quickly jotted it down.
“Xiao Ling, coordinate with the Purple Kumamoto Living Guide Purple program on the prefectural station. Tell them we want to insert a Kumamon short film and ask them to reserve space. Also, contact local convenience stores and restaurants, and ask if they’re willing to launch ‘Kumamon Limited Set Menus.’ Tell them the prefectural office will subsidize a portion of their promotional expenses,” Ichiro Yamamoto continued to arrange, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
“Understood!” Xiao Ling also quickly nodded, the sound of her pen scratching on paper particularly clear.
Isshin Fujiwara sat beside them, watching Ichiro Yamamoto methodically arrange the work. He suddenly remembered something and spoke up, “Minister, there’s one more thing—Mr. Nohara said it’s best to report the Kumamon proposal to the Governor as soon as possible. Next year is an election year for Kumamoto Prefecture, and if the Governor can gain some favor through this project, it will be very helpful for the election.”
Ichiro Yamamoto’s pen paused, and he looked up at Isshin Fujiwara, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “You’re right. I almost forgot about that. The Governor has been worried about how to get closer to young people lately, and this Kumamon project can help him break through.”
He put down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and gently stroked his chin with his finger. “Speaking of which, your father, Fujiwara Motomaru, and I are old acquaintances. We worked together at the prefectural office back then, accompanying the Governor all over Kumamoto’s cities and towns, just trying to make Kumamoto better. Unfortunately, we didn’t have many good ideas at the time, and could only rely on old methods of promotion, which were never very effective.”
Isshin Fujiwara listened silently. He knew that his father, Ichiro Yamamoto, and the Governor were all “liberal faction” supporters who advocated for “closeness to Tokyo and developing local characteristics.”
Over the years, they watched young people leave for Tokyo one by one, and the local economy worsen. They were incredibly anxious but had never found a good breakthrough.
Instead, some people believed they were being deprived of development opportunities by Tokyo.
Therefore, the Governor of Kumamoto Prefecture, who had a good relationship with them, had also borne a significant amount of public pressure over the years.
This was also why they were in such a hurry.
“Now it’s good. With Mr. Nohara’s ideas, we finally have a chance.”
Ichiro Yamamoto’s tone was filled with emotion. “Isshin, your father would definitely be very happy if he knew we could get such a good project. What our generation couldn’t accomplish, perhaps with the help of you young people and Mr. Nohara’s talent, we can finally achieve it.”
He suddenly smiled, his eyes full of warmth.
“You know, the Governor and we are essentially in the same boat. If he does well, Kumamoto can do well; if Kumamoto does well, then we who work at the prefectural office won’t have been working in vain. So, this proposal not only needs to be submitted, but it needs to be submitted as soon as possible, and the more detailed, the better.”
Isshin Fujiwara nodded, a sense of relief washing over him.
He had previously worried that Ichiro Yamamoto might have reservations because “the project was suggested by Isshin Fujiwara,” but now it seemed that this old minister’s heart was always with Kumamoto’s future.
“Then when should we go see the Governor?” Isshin Fujiwara asked.
Ichiro Yamamoto glanced at his watch and stood up. “It’s only two o’clock in the afternoon, still time. However, before we see the Governor, we need to tidy ourselves up—I had some sake earlier and I smell of alcohol, which isn’t good when meeting a leader.”
He smiled and pointed to his collar. “I have a spare shirt and tie in my office. You should also wash your face and comb your hair neatly. The Governor is a person who pays attention to details, so we need to show him our sincerity.”
Isshin Fujiwara replied, “Okay,” and stood up to head to the restroom.
Ichiro Yamamoto watched his retreating figure, then picked up the notebook on the desk and flipped to the design draft of Kumamon drawn by Hiroshi Nohara.
The plump little black bear, with its strikingly prominent blush on its cheeks, was holding a citrus fruit foolishly, looking incredibly cute.
“Perhaps this little guy can truly change Kumamoto’s destiny,” Ichiro Yamamoto murmured, gently stroking Kumamon on the drawing paper, his eyes full of anticipation.
Half an hour later, Ichiro Yamamoto and Isshin Fujiwara stood in the corridor on the top floor of the prefectural office building.
The corridor walls were adorned with photos of past Governors of Kumamoto Prefecture. The people in the photos had stern expressions and eyes full of responsibility for this land.
“The Governor is still talking with people from the education department, so we’ll have to wait a bit,” Ichiro Yamamoto said in a low voice to Isshin Fujiwara beside him.
Isshin Fujiwara nodded and his gaze fell on the window at the end of the corridor.
Outside the window, the outline of Mount Aso could be seen. Wisps of white smoke still drifted from the summit, like a white ribbon winding under the azure sky.
“Section Chief Fujiwara, are you well acquainted with Hiroshi Nohara?” a gentle voice came from beside him. It was the Governor’s secretary, a middle-aged man in a dark suit and gold-rimmed glasses.
Isshin Fujiwara turned his head and smiled politely. “Not particularly close, I’ve spoken with him a few times about Kumamoto’s promotional plans. Mr. Nohara is a very capable person, his ideas are very clear, and he has a deep affection for Kumamoto.”
Isshin Fujiwara did not casually reveal that he and Hiroshi Nohara were about to become relatives.
“I’ve heard.”
The secretary nodded, his tone carrying a hint of admiration. “It’s been circulating in the prefectural office all morning that you and Minister Yamamoto invited a renowned director from Tokyo to design a particularly cute cartoon character for Kumamoto. Even the section chief from the education department is asking when they can see a mascot of that character, wanting it as a gift for the school children.”
Isshin Fujiwara’s heart stirred slightly. It seemed the news of Kumamon had already spread throughout the prefectural office.
This was a good sign, indicating that everyone was looking forward to this project.
Just then, the office door opened, and several men in suits walked out, their faces solemn.
The man in the lead saw Ichiro Yamamoto and Isshin Fujiwara, nodded, and walked past quickly without speaking.
“It’s our turn,” Ichiro Yamamoto adjusted his tie and said to Isshin Fujiwara.
The two followed the secretary into the office. As soon as they entered, they saw a man with graying hair, wearing a dark gray suit, sitting behind a large desk.
He wore reading glasses and was looking intently at a document in his hand. He was none other than the Governor of Kumamoto Prefecture—Masao Muto.
“Governor,” Ichiro Yamamoto and Isshin Fujiwara bowed simultaneously.
Masao Muto looked up, put down the document, and pointed to the chair opposite him. “Sit down. The secretary mentioned you have something important to report to me? Is it about Kumamoto’s promotion?”
“Yes, Governor,” Ichiro Yamamoto said after sitting down. He immediately took out the organized transcription notebook and Kumamon’s design drafts from his briefcase and handed them over. “This morning, we met with Hiroshi Nohara, director of Tokyo Television. He has designed a cartoon character for our Kumamoto called ‘Kumamon,’ and has also proposed a complete promotional plan. We believe this plan has great potential and have come specifically to report to you.”
“Hiroshi Nohara?” Masao Muto’s eyes lit up. He took the design draft. “The young director who filmed Purple Seven Samurai Purple and Purple The Tale of Hachiko Purple? I’ve heard of him; he’s a very talented young man.”
He looked down at the design draft, and as soon as he saw it, a look of surprise flashed in his eyes.
The Kumamon on the drawing paper was plump, its black body like a ball, with two strikingly prominent blush marks on its white cheeks. It was holding a citrus fruit, looking foolish, yet it made one want to smile.
“This character… is very cute,” Masao Muto said with some surprise. He looked up at Ichiro Yamamoto. “What did you discuss with him? What are the specific arrangements for this character’s promotional plan?”
Ichiro Yamamoto quickly began to recount everything discussed with Hiroshi Nohara that morning—from the core of the “pet concept” to the “offline penetration three-step method,” then filming short films, appearing on Tokyo TV variety shows, and organizing a “pet alliance.” He even reported in detail on the design of the mascot costume and the ideas for the short films.
Isshin Fujiwara sat beside him and added details at appropriate times, such as the anecdote Hiroshi Nohara proposed about “having Kumamon mistakenly grab the wrong snack at the convenience store,” and the design concept of “using local red cotton for the blush fabric.”
Masao Muto nodded as he listened, his pen lightly jotting notes on the paper.
When he heard, “Hiroshi Nohara is willing to help put Kumamon’s short film on Purple Super Change Change Change Purple,” the pen in his hand paused, and he looked up at Ichiro Yamamoto, his tone disbelieving. “Are you telling me the truth? It can be on Purple Super Change Change Change Purple? That’s the hottest variety show in the entire country, with ratings over forty!”
“It’s true, Governor.”
Ichiro Yamamoto quickly nodded. “Mr. Nohara said he’s spoken to the leaders at Tokyo TV. As long as our short film content is good, it can be broadcast during prime time. He also said that Kumamon can collaborate with Purple World of the Strange Purple to film a special segment, further expanding its influence.”
Masao Muto’s eyes grew brighter. He put down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and tapped his fingers on the desktop. “Great! Wonderful! This plan is better than anything we’ve thought of before!”
His tone was full of excitement.
“Do you know? Last month, I went to a meeting in Tokyo and chatted with governors from other prefectures. They were all talking about how to get closer to young people. Especially Akita Prefecture’s Akita Dog; I was so envious just listening to them. Kumamoto has always lacked a prominent promotional point aimed at young people. Now, with this Kumamon character and Mr. Nohara’s help, we can finally compete with them!”
He picked up the design draft and looked at it again, a smile involuntarily forming on his lips. “Look at this Kumamon, it’s both cute and down-to-earth, with no sense of distance. Young people will definitely like it! If we can use this image to promote our Kumamoto’s specialties like citrus fruits and horse meat, and attract more people to visit Kumamoto, our prefecture’s economy can come alive, and next year’s election… we’ll have a better chance.”
Ichiro Yamamoto and Isshin Fujiwara exchanged glances, seeing joy in each other’s eyes.
With the Governor’s approval, the subsequent work would be much smoother.
“Governor, there’s one more thing,” Ichiro Yamamoto suddenly remembered something and said. “Mr. Nohara proposed that the copyright of Kumamon’s design belongs to him, but he can give Kumamoto free usage rights. The revenue from outside the prefecture, such as the sales of merchandise and broadcast copyright fees from other television stations, will belong to him. We found this condition very reasonable and have already agreed to it.”
Masao Muto was taken aback for a moment, then smiled. “This Mr. Nohara is quite a practical person. If he wanted to make money from this character, he could have sold the design to other prefectures or produced merchandise himself. Now, he’s willing to let us use it for free and help us promote it. Kumamoto must remember this favor.”
He paused, his tone becoming solemn.
“So, you will organize the proposal into a formal document this afternoon and submit it to the planning department of the prefectural office. As for the budget, in addition to the ten million yen previously applied for, I will approve an additional five million yen specifically for producing mascots and filming short films. Also, tell Mr. Nohara that if he needs any cooperation from the prefectural office, he should just ask; the entire Kumamoto Prefecture will support him.”
“Yes, Governor!” Ichiro Yamamoto and Isshin Fujiwara stood up simultaneously and bowed in acknowledgment.
Masao Muto waved his hand, signaling them to sit down, his tone becoming gentler. “Yamamoto, Isshin, you’ve done a great job this time. We work at the prefectural office to do practical things for the people of Kumamoto. If this Kumamon project can be successful, it will not only boost the economy but also give Kumamoto’s young people hope, and perhaps more people will be willing to stay in Kumamoto and build our homeland.”
He looked at the two of them, his eyes full of anticipation. “Therefore, this project is entrusted to you two. Yamamoto, you have rich experience and are responsible for overseeing the overall direction; Isshin, you are young and can communicate more easily with Mr. Nohara, so handle the details with him. Report any problems to me at any time.”
“Please rest assured, Governor! We will definitely do a good job!” Ichiro Yamamoto’s voice was filled with determination.
Isshin Fujiwara also nodded, a surge of warmth rising within him. He recalled his father’s frequent words, “When doing things, you must be worthy of this land.” Now, he finally had the opportunity to do something practical for Kumamoto.
When they left the Governor’s office, it was already four o’clock in the afternoon. The setting sun shone through the corridor windows, casting long shadows on the floor.
“This is great. With the Governor’s full support, our project can proceed smoothly,” Ichiro Yamamoto said with a relaxed smile, his steps even lighter.
Isshin Fujiwara nodded and looked out the window.
The Mount Aso in the setting sun seemed to be draped in a golden robe. Seen from afar, the clouds and mist swirled, looking particularly spectacular.
He could almost see that in the near future, that plump little black bear would bring unexpected changes to Kumamoto Prefecture!
……
The engine of the old Toyota sputtered to a halt on the stone-paved road in front of the Oyama family home. The residual heat shimmered a faint orange glow on the metal shell under the setting sun.
Hiroshi Nohara pushed open the car door and had just stepped out when he heard the familiar sound of wooden clogs from the entrance—Misae, wearing off-white cotton slippers, her skirt swaying gently with her steps, like a skipping fawn.
“Hiroshi! You’re back!” Misae’s voice was filled with undisguised delight, and she reached out to take his briefcase, but Hiroshi gently held her wrist.
“No need, it’s not heavy.” Hiroshi smiled and slung the briefcase over his shoulder. His gaze swept past Misae and saw that the door to the Japanese-style room in the living room was open. Yoshiharu Oyama was sitting at the low table, smoking, the cigarette held between his fingers, ash falling into the blue-and-white ceramic ashtray; Takao Oyama was wiping her hands at the kitchen entrance, flour still on her apron, clearly having just prepared some sweets.
“Good that you’re back, I was just about to call you.” Yoshiharu Oyama extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray and leaned forward slightly, his eyes full of urgency. “How did the talk with Isshin at the prefectural office go? Did Minister Yamada give you any trouble? And about this Kumamon thing, is it settled?”
He fired off a string of questions, so much so that Takao Oyama beside him couldn’t help but pat his hand. “You old man, let Hiroshi catch his breath first! He just got home, and you’re bombarding him with questions. He must be tired from driving back.” Saying this, she brought over a plate of freshly baked dorayaki and placed it on the low table in front of Hiroshi. “Try it, it’s just out of the oven, still hot. Your favorite red bean paste.”
Hiroshi picked up a dorayaki and took a bite. The soft outer skin enveloped the smooth red bean paste, sweet but not greasy, still the taste he remembered.
He smiled and nodded. “Auntie’s cooking is truly excellent, even better than that old shop in Ginza, Tokyo.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Takao Oyama smiled so much that her eyes narrowed. Misae, sitting beside her, also picked up a dorayaki and ate it in small bites, but her eyes were fixed on Hiroshi, clearly waiting for him to answer her father’s questions.
Hiroshi put down the dorayaki, took a sip of the warm matcha, and then slowly began to speak. “He didn’t give me any trouble. Minister Yamada is a very sincere person, and everyone at the prefectural office takes this project seriously. The Kumamon plan is basically settled. The image will be my designed plump version, and the blush will be made of local red cotton, which will highlight the characteristics without being too flashy.”
He paused, took out a few design drafts from his briefcase, and handed them to Yoshiharu Oyama. “These are the detailed design drafts. Please take a look—this posture was intentionally designed to make it look a bit clumsy, like it’s about to fall over when it walks. This way, it has more contrast-cute appeal and is easily memorable.”
Yoshiharu Oyama took the drafts and put on his reading glasses to look closely.
The Kumamon on the drawing paper was indeed more appealing than the one Isshin had drawn earlier. Its black body was like a ball, with two strikingly prominent blush marks on its white cheeks. It was holding an unpeeled citrus fruit, its tiptoes slightly raised, looking comically naive.
“Good! This is good!” Yoshiharu Oyama became more and more satisfied as he looked at it, and he couldn’t help but slap his thigh, his voice rising a few decibels. “It’s much better than those flashy cartoon characters! It looks friendly and approachable at first glance, with no sense of distance! How did your brain come up with this? You even thought of such details!”
When he was younger and a dean of students at school, he had seen his fill of stiff textbook illustrations. This was the first time he felt a cartoon character could be so “alive”—as if it were about to jump off the paper and hug your leg asking for candy.
“You’re telling me!”
Takao Oyama also leaned over to look, her fingers gently brushing over the Kumamon on the drawing paper, her voice full of admiration. “Look at these blush marks, how rosy they are, just like Misae when she was little, so cute and rosy. And this red apron, with the citrus fruit printed on it, you can tell it’s from our Kumamoto at a glance. It’s much better than just writing ‘Kumamoto Specialty’.”
Misae’s cheeks turned slightly red when she heard her mother mention her, but she still couldn’t help but nod. “I also think this image is particularly cute! This morning when I told the people at the Manga Club, they were all clamoring to be the first to buy a mascot!”
She paused, her eyes full of pride, her gaze towards Hiroshi seeming to sparkle with starlight.
“Speaking of which, Hiroshi, you’re amazing now! Before, the mayor of Omagari City in Akita Prefecture consulted you on how to promote Hachiko, and Governor Koike of Tokyo Metropolis even invited you to dinner to discuss cultural promotion. Now, even the minister of the Kumamoto Prefectural Office has specifically asked you for a plan, and you’re only twenty-four years old! You’re more capable than many fifty-year-olds!”
As soon as she said this, Yoshiharu Oyama also sighed with emotion.
He put down the drafts, picked up his teacup, and took a sip, his eyes full of relief. “You’re right! I’ve lived sixty-two years, and in my life, I’ve only interacted with school principals and education section chiefs in the city a few times, and that was for work matters. But you, at such a young age, are on par with the Governor of Tokyo, the mayor, and the prefectural minister, and they have to ask you for advice. This is not something an ordinary person can achieve.”
He remembered that in his youth, his greatest dream was to become an ordinary clerk at the prefectural office, but he never achieved it by the time he retired.
Now, seeing his future son-in-law so accomplished made him happier than if he had achieved something himself.
Hiroshi listened to the family’s praise, but he merely smiled faintly, his tone still calm. “Actually, it’s nothing. I just did what I should do. Kumamoto needs a symbol that young people can remember, and Kumamon can fill that gap. Besides, I’m half a Kumamoto person, so it’s only right that I help with the promotion. It’s not about being capable or not.”
He never liked to take all the credit for himself. Moreover, this project could not have proceeded so smoothly without Minister Yamada’s support and Isshin’s coordination.
Without the cooperation of these people, he alone could not have accomplished anything.
Yoshiharu Oyama looked at his humble demeanor and was even more satisfied.
In this day and age, young people who are capable and not arrogant are rare. Misae is truly fortunate to have found such a partner.
“Alright, let’s not talk about this anymore. You must be tired since you just got back,” Takao Oyama stood up and cleared the dorayaki plates from the table. “You rest for a while. For dinner, I’ll make your favorite tempura and some corn soup to warm you up.”
Hiroshi also stood up, put the design drafts back into his briefcase. “Auntie, don’t trouble yourself. Just make something simple. Oh, right, I still have some manga drafts upstairs to finish. I’ll go up and work on them for a bit. Call me when dinner is ready.”
“Oh, okay!” Takao Oyama quickly nodded. “You go ahead. Don’t work too hard. Rest if you’re tired, don’t push yourself.”
Misae also stood up, wanting to go upstairs with him, but Yoshiharu Oyama stopped her with a look.
She had no choice but to stop and watch Hiroshi’s retreating figure disappear around the corner of the stairs, her cheeks still flushed.
After Hiroshi’s footsteps completely disappeared on the second floor, Yoshiharu Oyama finally looked at Misae, a smile of relief on his lips. “Misae, you’ve really found a good partner.”
He had lived most of his life and met quite a few people, but few were like Hiroshi—capable, steady, respectful of elders, and considerate of Misae.
Especially after hearing that Hiroshi had driven back from Tokyo Television when Misae had a cold last time, bringing a pile of medicine and nutritional supplements, and even personally making her porridge, she was deeply moved.
Hiroshi did not have the machismo that many Japanese men had.
Misae’s cheeks turned even redder when she heard her parents’ words, but she couldn’t help but nod, her voice full of sweetness. “Yes, Hiroshi is very good to me. Last time, when the Manga Club had cash flow problems, he didn’t tell me, but quietly transferred one million yen to me, and told me not to worry, to take my time, and not to feel pressured.”
She recalled the things Hiroshi had done for her—helping her find a venue for the Manga Club, contacting printing companies, and entrusting them with the coloring work for Purple Doraemon Purple and Purple Late-night Diner Purple, allowing the members of the club to earn a stable income.
If it weren’t for Hiroshi, her “Future Manga Company” might have already gone bankrupt.
Takao Oyama, also sitting beside them, added with a smile, “Not only is he good to you, but he’s also thoughtful of us old folks. Last time your father said his back hurt, he sent a massager from Tokyo the next day and specifically called me to explain how to use it. And for my birthday, the pearl necklace he gave me, when I wore it out, my neighbors all asked where I bought it, and they were incredibly envious.”
She paused, her eyes full of anticipation. “Speaking of which, Misae’s wedding date is almost set. Next week, both parents will meet to discuss holding the wedding next spring. Once Misae is engaged, it will be your turn.”
Misae’s face instantly turned red to her earlobes, even the tips of her ears were pink, but she still nodded gently, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s. “Yes, I’ve talked with Hiroshi… He said that after he finishes the Kumamon project, he’ll take me to meet his parents again.”
She remembered the scene when she went to Omagari City in Akita Prefecture with Hiroshi and met his parents, Ginnosuke Nohara and Tsuru Nohara.
Although Ginnosuke seemed lively and humorous, he was very respectful towards her; Tsuru Nohara even held her hand and spoke many comforting words to her.
“They were very good to me.”
Misae’s voice was tinged with a slight tremor, and her eyes were slightly red. “Uncle Ginnosuke even said that when we get married, they’ll renovate the house in Tokyo so we can live more comfortably. Aunt Tsuru also said that if I miss my parents in the future, I can always return to Kumamoto, and she’ll help take care of things at home.”
After all, in Omagari City, Akita Prefecture, the hometown of Hiroshi Nohara, Misae received more than just ordinary welcome; she was welcomed as if she were already part of the family.
This made Misae feel completely at ease.
Thinking back now, she felt incredibly comfortable and happy!
Yoshiharu Oyama and Takao Oyama exchanged a look, seeing gratification in each other’s eyes.
Their biggest worry was that Misae would be mistreated after getting married. Now it seemed the Nohara family valued Misae greatly, which put their minds at ease.
“That’s good, that’s good.”
Yoshiharu Oyama nodded, his tone full of emotion. “It’s your good fortune to have met Hiroshi and to have gained the approval of his family. After you get married, you must live well with Hiroshi, be filial to your in-laws, and don’t be willful like you are at home, understand?”
“I understand.” Misae nodded vigorously, her eyes reddening, yet she couldn’t help but smile.
She could imagine the scenes of her future life with Hiroshi—eating breakfast together in the morning, watching movies together at night, taking walks in the park together on weekends, and perhaps even having a cute child… no, preferably two children, one boy and one girl, and also a cute little dog!
Thinking of this, her heart felt like it held a little sun, warm and comforting.
“Oh my, Misae, you’re all grown up, and you’re still shedding tears here.” Takao Oyama smiled, seeing her daughter’s happy expression.
After all, she also understood that a woman’s marriage was like a second reincarnation.
Even the corners of her eyes moistened.
So Takao Oyama reached out to wipe the tears from her eyes, then stood up and walked towards the kitchen. “Alright, let’s not talk about this anymore. I’m going to prepare dinner. I’ll make you delicious sea bream, wagyu beef, and vegetable tempura, and stew some chicken corn soup, so Hiroshi can also taste my cooking.”
Yoshiharu Oyama also stood up and walked to the window, looking at the sky as it gradually darkened outside.
The cherry blossom trees in the distance had already begun to show small buds; soon, they would bloom into a tree full of cherry blossoms.
He remembered when he was young, he also looked at the cherry blossoms outside the window like this, anticipating his future life.
Now, his daughter had also found her own happiness and was about to begin a new life.
“Time truly spares no one,” Yoshiharu Oyama murmured softly, a smile of satisfaction on his lips.
He knew that Misae’s future would be very happy.
In the studio on the second floor, Hiroshi Nohara sat before the low table, pencil in hand, sketching with a rustling sound on the drawing paper.
Spread on the table were storyboard drafts for Yu Yu Hakusho, with Yusuke Urameshi standing side-by-side with Kuwabara Kazuma, their gazes firmly fixed ahead as if ready to face new challenges.
Hiroshi put down his pencil, stretched, and rubbed his slightly sore shoulders.
He looked up at the window, where he could just see the cherry blossom tree downstairs, its branches dotted with buds, faintly visible in the night.
He recalled Misae’s flushed cheeks from earlier, the gratified smiles of Mr. and Mrs. Oyama, and suddenly felt an extraordinary sense of peace.
After transmigrating into this world for so long, he finally felt a sense of home—with elders who loved him, a woman he loved, and a career he was passionate about.
Hiroshi picked up his pencil again, the tip gliding across the paper, continuing to draw the storyboard for Yu Yu Hakusho.
There were still many things to do—the production of Kumamon plush toys, short film filming, appearing on Tokyo TV for variety show promotions, and updating the manga for Yu Yu Hakusho, Doraemon, and Late-night Diner…
But he didn’t feel tired.
Because he knew these tasks were not just for himself, but also for the people around him.
So that Misae could achieve her dream of becoming a president, so that Mr. and Mrs. Oyama could enjoy their old age in peace, and so that Kumamoto could become better because of Kumamon.
The night outside grew darker, but the lighting in the studio remained bright.
The pencil rustled on the paper, as if telling a story of dreams and persistence.
Hiroshi looked at Yusuke Urameshi on the drawing paper, his gaze becoming resolute.
He knew that as long as he kept persevering, he would definitely achieve his goals and allow those around him to live happy lives.
And this was the meaning of his transmigration into this world.
The aroma of dinner gradually drifted up from downstairs, mixing with the sweet scent of corn soup and the crispy fragrance of tempura.
Hiroshi put down his pencil, stretched, a smile of satisfaction on his lips.
PS: I’m shamelessly asking for recommendation tickets and monthly tickets again! I hope everyone will support me! Thank you all in advance!
