Chapter 223: Huge Success! Kumamon’s Ratings Soar! Governor Muto’s Reflections!
In the statistics department office of the Kumamoto Prefectural Station, morning light had just filtered through the blinds, slicing a few bright lines across the floor, when the air was already buzzing with irrepressible excitement.
Akira Takahashi, in charge of ratings statistics, slapped the report onto the desk, his voice trembling—not from nervousness, but from excitement he couldn’t keep steady.
“Everyone! Look at these numbers!” He pointed at the figures circled in red pen on the report, his fingertip shaking: “Last night’s evening news slot, our station’s ratings shot straight to 18.7%! More than double the same period last week! Morning news was even crazier, 15.3%! That’s the highest record for our prefectural station in nearly five years!”
The office erupted instantly. Staff who had been heads-down sorting data surged over, crowding around Akira Takahashi’s desk, eyes glued to that printed sheet as if they could make flowers bloom from the numbers.
“Real or fake?” Saori Tanaka, responsible for data entry, rubbed her eyes and leaned in closer: “When I sorted last week, morning news was only 6.8%. How did it jump this much in just a few days?”
“Could it be fake?”
Akira Takahashi handed her the report, his tone full of certainty: “I double-checked it three times last night with the technical department folks. Every time slot’s ratings curve is solid. Look here—” He pointed to a peak on the report: “Last night at 7:10 p.m., right when they aired the short clip of Kumamon helping the old woman pick up oranges, ratings jumped from 12% to 18.7%, like it rocketed!”
“It’s Kumamon! Definitely Kumamon’s doing!” Tetsuya Watanabe, sitting in the corner, shot to his feet, still clutching yesterday’s recorded short film tape: “On my way home yesterday, the neighbor kid was glued to the TV watching this little bear, skipping dinner. His mom told me the kid’s been finishing homework and camping by the TV these past couple days, just waiting for Kumamon!”
“You bet!” Saori Tanaka set down the report, her tone full of emotion: “My sister teaches at a kindergarten. She called me yesterday saying the kids were imitating Kumamon’s walk during nap time, some even cut red paper into blush and stuck it on their cheeks, clamoring for the teacher to play Kumamon’s short clip. How does this little bear win people over like that?”
“I’d say it’s Mr. Nohara who’s amazing!”
Akira Takahashi leaned against the desk, his tone full of admiration: “Our station’s done plenty of promo shorts before—Mount Aso scenery or samurai stories. The visuals were nice, but audiences didn’t bite. Look at Mr. Nohara’s Kumamon design: clumsy and cute, doing everyday stuff like picking oranges or haggling. Yet it sticks in people’s minds.”
“Right! I remember the first time I saw the sample film, thinking this bear was too dumb, tripping while walking.”
Tetsuya Watanabe scratched his head, smiling sheepishly: “Then yesterday I watched with my wife, she laughed till tears came, asking where to buy a Kumamon plush toy. Now I think it’s that ‘silliness’ that makes it feel approachable!”
The discussion in the office grew livelier, even the usually steadiest department director Yuichi Suzuki couldn’t resist joining in.
He held an inquiry letter from the prefectural office, his face lit with an uncontainable smile: “The prefectural office just called, asking if we can compile detailed Kumamon ratings data for the governor’s report. Also, TV stations in neighboring prefectures are inquiring, wanting copies of the short film— their viewers are calling asking ‘where to see this black little bear.'”
“Really?” Akira Takahashi’s eyes lit up: “Doesn’t that mean our prefectural station’s about to blow up? We used to beg Tokyo TV and Osaka stations for programs; now other prefectural stations are begging us for shorts!”
“All thanks to Mr. Nohara!” Yuichi Suzuki sighed, his tone full of emotion: “I’ve done stats for years, seen dozens of directors. None made promo shorts that audiences chase to watch like Mr. Nohara. He doesn’t just know how to film; he knows what viewers want. Those shorts—no flashy effects, no big stars, just a costumed bear doing trivial things—yet they feel warm and fun.”
He paused, then added: “Yesterday at the market buying veggies, old Ichiro Yamamoto the fish seller told me folks have been chatting about Kumamon these days, some saying ‘After seeing the bear help pick oranges, feels like Kumamoto people are extra kind.’ See, this isn’t just promoting a cartoon—it’s promoting Kumamoto’s human touch!”
The office fell quiet as everyone pondered Yuichi Suzuki’s words.
Yeah, Kumamon’s fire isn’t just the image—it’s the worldly life behind it: convenience store clerks’ laughter, taiyaki vendor’s kindness, old woman’s warm smile.
These things touch people more than any fancy promo film.
Just then, the office door swung open.
Publicity Minister Ichiro Yamada walked in, followed by Deputy Minister Kenta Nakamura overseeing the TV station, and Isshin Fujiwara hugging a stack of documents.
“Director Suzuki, how’s the ratings data coming?” Ichiro Yamada asked with a smile right as he entered, his tone full of expectation.
Yuichi Suzuki hurried over, handing him the report: “Minister Yamada, take a look! Yesterday’s ratings hit a five-year high—morning news 15.3%, evening news 18.7%, all thanks to Kumamon!”
Ichiro Yamada took the report, eyes quickly scanning the numbers, his smile widening.
He looked up at the staff, tone full of praise: “Everyone, great work! All that overtime crunching data paid off. You’re all Kumamoto’s heroes!”
The staff smiled sheepishly; Akira Takahashi scratched his head: “Minister Yamada, we just did our jobs. The real hero is Mr. Nohara. Without his Kumamon design, we wouldn’t have these results.”
“Well said!”
Ichiro Yamada nodded, turning to Isshin Fujiwara beside him, tone full of emotion: “Fujiwara, remember our first chat with Mr. Nohara about Kumamon? I worried the image was too ‘dumb’ for audiences. Now I see I overthought it. Mr. Nohara’s vision is way sharper than ours.”
Isshin Fujiwara, holding the documents, smiled too: “Minister Yamada, I remember Mr. Nohara saying then, ‘Promo doesn’t need to be high-end; audiences like things that make them smile knowingly.’ Spot on now. Kumamon fires because it’s real, down-to-earth.”
Kenta Nakamura leaned in to check the report, tone full of amazement: “On my way here, I overheard two students chatting about Kumamon, saying they’re staking out the convenience store today for the latest short. Our station’s programs never got that!”
“Not just students!”
Ichiro Yamada smiled: “This morning passing the coffee shop by the prefectural office entrance, I heard office workers talking Kumamon—said yesterday’s clip of the bear dropping taiyaki eased their stress. See, Mr. Nohara didn’t just promote Kumamoto; he helped relieve pressure too. Win-win!”
He paused, shifting: “Right, Fujiwara, how’s progress on those Kumamon merch products we discussed? Prefectural office phones are blowing up—folks asking where to buy Kumamon plush toys, keychains, etc.”
Isshin Fujiwara set down the documents, pulling out a report: “Minister Yamada, rest assured, I’ve been on it. Contacted three local toy factories; they’re rushing production. Plush samples are done—like the ones I gave the Oyama family: round body, claws embroidered with citrus patterns. Great feedback.”
He opened the report, pointing to the production plan: “First batch: 5,000 plush toys, 3,000 keychains, 2,000 Kumamon-patterned T-shirts. Should arrive next week, for sale in prefectural office souvenir shops, convenience stores, and scenic spot stores. Prices set: plush 800 yen each, keychains 200 yen, T-shirts 500 yen—all affordable for folks.”
Ichiro Yamada eyed the report, nodding satisfied: “Good quantity and pricing. But enough plush? Convenience store boss says hundreds pre-ordered already.”
“Rest assured, I’ve squared it with the factories.”
Isshin Fujiwara explained: “If first batch sells well, they’ll ramp up lines immediately. Plus, beyond standard merch, we’re partnering local food factories for Kumamon-themed snacks: Kumamon-patterned biscuits, citrus candies, taiyaki-shaped sweets. Promotes merch and boosts local food businesses.”
“Great idea!”
Ichiro Yamada clapped, tone full of approval: “Promotes Kumamon and supports local firms—win-win. Fujiwara, very thorough!”
Isshin Fujiwara smiled sheepishly: “Actually, Mr. Nohara suggested it. He said Kumamon shouldn’t just be a promo image but a ‘bridge’ driving Kumamoto’s economy. Merch lets more local businesses benefit, truly helping Kumamoto.”
“Mr. Nohara’s so far-sighted!”
Ichiro Yamada sighed: “From designing Kumamon, filming shorts, to pushing merch—every step so comprehensive. If Kumamoto had more talents like Mr. Nohara, no worries about the economy!”
Kenta Nakamura nodded agreement: “Yeah! Outsiders used to think Kumamoto only for Mount Aso and samurai. Now with Kumamon, it’s cute and warm. That shift means more than any econ data.”
Office staff nodded along.
Akira Takahashi smiled: “Yesterday I called my Tokyo friend, told him about our cute little bear. He didn’t believe—said Kumamoto’s just volcanoes and samurai. I had him tune to our station; after Kumamon shorts, he said he’s bringing family next week to see Kumamon and try our taiyaki!”
“Haha! That’s Kumamon’s charm!” Ichiro Yamada laughed: “Attracts tourists, changes impressions of Kumamoto. Fujiwara, stay on top of merch production—no slip-ups. It’s Kumamoto’s ‘calling card’; do it right!”
“Rest assured, I’ll oversee toy and food factories daily for quality.” Isshin Fujiwara said earnestly: “Also planning to announce sales times and spots on prefectural office site and TV, so everyone can buy in time.”
Ichiro Yamada nodded satisfied, picking up the report again, tone full of expectation: “At this rate, Kumamon will soon blaze across all Kansai, even the whole nation. Then Kumamoto’s tourism, dining, manufacturing all benefit. All thanks to Mr. Nohara!”
Just then, Isshin Fujiwara remembered something, brow furrowing slightly.
Looking at the production report, he pondered—though factories and food plants contacted, no clear lead for merch quality control or sales channel management.
Prefectural office can coordinate, but as government, not suited for direct commercial ops.
Handing to outside firms risks profit-chasing cutting quality, tarnishing Kumamon’s reputation.
He thought, eyes suddenly lighting up.
Tonight he’s visiting Oyama family home anyway, to chat with Misae and Mr. and Mrs. Oyama about parents meeting soon for engagement.
Yoshiharu Oyama, dean of students at middle school, has management experience, great for quality oversight; Takao Oyama excels at relations, perfect for sales channels.
Plus, Kumamon design by Hiroshi Nohara—if Hiroshi authorizes Oyama couple to form a dedicated management company for merch quality and sales coordination, with prefectural office support, ensures quality and gives Oyama family nice income.
At that, Isshin Fujiwara’s mouth curved up.
He glanced secretly at Ichiro Yamada, scheming—discuss with Oyamas tonight, report to Minister Yamada after.
Solves oversight issue, surprises Oyama family, a “prospective son-in-law’s” gesture.
Ichiro Yamada, missing Isshin Fujiwara’s thoughts, discussed ratings with Yuichi Suzuki: “Director Suzuki, keep close watch on ratings next days, especially neighboring prefectures. If Fukuoka, Nagasaki rise too, we can apply to broadcast network for national push of Kumamon shorts!”
“Rest assured, we’ve added staff; detailed ratings reports daily for you.”
Yuichi Suzuki said earnestly: “Also planning viewer survey: favorite Kumamon clips, desired new content—to give Mr. Nohara more creation inspiration.”
“Great idea!” Ichiro Yamada nodded: “Make survey detailed, so Mr. Nohara knows audience needs. Oh, Fujiwara, next time you see Mr. Nohara, tell him prefectural office fully backs his creation—funds, resources, whatever he needs.”
“Will do, Minister Yamada.” Isshin Fujiwara nodded, mind on tonight’s Oyama visit.
He pondered how to broach with Yoshiharu Oyama and Takao Oyama—make them accept without seeming abrupt.
Office discussion continued, sunlight through blinds stretching shadows long.
Everyone’s faces beamed smiles, eyes full of expectation.
Kumamon’s story just beginning; this cute little bear will carry Kumamoto’s warmth and hope farther.
Isshin Fujiwara eyed the lively scene, heart full of confidence. With Hiroshi Nohara’s talent, prefectural office support, Oyama family help, Kumamon will shine as Kumamoto’s brightest calling card, letting all Japan know: in Kumamoto, a cute warm little bear awaits.
He glanced at production report, thinking of tonight’s Oyama visit, mouth curving up.
Perhaps tonight a key turning point in Kumamon promo plan.
……
The wooden door of Governor Muto’s office in Kumamoto Prefectural Office ajar, morning light slicing fine bright lines through blinds onto washi paper before Masao Muto.
Air carried faint green tea aroma; Ichiro Yamamoto bowed, hands cupping thick stats report, voice steady but excitement hard to hide.
“Your Excellency the Governor, per last week’s stats, Kumamon shorts hit 92% favorability across all age groups in our prefecture.”
His fingertip traced the report’s line graph, that steep upward curve dancing joyfully on paper: “Especially kids under 12—perfect scores. Surveys from five county kindergartens show kids’ top daily anticipation: Kumamon shorts before evening news. And it spreads to parents and families, hugely boosting your approval ratings.”
Masao Muto lifted his tea bowl, steam blurring eye-corner lines.
He didn’t check report first, gazing out window—prefectural office square, school-uniformed kids circling Kumamon-costumed staff, crisp laughter wafting in on breeze, carrying reassuring worldly life.
A Kumamon costumed promo event.
“How’s Fukuoka reacting?” He sipped tea, voice low but commanding steadiness.
Ichiro Yamamoto flipped report, pointing to data: “Fukuoka Prefectural Station aired shorts last week; morning slot ratings from 7.2% to 11.5%. Yesterday Fukuoka city assemblyman called, wanting Kumamon posters—local merchants flooding city hall phones.”
“Oh?” Masao Muto set down bowl, taking report.
His fingertip paused on “Fukuoka,” eyes unsurprised: “Nagasaki and Saga?”
“Nagasaki Prefectural Station sent letter this morning for permanent broadcast rights; Saga bolder—sent publicity department rep to talk merch collab. Their pottery factory wants Kumamon mug run, says it’ll sell out.”
Ichiro Yamamoto grew excited, tone bubbling: “Your Excellency, all Kansai region’s buzzing about Kumamon—Kumamoto’s truly famous now!”
Masao Muto slowly flipped report, eyes over dense numbers, stopping at a photo: white-haired old woman holding Kumamon’s paw, wrinkled smile; beside stall, fresh taiyaki steaming as if scenting through paper.
His fingertip rubbed photo edge, corners finally hooking faint smile: “These external influences secondary.”
Ichiro Yamamoto’s smile faltered briefly, then got it—Governor Muto practical; over fame, cares if promo delivers real benefits to Kumamoto folks.
“Rest assured, local feedback excellent too.”
Ichiro Yamamoto adjusted tone, pulling another file stack: “County citrus co-op stats: orange sales up 30% vs. same period last month. Customers say ‘Saw Kumamon help old woman pick oranges, wanna taste how sweet Kumamoto oranges are.’ Central shopping street merchants report traffic surge, especially weekends—families bringing kids to ‘find Kumamon.'”
He paused, flipping to handwritten thank-you letter copy: “From Saga farmer Mr. Sato in Chengnan Town. Worried unsold oranges this year; post-Kumamon shorts, orders overwhelming, hired two temps for packing. Wants to send freshest orange basket to prefectural office, thanking you for leading such great promo.”
Masao Muto took letter, yellowed page neat brush script, lines brimming simple gratitude.
He read long, set it gently on desk, tone warmer: “Folks gaining real benefits matters most.”
“Now county residents call you the ‘governor who gets us.'”
Ichiro Yamamoto added timely, voice sincere admiration: “Street interviews on recent prefectural office work: eight of ten mention Kumamon, saying you focus econ dev yet add vitality cutely—’warm, effective’ leader.”
Masao Muto’s fingertip tapped desk edge, silent, eyes softening.
Two decades in politics, seen too many flashy empty projects; over glossy numbers, folks’ “warm” is most reassuring praise.
“Speaking of, this success owes much to that young Hiroshi Nohara.”
Masao Muto spoke suddenly, tone full of emotion: “When he pitched collab at prefectural office, thought just animation director. Didn’t expect film savvy plus grasp of folks’ hearts.”
Ichiro Yamamoto nodded: “Spot on! Mr. Nohara’s talent impressive. Our station did tourism shorts before—Mount Aso views, samurai tales, pretty but forgettable. Mr. Nohara’s Kumamon: no grandeur, no forced emotion—just tripping, haggling—yet memorable.”
Recalling first Kumamon sample, he smiled: “Worried image too ‘dumb,’ low-class for Kumamoto. Mr. Nohara said, ‘Folks like not perfect heroes, but neighborly warmth.’ So right now.”
Masao Muto sipped tea, eyes turning serious: “Remember? Tokyo Metropolis governor election, Governor Ryuichi Koike won young/voter women with his ‘dog lover’ campaign; Tokyo mayor race, Yoshihiro Shimazu that sly fox used his ‘information cocoon’ strategy to nail middle-class voters—this young man’s no mere cartoon guy.”
Ichiro Yamamoto’s heart tightened, grasping Masao Muto’s point.
Next year Kumamoto governor election; Masao Muto won last overwhelmingly, but econ pressures rising, voter needs shifting.
Hiroshi Nohara’s help would hugely boost re-election odds.
“Your Excellency, you mean…” Ichiro Yamamoto probed cautiously.
Masao Muto set down bowl, gaze on square outside—Kumamon clumsily playing eagle catches chicks with kids, tumbling paws-up, kids roaring laughter.
He paused seconds, nodded slowly: “Next year’s election, no complacency. Folks’ ‘deliver results’ expectations rising. Nohara makes cartoon so worldly—understands wants. His promo plan would boost win chances big.”
Ichiro Yamamoto’s eyes lit: “Kumamon promo already best setup! Folks see your lead, view you ‘practical, warm.’ Have Mr. Nohara film livelihood shorts—Kumamon visiting nursing homes, helping farmers with produce backlog—lifts your image, shows prefectural care.”
He paused, adding: “Plus, Mr. Nohara’s big on Tokyo TV—《Super Change Change Change》《World of the Strange》 national hits. Mention Kumamoto livelihood in shows, could draw Tokyo investment—you want tourism/manufacturing push? Prime chance.”
Masao Muto nodded slightly, agreeing.
Finger tapping desk, he thought, then said: “Arrange: next week invite Hiroshi Nohara to prefectural office. Chat face-to-face. Casual—say Kumamon follow-up promo, treat to casual meal.”
“Got it! Contacting now!” Ichiro Yamamoto said, relieved—knew Governor Muto acts fast on decisions; prior Nohara collab smooth, likely yes.
Masao Muto recalled, smiling: “Right, how’s old Motomaru Fujiwara? Last call, griping son won’t date.”
Ichiro Yamamoto paused, then laughed: “Fujiwara? He’s relieved lately! Son Isshin Fujiwara getting on great with Oyama family eldest daughter Misae; parents meeting next week for engagement talk. Bumped him at prefectural office entrance; he bragged no more relative nagging.”
“Oh? Good news.” Masao Muto’s tone lightened: “Motomaru old colleague; as finance section chief, helped me much. Watching his youngest Isshin Fujiwara—steady, detail-oriented in prefectural office, matches Oyama daughter well.”
He paused, smiling: “When arranging Nohara meet, ask if Isshin Fujiwara free too. He worked Kumamon with Nohara, has promo ideas; more heads, better. Plus, Nohara exposure teaches youth—good for Kumamoto future.”
Ichiro Yamamoto nodded: “So thorough! Isshin admires Mr. Nohara; last chat, learned promo approaches. More contact advances work, builds youth talent.”
Masao Muto rose, to window, eyeing lively square—Kumamon surrounded by kids, clumsily ‘signing’ circles on paper with paw, kids delighted.
He paused, then said slowly: “Kumamoto econ rough past years, youth fleeing to Tokyo. We do this not just election—for better Kumamoto, drawing youth back. Nohara vitalizes cartoon; perhaps inspires. Sometimes warmth beats slogans.”
Ichiro Yamamoto rose, gazing at Masao Muto’s back, full of admiration.
He knew Governor Muto stern-looking but hearts Kumamoto folks, Kumamoto future.
Kumamon’s arrival like sunlight, lighting promo path, showing Kumamoto hope.
“Rest assured, I’ll set Nohara meet, coordinate Isshin Fujiwara.” Ichiro Yamamoto said firmly: “We’ll amp Kumamoto promo, smooth re-election, more for folks.”
Masao Muto turned, nodded at Ichiro Yamamoto: “Thanks for the work. We seek no fanfare, just clear conscience. Making Kumamoto folks better—worth any toil.”
Gaze back outside, square sun warmer, Kumamon laughter weaving with kids’ joy like warm song.
Masao Muto’s mouth finally curved genuine smile.
Kumamoto future will brim vitality, hope like this cute bear.
Ichiro Yamamoto eyed Masao Muto’s expression, heart full confidence.
He turned, left office, steps light—to contact Hiroshi Nohara, Isshin Fujiwara for next week prep.
This collab helps Governor Muto re-elect smooth, lets Kumamon story warm more.
Office, Masao Muto sat back, reread handwritten thank-you.
Yellowed page, “Thanks Your Excellency for real deeds for folks” bold.
He sighed softly, tucked letter carefully in drawer—others folks’ thanks inside, each fuel forward.
Lifting tea bowl, eyeing sun outside, thought silently: Make Kumamoto better, keep simple smiles on folks’ faces forever.
Hiroshi Nohara, young director, perhaps key to goal.
Next week’s meet, chat well.
He thought.
Meanwhile, Oyama family home living room, warm yellow lights filled room, air scented fresh dorayaki.
Misae sat at low table, brush in hand, drawing new Kumamon on drawing paper—round body in red kimono, holding big orange, cheek blush brighter.
“Hiroshi, how’s my Kumamon?” Misae held up paper, expectant: “Kimono looks cute; as plush, sure seller!”
Hiroshi just from studio, storyboard drafts in hand, leaned in, nodded smiling: “Very cute! Kimono pattern like Kumamoto traditional—local flavor, festive. Merch hit for sure.”
Misae’s cheeks flushed, softly: “Referenced mom’s woven kimono; red festive, good for New Year launch. Oh, Isshin Fujiwara called—says parents meeting Misae sis in days for engagement, asks if we join.”
Hiroshi paused, laughed: “Of course! Misae sis and Fujiwara getting on great; we back them. What gift aunt prepping?”
“Mom made dorayaki, pickles; weaving scarf for Fujiwara’s parents.” Misae drew details: “Dad wants chat Kumamoto education with Fujiwara’s dad—he was middle school dean, cares education.”
Hiroshi nodded, recalling Yoshiharu Oyama’s education focus, smiled: “Uncle’ll talk endless. How’s Mage’s plush? Last said batch for manga club—done?”
“Almost!” Misae said: “Mage finished last plush blush yesterday; pack today. Embroidered ‘Future Manga Company’ on paws—cute, memorable.”
She paused, excited: “Manga club wants Kumamon comic series—《Kumamon’s Daily》, his Kumamoto antics: helping old woman oranges, haggling taiyaki boss, Mount Aso adventure. Publishable hit!”
Hiroshi’s eyes lit: “Great! Promotes Kumamon, boosts club. I can ping Shueisha for manuscript review; if good, maybe publish.”
Misae looked up surprised: “Really? Awesome! Club thrilled! Worried no audience before; publishing fires them up.”
Hiroshi ruffled Misae’s hair smiling: “Don’t worry, your manga unique—real, warm Kumamoto life. Shueisha should bite. Next week with Fujiwara, I’ll pitch prefectural support—like selling as tourist promo in scenic shops.”
Misae nodded hard, eyes expectant.
Gazing at paper Kumamon, heart felt secure—Hiroshi beside, difficulties dissolve. Kumamon livens Kumamoto, fills her and loved ones with drive, hope.
PS: Keep begging rec votes, monthly tickets—kneeling! Full sub if possible! Headbow!
