Chapter 233: Mission Assigned! Supporting Kanto Television Station! Toshihide Takada And Asumi’s Expectations!
The black Toyota Crown slowly drove into the Tokyo Television Station underground parking lot, as the two o’clock afternoon sunlight passed through the light well, casting diamond-shaped light spots on the smooth cement ground.
Hiroshi Nohara had just pushed open the car door when he saw the parking lot administrator Sato running over with a rag, his face piled with respectful smiles, even stopping the work in his hands: “Minister Nohara! You’re finally back! These past two weeks while you were in Kumamoto, the Production Department colleagues asked me every day ‘When is the Minister coming back’!”
Hiroshi nodded, his fingertips lightly shaking the car keys: “Everyone has been thoughtful. Is Director Sakata in the station today?”
“Yes, yes!”
Sato nodded hurriedly, diligently helping him pull open the car door, his gaze falling on the Kumamon IP development handbook left on the passenger seat, his tone full of admiration: “Your trip to Kumamoto really brought honor to our Tokyo TV! Yesterday I heard on the news that Governor Muto specifically mentioned you at the prefectural office meeting, saying you are the ‘cultural bridge between Kumamoto and Tokyo’, and even many newspapers reported the news of you creating Kumamon in Kumamoto Prefecture to do promotion for them!”
Hiroshi smiled without responding, walking along the parking lot passage toward the elevator entrance.
Along the way, he encountered many staff members holding documents, some old acquaintances from the Production Bureau, and some newcomers from other departments.
But whether they knew him or not, they all immediately stopped in their tracks, bowed, and shouted loudly:
“Good afternoon, Minister Nohara!”
“You’ve worked hard, Minister!”
Voices rose one after another, and even the air carried a bit of cautious respect.
“Mm.” He nodded to each one in response, without stopping his steps.
Having been at Tokyo TV for two years, from third-class director to exceptionally granted his own Independent Production Department, from An Shizhi to Seven Samurai, he had long grown accustomed to this kind of attention.
But compared to these surface-level respects, he cared more about the state of the people in the Production Department.
After all, today was Sunday, when they should be resting, but before he came, he had paged Yō Kitagawa, and the girl said “Everyone is in the department rushing progress, no one wants to go home.”
The elevator door “dinged” open, and inside stood two young directors from the Variety Department, who immediately stepped aside upon seeing Hiroshi, both offering respectful greetings.
“Ah! It’s Minister Nohara!”
“Mm.”
Hiroshi still responded with a smile, then walked into the elevator and pressed “12”—the Nohara Special Production Department occupied the entire floor, specially approved by Nobuhiko Sakata, who said “Talented people need sufficient space.”
During the elevator’s ascent, one of the directors couldn’t help but whisper: “Minister, I took my parents to see Seven Samurai last week, and my dad said this is a real samurai film, more to his taste than Director Eiji Kurosawa’s!”
The other immediately chimed in: “My girlfriend cried for half an hour after watching it, saying Kanbei’s final death in battle was too heartbreaking, and she asked when you’d make another movie!”
Hiroshi looked at their expectant eyes and said mildly: “No movie plans for now, but World of the Strange fourth season will have a few samurai-themed episodes. If you’re interested, you can ask Tsuyoshi Yamamoto for the scripts later.”
“Really? Great!” The two directors’ eyes lit up instantly, and even their bows became deeper.
When the elevator doors opened again, faint discussion voices could already be heard in the 12th-floor corridor.
As soon as Hiroshi stepped out, he saw Yō Kitagawa rushing out of the office with a stack of documents. Her light gray professional suit made her look exceptionally capable. Upon seeing Hiroshi, she nearly dropped the documents in her hands and shouted in surprise: “Minister! Why are you back? Weren’t you supposed to arrive tomorrow? I haven’t had a chance to tell everyone yet…”
“Ended the trip early, thought I’d come take a look.” Hiroshi’s gaze swept over the open office area.
Dozens of desks were all occupied, some discussing storyboard drafts, some typing away at computers, and a few animation team staff gathered around a drawing board, coloring with colored pencils. Even the pantry had people holding coffee and revising scripts. It was as lively as a weekday morning.
“The Minister is back!” Someone shouted first, and the office area instantly quieted. Everyone looked up, their faces showing surprise and joy upon seeing Hiroshi, and they all put down their work to gather around.
“Minister, you’re finally back! An Shizhi season five’s ending script has been revised three times, and I still feel it’s missing something. I was just waiting for you to decide!” Young illustrator Kobayashi from the animation team held up a manuscript and squeezed to the front, his tone full of urgency.
“Minister, Late-night Diner’s final two episodes’ ratings are out, 20.2%! Number one in the sub-golden slot! Editor Tasoro just called, saying Shueisha wants to release peripheral manga while it’s hot!” Sato in charge of promotion held a ratings report, his voice trembling with excitement.
Hiroshi smiled and raised his hand to calm them, signaling everyone to return to their seats first: “I know everyone’s intentions, but let’s finish the work at hand first. Kitagawa, have the four section chiefs come to the meeting room in ten minutes for a meeting, and bring the progress reports from each department.”
“Yes, Minister!” Yō Kitagawa immediately turned around, walking quickly to the various offices in her high heels.
Hiroshi walked to his office door but didn’t go in right away, instead standing in the corridor looking at the office area scene.
Ichiro Hashishita was squatting in front of the animation team’s drawing board, holding a pencil to revise the storyboard, his brows tightly furrowed.
Tsuyoshi Yamamoto sat in the middle of the TV drama team, holding a script and discussing with several screenwriters, occasionally circling points with a red pen.
Kei Tanaka was in the corner of the variety team, repeatedly playing segments of Super Change Change Change on an old VCR, muttering to himself.
Kenji Ito was the most relaxed, leaning back in his chair drinking coffee, holding photos from Late-night Diner, seemingly pondering something.
This was his team, a group of people who were endearingly obsessive in their respective fields.
……
Ten minutes later, the projector in the meeting room had lit up.
Yō Kitagawa distributed the progress reports from each department to the four, then sat in a corner chair and took out her notebook to prepare notes.
Ichiro Hashishita spoke first, spreading the animation storyboard draft on the table, his tone carrying some pride: “Minister, An Shizhi season five is down to the last two episodes. We just finished dubbing yesterday and are now doing post-production. Season five’s average ratings are 11.8%, up quite a bit from season four’s 10.5%, and viewer letters have increased by 30%. Many say they want more ‘urban legends’ type stories. We plan to start season six in July, targeting 13% ratings, and we’ve already stockpiled five scripts, all high-quality stories selected from before.”
Hiroshi picked up the storyboard draft and flipped through it, his finger pausing on one page.
It was a story about a “vending machine” that spat out cans labeled with “wishes” at midnight, but took something from the person after fulfilling the wish.
He looked up at Ichiro Hashishita: “This story’s setup is good, but the ending is a bit too straightforward. Have the screenwriters revise it, blur the ‘taking something’ process—for example, end with just an empty can left, printed with ‘Order Received’—that adds more suspense and fits An Shizhi’s style. Also, season six can include some ‘viewer submissions’ stories, leave a submission address at the end for interactivity and to source quality material, reducing script costs.”
Ichiro Hashishita’s eyes lit up, immediately taking out a pen to note it in his notebook: “You’re right! I didn’t think of that! I’ll have the screenwriters revise the ending right away and coordinate with the promotion team for submissions, aiming to release the call for entries next week.”
Next was Tsuyoshi Yamamoto, who pushed up his glasses and said steadily: “World of the Strange fourth season is now at episode eight, average ratings 16%, highest was the ‘time loop’ episode at 17.3%. But we’ve received some viewer feedback saying some episodes are too ‘dark’, hoping for more heartwarming themes. We plan to add two heartwarming stories in the remaining four episodes: one about an ‘old postman’ helping an elderly person deliver a letter before retirement; the other ‘second-hand bookstore’, where the owner helps a customer resolve a misunderstanding through old books. Scripts are done, coordinating actor schedules.”
Hiroshi nodded, his fingers lightly tapping the report: “Heartwarming themes can be added, but don’t lose World of the Strange’s ‘strangeness’. For the ‘old postman’ story, add a twist at the end—the elderly person had already passed away, and the postman is delivering a letter he wrote to his future self when young. That has warmth and suspense. For actor coordination, prioritize those with ‘lived-in’ feel, like Ken Sato who played the ‘tonkatsu uncle’ in Late-night Diner—his acting is grounded, suits these roles.”
Tsuyoshi Yamamoto immediately agreed: “Got it! I’ll tell the casting team to prioritize Ken Sato, add the twist to the script, and aim to start filming next week.”
Then Kenji Ito pushed the Late-night Diner ratings report toward Hiroshi, a relaxed smile on his face: “Minister, Late-night Diner season one is complete, final episode ratings 20.2%, number one in sub-golden slot, 3 points higher than the same period’s Yesterday’s Cherry Blossoms. Director Keiko Matsumoto called me yesterday, said she cried several times watching the final ‘cat food’ episode, and asked when we’re doing season two. Also, Shueisha wants to compile the drama scripts into manga, plus some unaired short stories, for release next month, asking if we agree.”
Hiroshi picked up the report, a smile tugging at his lips: “Season two can start prep, but no rush to film—let the audience heat settle, spring next year is perfect. Agree to Shueisha’s manga, but add ‘supervised by Hiroshi Nohara’, and have them include ‘diner menu’ details in the manga, like cat food recipe, ochazuke ingredients—for practicality and to boost peripheral sales. By the way, any feedback from Boss Xiang Shuishang? He mentioned adding drama dishes to his shop.”
“Yes!”
Kenji Ito nodded immediately: “Boss Shuishang said since the drama aired, cat food and ochazuke sales doubled. He wants to renovate next month to recreate drama scenes and invite us for the ribbon-cutting!”
“I’ll be there then.” Hiroshi nodded, then looked at Kei Tanaka.
Kei Tanaka held the Super Change Change Change broadcast records, tone carrying some pride: “Minister, Super Change Change Change season two airs Saturdays at 4 PM, average ratings 20%, highest episode 22.5%, currently the station’s top-rated variety show. But recent contestant feedback says rules are too strict, many creative but imperfect works eliminated. We plan a ‘revival round’ in the second half, letting eliminated contestants return, invite entertainers as judges for more appeal. Also, partner with elementary schools for a ‘campus special’, with kids competing—to expand audience and boost station image.”
Hiroshi listened, fingers tapping the table: “Revival round is good, but judges should be ‘creativity-savvy’ entertainers, like the actor from World of the Strange—flexible thinking, not rule-bound. Campus special is great, but prioritize safety; confirm venue and staffing with schools. For kids’ prizes, swap cash for Doraemon and Kumamon peripherals—more meaningful, boosts manga sales.”
Kei Tanaka noted it immediately: “Got it! I’ll contact them tomorrow, coordinate campus special carefully with schools, prizes as Doraemon figures and manga—kids will love it!”
After the four reported, the meeting room quieted for a moment.
Yō Kitagawa then stood up, holding a box office report, excited: “Minister, two things to report. First, Seven Samurai’s final box office is 8.9 billion yen—didn’t hit 10 billion, but third highest Neon film this year! Second, The Tale of Hachiko’s final 11.2 billion yen, broke last year’s record, this year’s box office champion! The station’s all saying you’re Neon’s first director to hit 20 billion with just two films, media calls you ‘youngest 10-billion box office club member’. Director Sakata just called me, wants a celebration banquet for you!”
“No need for a banquet.” Hiroshi waved it off calmly: “Save the money, give Production Department colleagues a one-month bonus each, then organize a hot spring trip to relax.”
“Great!” The four shouted in unison, faces excited—the department was always swamped, long overdue for relaxation.
Hiroshi looked at them, a smile on his lips: “Alright, work talk ends here, everyone worked hard. Now relax, chat about other things.”
The meeting room atmosphere instantly lightened.
Ichiro Hashishita spoke first, curious: “Minister, how was Kumamoto? Heard Governor Muto met you specially and appointed you ‘Kumamoto culture consultant’—true?”
Hiroshi nodded, sipping from the teacup on the table: “Mm, we met, discussed Kumamon IP development and Future Manga Company role design—mostly settled. Consultant appointment letter comes next week; future Kumamoto promo plans will coordinate with me first.”
“Wow! Culture consultant!” Kei Tanaka exclaimed dramatically, “So you’ll go to Kumamoto often? Will Misae’s manga club collaborate with Kumamoto Prefectural Office?”
Mentioning Misae, Hiroshi’s tone softened unconsciously: “Mm, Future Manga Company will handle Kumamon peripherals, Misae told the members, designs to prefectural office next month. In Kumamoto, met Misae’s family—her parents approve of me. Next… should be engagement and marriage.”
“Marriage?!” The four shouted in unison, eyes lighting up.
Ichiro Hashishita excitedly slapped the table: “Great! Minister, you’re finally marrying! I always said you and Misae are perfect, you didn’t believe! When’s the engagement? Invite us for drinks!”
Tsuyoshi Yamamoto nodded smiling: “Yes Minister, you’re only 24, achievements surpass us all combined, but time for family. Neon’s low birthrate crisis, nation pushes early marriage—you’re responding to the call.”
Kenji Ito teased: “Minister, for your wedding, have Late-night Diner’s Boss Shuishang make dishes like ‘celebration rice’ ‘sukiyaki’, film a special—sure to be a hit!”
Kei Tanaka chimed in: “Yes! Super Change Change Change ‘wedding special’, contestants cos you and Misae—would be fun!”
Hiroshi felt a bit helpless but didn’t refute, just smiled: “Engagement in May, will invite everyone. No specials—too flashy.”
“Can’t be low-key!”
Ichiro Hashishita retorted: “Minister, you’re Tokyo TV’s pride, wedding this big must be lively! You’re a public figure now, some flash boosts station fame!”
Tsuyoshi Yamamoto added: “Section Chief Hashishita’s right. Look at Director Keiko Matsumoto—station did huge live wedding last year, high ratings. Yours could be live too—boosts your fame and station ratings, win-win!”
Hiroshi thought, found reason in it, nodded: “Discuss then, but keep it simple, not extravagant.”
“Rest assured Minister!” The four agreed immediately, faces excited.
Kenji Ito suddenly sighed: “Minister, you’re just over 20, already third-class director with your own department, made Seven Samurai and The Tale of Hachiko—manga exploded across Neon, amazing. At your age, I was still running errands for seniors, didn’t dare dream of independent short film.”
Ichiro Hashishita sighed too: “Yeah, at 23 I was painting backgrounds at animation company, overtime to midnight, low pay. Compared to you Minister, worlds apart. Sometimes feels your talent is godlike—movies, variety, manga, all top-tier. We just follow behind.”
Tsuyoshi Yamamoto said seriously: “I think Minister you have talent and foresight. Insisted on ‘urban legends’, many doubted as too dark—no audience—yet An Shizhi exploded; Seven Samurai, many said samurai films outdated—box office and reputation smashed it. Every decision right; lucky to work with you.”
Kei Tanaka nodded: “Yes Minister, you teach not just work but how to be human. I clashed with variety team, you said ‘person first before work, be sincere’—I remember. Now they cooperate willingly—your credit.”
Hiroshi looked at their sincere eyes, warmth rising in his heart. He knew his achievements weren’t just from time travel foreknowledge, but this group trusting and following him.
He tapped the table lightly, tone serious: “I’m not as great as you say, just luckier, seized opportunities. At Tokyo TV, Director Sakata and Deputy Director Asumi support me fully for programs; Senior Eiji Kurosawa taught film knowledge—without them, no works. You, do your work solidly, you’ll achieve too.”
Hiroshi’s voice was low but convincing: “Like Hashishita now independently handling An Shizhi, Yamamoto controlling World of the Strange tone, Ito making Late-night Diner so popular, Tanaka keeping Super Change Change Change ratings top—these are why we collaborate..”
“Minister, too modest!”
Kei Tanaka waved: “Without you giving me Super Change Change Change, I’d still be grunting in variety. You gave opportunity and taught how to excel—that’s rarest.”
Ichiro Hashishita nodded, still gripping his note pen: “Yes Minister, An Shizhi funding issue—you got extra budget from Director Sakata; Yamamoto’s screenwriter clash—you mediated. Young but better at people and work than us veterans—we’re convinced.”
Hiroshi looked at their sincerity, heart warm—this was his team, united in spirit.
How could he not be happy?
Hiroshi looked at their genuine approval, fingertips lightly tracing the conference table’s wood grain edge—this table was dug from warehouse when Independent Production Department started, specially by Nobuhiko Sakata; said used by Showa-era famous director, desktop still has faint coffee stains.
He suddenly felt that compared to box office numbers and trophies, this group’s trust was the most solid gain after time travel to this world.
“Hearing this makes me happier than station bonuses.”
Hiroshi’s tone softened more, gaze sweeping the four: “But no more on that, much work ahead—Hashishita, start An Shizhi season six submissions ASAP, small ad in Asahi Shimbun culture section; budget short, tell finance, charge to department promo fee;”
“Yamamoto, track ‘old postman’ script twist, want revised version next week;”
“Ito, check Boss Shuishang’s diner renovation, help recreate drama scenes meticulously—like old photos on walls, counter displays;”
“Tanaka, contact Super Change Change Change revival judges tomorrow, finalize list next week.”
“Rest assured Minister!” The four responded in unison, Hashishita already noting in notebook, pen scratching clearly in quiet room.
Just then, Hiroshi’s office internal desk phone rang shrilly, interrupting the meeting.
Hiroshi rose to desk, picked up handset; before speaking, Asumi’s slightly helpless voice came, teasing like to old acquaintance: “Hiroshi Nohara, you guy, back to department and straight to meeting with subordinates? Forgot this deputy director in the clouds?”
Hiroshi smiled at familiar tone, fingers unconsciously tapping phone base: “Deputy Director Asumi, what you say—I just back at station under an hour, no breath before Yō Kitagawa dragged me to progress meeting. Planning to report Kumamoto after.”
“Oh? Just back?”
Asumi paused, then laughed, metallic through handset: “Thought you’d worn out Production Bureau floors already, busier than me. Enough, leave your little meeting room now—come to Director Takada’s office immediately. Not your usual deputy office, the main director office Station Manager Sakata used.”
“Director Takada?” Hiroshi paused slightly, fingers stopping, but understood.
Toshihide Takada had been promoted to Director of Production Bureau.
“Mm, Director Takada.” Asumi confirmed, tone more formal: “He and I need you for important talk. No dawdling, we’re in office waiting—elevator secretary knows, will escort you.”
Hanging up, Hiroshi turned to four, pointed at reports: “Advance rest as discussed, note unsolvable issues for my return.”
“Yes Minister!” Hashishita nodded, pen quickly noting unfinished points.
Hiroshi draped jacket over arm, strode out meeting room.
Corridor staff saw him, bowed respectfully; he nodded briefly, steps unbroken.
Takada and Asumi summoning together to ex-Sakata office—clearly major, likely Kanto Television Station integration; last week pager, Nobuhiko Sakata mentioned “accelerate Kanto Stage integration.”
Elevator stopped at 12th, doors opened to woman in light gray suit skirt at entrance.
Takada’s new secretary after promotion, Miyazawa, his former subordinate as executive deputy director—exceptionally capable.
Seeing Hiroshi, Miyazawa smiled professionally, slight bow: “Minister Nohara, you’re here. Director Takada and Managing Director Asumi have waited ten minutes. This way please.”
Hiroshi nodded, followed Miyazawa to corridor end.
When Nobuhiko Sakata was Production Bureau Director, he’d visited this office several times for key projects—Seven Samurai approval, World of the Strange expansion, Independent Production Department approval—each pivotal to his station rise.
Now with Toshihide Takada as owner, he felt a touch of melancholy at changes.
Before Miyazawa could knock, Takada’s enthusiastic call came from inside, louder than usual meetings: “Hiroshi here? Don’t stand outside—come in!”
Miyazawa’s smile more deferential, stepped aside, whispered: “Minister, see how leaders value you—they just said ‘If Hiroshi doesn’t come, we’ll fetch him from 12th’. You’re station star now—even Station Manager Sakata praises you in high meetings as Tokyo TV’s future pillar.”
Hiroshi smiled without responding, pushed door into office.
Office roomier than remembered; Sakata’s corner samurai sword decor gone, replaced by huge glass fish tank with red koi swimming leisurely.
Wall no longer Kurosawa posters, but Takada’s group photo from last year’s “Tokyo Film and Television Industry Contribution Award”—him center, beaming.
Takada and Asumi sat on window-side leather sofa, tea table with two fresh matcha cups, steam rising.
Seeing Hiroshi, Takada stood promptly, hearty laugh, strode forward patting shoulder—unthinkable before; as executive deputy, at most nodded, never this close.
“Hiroshi, finally here!” Takada enthusiastic, pointed sofa: “Sit sit, Miyazawa’s fresh matcha—Uji premium, try it, better than your office coffee.”
Asumi stayed seated, sipped tea, amused eyes on Hiroshi: “Scared by Director Takada’s setup?”
Hiroshi bowed properly to both: “Director Takada, Managing Director Asumi, sorry to interrupt your busy schedules.”
Then sat on single sofa, picked up matcha cup, blew steam—he knew Takada’s shift due not just performance, but Sakata’s attitude.
Now Sakata as station manager and Tokyo Broadcasting System Holdings president, Takada to solidify Production Bureau needed to court him, Sakata faction core.
Takada noted his poise, inwardly approved.
No wonder Nobuhiko Sakata valued this young man—talent plus propriety, far better than cocky juniors.
He sat opposite, leaned forward, serious: “Hiroshi, here for two major matters on station future—key developments, can’t without you.”
Hiroshi set down cup, fingers on rim, focused on Takada: “Please instruct, Director. For Production Bureau arrangements, I’ll fully cooperate.”
“No need so formal, just discuss.” Takada waved, nodded to Asumi first.
Asumi set cup down, pulled thick folder from briefcase, pushed to Hiroshi: “Look first—this Kanto Television Station’s recent half-year operations report, and station high-level ‘Kanto Stage integration plan’. Since Tokyo TV acquired Kanto four years ago, merger surface-complete, but production teams, program resources, audiences not fully integrated—even ‘Tokyo Faction’ vs ‘Kanto Faction’ cliques; last month two old Kanto directors escalated resource dispute to Station Manager Sakata—ugly for all.”
Hiroshi wordless, opened folder to first page.
Kanto Television Station basics: 1200 employees, 4.5 billion yen revenue last year, main programs local news and local dramas; top-rated Kanto Local Stories only 8.5%, far below Tokyo TV average. Flipped pages to “problem analysis”—frowned: outdated production concepts, severe young director loss, “seniority rules”—many creative proposals vetoed by old leaders.
“Past half-year, I’ve been at Kanto daily meetings with teams to push reforms—minimal results.”
Asumi fatigued, rubbed temples: “Kanto old staff mostly local Kanto natives, resent Tokyo TV as ‘outsiders’; young want reform but no say—last month young variety director quit me, said ‘no hope at Kanto’. Continues, not just no integration—Kanto brand smashes in our hands.”
Takada took over, sterner: “Station Manager Sakata raged at high meeting last week—if no Kanto fix in three months, he and I write resignations. You know Tokyo City Television growing fast under Mikami Tanaka’s support, poached our two variety directors last month; Kanto snag more, Tokyo TV status at risk.”
Hiroshi closed folder on tea table, fingers tapping cover.
He grasped their intent.
Kanto issues surface resource integration/team friction, essence “content aging”/”talent drain”—his strength: innovative content energizing teams, from An Shizhi to Super Change Change Change, new formats breaking stalemates.
“Leaders mean have me join Kanto integration?” Hiroshi looked up calmly.
Takada nodded eagerly, smiling: “Right! Asumi and I discussed long—only you solve Kanto. Remember An Shizhi—no one believed, you made urban legends benchmark; Super Change Change Change low-budget variety became ratings ace in your hands. Kanto needs your ‘turn stone to gold’!”
Asumi added: “Plan: you concurrent Kanto Television Station ‘content director’, no daily management—focus program innovation/talent training. Pull staff from your Independent Production Department, select promising young Kanto directors, give chances for new shows. Station max support—budget/resources, just ask.”
Hiroshi silent moment, fingers still tapping folder.
Concurrent Kanto content director doubles workload—manage Tokyo Production Department plus Kanto programs—but opportunity.
Success solidifies his station status, even influence high decisions.
Crucially, Kanto rich local resources—Kanto folk culture/tourism—for new shows like Late-night Diner-style local gourmet, or An Shizhi-like local legends—boost ratings, new content growth.
“One condition.”
Hiroshi looked up firmly: “If concurrent Kanto content director, I want ‘program approval final review rights’—Kanto internal proposals or my new ones, I final say, no leader interference. Also, select ten young Kanto directors to my Independent Production Department for three-month training on Tokyo TV processes, then return to energize Kanto teams.”
Takada stunned—didn’t expect “final review”; glanced Asumi hesitantly—only bureau directors had that; giving Hiroshi hands Kanto content lifeline.
Asumi nodded crisply: “No problem! Takada and I agreed—if you lift Kanto ratings, not just final review—even form ‘Kanto Content Center’, we support. Young directors to Tokyo training promotes exchange, cultivates talent—win-win.”
Takada, seeing Asumi agree, nodded: “Right! As Managing Director Asumi says, any condition for Kanto fix. Rest assured, no interference; budgeted—I told finance, Kanto content budget adds 500 million yen this year, yours for new shows.”
Hiroshi inwardly relieved.
He wanted “final review”—prevents old Kanto leaders seniority-blocking new shows.
He sipped matcha, warm tea soothing with faint fragrance: “Since leaders trust me so, I’ll do utmost. Plan one-week Kanto survey first—understand teams/programs—then specific reform plan. Want Hashishita and Ito join—Hashishita excels animation/genre, Ito lifestyle shows; better connect Kanto teams.”
“Good!” Takada agreed: “Take whoever. Miyazawa, tomorrow arrange for Hiroshi, notify Kanto office—prepare reception, no slights to Minister Nohara.”
Miyazawa beside nodded, noted quickly: “Yes Director, contact Kanto office director first thing tomorrow, ensure proper.”
Asumi looked at Hiroshi, gratified: “Hiroshi, Station Manager Sakata long told me—he trusts you most with Kanto. Says you talented, know ‘adapt to local’—unlike directors copying Tokyo shows to local, failing. Your Kumamoto Kumamon IP best example—local culture innovation, grounded yet unique—perfect for Kanto.”
Hiroshi recalled Kumamoto chat with Governor Muto, smiled: “Managing Director Asumi overpraises. Tokyo or Kanto, audiences love ‘warm’ content. Kanto excels local culture—traditional kabuki, local gourmet, folk legends—great material. New packaging attracts: Kanto Late-night Diner, each episode one Kanto specialty food plus local resident story—promotes food, conveys Kanto human touch.”
“Great idea!”
Takada eyes bright, slapped thigh: “Last Kanto visit, their oden better than Tokyo! As show, sure hit! Hiroshi, go with this—any support, tell me and Managing Director Asumi.”
Hiroshi nodded, discussed details—
Survey timing, young Kanto director criteria, new program budgets—over an hour passed unnoticed.
Outside sky darkened, office lights on, gleaming softly on tea table folder.
“Late, you busy day—go rest.” Asumi eyed wall clock, to Hiroshi: “No rush survey, start next Monday; coordinate Hashishita/Ito first, prep them.”
Hiroshi stood, bowed again: “Thanks leaders’ trust, won’t disappoint. Kanto integration plan ASAP, results in three months.”
“Good! We believe you!”
Takada walked Hiroshi to door, patted shoulder: “Any difficulties, don’t shoulder alone—come anytime. We’re ‘family’ now, make Tokyo TV and Kanto Stage best in Tokyo region—show doubters!”
Hiroshi nodded, exited office.
Miyazawa at elevator, bowed on sight: “Minister Nohara, elevator called—safe trip.”
Hiroshi nodded, entered elevator.
Doors closed slowly, reflecting him—dark suit, tie impeccable, eyes calm firm.
Because he knew.
Next, a tough battle.
But Hiroshi Nohara unconcerned—with countless past-life Neon ideas in mind, tweak other stations’ good concepts slightly.
Couldn’t revive Kanto Television Station!?
Hiroshi Nohara had confidence here!
PS: Happy Mid-Autumn to all~ Eat more mooncakes~ Tickets please~
