Chapter 234: Kanto Television Station’s Dilemma! Introduction From Senior Kiyoto Suzuki! Hiroshi Nohara’s Ambition!
After Hiroshi Nohara’s figure disappeared at the elevator doorway, the lively atmosphere in the office instantly faded.
Managing Director Asumi sat back down on the sofa, his gaze falling on the koi swimming leisurely in the fish tank, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the cold cup wall, the brows that had been smiling just moments ago now tightly furrowed.
Toshihide Takada saw his expression and also put away his earlier enthusiasm, picking up the tea cup for a sip, the warm matcha unable to dispel the solemnity in his eyes: “What’s wrong? Still worried about Kanto Stage?”
Managing Director Asumi let out a light sigh, his voice carrying undisguisable fatigue, the weariness accumulated from being immersed in Kanto Stage every day for the past six months: “Director Takada, you haven’t been to the current Kanto Stage Production Department—last month when I went, half the workstations in the third-floor director’s office were empty, the remaining ones either old employees with gray hair or inexperienced fresh graduates. Do you know? When we acquired Kanto Stage last year, their most impressive ‘ace production team’ now only has leader Suzuki left, the other five core directors, three transferred to Tokyo TV’s Variety Department, two poached by Tokyo City Television, and along with them, the 《Kanto Gourmet Chronicles》 they were preparing fell through.
He paused, his fingers lightly tapping on the tea table, as if counting Kanto Stage’s messes.
His tone grew even more fatigued: “Now Kanto Stage’s production teams have an average age nearing fifty. Last week in the topic selection meeting with them, an old director was still proposing ‘shoot a sequel to a local drama,’ saying 《Kanto Family Saga》 was popular ten years ago, shooting it again now would definitely get viewers—but he forgot, last year’s sequel had ratings of only 3.2%, less than half of Tokyo TV’s late-night slot. The young directors do have ideas, a girl named Honda wants to make a documentary ‘Exploring Kanto Old Streets,’ filming those workshops about to disappear, but it was rejected by the old Production Department director, saying ‘no one wants to watch those poor old things,’ and ‘better to rebroadcast a few episodes of Tokyo TV’s 《Super Change Change Change》, it’s easier and guarantees ratings.’
Toshihide Takada’s brows also knitted together, he set down the tea cup, his fingertips lightly tapping the tea table, making a dull sound: “I know Kanto Stage is struggling now, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad—Director Sakata only told me last time that ‘Kanto Stage’s original program ratio is too low,’ didn’t say the personnel loss was this severe.”
“He’s afraid you’d worry.”
Managing Director Asumi gave a wry smile, took out another thin report from his briefcase, and pushed it in front of Takada: “This is Kanto Stage’s program schedule from last month, take a look—besides the prime time slot from seven to nine at night, also broadcasting two episodes of self-produced local news and old local dramas, the remaining twelve hours are all rebroadcasts of our Tokyo TV programs, from morning dramas to late-night animation reruns, even the ads are leftovers from Tokyo TV. Once when I was drinking with Kanto Stage’s station manager, he complained to me that now audiences in the Kanto region have almost forgotten Kanto Stage is a local station, young people prefer to watch Tokyo City Television’s talent shows rather than Kanto Stage’s rebroadcast of 《World of the Strange》.”
He recalled an incident he encountered at Kanto Stage last month, his tone sinking further: “A young editor who had just joined half a year ago told me he came to Kanto Stage to make his own programs, but every day he’s editing Tokyo TV’s rebroadcast materials, last month he submitted a resignation report, saying ‘can’t see the future here.’ When I tried to keep him, he asked me ‘Managing Director, do you think our Kanto Stage will eventually be swallowed by Tokyo TV until even the name is gone?’—how could I answer? I couldn’t tell him that we’re now struggling just to keep Kanto Stage’s production qualifications.”
Toshihide Takada picked up the program schedule, his fingertip sliding over the dense “rebroadcast” entries, his face growing increasingly grim.
He had been in the television industry for thirty years, seen many stations rise and fall, but never seen a once-strong local station reduced to surviving by rebroadcasting others’ programs.
Although before, Toshihide Takada had been happy to see Kanto Television Station’s decline.
But now that he had become Kanto Stage’s Production Bureau Director, with a broader perspective, and knowing to mobilize all available forces to share Tokyo TV’s burdens.
Seeing Kanto Television Station’s miserable state now, he did feel some helplessness inside.
These messes were all under his management.
So Toshihide Takada also sighed, looking at Managing Director Asumi helplessly and asked: “Don’t those old employees have any sense of crisis? Are they content to watch Kanto Stage turn into Tokyo TV’s ‘rebroadcast station’?”
“How could they be content?”
Managing Director Asumi shook his head, his tone carrying complex emotions: “Last time I argued with the Production Department’s old director, he told me ‘Kanto Stage originally rose on local dramas, now young people don’t like them, it’s not our fault, it’s the era changing.’ Listen to that, what kind of talk is that? The era changed, they didn’t, and they blame the era? Some old employees think our Tokyo TV is ‘outsiders,’ guarding against us everywhere, last time I wanted to send young directors from Tokyo TV to train newcomers, they said ‘Kanto Stage’s rules, outsiders don’t understand,’ and firmly blocked them.”
He rubbed his throbbing temples, continuing:
“Now Kanto Stage’s ratings are entirely supported by the older generation audience—evening seven o’clock local news can reach 5.8%, but after nine, it drops straight to 1.1%, not even as good as late-night animation. Last month’s financial report, Kanto Stage’s advertising revenue dropped 40% compared to last year, many local businesses have gone to cooperate with Tokyo City Television, saying ‘City Stage’s programs are watched by young people, our ads need to target young people.’ If this continues, no need for Director Sakata to get angry, Kanto Stage won’t hold up on its own.”
Toshihide Takada was silent for a moment.
His finger heavily tapped the program schedule, his tone becoming firm: “That’s why we must send Hiroshi there—Kanto Stage can’t just collapse like this, it’s not only our Tokyo TV’s ‘left arm,’ but also our ‘shield’ against Tokyo City Television. You know? Last week Kazuo Takahashi called me, saying their City Stage is launching a 《Exploring Tokyo Surroundings》 program next month, specifically filming Kanto region attractions, and they’ve invited Shunsuke Kamiki as host, clearly aiming to steal Kanto Stage’s local audience.”
Managing Director Asumi’s eyes instantly cooled, Shunsuke Kamiki’s name making him think of Kirin Group, and that Tokugawa Sato who was very close to Mikami Tanaka: “They’re using the name of ‘exploration’ to pull Kanto region’s audience over—after all, now Mikami Tanaka’s support rate in Kanto is not low, many businesses want to ride his momentum and cozy up to City Stage.”
“Not just that.” Toshihide Takada’s voice lowered further, as if sharing a secret: “Director Sakata told me last week that Mikami Tanaka recently approved a ten billion yen ‘development fund’ for Tokyo City Television, saying to ‘create local characteristic programs,’ actually just wanting City Stage to steal our market. Think about it, if we lose Kanto Stage now, it’s like losing thirty million viewers in the Kanto region, then if City Stage steals Tokyo’s audience from us, we’ll be attacked from both sides.”
He picked up the tea cup for a sip, continuing his analysis: “Moreover, the station’s top brass isn’t peaceful now—several deputy station managers are close to Mikami Tanaka, last meeting they even said ‘Kanto Stage is a burden, better to abandon it early,’ clearly wanting to use Kanto Stage’s issues to pressure us. Although President Shimazu fully supports us, he’s busy campaigning for mayor now, limited energy, can’t provide much help. If we can’t revive Kanto Stage in three months, not only will we have to write resignation reports, Director Sakata’s days in the group won’t be easy.”
Managing Director Asumi’s heart sank as he listened, he had only seen Kanto Stage’s internal problems before, not realizing the external situation was already this severe: “So, we have no way to retreat now?”
“No retreat.”
Toshihide Takada nodded, his tone suddenly softening a bit, his gaze falling on the sofa where Hiroshi Nohara had sat earlier: “But fortunately, we still have Hiroshi. Think about it, what was the situation with 《An Shizhi》 back then? No one was optimistic, budget only half of other animations, yet he turned it into the benchmark for ‘urban legends,’ ratings breaking 10%; and 《Seven Samurai》, so many said ‘samurai films are outdated,’ yet the film he made not only broke 89 billion at the box office, but also won best director at Tokyo Film Festival.”
He recalled last year’s celebration banquet at the station with Hiroshi Nohara, that young man on stage didn’t say any grand words, only “want to shoot stories audiences want to watch,” but that steadiness let him produce one good work after another.
So Toshihide Takada said gravely: “Hiroshi is different from those young people who are all talk no action, he knows what ‘adapt to local conditions’ means—in Kumamoto he created ‘Kumamon’ IP that swept the nation, at Kanto Stage, he can definitely find content suitable for local audiences. Didn’t you hear what he said earlier about 《Kanto Late-night Diner》? What a great idea, using our Tokyo TV’s successful mode, combined with Kanto’s local characteristics, much stronger than those copied programs.”
Managing Director Asumi saw the trust in Toshihide Takada’s eyes, his worries gradually fading.
He recalled last year reviewing the 《Late-night Diner》 sample film with Hiroshi Nohara, that young man noticing details like “fried pork cutlet must pair with Kanto soy sauce,” patiently explaining to actors “the mindset of ordinary office workers eating at a diner,” that persistence on details, respect for audiences, is exactly what Kanto Stage lacks now.
Managing Director Asumi also nodded: “Now that you say it, I do feel some hope—last time Keiko Matsumoto told me Hiroshi is the ‘youngest director who understands audiences best’ she’s seen, even senior Eiji Kurosawa is willing to work with him, saying he ‘can capture the soul of samurai.'”
“Exactly.”
Toshihide Takada smiled, his tone carrying some gratification: “So next, Kanto Stage’s reform will rely entirely on you.”
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes especially serious: “I’ve discussed with Director Sakata, starting today, you have full authority over Kanto Stage’s content reform—whatever resources Hiroshi needs, approve directly; whatever program he wants to make, no need to report to the station first, just bring the sample film for review after. I’ve greeted finance, Kanto Stage’s production budget, besides the previous additional five billion, if not enough, can apply for another three billion, absolutely can’t let Hiroshi be tied by money issues.”
Managing Director Asumi was stunned, not expecting Takada to give him such great authority—previously, any budget changes at Kanto Stage needed three or four station leaders’ signatures, now he could handle it fully, even “produce first, report later.”
He looked at Toshihide Takada’s sincere eyes, a warm current surging in his heart, the accumulated fatigue seeming lighter: “Director Takada, thank you—actually I know you’ve always worried I’d favor Kanto Stage because of my ‘Kanto Faction’ identity, now that you trust me so much, I…”
“What Kanto Faction, Tokyo Faction, that’s all in the past.” Toshihide Takada interrupted him, his tone carrying some emotion: “Director Sakata is right, now Tokyo TV should be a ‘Greater Tokyo Area’ television station, not a small group causing internal splits. You came from Kanto Stage, understand Kanto audiences better than us, you’re the most suitable to lead the reform.”
He picked up the folder on the desk, flipped to the “Kanto Stage Reform Plan” page, his finger heavily pointing at the “Goal” column: “Our goal isn’t to turn Kanto Stage into a second Tokyo TV, but to make it Tokyo TV’s ‘fist’—Tokyo TV has 《Super Change Change Change》《World of the Strange》, Kanto Stage needs ‘ace programs’ to attract local audiences, so when Kanto region audiences think of television stations, they first think of ‘Kanto Stage under Tokyo TV,’ not Tokyo City Television.”
Managing Director Asumi nodded solemnly, fighting spirit reignited in his eyes.
He recalled Hiroshi Nohara’s “content with warmth” just now, the young directors at Kanto Stage still persisting, his own original intention when first entering Kanto Stage—that time he was also a young man wanting to make “good programs,” wanting Kanto stories seen by more people.
“Director Takada, rest assured.”
Managing Director Asumi’s voice was firm and powerful: “In the next three months, I’ll be immersed in Kanto Stage every day, supervising every program proposal and sample edit with Hiroshi. Even if it costs these old bones, I’ll reform Kanto Stage into something, absolutely won’t let it become Tokyo TV’s burden, nor let Tokyo City Television laugh at us.”
Toshihide Takada looked at the light in his eyes, smiling satisfiedly.
He raised his tea cup toward Managing Director Asumi: “Good! With your words, I’m relieved. Come, tea in place of wine, cheers to Kanto Stage reform’s success, and to Tokyo TV standing firm in this storm.”
Managing Director Asumi also raised his tea cup, clinking it lightly with his.
The crisp clink of cups rang in the quiet office, like sounding the starting bell for this inevitably tough reform.
The koi in the fish tank continued swimming leisurely, sunlight streaming through the window, casting fine light spots on the tea table.
Toshihide Takada looked at the gradually darkening sky outside, suddenly recalling Hiroshi Nohara’s back when he left earlier—that young figure, upright and firm, like a small tree standing steady in wind and rain.
He suddenly felt, perhaps this time, they really could win.
After all, Hiroshi Nohara had never disappointed them.
Meanwhile, Managing Director Asumi took out his mobile phone, dialed the Kanto Stage office director’s number, his voice carrying long-lost energy: “Hello, it’s me—tomorrow morning at nine, have all Production Department directors in the meeting room, important announcement. Also, compile Kanto Stage’s program reports and audience feedback from the past three years, I want to see them tomorrow morning.”
After hanging up, he looked at the folder on the desk, his fingertip lightly tapping on “Hiroshi Nohara”‘s name.
Perhaps, this young man really could bring Kanto Stage a different future.
……
The elevator door “dinged” open on the 12th floor, as soon as Hiroshi Nohara stepped out, he was surrounded by a group of people.
Yō Kitagawa holding a stack of just-organized 《An Shizhi》 submission summaries, standing at the front, her light gray professional suit collar stained with some ink, clearly rubbed on while sorting documents earlier, her face showing urgency and curiosity:
“Department Head, you’re back from Director Takada’s office! Is there a new task? Earlier I heard Miyazawa’s secretary say you and Managing Director Asumi talked a long time, is it about Kanto Stage?”
Ichiro Hashishita also squeezed over, still clutching that polished shiny pencil, his knuckles white from gripping—he had heard about Kanto Stage’s reform earlier, always wondering if their special production department would help, after all 《An Shizhi》 succeeded thanks to Hiroshi.
His tone cautious: “Department Head, if Kanto Stage needs animation team manpower, just say, our 《An Shizhi》 sixth season scripts are mostly stocked, can spare people to help.”
Kei Tanaka patted Hashishita’s shoulder, smiling as he took over: “Hashishita you’re too hasty, Department Head just got back, hasn’t caught his breath. But speaking of, Department Head, I heard from Variety Department that Tokyo City Television is doing a 《Exploring Tokyo Surroundings》 variety next month, with Shunsuke Kamiki as host, clearly to steal Kanto region audience, is our station counterattacking?”
Hiroshi looked at the group before him, each with concern and expectation in their eyes, a wave of warmth rising in his heart.
He raised his hand to gesture quiet, his voice steady and gentle: “I know everyone’s intentions, but it’s not time to trouble you yet. Director Takada and Managing Director Asumi called me about Kanto Stage, but specific plans aren’t set, after I survey Kanto Stage next week, I’ll tell everyone.”
His gaze swept over the crowd, finally landing on Hashishita: “Hashishita, 《An Shizhi》 submission call must be published in 《Asahi Shimbun》 culture section tomorrow, I’ve greeted finance, no budget worry; Yamamoto, ‘old postman’ script twist, I want the revised version tomorrow; Tanaka, 《Super Change Change Change》 revival round judges, give me the preliminary list before you leave today; Ito, Xiang Shuishang’s diner renovation, check it tomorrow morning, photograph scenes needing restoration, give me a report when back, don’t affect subsequent 《Late-night Diner》 filming.”
“Rest assured Department Head!” The four responded in unison, Yō Kitagawa immediately pulled out her notebook to jot down Hiroshi’s arrangements, the scribbling sound of pen on paper especially clear in the corridor.
Hiroshi nodded, said no more, turned and walked to his office.
The staff behind saw he didn’t elaborate, didn’t ask more, each returned to posts busy— they were used to Hiroshi’s style, not making easy promises, yet always delivering beautifully, since he said wait after survey, there must be reason.
Pushing open the office door, a faint coffee aroma hit his face—Yō Kitagawa knew he liked black coffee, specially brewed a cup this morning, still steaming.
Hiroshi sat at the desk, his fingertip lightly touching the coffee cup, the warm sensation traveling from his fingers, slightly relaxing his taut nerves.
On the desk were several documents, top one was Managing Director Asumi’s 《Kanto Television Station Operation Report》 to him, cover with “Kanto Stage” in bold red font, very striking.
Hiroshi picked up the report, flipped to “Historical Development” page, his fingertip sliding over “1975, Kanto Stage won Annual Best Local Program with 《Kanto Scenery Painting》, ratings once surpassing Tokyo TV,” complex emotions in his eyes.
He was not unfamiliar with Kanto Stage. Just after transmigrating to this world, entering Tokyo TV work, he often heard old employees talk of Kanto Stage’s glory—late 70s to early 80s, Kanto Stage topped Kanto region ratings with a series of down-to-earth local dramas and local news, even had the saying “Tokyo TV for entertainment, Kanto Stage for life.”
That era’s Kanto Stage not only matched Tokyo TV, but cultivated first-class directors like Eiji Kurosawa, holding many quality local resources.
But from mid-80s, Kanto Stage went downhill.
Station leaders then chased trends making “urban idol dramas,” abandoning strong local themes, idol dramas failed, lost old audience, ratings plummeted.
To survive, Kanto Stage massively rebroadcast other stations’ programs, original ratio from 60% dropped below 10%, talent flowed out—many poached by Tokyo TV, young directors to emerging private stations, remaining either complacent old employees or inexperienced new grads.
Four years ago, Tokyo TV low-price acquired it amid Kanto Stage’s capital chain break, intending to expand market with local resources, but fell into “factional struggle” quagmire.
Tokyo Faction employees saw Kanto Stage as “burden,” unwilling to share resources; Kanto Faction old employees saw Tokyo TV as “invaders,” guarded everywhere, conflicts until Nobuhiko Sakata rose to station manager, forcefully implementing “Greater Tokyo Area Integration Policy,” removing several troublemaking mid-level leaders, personally handling integration, struggle gradually subsided.
“Thinking now, Director Sakata assigning me Kanto Stage reform probably not just because I can make programs.”
Hiroshi leaned on the chair back, fingers lightly tapping the desktop, thoughts gradually clarifying.
Tokyo City Television, backed by Mikami Tanaka, pressing step by step, not only poaching but targeting Kanto region programs to steal Tokyo TV’s local market.
Yoshihiro Shimazu campaigning for mayor needs Tokyo TV’s local support, Kanto Stage as Tokyo TV’s “window” in Kanto, if revived, can help Shimazu win many local voters.
More importantly, Nobuhiko Sakata wants to use this reform to thoroughly eliminate Tokyo Faction and Kanto Faction divides, truly merge the two stations into “one family”—and he, neither Tokyo Faction nor Kanto Faction, handpicked by Sakata, most suitable as “middleman.”
But reform isn’t that easy?
Managing Director Asumi said Kanto Stage now survives on rebroadcasts, Kiyoto Suzuki mentioned before, Kanto Stage old employees cling to old ideas, most young gone, poor self-hematopoiesis. Just shooting a few new programs probably can’t change status quo—he needs to first understand Kanto Stage reality, know who usable, what resources diggable, what chronic issues, to formulate reliable plan.
Hiroshi picked up the desk phone handset, finger pausing on dial—he thought of Kiyoto Suzuki.
Kiyoto Suzuki was his guide when first entering Tokyo TV, then a fresh grad, assisting Kiyoto Suzuki as assistant director.
Kiyoto Suzuki mild-tempered yet talented, taught him scene selection, interviewee communication, and stood up for him when Masao Iwata bullied him.
Later Kiyoto Suzuki promoted to Production Bureau Executive Deputy Director, became second-class director, still very attentive to him.
More importantly, Kiyoto Suzuki spent over twenty years at Kanto Stage, very familiar with people and matters there, surely able to give useful advice.
Dial turned three cycles, call connected, came Kiyoto Suzuki’s mild voice, hoarse with fatigue—now past five pm, Kiyoto Suzuki indeed very tired: “Hello, this is Kiyoto Suzuki’s office.”
“Mr. Suzuki, it’s Hiroshi Nohara.” Hiroshi’s tone gentler, with junior’s respect for elder.
Pause on the other end, then Kiyoto Suzuki’s hearty laugh: “Hiroshi-kun? Rare guest! You boy, since chatting about 《Seven Samurai》 post-production two months ago, no contact, busy dating Misae-san, forgot this old man?”
Hiroshi couldn’t help laughing, finger lightly scratching chin: “Mr. Suzuki you’re joking, recently on Kumamoto business trip, helped Misae’s manga club with Kumamon IP development, just back called to meeting by Director Takada, haven’t had time to call you. How’s your health? Last time you mentioned back pain, better now?”
“Much better, much better.” Kiyoto Suzuki’s voice full of gratification, “Still you boy thoughtful, remember my back pain. Went to hospital for therapy last month, much better now, can play go with that old guy Eiji Kurosawa. Right, you just said called to meeting by Director Takada? About Kanto Stage?”
Hiroshi slightly startled—Kiyoto Suzuki’s info indeed quick.
He didn’t conceal, frankly said: “Yes, Director Takada and Managing Director Asumi assigned me as Kanto Stage content director, responsible for program reform there. I don’t know much about Kanto Stage’s actual situation now, want to consult you.”
Silence a few seconds on the other end, then Kiyoto Suzuki’s light sigh: “I knew… Last month Managing Director Asumi chatted with me about Kanto Stage, wanting someone capable for reform, I guessed it might be you. Hiroshi-kun, not me raining on you, current Kanto Stage is harder than you imagine.”
His voice turned serious, with helplessness: “Previous Kanto Stage, though declining, still had a few decent original programs, like 《Kanto Gourmet Chronicles》, ratings around 7%. But now? Look at Kanto Stage schedule, besides seven to nine pm local news and two old local drama episodes, rest all rebroadcast Tokyo TV programs, from morning drama 《Cherry Blossom Saga》 to late-night 《An Shizhi》 reruns, even ads are our station’s leftovers, businesses prefer paying City Stage more than cooperating with Kanto Stage.”
Hiroshi gripped the handset, fingers slightly tightening—Managing Director Asumi told similar, but from Kiyoto Suzuki, felt heavier.
“And talent.”
Kiyoto Suzuki continued, tone with regret: “Five years ago Kanto Stage Production Department had over a dozen directors able to independently make programs, now? Remaining either near-retirement old employees or inexperienced newbies. Last year City Stage poached three core directors, all young able to do originals, one named Sato told me at Kanto Stage ‘no hope,’ City Stage salary double Kanto Stage, and let him make own programs, no reason not to go.”
“What about old employees?” Hiroshi asked softly: “Don’t they have ideas?”
“Ideas? How not?” Kiyoto Suzuki wry laughed, “An old director named Matsui, very skilled at 《Kanto Scenery Painting》 before, wanted to restart it, film current Kanto changes, but Production Department old director rejected, saying ‘young people don’t like these now, better rebroadcast 《Super Change Change Change》 easier.’ Matsui called me, saying now every day just editing rebroadcast materials, feels ‘like a machine, not a director.’ Some old employees see our Tokyo TV as ‘invaders,’ resistant to reform, last time Managing Director Asumi wanted to send young directors to help, they said ‘Kanto Stage rules, outsiders don’t understand,’ firmly blocked them.”
Hiroshi silent a moment, finger lightly circling on desktop—these situations more complex than imagined. Old employees conservative resistant, young severely lost, original ability near zero, plus City Stage competition, no wonder Managing Director Asumi had headache.
“Mr. Suzuki, do you think Kanto Stage can be saved?” Hiroshi asked softly, tone serious.
Pause on other end, then Kiyoto Suzuki’s firm voice: “Can! Why not? Kanto Stage has advantages others don’t—it’s Kanto region’s ‘local station,’ audiences have feelings for it. When 《Kanto Scenery Painting》 was hot, how many watched weekly? Now though young gone, still many old viewers supporting, seven pm local news ratings 5.8%, that’s the foundation. Key is someone to find ‘breakthrough,’ make original programs audiences like, let young see hope, old employees willing to change.”
His tone suddenly gentled, with expectation: “Hiroshi-kun, I think you’re that ‘breakthrough.’ From your 《An Shizhi》, I knew you’re different—others thought ‘urban legends’ no one watches, you made it hot; others thought ‘samurai films outdated,’ your 《Seven Samurai》 became annual box office second; others thought 《Late-night Diner》 too ‘slow,’ you made it sub-prime time first. You always succeed at what others think ‘impossible,’ Kanto Stage this mess, perhaps only you can clean it.”
Hiroshi listening, warmth surging in heart.
Kiyoto Suzuki’s trust more effective than any encouragement. He took a deep breath, tone firm: “Mr. Suzuki, thank you. I plan to survey Kanto Stage tomorrow, understand actuals first, then plan. Free tonight? Want to treat you to a drink, chat details about Kanto Stage.”
“Free! Of course!” Kiyoto Suzuki immediately agreed, voice with laughter, “Go to ‘Sakura Bloom Izakaya,’ their grilled mackerel good, eat and talk. Seven pm, how?”
“Good! Seven sharp.” Hiroshi nodded, “I’ll have Yō Kitagawa book a spot first.”
Hung up, Hiroshi leaned on chair back, looking at gradually darkening sky outside.
Sunset dyed clouds orange-red, through window casting fine light spots on desk.
Desk’s 《Kanto Television Station Operation Report》 still open, “Problem Analysis” column densely listing issues, but Hiroshi’s heart not as heavy as before.
He knew reform wouldn’t be easy, many difficulties: old employees’ resistance, young recruitment, original program planning, City Stage competition… but he had confidence.
As Kiyoto Suzuki said, Kanto Stage has foundation, audience feelings, as long as right direction, can revive it.
“Knock knock knock—” Door knock, Yō Kitagawa entered with freshly brewed coffee, light gray suit stained with coffee spot, clearly accidentally rubbed while brewing.
She placed coffee before Hiroshi, softly asked: “Department Head, that call earlier with Executive Deputy Director Suzuki? Need to book izakaya tonight?”
Hiroshi nodded, sipped coffee, warm liquid sliding throat with faint bitterness, perking him up: “Yes, book ‘Sakura Bloom Izakaya,’ window seat, seven pm, me and Mr. Suzuki. Also, compile Kanto Stage’s original programs list past three years, and current directors roster, need for tomorrow morning to bring.”
“Yes Department Head!” Yō Kitagawa nodded immediately, noted in notebook, “I’ll compile now, guarantee for tomorrow morning. Oh, Section Chief Hashishita just asked, for 《An Shizhi》 submission call, post on station website too?”
“Website?” Hiroshi paused, then shook head, “No need, not many online now, focus on newspaper. Also, tell Hashishita pick two careful young from animation team, next week come with me to Kanto Stage, help sort animation-related materials.”
“Yes, telling Section Chief Hashishita right away.” Yō Kitagawa agreed, turned to leave, paused at doorway, looked back at Hiroshi, hesitated, still softly said: “Department Head, if too busy, tell us, our department all willing to help. Kanto Stage tough, but we believe in you.”
Hiroshi looked at Yō Kitagawa’s sincere eyes, warmth in heart. He smiled, nodded: “Good, got it. Go busy, remember clock out early.”
Yō Kitagawa responded, gently closed office door.
Office quiet again, only occasional car horns from outside.
Hiroshi picked up desk’s 《Kanto Television Station Operation Report》, flipped to “Local Resources” page—listed many undeveloped local cultures in Kanto region, like traditional “Kanto Festival,” many old-brand small shops, all usable materials.
“Perhaps, start from ‘local.'” Hiroshi murmured, finger lightly tapping “Kanto Festival.”
Kanto Stage’s advantage is “local,” so make content local audiences like, no need chase urban idol dramas, no imitate City Stage talent shows, just do Kanto region people and matters, new forms packaging, like 《Kanto Late-night Diner》, like 《Kanto Festival Stories》, let local audiences see their lives, familiar places, to attract them.
He took pen, wrote in notebook “Preliminary Direction”:
Survey Kanto Stage current team, select 10 young directors to Tokyo TV for three months training;
Dig Kanto region local resources, plan 2-3 original programs, focus “local culture” “local gourmet” “ordinary people’s stories”;
Restart some classic old programs like 《Kanto Scenery Painting》, shoot from new perspectives;
Reduce rebroadcast ratio, gradually raise original ratio, aim 30% originals in three months.
Finished writing, Hiroshi set down pen, looked at night sky outside.
Streetlights on, warm yellow light through window on notebook, handwriting especially clear.
He knew this just preliminary ideas, specifics depend on survey, discuss with Managing Director Asumi, Kiyoto Suzuki, face various difficulties. But no worry—like previous 《An Shizhi》《Seven Samurai》, right direction plus effort, nothing unachievable.
Six-thirty pm, Hiroshi packed up, took jacket out office.
12th floor office area mostly empty, only Hashishita still at animation team’s workstation, at computer revising 《An Shizhi》 storyboard draft, under light his profile especially focused.
“Hashishita, clock out early, don’t overwork.” Hiroshi passed, patted his shoulder.
Hashishita looked up, seeing Hiroshi smiled immediately: “Department Head, you leaving? I’ll finish this storyboard and go.”
“Good.” Hiroshi nodded, headed to elevator.
Elevator slowly descended, Hiroshi leaned on compartment wall, watching changing floor numbers.
He recalled Misae’s morning words, tonight tonkotsu ramen together, now seemed to stand up.
He took out pager, sent Misae message: “Misae-san, tonight talk work with Mr. Suzuki, can’t join for ramen, sorry. Tomorrow night I’ll treat Ginza teppanyaki, compensate.”
Soon Misae’s reply: “No problem Hiroshi-kun! Work first! Tomorrow night I want cheese omelet! And bring strawberry cake Mage mentioned last time!”
Hiroshi looked at pager message, corners of mouth involuntarily upturned.
With such supportive people, no matter difficulties, he had confidence to overcome.
Elevator doors opened, Hiroshi exited office building, started Toyota Crown, drove toward “Sakura Bloom Izakaya.”
Night deepening, Tokyo streets lit with neon lights, bustling with traffic.
