Chapter 240: Tokyo Tv’s Affirmation! The Old Station Manager’s Lament! Support For Hiroshi Nohara!
The office of the Tokyo Television Production Bureau was much brighter than Kanto Stage, with light brown wooden desks polished to a shine, and two neatly trimmed asparagus ferns on the windowsill.
On the wall hung a 《Tokyo TV annual ratings report》, where the names 《Super Change Change Change》 and 《World of the Strange》 were circled in red pen, marked with eye-catching data like “40.2%” and “21.7%”, while the “documentary segment” in the corner had only a faint “3.1%”, like a smudge that hadn’t been wiped clean.
Toshihide Takada sat behind the desk, fingers pinching a 《Kanto Stage Reform Plan》, his brows furrowed enough to snap a pencil.
He had just flipped the plan to the “humanistic documentary” page when the office door was gently pushed open, and Hiroshi Nohara and Asumi walked in side by side, still carrying a bit of the dusty smell from the Kanto Stage old building.
“Director Takada.” Asumi spoke first, his thermos never leaving his hand—he had a bad stomach and drank warm tea year-round, “We rushed back from Kanto Stage to report the details of the reform plan to you.”
Takada lifted his eyelids slightly, pointing to the chair opposite, his tone carrying a subtle scrutiny: “Sit. Hiroshi-kun, I read your plan—turning Kanto Stage into a ‘special station dedicated to humanistic documentaries’? Do you know what that means?”
Hiroshi had just sat down when he caught the doubt in Takada’s words. He placed his storyboard draft on the table and pushed it over: “Director Takada, I know what you’re worried about. You’re afraid low documentary ratings can’t support Kanto Stage’s advertising revenue, right?”
Takada didn’t deny it, picking up the storyboard draft and flipping through a couple of pages—above were drawings of fishermen hauling nets at the Kamakura seafood shop, the landlady kneading dough at the Yokohama Bun Shop, even the lighting angles marked clearly.
He humphed, placing the manuscript paper on the table: “It’s not just ratings. Look at the station’s report—last year, all documentaries combined earned only 20 million yen, not even enough for one episode’s advertising revenue of 《Super Change Change Change》. What’s Kanto Stage’s situation now? Nearly ten million in overdue advertising payments, half the equipment broken—you want it to make documentaries? That’s pushing a skinny horse down the road to death.”
He paused, tapping his finger on the “3.1%” ratings data: “Besides, audiences now huddle by the TV watching lively idol dramas like 《Tokyo Love Story》, laughing-out-loud variety shows like 《Super Change Change Change》—who wants to spend an hour watching an old man boil soba noodles? Keiko Matsumoto’s 《Kyoto Old Shops》 from two years ago was detailed enough, right? Ratings only 4%, and advertisers slashed next year’s budget by half—you think your 《Taste of Neon》 can outperform her film?”
Hiroshi didn’t rush to refute, instead pulling a 《Kanto Region Audience Survey Report》 from his briefcase and placing it in front of Takada: “Director Takada, this was compiled by Mr. Hiroshi Kimura. It’s the viewing habits of Kanto region audiences over 35. See, this group makes up 62% of Kanto Stage’s current audience, 83% of them say ‘want content related to Kanto local culture’, 75% ‘interested in stories of old crafts and old shops’—that’s our target audience.”
His fingertip traced the report: “City Stage’s 《Tokyo Surroundings Visit》 with Shunsuke Kamiki targets 15-25-year-olds, no conflict with us. Plus, these 35+ audiences mostly have stable income, the groups local businesses and tourism bureaus most want to reach—like Marui Soy Sauce, Asakusa Shop. They don’t need celebrity endorsements; they need promotion embodying ‘local inheritance’—our documentaries can give them that platform.”
Asumi added: “Director Takada, Hiroshi-kun and I scouted Kanto Stage. Kamakura City Government and Gunma Prefecture Government have expressed support—if we make documentaries promoting local culture, they’re willing to provide some production subsidies. Minister Tadashi Hattori also said, as long as the films highlight ‘Greater Tokyo Circle’s local characteristics’, Tokyo Metropolis publicity funds can allocate some—factoring that in, we can keep production costs minimal. Even if initial ratings are low, we won’t lose much.”
Takada stroked his chin, the doubt in his eyes not dissipated: “How much can subsidies cover? Two or three million at most? Kanto Stage’s monthly operating costs are five million—you need to rent equipment and hire teams for documentaries. Where does the money come from? Can’t have Tokyo TV keep subsidizing. Station Manager Sakata supports you, but the finance department isn’t idle; monthly budgets must be reported to the board—if Kanto Stage keeps unprofitable, I can’t explain to the board.”
“No need to rush profitability.” Hiroshi’s tone remained steady, “We’ll shoot a three-episode pilot first, 25 minutes each, costs controlled under one million yen per episode. First episode ‘The Freshness of the Seaside’, partnering with Chiba Fish Market for ingredient and venue sponsorship; second ‘Warmth of the Streets’, several old shops in Yokohama Chinatown agreed, ten thousand yen each for end-credits ‘acknowledgments’; third ‘Taste of Home’, Gunma farmhouses willing to provide free shooting venues and connect us to local soba noodle factories—total for three episodes just over two million, plus government subsidies, basically break-even.”
He paused, adding: “And if the pilot gets good response, advertisers will come. Like Marui Soy Sauce—they cooperated with Kanto Stage for ten years, value the Kanto market. If they see shots of ‘old artisan seasoning with Marui Soy Sauce’ in the documentary, they’ll definitely add advertising budget; Kamakura tourism bureau too—if the film blows up and tourism increases, next year’s publicity budget might all go to us.”
Takada still didn’t yield, leaning back in his chair, fingers unconsciously tapping the desk: “Hiroshi-kun, you’re too young, thinking things too simply. Documentaries don’t fire just because they’re well-made. Ten years ago, Kanto Stage’s 《Kanto Folk Chronicle》—Yuichi Matsui led the team squatting three months, heartfelt enough? Result? Ratings didn’t even hit 2.3%, eventually axed. You tell me ‘good response’, but what if it’s bad? Kanto Stage is already uneasy; another flop, and even the last old employees might leave.”
As soon as he said this, Asumi laughed, lifting his thermos for a sip of tea, his tone carrying warm reminiscence: “Director Takada, forgot 《An Shizhi》? Who bet on a late-night urban legends animation slot? Hiroshi-kun made it, ratings over 12%, created a new genre; and 《Seven Samurai》, everyone said ‘samurai films are outdated’, yet box office over 89 billion, even senior Eiji Kurosawa praised him for ‘capturing the samurai soul’. Hiroshi-kun makes programs not by ‘gambling’, but by seizing what others miss—this documentary, I trust him.”
Takada was stunned, recalling last year’s 《Seven Samurai》 release buzz—long lines at Tokyo theaters, even board old directors went to see it, saying on return “this film’s more flavorful than Kurosawa Akira’s”. He touched his nose, tone softening but not fully agreeing: “That’s true… but this is different—Kanto Stage’s do-or-die, no room for error.”
Just then, the office door opened, and Nobuhiko Sakata and Yoshihiro Shimazu walked in.
Sakata wore a dark gray suit, holding a 《Asahi Shimbun》 with an entertainment page review of 《Seven Samurai》; Shimazu was more formal, tie impeccably knotted—he’d just come from the campaign office, not yet changed.
“Takada, Asumi-kun and I overheard a bit outside.” Sakata spoke first, his tone steady like an old-school manager. He walked to the desk, picked up the 《Kanto Stage Reform Plan》, flipped to the “humanistic documentary” page, “Hiroshi-kun’s idea, I think it’s good.”
Shimazu nodded too, understanding “political value” better than Sakata, eyes approving: “From a campaign angle, this documentary is ‘grounded’. Tokyo City voters, especially in Kanto region, resist the ‘Greater Tokyo Circle’ concept, feeling it ‘loses local flavor’. If Hiroshi-kun films Kanto’s old crafts and stories, it’s like helping me signal ‘respect local culture’—more effective than campaign slogans.”
He paused, looking at Takada, tone like a senior’s guidance: “Takada-kun, you worry about short-term profit, but media can’t just look ahead. Think—if Kanto Stage stands on documentaries as ‘Kanto local culture spokesperson’, its value isn’t measured by ad revenue—local governments will court it, local businesses depend on it; even in future Tokyo TV vs. City Stage competition, Kanto Stage is our ace.”
Sakata patted Takada’s shoulder, smiling: “Shimazu-kun’s right. I talked with Hiroshi-kun yesterday; he shared ‘The Freshness of the Seaside’, ‘Warmth of the Streets’, ‘Taste of Home’ ideas—I thought feasible then. Remember? Our station’s 《Late-night Diner》 blew up on ‘slow pace’ and ‘human relations’—audiences don’t hate slow; they hate cold—Hiroshi-kun excels at warm programs.”
Seeing Sakata and Shimazu both endorse, Takada’s last doubts vanished.
He picked up the storyboard draft, reviewing it again—this time not fixating on “documentary”, but noticing details: fishermen’s smiles hauling nets, landlady’s wrist strength kneading, old lady’s wrinkles boiling soba. Suddenly, he felt these images could truly touch people, more flavorful than celebrity posed shots.
“Since Station Manager Sakata and former President Shimazu say so, I have no objection.” Takada set down the draft, tone relieved, “For Kanto Stage’s subsequent equipment and personnel needs, Production Bureau will fully support. If more budget needed, I’ll coordinate with finance.”
Hiroshi stood, bowing slightly: “Thank you, Director Takada. We won’t disappoint you.”
“Don’t just thank me.” Takada waved, pointing at Sakata, “Thank Station Manager Sakata—he greeted me yesterday, said ‘if Hiroshi-kun’s plan fails, tell him to talk to me’—I don’t want to argue with him.”
Everyone in the office laughed, the prior tension gone.
Sakata walked to Hiroshi, picking up the storyboard draft, eyes full of appreciation: “Hiroshi-kun, your storyboards are detailed—even steamer basket grid count marked. When to start shooting? Need station to send camera supervisor?”
“Next week Monday, first scout Chiba Fish Market.”
Hiroshi replied, “Mr. Yuichi Matsui has assembled the team: veteran cameraman Mr. Sato, young director Sakurako Honda-chan, sound engineer Mr. Kobayashi-san—all Kanto Stage veterans, know local customs. But if station sends a documentary-experienced supervisor, even better—they’ve only done local news before, first time documentaries.”
“No problem.”
Sakata nodded immediately, looking at Asumi, “Asumi, tell Technical Department to send their most experienced camera supervisor—say it’s my order. Also, two HD cameras Kanto Stage needs, transfer today, don’t make them wait.”
Asumi agreed promptly: “Got it! I’ll call Technical Department now.”
Shimazu saw clear division of tasks, smiling: “Hiroshi-kun, for ‘Taste of Home’ farmhouse venues, I can connect you with Gunma Prefecture assemblymen—they’re on good terms with me, definitely cooperate. Gunma soba is famous; filming could boost local tourism—they’d love it.”
“Thank you, former President Shimazu.”
Hiroshi thanked quickly, surprised—didn’t expect Shimazu so proactive; later realized Shimazu’s mayoral campaign could use the documentary’s “Kanto local sentiment” for votes—win-win.
Sakata suddenly remembered, clapping: “Right, Hiroshi-kun, the five million yen pilot funds I mentioned—I reported to board; they see ‘cultural value in humanistic documentaries’, approved up to ten million.”
“Ten million?” Hiroshi was stunned; even Asumi looked up surprised—1991’s ten million yen was no small sum, could buy three latest HD cameras or hire a C-list star for a year’s ads, enough for ten episodes of 《Taste of Neon》.
Takada nodded too, tone envious: “Board trusts you more now. After 《Seven Samurai》’s hit, they said ‘add budget to Nohara-kun’s Production Department’; this time straight ten million, more than my variety budget last year.”
Sakata smiled, eyes gratified: “Not favoritism—Hiroshi-kun deserves it. His programs: 《An Shizhi》 saved late-night slot, 《Super Change Change Change》 became pillar, 《Seven Samurai》 boosted Tokyo TV’s film reputation—now saving Kanto Stage, board naturally invests. This ten million not just for 《Taste of Neon》, but Kanto Stage’s ‘lifeline’—if program hits, Kanto Stage revives, money back quick.”
Hiroshi felt warmth, bowing again: “Thank you, Station Manager Sakata. I’ll shoot well, not betray you or board’s trust.”
“No thanks needed.” Sakata patted his shoulder, tone expectant, “You’re young, talented, understand audiences—Tokyo TV’s future relies on you young people. Kanto Stage reform as your practice—bigger station matters later, I’ll count on you.”
Shimazu added: “Hiroshi-kun, for future ‘Tokyo City culture’ documentaries, find me anytime. Though campaigning, I want to contribute to Tokyo’s local culture—not like now, streets full of high-rises, few places evoking ‘old Tokyo’.”
Hiroshi nodded, suddenly feeling Kanto Stage reform not just a project, but a “connection”—connecting Tokyo TV and Kanto Stage, station and local governments, business interests and cultural inheritance.
And he was the one threading the needle.
Takada checked his watch, standing: “Not early—I’ll call finance to transfer ten million yen to Kanto Stage account today. Asumi, coordinate equipment with Technical Department—don’t delay next week’s shoot.”
“Got it!” Asumi agreed, picking up the pager on the desk—Technical Department had messaged “two HD cameras ready, can transfer anytime”.
Sakata and Shimazu prepared to leave; Shimazu before going specially told Hiroshi: “Hiroshi-kun, if local troubles during shooting, like city government non-cooperation, call me anytime. My campaign office in Ginza, close to Kanto Stage, half-hour away.”
Hiroshi noted Shimazu’s number, grateful—with Sakata and Shimazu’s support, Kanto Stage reform much smoother.
After Sakata and Shimazu left, only Hiroshi, Asumi, and Takada remained.
Takada looked at Hiroshi, suddenly smiling: “Hiroshi-kun, I thought you too young to hold sway—now see I was wrong. You understand ‘getting things done’ better than I imagined—not just programs, but pulling resources, getting top support.”
Asumi smiled too: “Director Takada, only now realizing? Hiroshi-kun’s long past rookie. Last 《Seven Samurai》, dealing with senior Eiji Kurosawa, negotiating with Minister Hattori—always at ease.”
Hiroshi scratched his head, embarrassed: “Just lucky—seniors willing to help. Without Station Manager Sakata, Managing Director Asumi, and your support, Director Takada, I couldn’t do all this.”
“You kid, too humble.”
Takada shook his head, tone admiring, “But humility’s good, better than juniors floating after success. Work hard—if Kanto Stage revives on you, I’ll apply to Station Manager Sakata for your promotion to second-class director—you’re third now; skipping to second unprecedented at Tokyo TV.”
Hiroshi paused, then thanked: “Thank you, Director Takada. But priority is shooting 《Taste of Neon》 well—title not urgent.”
“Good, that reassures me.” Takada nodded satisfied, picking up the plan, “I’m off to finance—you go too—don’t keep Mr. Yuichi Matsui waiting; that old man’s stubborn, late equipment might rile him.”
Asumi smiled agreement, exiting office with Hiroshi.
Corridor sunlight perfect, shining through glass on old wall photos—Tokyo TV founding group photo, people in Zhongshan suits, smiles full of vigor.
“Hiroshi-kun, go check equipment at Technical Department now?” Asumi asked, thermos steaming.
“Sure.” Hiroshi nodded, mood much brighter.
Ten million yen budget, two new cameras, supervisor support—《Taste of Neon》’s start smoother than imagined.
At Technical Department door, familiar voice inside—Shigeru Saito from Kanto Stage, coordinating equipment: “This camera’s lens needs changing—sand got in last Chiba Fish Market shoot, footage blurry… Audio gear, bring wind mics—strong seaside winds, don’t record wind noise…”
Hiroshi and Asumi exchanged glances, both smiling.
Pushing door, saw Shigeru Saito squatting, rag in hand wiping camera lens, face expressionless but more lively than at Kanto Stage.
“Mr. Saito, thanks for the hard work.” Hiroshi approached, handing oolong tea—bought at downstairs convenience store, still icy.
Shigeru Saito took the tea, nodded, voice low: “Not hard. Good documentary worth more than anything.”
Technical Department director approached, equipment list in hand: “Minister Nohara, Managing Director Asumi, two HD cameras tuned, lenses, batteries, storage cards all set, plus three audio rigs with wind mics and spares—can deliver to Kanto Stage today.”
Asumi took list, checked carefully, nodded satisfied: “Thanks. If Kanto Stage folks unsure, send tech for guidance—don’t let them damage new station gear.”
“Rest assured!” Director smiled, “Arranged—Oda going to Kanto Stage for three days, teach usage thoroughly.”
Hiroshi watched: Shigeru Saito checking cameras, techs packing, Asumi confirming details—suddenly felt “reform” never one person’s, but group’s united effort.
Like 《Taste of Neon》 stories—fishermen sea-reliant need family help; bun shop inheritance needs old customers; farm soba needs neighbors sharing.
Kanto Stage reform needs Sakata’s trust, Takada’s cooperation, Asumi’s coordination, Saito’s tech, Matsui, Honda et al.’s effort.
……
Tokyo TV top-floor small meeting room far quieter than downstairs offices, wooden conference table mirror-shiny, blue porcelain tea set on table, kettle in corner steaming faintly, occasional “gurgle”—Station Manager Nobuhiko Sakata specially had it brought, saying “hot tea steadies the mind for talks”.
Wall hung shallow-beach returning boats painting, gifted by old painter at Tokyo TV’s Showa 45 founding, frame edges faded, making room’s daylight seem slower.
Nobuhiko Sakata just sat, sipping tea, fingertip rubbing rim—still pinching 《Kanto Stage Reform Budget Sheet》, “documentary production” column’s “ten million yen” red-circled, beside “ad projected revenue: unknown”.
He sighed lightly, setting sheet down: “Shimazu-kun, Hiroshi-kun’s gutsy—ten million into documentaries, if ratings under 3%, Kanto Stage’s overdue ad payments harder to collect.”
Yoshihiro Shimazu just loosened tie, raised brow at words, taking budget sheet to flip.
His finger swept “Kamakura City Government subsidy 500k” “Gunma Prefecture Tourism Bureau support 300k” rows, corner hooked: “Sakata-kun, you’re too cautious. Kanto Stage now? Half equipment broken, old staff three months no subsidies—without change, next year can’t even pay office rent. Hiroshi’s idea at least points new path—better than clinging to unwatched local news.”
He paused, tapping “humanistic documentary”, eyes reminiscent:
“Remember twenty years ago? Kanto Stage glory days. Their 《Kanto Scenery Chronicle》 hit 15% ratings, crushed our 《Tokyo Wide Angle》. Then Yuichi Matsui was a thirty-something hothead, camera in snow three days for Mt. Fuji sunrise—now? Worries if camera starts for fish market.”
Words like needle, pricking Sakata’s memories.
He leaned back, gaze on wall’s returning boats, voice slower: “How forget? Showa 50 era, Kanto Stage poached our ace director, stole Marui Soy Sauce annual ad. You newly station manager, all-night meetings revamped schedule—《Tokyo Wide Angle》 to weekly, added 《Old Tokyo Stories》, pulled ratings back—you didn’t sleep well three days.”
Yoshihiro Shimazu laughed, mirth not reaching eyes: “Indeed. Kanto Stage manager then challenged me: ‘Kanto audiences watch Kanto programs’. Result? Short-sighted, chased idol dramas, lost roots. Now needs Tokyo TV save—bit poignant.”
His tone subtle arrogance, not boast but lament for old rival’s fall.
Sakata saw, shook head lightly: “Shimazu-kun, years past—why dwell? Now family; Kanto Stage well benefits Tokyo TV—at least, City Stage side gets another strong ally.”
Yoshihiro Shimazu waved, sipping tea, steam blurring eyes: “Not grudge, just pity. If Kanto Stage stuck to 《Kanto Scenery Chronicle》-style, wouldn’t be here. But good—now Hiroshi-kun might revive it; watching old rival saved by our man, interesting.”
Sakata smiled, fingers tapping table: “Still that temper. But not time for that. Your mayoral election priority. Mikami Tanaka active lately, yesterday pulled votes at Asakusa Shop promising ‘continue Tokyo real estate push’—many homeowners swayed. Steady yourself—don’t flare over Kanto Stage; your health can’t take it.”
Mentioning Mikami Tanaka, Yoshihiro Shimazu’s face darkened.
Fingers gripped tea cup, knuckles white: “I know. Last election, his dirty tricks rumored me into ICU—haven’t forgotten. This fight not factional, just venting—show Tokyo voters who’s truly for them, not real estate pie-in-sky.”
He breathed deep, tone easing: “Rest assured, won’t risk health. Campaign team daily checkups, diet monitored—just Tanaka’s face sometimes infuriates.”
Sakata nodded, picking another file—《Tokyo City Voter Opinion Poll Report》, bar charts showing Yoshihiro Shimazu’s support at 42%, Mikami Tanaka 48%, gap narrowed 5 points from last month.
He pushed report to Shimazu: “See, Hiroshi-kun’s ‘information cocoon’ works. For youth, 《Campus Super Change Change Change》 special via fun, culture, liveliness; for office workers, 《Late-night Diner》 rebroadcasts emphasizing care for their health—different groups different content/support points, support rises.”
Yoshihiro Shimazu eyed report, mouth not upturned: “Not enough. 42% vs 48%, 6 points gap. Tanaka rides real estate—Tokyo housing prices rise monthly. Ordinary folks hold property—who doesn’t want appreciation? Tanaka promises ‘Tokyo prices up 30% more’—how not support?”
Sakata sighed, sipping tea, helpless: “No choice. Bubble economy—everyone thinks prices only rise. My family’s Shibuya apartment, 20 million last year, now 28 million—even wife hopes more rise. Ordinary folks swayed, sure.”
“That’s why dangerous.”
Yoshihiro Shimazu frowned, finger tracing “real estate”: “US trip, saw their bubble burst—many bankrupt overnight. Neon now mirrors then’s US. But no one listens—eyes on ‘appreciation’ ‘profit’, ignoring risks.”
He paused, fatigue in tone: “Talked with Governor Koike—he worries too. But as Tokyo Metropolis Governor, can’t touch Tokyo City. Tanaka all-in real estate votes—if elected, who cares aftermath.”
Sakata quiet, then eyes lit: “Right, Shimazu-kun—know? Hiroshi-kun owns one small apartment, station-issued last year. Offered big Shinjuku one, he sold for cash, invested Akita Prefecture Akita dog farm—crazy?”
Yoshihiro Shimazu paused, cup midair: “Oh? Didn’t buy more houses? Tokyo youth scramble for city properties. Has money, breeds Akita dogs instead? Kid’s brain off?”
Shaking head: “No. Hiroshi-kun young but sharpest. 《An Shizhi《《Seven Samurai《《Super Change Change Change《—all doubted, he succeeded. Not buying houses, probably reason.”
Sakata nodded, admiring: “I think so. Far-sighted, unlike us short-term. Sees real estate risks—lacks our ‘inertial thinking’.”
Yoshihiro Shimazu set cup, fingers tapping thoughtfully: “Recall US economists last year post-《Plaza Accord》: yen’s rapid appreciation inflated real estate/stocks—bound to burst. I doubted, thought Neon’s base solid unlike US. Now, maybe Hiroshi-kun heard similar, scared off housing?”
“Possible.”
Sakata nodded, “Hiroshi young but well-read, chats with seniors like Eiji Kurosawa, Minister Hattori—broader view than us old fogeys. No house, Akita dogs to diversify—Akita dogs national treasure, even bad economy, buyers exist.”
Yoshihiro Shimazu eyed budget sheet, new appreciation for youth, self-reflection on “inertial thinking”.
He sighed lightly: “If voters had half Hiroshi’s vision, wouldn’t fall for Tanaka’s real estate slogans.”
“It’ll be fine.”
Sakata patted shoulder, firm: “When Hiroshi’s 《Taste of Neon》 airs, if hits, leverage ‘Kanto local culture’ for your positive push. You support ‘preserve local culture’, Tanaka ‘more high-rises’—audiences will see merits.”
Yoshihiro Shimazu nodded, re-reviewing ten million budget—now expectation over doubt: “Alright, let Hiroshi do it. Full support for Kanto Stage reform. Need local gov dealings, my campaign team helps—not just Kanto Stage, our edge vs Tanaka.”
Sakata laughed, raising tea cup: “That’s right. Another cup. Minister Hattori’s gift, Uji pre-Qingming, good taste.”
Yoshihiro Shimazu raised cup, clinked.
Hot water warmth through cup to fingers.
Slanting sunlight through window on budget and poll sheets, gilding cold numbers with hope.
“Right, Sakata-kun.”
Yoshihiro Shimazu recalled, setting cup: “If City Stage interferes during Hiroshi’s shoot—like Shunsuke Kamiki stealing similar content—help coordinate. City Stage Tanaka’s side, might play dirty.”
Sakata nodded, serious: “Rest assured. Alerted Toshihide Takada to watch City Stage. If they steal, preempt with 《Taste of Neon》 trailer—Hiroshi’s storyboards great, trailer draws crowds.”
Yoshihiro Shimazu nodded satisfied, sipped tea.
Meeting room atmosphere from worry/lament to firm/expectant.
They discussed Hiroshi’s talent, Kanto Stage future, election strategies, past rivalries—former clashes now warm reminiscences.
Unnoticed, sunlight slanted west, stretching fishing boat shadows on wall painting.
Sakata checked watch, stood: “Late—must confirm with finance if ten million transferred to Kanto Stage. Hiroshi starts next week—no delays.”
Yoshihiro Shimazu stood, adjusted tie: “Me to campaign office. Afternoon office worker mini-speech to prep.”
Together out small meeting room, corridor quiet, only typing/phone sounds.
Sakata ahead, steady steps; Shimazu behind, firm gaze—one ensures Kanto Stage reform launch, one all-in mayoral—paths converging via young Hiroshi Nohara.
At elevator, Sakata paused, turning: “Shimazu-kun, think Hiroshi-kun could become Tokyo TV station manager?”
Yoshihiro Shimazu paused, laughed: “Hard say. But save Kanto Stage, make more 《Seven Samurai》-level hits—future surpasses us.”
Sakata nodded, gratified: “Yes. Waves push forward—us oldies make way for youth. As long as Tokyo TV improves, Tokyo folks better lives—who station manager or mayor, what matter?”
Yoshihiro Shimazu looked, inner fire eased to peace: “Right. Too fixated on ‘revenge’, forgot campaign roots. Thanks, Sakata-kun.”
Sakata smiled, silent.
Elevator doors opened, they entered.
Elevator descended slowly, glass showing busy Tokyo TV figures—typing, program talks, equipment moves—like station’s pulse, Neon’s—confused, challenged, but beating forward.
Elevator to first floor, doors opened.
Sakata and Shimazu bid farewell, one to finance, one outside. Sunlight warm, gentle.
Outside, Shimazu eyed bustling street—briefcase rushers, convenience store coffee buyers, bus stop waiters.
Recalled Hiroshi’s “humanistic documentary”, old artisans/fishermen stories.
Perhaps Mikami Tanaka’s “real estate” brings temporary gains, but Hiroshi’s “humanistic documentary” longer warmth/belonging.
Deep breath, gripped campaign speech tighter, steps firmer.
Knew road long, fierce competition—but won’t quit—for beliefs, Tokyo future, Hiroshi-likes striving for “warmth”/“inheritance”.
……
Meanwhile, Hiroshi Nohara, post-Tokyo TV report and department check, arrived at Kanto Stage.
With Yuichi Matsui, Sakurako Honda, checking tomorrow’s Chiba Fish Market gear.
Shigeru Saito squatted, tuning new HD camera, lens on window paulownia leaves—veins sharp. Yuichi Matsui checked shoot list: “Two cameras, three audio, ten spare batteries, twenty cards… all set.”
Sakurako Honda held notebook full of Sato seafood shop info: “Mr. Sato says 3 a.m. sea tomorrow—we at wharf 2:30. Fog possible, bring extra jackets.”
Hiroshi nodded, smiling at busy team. Knew 《Taste of Neon》 shooting starts tomorrow.
Future challenges, but with Station Manager Sakata, former President Shimazu support, Matsui-san, Saito-san, Honda-chan efforts—believes documentary succeeds.
Autumn breeze through window rustled paulownia, like silent blessing for coming shoot.
Kanto Stage offices lit bright, faces eager—once desolate/confused, now reignited by documentary, young Hiroshi Nohara.
PS: Keep seeking recs and monthly votes, hope for support, thanks!
