Chapter 249: Tongue Tip! Hiroshi Nohara! A Young Person Like A True Dragon!
October 22nd, Friday, 7:50 PM, ten minutes before the second episode of “Taste of Neon” is scheduled to air.
The “Sato-ya” soba noodle shop in Takasaki City, Gunma Prefecture, was packed with diners who had arrived early to secure seats.
Kosuke Sato, wearing a faded navy blue apron, was busy wiping down the wooden tables. His son, Kenta Sato, sat on a chair in the corner, clutching a pager, his eyes holding a complex expression—three days ago, he had quit his job at a real estate company in Tokyo and temporarily returned to his hometown.
“Dad, is the TV all set up?” Kenta Sato asked, looking up, his voice a little unnatural.
Just last week, he had argued with his father over the phone, saying, “Selling soba noodles has no future; real estate in Tokyo is where the real money is,” but now he had to return with his tail between his legs.
Kosuke Sato didn’t turn around, merely wiping the grain of the tabletop with a rag, his tone indifferent, “It’s been ready for a while. Mr. Saito even sent someone to check the signal yesterday. If you find it too crowded, there are still empty seats upstairs.”
As he spoke, a commotion erupted at the entrance—Yuichi Matsui entered with a camera, followed by Sakurako Honda, who held a notebook.
“Mr. Sato, we’re here to film the audience’s reactions!” Yuichi Matsui waved with a smile, “Hiroshi-kun specifically instructed us to film everyone’s expressions while they watch, perhaps for future promotional material.”
Only then did Kosuke Sato stop what he was doing, a smile appearing on his face, “Come in, come in, please sit down. I’ve specially reserved the best soba noodles for you. We’ll eat together after the show.”
At precisely 8:00 PM, the TV screen lit up.
After the opening theme song, the scene shifted to the mountains of Gunma in the early morning—a light mist shrouded the rice fields as Kosuke Sato pushed an old bicycle. On the back of the bike, two bamboo baskets were tied, filled with freshly ground buckwheat flour.
The camera slowly zoomed in, capturing the calluses on his hands and the brass bell, used for over twenty years, hanging from the handlebars.
“These shots are so detailed,” exclaimed Grandpa Tanaka, an old regular at a neighboring table. “Look at Mr. Sato’s posture as he pushes the bike; it’s exactly the same as when he was young, hasn’t changed at all.”
Kenta Sato stared at the screen, his heart suddenly tightening.
He remembered when he was a child, his father would push his bicycle like this, taking him to the mountains to gather buckwheat seeds, and say, “Soba noodles are only fragrant when ground yourself, and life is only solid when lived with effort.”
But at that time, his mind was filled with thoughts of “making a name for myself in Tokyo,” and he hadn’t taken his father’s words to heart at all.
The scene shifted to the back kitchen of the soba noodle shop, where Kosuke Sato was kneading dough. His movements were slow but powerful, his palms repeatedly pressing the dough, sweat trickling down his forehead and dripping onto the flour, creating a small white patch.
The narration slowly began, “The texture of soba noodles is hidden in the strength of the kneading. Kosuke Sato has been making soba noodles for forty years, kneading thirty pounds of dough every day, his arm muscles as strong as a young man’s.”
“Dad, you never told me kneading was so tiring,” Kenta Sato said softly, his eyes slightly moist.
When he worked as a real estate agent in Tokyo, sitting in air-conditioned rooms making phone calls, he still felt his job was hard. Now, looking at his father’s callused hands, he suddenly felt how ridiculous his previous complaints were.
On the screen, the image suddenly switched to an office building in Tokyo—Kenta Sato, in a sharp suit, stood before a glass curtain wall, introducing a sky-high apartment to a client.
“This apartment is located in the core district of Shinjuku, Tokyo, with a total price of 120 million yen, and its appreciation potential next year is at least 30%.” He wore a professional smile, but his eyes were somewhat hollow.
Immediately after, the scene cut to him being scolded by his boss, “You’ve only closed two deals this month; if you continue like this, you’ll be packing your bags!”
Kenta Sato’s face instantly turned red, and he instinctively lowered his head.
He remembered on the day he quit, his boss had berated him in front of the entire department, saying he was “ambitious but incompetent, unable to even handle basic client maintenance.” It was then he realized that the “glamorous life” he pursued in Tokyo was merely self-deception.
“Don’t be upset,” Kosuke Sato handed him a cup of tea, his tone gentle. “I’ve always said you can’t just look at superficial glory; you have to be grounded. Look at these soba noodles; if you cut corners while kneading, they’ll break when cooked, and the taste will be far off.”
On television, Kosuke Sato was serving soba noodles to a customer.
He scooped the noodles with a bamboo ladle, carefully placed them in the bowl, then poured his homemade sauce, and finally sprinkled some chopped scallions, his movements fluid and graceful.
The customer picked up his chopsticks, slurped a mouthful, and a satisfied smile appeared on his face, “Mr. Sato’s soba noodles are still the most fragrant; they’re even better than those in high-end Tokyo restaurants!”
Kenta Sato watched the screen, then suddenly stood up, “Dad, let me help you serve the noodles.”
Without waiting for Kosuke Sato to react, he picked up a tray and walked towards the newly arrived customer.
As he handed the soba noodles to the customer, he heard the man say, “Young man, you’re as honest as your father,” and a long-lost sense of stability suddenly filled him.
At the end of the episode, Kosuke Sato and Kenta Sato sat together on the steps in front of the shop, holding freshly cooked soba noodles.
“You don’t necessarily have to stay in Tokyo,” Kosuke Sato said to his son, his tone earnest. “There’s a place for you in your hometown too. As long as you’re willing to work diligently, you can live a good life selling soba noodles.”
Kenta Sato took a bite of the soba noodles, and tears involuntarily fell, “Dad, I was wrong. I was too restless before. I want to learn to make soba noodles from you from now on and properly manage ‘Sato-ya’.”
On the TV screen, the sunset cast its glow on the father and son, and the image slowly faded.
The diners in the shop had teary eyes. Grandpa Tanaka wiped his tears, “This story is too real, just like my son. He always thinks the outside world is better, but the best is right beside him.”
Yuichi Matsui turned off the camera and said to Sakurako Honda, “See, Hiroshi-kun was right; the most touching stories are found in ordinary people’s lives. The reconciliation between this father and son is more moving than any script.”
…
At the same time, in the station manager’s office on the top floor of Tokyo Television Station, Nobuhiko Sakata, Yoshihiro Shimazu, Toshihide Takada, and Asumi gathered around the television, watching the concluding segment of the second episode of “Taste of Neon.”
Nobuhiko Sakata held his teacup, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk, his voice full of admiration, “Mr. Nohara’s second episode has more depth than the first. Look at the conflict between Kenta Sato and his father; it seems like a choice between ‘staying home’ and ‘going to the city,’ but it’s actually a silent critique of the current real estate bubble in Neon.”
Yoshihiro Shimazu put down the ratings monitoring report in his hand, his gaze sharp, “You’re right. How crazy is the real estate market in Tokyo right now? A sixty-square-meter apartment can be resold for 100 million yen, and young people are burdened with decades of loans to buy a house. Young people like Kenta Sato think they can make a fortune by joining a real estate company, forgetting the principle of being grounded. Mr. Nohara, using the story of a soba noodle shop, reveals this restless social mentality more effectively than ten speeches in an election campaign.”
Toshihide Takada adjusted his glasses and added, “What’s even better is that he doesn’t deliberately criticize the real estate industry but conveys the value of ‘doing things with diligence’ through the story of father and son reconciliation. This ‘implicit expression’ is more powerful than direct preaching. Look at Kosuke Sato saying, ‘Soba noodles are only fragrant when ground yourself’; this sentence isn’t just about making noodles but also about living—young people today are too impatient, always thinking about taking shortcuts, forgetting the most basic principles.”
Asumi nodded in agreement, “I just received word from the Gunma Prefectural Office; the ratings in Takasaki City tonight have broken 18%, a 3-percentage-point increase from the same period last season. Many viewers called the television station, saying they want to visit their hometowns after watching the show. Some young people working in real estate in Tokyo said they want to quit and find a stable job back home. Mr. Nohara’s program is quietly changing people’s minds.”
Nobuhiko Sakata stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the Tokyo night view below—the lights of the skyscrapers were brilliant, yet they exuded a sense of false prosperity.
“Neon needs this kind of program right now,”
he said gravely. “The real estate bubble will burst sooner or later, and those who harbor ‘get-rich-quick’ fantasies will fall even harder. Mr. Nohara, through the story of soba noodles, tells everyone that true security doesn’t come from exorbitant real estate prices, but from a skilled craft, from a grounded life.”
Yoshihiro Shimazu also stood up, his eyes full of agreement, “My mayoral campaign this time aims to promote the ‘Return to Hometown Entrepreneurship’ plan, supporting young people to return to their hometowns and develop traditional industries. Mr. Nohara’s program is perfectly promoting my plan. After the second episode finishes airing, I will personally go to Gunma Prefecture to talk with Kosuke Sato and see if we can make ‘Sato-ya’ a ‘Traditional Craftsmanship Demonstration Point’.”
Toshihide Takada said with a smile, “Then I’ll have to inform Hiroshi-kun in advance to film more material from Gunma. Perhaps we can secure more cooperation projects with the prefectural office. Now, all prefectures in Neon are watching “Taste of Neon”; who wouldn’t want their prefecture’s specialty cuisine to be featured?”
Asumi took out her mobile phone and quickly dialed Hiroshi Nohara’s number, “Hiroshi-kun, the real-time ratings for the second episode are out! They’ve broken 26% nationwide! Director Sakata and Mr. Shimazu are both praising you, saying you’ve deconstructed the narrative of the real estate bubble; it’s amazing.”
Hiroshi Nohara’s calm voice came from the other end of the line, “Thank you for the recognition, everyone. Actually, I just wanted to film a true story, to let people see that even in ordinary life, there are things worth cherishing.”
After hanging up, Asumi said to the three, “Hiroshi-kun is still so low-key. However, he mentioned he’ll be scouting locations in Kyoto next week to prepare for filming the third episode at a Japanese confectionery shop. We can then communicate with the Kyoto Prefectural Office to seek more support.”
Nobuhiko Sakata nodded, his voice full of anticipation, “Good! We must fully support Hiroshi-kun and make “Taste of Neon” a flagship program for Tokyo TV and a cultural icon for Neon. Young people today need this kind of program, they need someone to tell them what a truly valuable life is.”
…
At this time, in the Kanto TV meeting room, the atmosphere was exceptionally lively.
Hiroshi Nohara hung up the phone and sat in the center.
Kiyoto Suzuki, Yuichi Matsui, Sakurako Honda, and Shigeru Saito from the Technical Department were seated around him, with the TV screen still displaying the end credits of the second episode of “Taste of Neon.”
“That was brilliant!”
Kiyoto Suzuki was the first to applaud, his cane tapping a crisp rhythm on the floor. “In all my years, this is the first time I’ve cried watching a documentary. The part where the father and son reconciled reminded me of my own son. He used to work in finance in Tokyo too, but he finally came back to see me last year and said he wanted to learn to make oden from me.”
Yuichi Matsui put down his camera, speaking excitedly, “We just received the data; the ratings in Gunma Prefecture broke 18%, and the Kansai region also reached 15%, both higher than the first episode! The viewer comments are flooding in, with some saying ‘I’m going to Gunma to eat soba tomorrow,’ and others saying ‘I want to call my father back home’.”
Shigeru Saito adjusted his glasses, speaking uncharacteristically, “The image processing this time is more delicate than the first episode. For the morning mist in the mountains, I used a soft focus filter to enhance the hazy effect; for the close-up of kneading dough, I used side lighting to make the flour particles more distinct. Hiroshi-kun said, ‘We need to make the audience feel the texture of the soba noodles,’ and I think we achieved that.”
Sakurako Honda flipped through her notebook, smiling, “I’ve just tallied it up; over twenty media outlets called tonight wanting to interview Kosuke Sato, and three travel agencies want to partner with ‘Sato-ya’ to launch a ‘Soba Noodle Culture Tour’ itinerary. Hiroshi-kun, you’ve created another miracle!”
Hiroshi Nohara smiled, his tone still calm, “It’s not me who created the miracle; it’s Mr. Sato’s story that touched people. Everyone has a longing for their hometown, a yearning for a grounded life. I just captured that emotion on film.”
Kouta Asano pushed open the door and walked in, saying cheerfully, “Hiroshi-kun, everyone, look! My friends have all sent me messages saying the second episode ‘dispelled the restlessness of the real estate bubble with the aroma of soba noodles’ and that you ‘captured life’s deepest moments with the most humble shots’.”
Soji Ashikaga also followed him in, his tone full of admiration, “I just watched it with my colleagues from the Film Department; everyone is saying that if we could have this level of detail control in our historical dramas, we would surely surpass our previous works. Hiroshi-kun, could you tell us how you manage to make ordinary life so compelling?”
Hiroshi Nohara nodded, “There aren’t really any special techniques. It’s about talking more with the subjects, understanding their stories, and capturing the most authentic details. For example, Mr. Sato hums an old tune while kneading dough; his father taught him that. I included this detail in the film to make the character more three-dimensional.”
As they were talking, the meeting room door was pushed open, and a delivery person carrying several large food containers walked in, “Is this Mr. Hiroshi Nohara? This is the soba noodles, yakitori, and beer you ordered.”
Yuichi Matsui’s eyes lit up, “Wow! Is this Gunma soba noodles? I’ve wanted to try them for ages!”
Hiroshi Nohara smiled, “Mr. Sato helped me send them over. They might not be as fresh as if they were just cooked, but the taste should be quite good. You’ve all worked hard today, so let’s eat together.”
The group gathered around and opened the food containers. The aroma of soba noodles instantly filled the air, mixed with the savory scent of yakitori and the malty fragrance of beer, making it particularly enticing.
Kiyoto Suzuki picked up his chopsticks, took a bite of soba noodles, and said with satisfaction, “Mmm! It tastes exactly like the ones from Mr. Sato’s shop; they have a good chew, and the sauce is delicious. Hiroshi-kun, your film has made more people aware of Gunma’s soba noodles and reminded more people of the taste of home. It’s so meaningful.”
Shigeru Saito, while eating yakitori, suddenly said, “Hiroshi-kun, your filming technique this time is different from before. The first episode focused more on ‘the relationship between humans and nature,’ while the second episode focuses more on ‘human emotions,’ and the pacing is better controlled, with suspense, ups and downs, and foreshadowing. For example, Kenta Sato’s pager appeared three times, and only later was his resignation revealed. That design is brilliant.”
Hiroshi Nohara nodded, but in his mind, he recalled documentary techniques from his past life on Earth—he incorporated that experience but couldn’t directly reveal it.
“Actually, I’m just trying to integrate the concept of unit dramas into documentaries.”
He explained, “Each episode has a core story with a few small foreshadowing elements that unfold gradually, allowing the audience to immerse themselves. For instance, with Kenta Sato’s pager, I wanted to use it to show the pressure he felt in Tokyo, paving the way for his resignation later.”
“So that’s how it is!” Kouta Asano exclaimed in realization. “When I used to film heartwarming dramas, I always liked to tell the entire story at once, without foreshadowing, and the audience would easily get distracted. Next time, I’ll try your method, planting a few small clues in the plot to make the audience think.”
Soji Ashikaga also said, “When I film historical dramas, I always focus on grand scenes but overlook the emotional details of the characters. After watching your film, I realized that even the grandest scenes are not as powerful as a single authentic emotional moment. Next time I film a samurai drama, I’ll focus more on the samurai’s daily life, such as how they eat or interact with their families, to make the characters more realistic.”
Hiroshi Nohara looked at everyone enthusiastically discussing, and a warm feeling filled his heart.
He knew that the success of “Taste of Neon” was not solely his achievement but the result of everyone’s effort in the team, and it was the stories of those ordinary people that gave this documentary warmth and power.
“Everyone, please eat slowly,”
Hiroshi Nohara picked up a beer and clinked glasses with everyone. “Next week, we’ll be scouting locations in Kyoto for the third episode’s Japanese confectionery shop. There are still many stories waiting for us to film. I hope we can produce more excellent content and let more people see the beauty in ordinary life.”
“Cheers!”
Everyone raised their glasses, the crisp clinking sound echoing in the meeting room.
Outside, the Tokyo night view remained brilliant, but at this moment, everyone understood that true beauty was not in the prosperity of tall buildings but in the aroma of soba noodles, the reconciliation between father and son, and the perseverance and warmth found in ordinary life.
After finishing their late-night meal, everyone continued to enthusiastically discuss the filming techniques of “Taste of Neon.”
Yuichi Matsui took out his camera and played a clip of the audience reactions filmed during the day—in the footage, an elderly person wiped away tears, a young person called home, and children curiously asked, “How is soba noodle ground?”
“See, this is the power of good content,”
Yuichi Matsui lamented. “Hiroshi-kun, you haven’t just filmed a documentary; you’ve connected people’s emotions and reminded them of overlooked beauty. I used to focus on timeliness when filming news, forgetting that news can also have warmth. From now on, I will learn from you and film more stories with emotion.”
Sakurako Honda also said, “My previous proposal for ‘Old Street Exploration’ was rejected by Matsui-san, saying no one would be interested. Now, after watching ‘Taste of Neon,’ I’m more confident. Next week, I want to go to Kyoto with Hiroshi-kun to learn how to film traditional crafts and then resubmit my proposal, which I believe will definitely be approved.”
Kiyoto Suzuki looked at Hiroshi Nohara, his eyes full of relief. “Hiroshi-kun, I didn’t misjudge you. When you first came to Kanto TV, I thought you were a young director with ideas, and now you’ve truly produced such an excellent work. Kanto TV is fortunate to have a director like you, and so are the viewers in Neon.”
Hiroshi Nohara said humbly, “Thank you for your recognition, Mr. Suzuki. Actually, I’ve just done what I should do: filming true stories and conveying warm emotions. I will continue to work hard in the future and live up to everyone’s expectations.”
Shigeru Saito suddenly said, “Hiroshi-kun, the colleagues in the technical department all admire you. They say you not only understand content but also technology and know how to convey emotions through the lens. Next time, we’d like to invite you to give a presentation to the technical department, discussing how to better combine visuals and content. Would you be willing?”
“Of course,” Hiroshi Nohara nodded. “Good technology should serve the content, and I’m happy to share my experience with everyone. In fact, often, it’s not that the equipment isn’t good enough, but that we haven’t found the most suitable shooting method. For example, when filming soba noodles, you don’t need overly complex equipment; as long as you capture the force of kneading and the steam from cooking, you can make the audience feel its deliciousness.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, their admiration for Hiroshi Nohara growing.
As the discussion in the meeting room was underway, hurried footsteps were suddenly heard from the doorway.
Kojiro Kobayashi, a young staff member from the technical department, holding a stack of freshly printed reports, with sweat on his brow, rushed in and nearly bumped into the doorframe.
“Hiroshi-san! Leaders! The final ratings data is out!” His voice trembled, but it was filled with uncontrollable excitement, “The nationwide average rating—32.2%! The Kanto region has even reached 38.5%!”
This statement was like a spark thrown into a barrel of gasoline; the people who were previously conversing in hushed tones erupted in an instant.
Yuichi Matsui jumped up from his chair, his hands shaking as he snatched the reports, repeatedly confirming the numbers, “32.2%? Are you sure? This is the highest record for a documentary in nearly twenty years! It’s a full 8 percentage points higher than the first episode!”
Kiyoto Suzuki’s cane tapped loudly on the floor, his reading glasses sliding down his nose, but he didn’t bother to adjust them, staring at the numbers on the report and exclaiming, “Incredible! Truly incredible! Back in the day, Kanto TV’s most popular show, “Kanto Fishing Song,” had a peak rating of only 25%. Now, it’s been surpassed by Hiroshi-kun’s documentary by so much!”
Sakurako Honda pulled out her pager and quickly tapped the keyboard, intending to send the news to colleagues still out on assignment, “The Gunma Prefectural Office just called; they said ‘Sato-ya’s phone has been ringing off the hook tonight. All the soba noodles for tomorrow have been pre-ordered. With these ratings, even more people will be going to Gunma!”
Shigeru Saito, usually calm, also showed a smile. He adjusted his glasses and looked at Hiroshi Nohara, “Hiroshi-kun, the feedback on the shot data this time has been excellent. For the mountain mist scene, viewers commented, ‘It felt like walking through the fields of Gunma’; for the close-up of Mr. Sato kneading dough, 30% of viewers said, ‘I’m hungry just looking at it, I want soba noodles immediately.’ Your technique has indeed given the visuals ‘flavor’.”
Hiroshi Nohara took the report, his fingertips brushing over the “32.2%” figures, his gaze still calm, but a faint curve appeared at the corner of his lips.
He looked up at everyone and said in a gentle tone, “This is not my achievement alone. It’s Shigeru-san’s lens that captured the texture of the soba noodles, it’s Matsui-san’s filming of the audience reactions that made the story more vivid, and it was everyone’s collaborative script polishing that allowed Mr. Sato’s story to touch so many people.”
“Hiroshi-kun, don’t be so modest!”
Kouta Asano slapped the table, his usually amiable smile even wider than usual. “Who doesn’t know you’re a multi-talented genius? In manga, “Yu Yu Hakusho” and “Doraemon”—aren’t they both million-selling national treasures? In animation, “An Shizhi” pioneered a new genre of urban legends, and even now, TV stations are imitating it. For TV dramas, “World of the Strange”—how many families tune in every week? And the film “Seven Samurai” even won international awards and was called ‘the new peak of samurai films’ by critics. Now, even documentaries have reached this level; your talent is simply unparalleled!”
Soji Ashikaga also dropped his usual arrogance, his tone full of admiration, “I used to think that filming historical dramas was the true skill, and documentaries were just ‘recording life’ with no technical content. It wasn’t until I saw your “Taste of Neon” that I realized being able to portray ordinary life more movingly than an epic is the most difficult thing. The way you filmed Kenta Sato’s confusion in Tokyo, using the reflection of the glass curtain wall to express his loneliness—this attention to detail shows more skill than my samurai duel scenes.”
Kenji Ito happened to walk in from outside, holding the filming plan for “Late-night Diner,” and immediately chimed in upon hearing the praise, “Isn’t that right! Hiroshi-kun can even make a slow-paced drama like “Late-night Diner” make you feel homesick, and now he’s so amazing at documentaries. Last time I talked with Tsuyoshi Yamamoto, he said that with just a small suggestion from you for the script of “World of the Strange,” the story’s tension could double. Talent that spans across fields like this, you won’t find another one in all of Neon!”
Tsuyoshi Yamamoto’s phone call happened to come in at this moment. Kenji Ito pressed the speakerphone, and his excited voice immediately came from the handset, “Kenji! Did you see the ratings? 32.2%! Hiroshi-kun is too amazing! Our “World of the Strange” team was just discussing whether to borrow “Taste of Neon’s” narrative style and film a unit drama about ‘food and memories.’ Is Hiroshi-kun there? I’d like to ask him for some advice!”
Hiroshi Nohara took the phone, his voice still calm, “Mr. Yamamoto, there’s no need to be so polite. “World of the Strange” already has a strong narrative. If you want to add food elements, you could try approaching it from ‘the people behind the ingredients,’ like the story of an old baker and his apprentice. It should resonate with the audience.”
Tsuyoshi Yamamoto on the other end of the line repeatedly agreed, “Great idea! I’ll write it down now! Hiroshi-kun, after you finish your filming in Kyoto, you must come to our set and give us some guidance!”
After hanging up, the atmosphere in the meeting room became even more heated.
Kei Tanaka rushed over from the Variety Department, still holding a new proposal for “Super Change Change Change,” “Hiroshi-kun, our Variety Department also wants to borrow from your ideas. Next time, let’s have a special segment called ‘Hometown Food Cosplay,’ where viewers can showcase their hometown’s specialty dishes through cosplay. It might even attract attention to their hometowns like “Taste of Neon” did.”
Hiroshi Nohara nodded, “That’s a good idea. The key should be on ‘genuine emotions.’ For example, someone cosplaying as a rice cake selling grandmother, with a story about her and her grandfather behind it, would have more warmth than just plain cosplay.”
Facing the room full of praise, Hiroshi Nohara showed no hint of complacency.
He picked up the beer on the table and clinked glasses with everyone. “You’re all too kind. Actually, I was just lucky to find stories worth recording. Mr. Sato’s perseverance, Mr. Nomizu’s dedication, and those ordinary people willing to share their lives are the true foundation of “Taste of Neon’s” success.”
He looked at Kiyoto Suzuki, his tone respectful, “If it weren’t for your support in filming documentaries, I might still be debating whether to film TV dramas first. You always say, ‘Content must follow the heart,’ and I’ve always kept that in mind.”
He then turned to Shigeru Saito, “Shigeru-san, when filming the Gunma mountains this time, you suggested using a soft focus filter and natural sound effects, which gave the visuals that ‘misty texture.’ If I had stuck to my original idea of using strong lighting, it wouldn’t have been this effective.”
These words warmed everyone’s hearts even more.
Yuichi Matsui smiled, “Hiroshi-kun is just like that. He’s the one who contributed the most, yet he always thinks of others. Last time we filmed the first episode, Mr. Nomizu’s fishing boat had a malfunction, and you drove three hours in the morning to help fix it at the dock. You’ve never mentioned this to anyone.”
Sakurako Honda also nodded, “My proposal for ‘Old Street Exploration’ was rejected before, but Hiroshi-kun helped me revise the script and communicated with Matsui-san, saying, ‘Young people’s ideas are worth trying.’ Now I’m more confident in getting this proposal approved.”
Kiyoto Suzuki looked at Hiroshi Nohara, his eyes full of relief, “There are many talented young people today, but someone like Hiroshi-kun, who is talented, diligent, and humble, is truly rare. Working with you makes us old folks feel energized, as if we’ve also become a few years younger.”
As the conversation continued, Yuichi Matsui suddenly sighed, his tone tinged with guilt, “To be honest, when Hiroshi-kun first transferred from Tokyo TV, I, along with Ryuji Yamada and others, muttered that ‘Can such a young third-class director bring about reform?’ Now, looking back, it was truly judging a gentleman with a petty mind.”
Ryuji Yamada happened to walk in at that moment and, hearing this, blushed, “Matsui-san is right. I used to believe that Kanto TV’s old traditions shouldn’t be discarded and thought Hiroshi-kun’s methods were too ‘new,’ fearing the audience wouldn’t accept them. But after the first episode aired, my son told me, ‘Dad, the documentaries on your station are even better than TV dramas,’ and I realized I was wrong.”
Ken Fujishita, patting his beer belly, added with a smile, “I even told people in the Advertising Department that “Taste of Neon” definitely wouldn’t attract sponsors, but Marui Soy Sauce added 50 million yen, and three travel companies approached us. Now, the advertising department jokes with me, saying, ‘Following Hiroshi-kun’s projects is always a sure bet’.”
Hiroshi Kimura adjusted his round-rimmed glasses, his tone earnest, “There have been changes in the Human Resources Department too. Before, young directors at Kanto TV always thought about jumping ship to Tokyo TV. Now, many actively apply to join Hiroshi-kun’s production department, saying, ‘We want to learn how to film content with warmth.’ Hiroshi-kun, you haven’t just made a hit documentary; you’ve also retained talent for our station!”
Hiroshi Nohara heard this and gently shook his head, “I’ve just done what I should do. Kanto TV has many excellent seniors and colleagues, but they previously lacked an opportunity to showcase their talents. Now that “Taste of Neon” is a success, it proves our station’s strength, and there will definitely be more great projects in the future.”
Kojiro Kobayashi opened his notebook and pointed to a proposal on it, “I had over a dozen proposals for traditional crafts stacked here that were all rejected due to ‘lack of interest.’ Now, with the success case of “Taste of Neon,” I plan to reorganize these proposals, consult with Hiroshi-kun, and then submit them to the station. Perhaps we can produce a few more excellent works like “Taste of Neon’.”
As night deepened, the Tokyo outside the window was already lit with countless lamps.
Yuichi Matsui picked up a bowl of soba noodles from the table and took a large bite, saying unclearly, “I really want to see tomorrow’s newspapers! The Asahi Shimbun and Yomiuri Shimbun will definitely have extensive coverage, maybe even a front-page headline: ‘32.2%! Taste of Neon Rewrites Neon Film and Television History’!”
Kouta Asano chimed in with a smile, “And the film critics! Akira Saeki wrote about the first episode last time, praising Hiroshi-kun’s shots for their ‘sense of breathing.’ Seeing the 32.2% ratings this time, he’ll surely write even more brilliant reviews. Perhaps someone will analyze why “Taste of Neon” could surpass variety shows and dramas to become a national hit.”
Sakurako Honda took out her small notebook and began to fantasize, “Gunma Prefecture will definitely leverage this momentum to launch more soba noodle-related tourism products. For example, a ‘Tour Gunma with Taste of Neon’ route, taking tourists to Mr. Sato’s shop to learn dough kneading and to the mountains to pick buckwheat seeds. I must go and interview them then and film a follow-up documentary!”
As the conversation continued, someone suddenly mentioned Tokyo Television Station, and a burst of laughter filled the meeting room.
Kei Tanaka put down his beer can and teased, “I wonder if Deputy Station Manager Kazuo Takahashi will smash his coffee cup again when he sees these ratings? Last time, with 1.9% versus 24.1%, they were miserable enough. This time, with 32.2%, I guess people at the City Station won’t be able to sleep tonight.”
Soji Ashikaga also laughed, “And Shunsuke Kamiki! Last time he called “Taste of Neon” a ‘poverty-stricken documentary,’ yet his variety show ratings didn’t even reach 2%. Seeing 32.2% this time, I wonder if he’ll have his agent pull some ‘dirty tricks’ again, like spreading rumors about Mr. Sato.”
Hiroshi Nohara’s gaze slightly deepened upon hearing this but he didn’t say much. He merely picked up a beer and clinked it with everyone. “Regardless of how others react, we just need to do our own work [Truncated: Max tokens]
Kiyoto Suzuki nodded in agreement. “Hiroshi-kun is right. But honestly, it’s quite satisfying to see City TV falter. Who told them to always try to fool the audience with popular idols and staged variety shows? Now that they’re being beaten down by ‘Taste of Neon’, they deserve it.”
The crowd laughed for a while longer, and the topic returned to the Japanese confectionery shops in Kyoto. Shigeru Saito had already begun to conceive of the shots: “Kyoto’s Japanese sweets emphasize ‘seasonality.’ For example, *sakuramochi* in spring and *yokan* in summer. The shots should capture the delicacy of the sugar frosting and the colors of the sweets. I want to try using backlighting, so the sugar frosting looks like it’s sprinkled with crushed diamonds.”
Hiroshi Nohara listened carefully, occasionally adding, “We also need to film the Japanese confectionery master’s hands. The master craftsman’s strength when kneading dough, the meticulousness of drawing patterns—these details can let the audience feel the preciousness of the craft. Also, we can film more of Kyoto’s old streets, to combine the story of Japanese sweets with the city’s history.”
As night deepened, the lights in the meeting room remained bright.
The soba noodles on the table had gone cold, and a row of beer cans were empty, but no one cared.
Everyone’s face showed excitement and anticipation, as if they had already seen the appearance of the Kyoto Japanese sweets shop on camera, and seen the scene of the third episode of Taste of Neon achieving great success.
Hiroshi Nohara looked at the people before him, and a sense of warm reassurance suddenly welled up in his heart. He knew that 32.2% ratings were not the end, but a new beginning.
Next, there are the Japanese sweets of Kyoto, the old bakery in Saitama, and more stories of ordinary people waiting to be recorded.
And the partners fighting alongside him will accompany him in making these stories into works that can warm people’s hearts.
The discussion went late into the night, and it was nearly dawn when everyone left.
Hiroshi Nohara didn’t go straight home, but took a detour to “Xiang Shuishang’s Late-night Diner” in Shinjuku District.
This had become his own secret spot.
Pushing open the door, the warm yellow light wrapped in the aroma of tonkotsu broth rushed to meet him. The owner, Xiang Shuishang, was lowering his head to wipe a glass cup, a scar faintly visible under the light.
“Hiroshi-kun, the usual?” Xiang Shuishang looked up and saw Hiroshi Nohara, a smile immediately appearing on his face. He spoke in a calm tone, already picking up his apron.
“Hmm, one bowl of Char Siu Ramen, and two skewers of Grilled Chicken Skewers.” Hiroshi Nohara sat at the bar counter, looking at the newly posted 《Taste of Neon》 poster on the wall—it was a gift from Misae, and it even had a cartoon drawing of Kosuke Sato kneading dough.
Xiang Shuishang was cooking noodles when he suddenly said, “The second episode of Taste of Neon today was really good. I was very moved after watching it.”
Hiroshi Nohara smiled, his fingertips tracing the rim of the cup. “It’s mainly because the stories chosen were good. Many people can empathize with Mr. Sato’s Persistence.”
“It’s not just the stories.” Xiang Shuishang brought the Ramen to him, the soup steaming. “What you’re filming isn’t Soba Noodles, it’s people’s hearts. Just like my diner, the customers don’t come here to eat meals, but to find a place where they can set aside their Fatigue.”
Hiroshi Nohara picked up a chopstickful of noodles and suddenly remembered the stories of Late-night Diners on Earth in his past life, and said softly, “Yes, good Content always helps people find an ‘anchor point’ in their hearts. Next time I film Kyoto Japanese Sweets, I want to film more of the Master Craftsman’s and the customers’ interactions, like someone specially coming from Osaka to eat a particular type of Japanese Sweets.”
Xiang Shuishang nodded and handed him another skewer of Grilled Chicken Skewers. “This is where your Talent lies, Nohara-kun.”
His Tone was emotional.
Looking at Hiroshi Nohara, it was as if he was looking at a Deity.
That’s right, Xiang Shuishang, the former actor, now the owner of the Late-night Diner, and the Lead Actor of the show Late-night Diner, did not have any Pride about his own achievements.
Instead, he truly saw Hiroshi Nohara, this young person who had made him successful, as an Omnipotent Deity from the bottom of his heart!
And in fact, it was precisely like that.
Now, who would dare to see Hiroshi Nohara as just an ordinary young person?
He was a young person born into a Neon Society, like a flood dragon, destined to become a true dragon above the auspicious clouds in the nine heavens!
