Chapter 255: Symposium Begins! Weighty Introduction! On The Future Direction Of The Economy!
In the top-floor meeting room of the Tokyo Broadcasting Association and NHK building, sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows onto the walnut long table, making the celadon tea cups on the table gleam with a warm luster.
The meeting room was already full of people, the air filled with the faint aroma of coffee and the subtle sound of rustling paper, every seated person carrying the steady aura of industry elites—veteran directors from Osaka Television Station, the chairman of the Hokkaido Documentary Association, and several white-haired old scholars wearing gold-rimmed glasses, who were towering figures in the Japanese cultural circle.
When Hiroshi Nohara entered the meeting room guided by the staff, his gaze quickly swept over the room, immediately recognizing several faces often seen in industry magazines—
For example, Kosaku Yamada sitting in the third row on the left, the director of 《Northern Love》, renowned for his delicate portrayal of emotions; and Ryo Takeuchi by the window, who once won an international documentary award with 《Tokyo Story》.
These figures usually seen only on television and in reports now all turned to look at him in unison, their eyes filled with curiosity and scrutiny.
Hiroshi Nohara nodded slightly, keeping a composed smile on his face, and walked to the empty seat indicated by the staff to sit down.
Before he could pull out the chair, Kosaku Yamada from the front row stood up first, strode over quickly, and extended his hand covered in calluses: “This must be Hiroshi Nohara-kun? I’m Kosaku Yamada from Osaka Television Station. I watched every episode of 《Taste of Neon》—it’s really well done!”
Hiroshi Nohara quickly shook his hand, his tone respectful: “Hello, Senior Yamada. I’m Hiroshi Nohara. I’ve watched your 《Northern Love》 since my school days and have always admired your capture of life’s details.”
“Ah, those are all past works.” Kosaku Yamada waved his hand with a smile and stepped aside to let someone behind him come forward, “Come, let me introduce you. This is Ryo Takeuchi-kun from the Hokkaido Documentary Association— you’ve definitely seen his 《Fishing Boom》; and this is Junichi Sato-kun from Kyoto Television Station, who specializes in documentaries on traditional crafts.”
Ryo Takeuchi and Junichi Sato both stepped forward to shake hands with Hiroshi Nohara, and while introducing themselves, they couldn’t forget to mention his works: “Nohara-kun, I rewatched the ‘Straw Man’ episode in 《An Shizhi》 three times—using urban legends to explore humanity, what a brilliant approach!”
“The farmer-samurai confrontation scene in 《Seven Samurai》, I had my students analyze it for half a month—your deconstruction of class contradictions is so profound!”
Hiroshi Nohara was about to introduce himself in detail when Junichi Sato waved his hand with a smile: “No need for more introductions, Nohara-kun— who in all of Japan doesn’t know your name now? Winning three major industry awards at 23, every work you make is a hit. Us old folks are about to be outshone by you.”
Ryo Takeuchi beside him nodded along, his tone filled with emotion: “Speaking of which, we were just talking about what kind of young person could create works like 《Taste》—full of the worldly life of gourmet food yet also the persistence of artisans. Even my spouse chases every new episode, saying after watching they want to take the kids to Chiba for seafood rice bowls.”
Hearing this, Hiroshi Nohara showed a modest smile on his face: “You’re overpraising me. The popularity of 《Taste》 is mainly because everyone in the team put in heartfelt effort, from preliminary research to post-production editing. Plus, Tokyo TV and Kanto Stage gave me a lot of support—neither equipment nor resources skimped on me.”
“You can’t say it like that.”
Kosaku Yamada patted his shoulder, his eyes serious: “We’ve been in this industry for decades and know the core of a good work still lies with the director. Look at episode four of 《Taste》, when Mr. Sato from the old Saitama bakery kneads dough—you gave a five-second close-up of his hands and matched it with the old tune he hums—that kind of lens capturing ‘human relations’ can’t be achieved just by a team; the director needs eyes that can discover life.”
Junichi Sato chimed in: “And episode five on Gunma Prefecture’s thick rolled omelets—you didn’t just film how it’s made, but also the landlady going to the market at 3 a.m. to pick eggs, ending with her line ‘My son loved this the most when he was little’—that one sentence brought the whole piece to life. We always focus on clearly showing processes in traditional craft documentaries, forgetting that what truly moves people is the story behind it. We really should learn from you on this.”
As everyone gathered around Hiroshi Nohara discussing 《Taste》, a deep voice suddenly came from the meeting room doorway, carrying an undeniable aura: “Well said! The core of a good work is always the creator’s vision and intent.”
Everyone turned toward the voice and saw an elderly man in a dark gray suit with white hair entering accompanied by staff.
He stood tall; though over sixty, his eyes remained sharp, his steps steady and carrying the solemnity unique to officials.
The room instantly fell silent, everyone standing up and bowing slightly to the elderly man: “Minister Miyazawa!”
Hiroshi Nohara’s heart stirred.
Yuichi Miyazawa, deputy minister of the Japanese Cabinet Publicity Department and honorary chairman of NHK, was one of the top decision-makers in Japanese cultural promotion.
He hadn’t expected such a high-level figure at this symposium.
Yuichi Miyazawa’s gaze swept over the room, finally landing on Hiroshi Nohara, a mild smile on his face: “This must be Hiroshi Nohara-kun? I came especially for you.”
Hiroshi Nohara quickly stepped forward and bowed slightly: “Hello, Minister Miyazawa. I’m Hiroshi Nohara. It’s my great honor to have your attention.”
“No need to be so formal.” Yuichi Miyazawa waved his hand, his tone friendly: “I’ve seen all your works, from 《An Shizhi》 to 《Taste》—each one has impressed me. Especially 《Super Change Change Change》; Japanese people were always said to be ‘indifferent,’ barely talking to neighbors, but since this variety show became a hit, I’ve heard many communities organizing ‘family costume contests.’ Even my neighbor’s kid is rehearsing programs with their parents—you see, a good work can really change social atmosphere.”
He paused, then looked at the others present, his tone carrying some gravity: “I’m here today first to hear everyone’s views on the future development of documentaries, and second to meet Nohara-kun in person. Many young people think documentaries are boring and unwilling to watch, but Nohara-kun proved with 《Taste》 that documentaries can be fun, warm, and convey cultural value. This innovative spirit is worth learning from us all.”
With that, Yuichi Miyazawa gestured to Hiroshi Nohara: “Nohara-kun, come sit beside me. We’ll chat later about the creative ideas behind 《Taste》 and your thoughts on inheriting traditional crafts.”
At these words, low gasps of surprise rose instantly in the meeting room.
The surrounding directors and scholars looked at Hiroshi Nohara with envy—sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with a cabinet deputy minister was not just honor, but absolute recognition from the top of his abilities.
Even a veteran director like Kosaku Yamada had only glimpsed Yuichi Miyazawa from afar at an industry conference before, never having a chance for close interaction.
Hiroshi Nohara followed Yuichi Miyazawa to sit by the main seat. Just as he settled, he saw more officials in suits entering— the director of the Ministry of Education’s Cultural Bureau, the chairman of the Tokyo Metropolis Education Committee, and several publicity officers from local governments.
As they entered, their gazes first went to Hiroshi Nohara, eyes filled with curiosity and surprise—clearly all having heard of this “23-year-old genius director.”
“Nohara-kun is so young.” The Ministry of Education director opposite murmured in amazement, his tone full of surprise: “I thought someone who could make a deep work like 《Seven Samurai》 would be at least a veteran director over forty.”
The Tokyo Metropolis Education Committee chairman nearby nodded: “Yes, 23, two years younger than my son, yet already making works that influence the nation. I didn’t believe Minister Miyazawa when he said he could change social atmosphere, but now it seems young people’s ideas are indeed different, always bringing us surprises.”
These murmurs, though soft, clearly reached Hiroshi Nohara’s ears.
He showed no pride, just sat quietly with fingers lightly on his knee, waiting for the symposium to officially begin.
He knew this honor was not the end, but a higher starting point—what he needed to do next was respond to these expectant gazes with more professional insights.
After all officials were seated, Yuichi Miyazawa lightly tapped the table, instantly silencing the room.
He picked up the speech manuscript on the table but didn’t read from it verbatim; instead, he set it down, looked at everyone present, and spoke sincerely: “No formalism today—just chat like friends about documentaries and Japanese cultural inheritance. But first, I want to talk about Hiroshi Nohara-kun’s works, as they provide a great direction for discussion.”
His gaze turned to Hiroshi Nohara, eyes filled with appreciation: “Nohara-kun, tell us why you decided to do 《Taste of Neon》? Many think food documentaries lack depth, but you made something different.”
Hiroshi Nohara straightened up and answered earnestly: “Minister Miyazawa, I did 《Taste》 because I noticed many traditional crafts disappearing. Like Chiba’s tuna fishing technique—now only a few like Senior Masayasu Nomizu know it; Saitama’s old bakeries, only three left in all Tokyo using ancestral yeast. I wanted to use food, something everyone loves, as an entry point to draw attention to these crafts and the stories behind the artisans—after all, food isn’t just for eating; it’s a cultural carrier.”
“Well said!”
Yuichi Miyazawa couldn’t help clapping in praise: “You grasped the ‘cultural carrier’ core. Many doing traditional culture promotion love preaching big principles like ‘protect traditions,’ but the public tunes out. You use food as a bridge, so while watching ‘how to make tuna rice bowls’ or ‘how to knead bread,’ they naturally remember the crafts and even want to experience them—this ‘silent influence’ promotion works better than any slogan.”
He looked at the others, his tone carrying some emotion:
“Look at how clear Nohara-kun’s thinking is! His 《An Shizhi》 isn’t for scares but deconstructs Japanese myths via urban legends, drawing young people back to traditional culture; his 《World of the Strange》 unit dramas all explore ‘humanity’—greed, kindness, regrets—prompting viewers to reflect on their lives; and 《The Tale of Hachiko》, a movie making all Japan remember ‘loyalty’ and ‘companionship,’ even used as moral education in kindergartens.”
Here, Yuichi Miyazawa picked up the 《Taste》 sample film from the table and flipped to a segment from episode six:
“Look at this: Chiba Fishing Port fishermen heading out to sea at dawn, waves crashing on the boat, yet they smile saying ‘Today’s fishing boom will be good’—this optimism toward life moves hearts more than any lecture. Nohara-kun didn’t force emotion, just filmed real scenes, but that realness lets viewers feel the fishermen’s resilience and draws more people to Chiba to support their fishery.”
Kosaku Yamada beside him couldn’t help nodding: “Minister Miyazawa is right. In my 《Northern Love》, I always put emotions in dialogue, but Nohara-kun lets the lens speak—for instance in 《Taste》, when Mr. Sato brushes egg wash on bread, his hand trembles slightly—that detail conveys his age and cherishing of bread better than any line. This ‘thunder in silence’ technique is something us old folks need to learn well.”
Yuichi Miyazawa continued: “And 《Super Change Change Change》 is amazing. Japanese neighbor relations were cold before—living next door for over a decade without knowing names—but since this variety show hit, many communities organize ‘family talent contests,’ parents rehearsing with kids, neighbors helping with ideas—this human connection money can’t buy. The cabinet is even discussing promoting the 《Super Change Change Change》 mode nationwide for community building, using entertainment to foster neighbor harmony.”
He paused, his tone growing more solemn:
“What makes Nohara-kun rare is grasping the ‘pulse of the era.’ Japan’s economy looks prosperous now, but young people are full of anxiety, feeling no hope for the future. Yet his works always carry an ‘upward force’—farmers resisting tyrants in 《Seven Samurai》, strangers comforting each other in 《Late-night Diner》, artisans persisting in inheritance in 《Taste》—these stories tell viewers that even if life is hard, reasons to persist can be found. This spiritual guidance is vital for Japan today.”
Everyone in the room nodded, their gazes toward Hiroshi Nohara full of admiration.
Some had doubted him for his youth before, but now all were convinced by his talent and scope. Ryo Takeuchi even pulled out his notebook, seriously jotting down Yuichi Miyazawa’s words, muttering softly: “Back home, the team needs to learn Nohara-kun’s approach—no more sticking to traditional documentary modes.”
Looking at the scene before him, Hiroshi Nohara felt no pride, but rather more clarity.
His recognition today came not just from Earth experience, but because this era needed such works—needing real stories to warm hearts, innovative ways to convey culture.
And he just happened to stand at this juncture, doing what he should.
Seeing Hiroshi Nohara’s steady demeanor, Yuichi Miyazawa grew even more satisfied. He lightly tapped the table, announcing the symposium officially beginning: “Alright, we’ll pause on Nohara-kun’s works here. Next, the main topic: how future documentaries should be made, how to better inherit Japanese culture…”
Sunlight through the floor-to-ceiling window fell on Hiroshi Nohara, outlining his profile sharply.
He picked up his pen, opened his notebook, ready to listen attentively to everyone’s speeches—this symposium, to him, wasn’t a stage for honors, but a classroom for learning, a window into the era’s needs.
As Yuichi Miyazawa finished speaking, the meeting room fell into brief silence.
All eyes fell on the cultural map at the center of the long table—laid out by staff in advance, marking Japanese and global cultural exchange nodes.
Yuichi Miyazawa leaned over to point at the map, his tone carrying expectation: “Everyone here is a pillar of Japanese culture. Today, I want to discuss ‘cultural export.’ We can’t keep good works domestic; Japanese culture must go global, letting the world see our crafts, stories, and spirit.”
His finger first landed on the Middle East: “Middle Eastern friends value family and tradition—we can translate the warm stories in 《Late-night Diner》 into Arabic, adding local music elements. Like the segment where Xiang Shuishang makes ramen for a lonely elder—this ‘kindness between strangers’ resonates in any culture. Also, Middle Eastern cuisine is rich; we can partner with local stations for a 《Taste of Neon and Middle East》, using food as a bridge to introduce both sides’ traditional crafts.”
Next, his finger slid to Southeast Asia: “Southeast Asians emphasize ‘home.’ Nobita and family interactions in 《Doraemon》, loyalty in 《The Tale of Hachiko》 suit promotion there. We can clip rice farming and fishing segments from 《Taste》 for contrast with Southeast Asian agriculture, making local viewers feel ‘our lives are similar,’ easing acceptance of Japanese culture.”
Mentioning Europe, Yuichi Miyazawa’s tone grew more detailed: “European audiences like deep stories—class conflicts in 《Seven Samurai》, humanity in 《World of the Strange》 suit them. We can collaborate with Cannes Film Festival for a ‘Japanese Documentary Exhibition,’ including 《Taste》 《Fishing Boom》. Europe has many artisans too; invite them to Japan to bake bread and make Japanese sweets with Kosuke Sato and Sumie Yamada, filming a 《Crafts Across Mountains and Seas》 to showcase Japanese culture and promote skill exchange.”
When his finger landed on Africa, his eyes softened: “Africans like passionate, powerful content. Family creativity in 《Super Change Change Change》, myth adaptations in 《An Shizhi》 can be made livelier. We can donate animation equipment to rural African schools for playing 《Doraemon》, letting kids learn about Japan through animation and know dreams and friendship transcend borders.”
Finally, pointing to the Americas: “North American audiences like visual impact—battle scenes in 《Seven Samurai》, food close-ups in 《Taste》 can be re-edited into movie-level trailers. South Americans love music and dance; combine 《Super Change Change Change》 creative performances with samba and tango for a ‘cultural integration’ variety show. North America has many immigrants; film a 《Japanese Immigrant Stories》 on Japanese lives there, letting locals understand Japanese culture through real stories.”
Finishing, he looked up at everyone: “This is just my initial idea; implementation needs your input. Like solving language barriers? Adapting to local habits? Finding reliable partners? We’ll explore gradually. But I believe with warm, deep works like 《Taste》, Japanese culture will take root globally.”
As Yuichi Miyazawa finished, Ryo Takeuchi in the front row raised his hand first: “Minister Miyazawa, your ideas are inspiring! When filming 《Fishing Boom》, foreign audiences were interested in Hokkaido fishery but missed details due to cultural gaps. Cooperating locally as you suggest would make more people love our documentaries.”
He paused, tone excited: “One addition on African promotion: clip ‘food-making processes’ from 《Taste》 into tutorials—like kneading soba noodles or brewing sake—for young Africans to learn, spreading culture and boosting their income. This ‘teach a man to fish’ way means more than just broadcasting.”
Junichi Sato from Kyoto Television Station followed: “I agree with Takeuchi-kun. In traditional craft documentaries, we insist on ‘authenticity,’ ignoring audience reception. Europeans don’t know ‘family crests’; explaining kimono needs ‘family badge’ analogies. Future creations must consider ‘cross-cultural transmission’—Japanese flavor yet globally understandable.”
Kosaku Yamada from Osaka Television Station pulled the topic to “deep creation”: “Minister Miyazawa mentioned deep films—I agree fully. Many youths chase fast-food works for short-term hype, forgetting the core is ‘conveying value.’ 《Taste》 succeeds because Nohara-kun didn’t just film food but artisans’ stories and cultural inheritance via food. Us old folks must lead, making timeless works as examples.”
He looked at Hiroshi Nohara, tone appreciative: “Nohara-kun, can you share more creation experience? Like balancing ‘professionalism’ and ‘entertainment’ in 《Taste》? Making ordinary viewers grasp artisan skills without boredom?”
Hiroshi Nohara set down his pen and answered steadily: “Senior Yamada, the key is ‘finding audience resonance.’ Filming Mr. Sato baking, we don’t just show kneading but him rising at 3 a.m. for ingredients, reserving favorite flavors for old customers—these ‘lifelike details’ create immersion. We ‘storytell’ professional content—like interspersing Mr. Sato’s father’s yeast story when explaining yeast, so viewers learn knowledge naturally amid the tale.”
He paused, adding: “Importantly, ‘respect audience intelligence.’ We avoid forced emotion or imposing views, letting lenses evoke feelings. In 《Taste》, filming fishermen in storms without ‘they’re hardworking’ narration—instead, them helping haul nets, smiling sharing catch with family back at port—viewers naturally get their resilience and optimism.”
Yuichi Miyazawa listened earnestly, smiling satisfiedly: “Nohara-kun is spot on! ‘Respecting audience’ is creation’s core. Many works flop because creators act as ‘educators,’ forgetting audiences want ‘equal exchange.’ 《Taste》’s success teaches us all—good works share stories and emotions equally, not condescendingly.”
He picked up the 《Taste》 ratings report: “Look, 《Taste》 overseas views exceeded 5 million, highest from Southeast Asia and North America. Foreign viewers comment learning Japanese culture via it, wanting to visit and taste local food. That’s cultural export—not forcing output, but attracting proactive interest.”
Yuichi Miyazawa shifted tone solemnly: “Next, NHK will form a ‘Cultural Export Task Force’ for global promotion. We’ll allocate 1 billion yen special funds for cross-cultural works—documentaries, films, animation with good ideas qualify. Plus partnerships with 20 countries’ stations for overseas channels.”
He looked at Hiroshi Nohara expectantly: “Nohara-kun, we hope you’ll be the task force’s ‘creative consultant,’ sharing 《Taste》 experience. Also, we invite you to film a ‘cultural export’ documentary on Japanese artisans exchanging with global peers. Will you accept?”
Hiroshi Nohara bowed slightly, answering firmly: “Thank you for Minister Miyazawa’s trust—I accept. I plan on-site research in Southeast Asia and Middle East for local habits and preferences, combining with Japanese crafts for a 《Flavors Across Mountains and Seas》. Like in Thailand, local chefs collaborating with Japanese confectionery masters on ‘Thai Japanese sweets’; in Turkey, local barbecue masters exchanging tips with Japanese ramen masters—showcasing Japanese culture’s inclusivity and diversity through these ‘cultural collisions.'”
His words lit up everyone’s eyes; Ryo Takeuchi immediately said: “Nohara-kun, I want to go with you! I’ll film local fishery and farming for contrast with Japanese crafts, enriching the documentary.”
Junichi Sato chimed in: “Me too! I’ll film traditional craft exchanges, like Kyoto kimono masters with European embroidery masters creating new garments—showcasing Japanese crafts while attracting European interest.”
Yuichi Miyazawa smiled gratifiedly at the enthusiasm: “Great! Your passion makes me happy. Cultural export needs all our unity. The task force will draft detailed plans soon—share any ideas anytime.”
The symposium continued with deeper discussion on “cultural export” and “deep creation.”
From translation details to partner selection, promotion pacing to feedback collection—every aspect thoroughly explored.
Hiroshi Nohara diligently noted ideas, occasionally offering suggestions—his clear, thorough thinking drawing praise of “young and promising” from seniors.
As sunset fell, the symposium ended.
Exiting the NHK building, everyone carried a sense of fulfillment.
Kosaku Yamada patted Hiroshi Nohara’s shoulder, tone filled with emotion: “Nohara-kun, Japan’s cultural future relies on you young people. We’ll fully support you—hope you make more masterpieces like 《Taste》, showing the world Japan’s charm.”
Hiroshi Nohara nodded smiling: “Thank you, Senior Yamada. I’ll keep striving, not letting down expectations. Cultural export takes steady steps; I believe persisting with warm, deep works will one day make Japanese culture shine globally.”
He looked up at the evening glow, heart full of anticipation.
Whether filming 《Flavors Across Mountains and Seas》 or task force work, new challenges—but he was confident, knowing he wasn’t alone; like-minded partners strived together for “Japanese culture to the world.”
Meanwhile at Tokyo City Television, Kazuo Takahashi watched the NHK symposium report, face complex.
The footage of Hiroshi Nohara beside Yuichi Miyazawa, discussing hotly with industry seniors, stung his eyes.
Recalling Shunsuke Kamiki’s morning hysteria and Tokyo City Television scraping by on entertainment variety, a strong crisis sense surged—he knew without deep, valuable works, the station would be obsolete.
Kazuo Takahashi picked up the phone, dialing Mikami Tanaka, tone urgent: “Your Excellency the Mayor, we must change strategy—no more relying on Shunsuke Kamiki’s variety. See NHK’s symposium? Hiroshi Nohara is pushing cultural export—if we lag, we’ll be left behind…”
Mikami Tanaka’s sullen voice came through; Kazuo Takahashi’s face grew more solemn.
He knew this seeming “new vs. old” in Japanese culture creation was actually the top shifting mindset.
……
In the top-floor “Golden Pavilion” of Kirin Group headquarters, gilded chandelier light spilled on the dark red carpet, making the ukiyo-e paintings on the walls even more exquisite.
At both ends of the rosewood long table, Mikami Tanaka and Tokugawa Sato sat side by side, white porcelain tea cups before them steeped with this year’s new Uji matcha, the clear tea soup untouched—their gazes fixed intently on the man at the head, bodies leaning forward in obvious deference.
The man at the head wore a deep black custom suit, a subtle silver badge at his collar, fingers holding an unlit cigar. About fifty, with fine wrinkles at his eyes, but his gaze like ice-quenched steel, sweeping over them with undeniable pressure.
This mysterious official from the Cabinet’s Economic Deliberation Room was known externally only by the code “Saber,” his real name and position never public, yet able to directly sway Japanese economic policy.
“Your Excellency Saber, here’s the Tokyo Bay reclamation project report you wanted,” Tokugawa Sato broke the silence first, his thick fingers sliding over the documents, tone flattering: “We’ve secured 30% sea area rights; with funding, construction starts next year. The luxury apartments built then can price at least 800,000 yen per square meter—profits will be huge.”
Mikami Tanaka hurriedly handed over a file, bending lower: “Your Excellency, this is Tokyo City’s draft ‘urban renewal plan’ for next year. I’ve greeted the council; focus will tilt to real estate development. With your nod, we can hand old district demolition to President Sato’s team—boosting GDP and solving housing, a win-win.”
Saber didn’t take the file, slowly raising his hand to signal them to sit.
He picked up the silver lighter on the table, “click” igniting the cigar; smoke slowly dispersed, blurring his expression.
“I know your intentions,” his voice low and hoarse, carrying long-held authority: “But before projects, you should know the call I just got?”
Mikami Tanaka’s heart sank, but he forced a smile, tone casual: “Your Excellency means the NHK documentary symposium? Pfft, just culture folks chatting idly about ‘documentary creation’—unrelated to our economic work, small matter.”
He deliberately avoided “Hiroshi Nohara”—since Yoshihiro Shimazu closed the support rate gap via Hiroshi Nohara’s “information cocoon” strategy, Mikami Tanaka downplayed the youth before all top levels, fearing threat notice.
“Small matter?” Saber suddenly sneered, cigar tip glowing in dim light: “Tanaka-kun, after ten years in Tokyo City Council, can’t you see this symposium isn’t ‘cultural chat’? It’s top-level game result—many elites sense the economy’s off.”
The words like cold water doused Mikami Tanaka and Tokugawa Sato’s ease.
Their smiles froze; exchanging glances, they saw panic in each other.
Tokugawa Sato’s thick palm gripped the tablecloth, voice trembling slightly: “Y-Your Excellency means… the top is moving on real estate? Rumors say Ministry of Education pushes ‘non-real estate economic transition,’ even citing learning from Hiroshi Nohara’s 《Taste》 to support traditional crafts…”
“Supporting crafts is real, but moving on real estate—you overthink.” Saber cut in mockingly: “Tokyo’s real estate market scale? Kanto region’s total property value could buy half the United States! With such boom, how could the top abandon it?”
He pressed the cigar into the crystal ashtray, sizzling; eyes sharpened: “Clarify: Japan’s economic pillar now? Real estate! Construction! Steel, cement, appliances derived from housing! Touch real estate, how many firms bankrupt? How many unemployed? Forget surpassing United States—holding current scale questionable.”
Mikami Tanaka’s suspended heart landed; he wiped forehead sweat secretly, tone excited: “Your Excellency is right! Real estate is our foundation—how to touch casually? Tokyo housing prices rise monthly; public complains but thinks ‘houses preserve value’—proof of economic prosperity!”
Tokugawa Sato echoed, fat cheeks bunching: “Exactly! Last month I took a Ginza office building—rents up 20% from last year, firms scrambling to lease. Keep pushing prices, we make money and public feels ‘life improving’—steadiest path.”
Saber eyed their smugness, a flicker of cold indifference in his gaze.
He sipped his matcha, tone calming: “Your ideas right, but mind proportions. Lately Ryuichi Koike pushes ‘traditional craft revival,’ Yoshihiro Shimazu mentions ‘controlling real estate bubble’—small waves but erode public confidence.”
He set down the cup, fingers tapping: “Tanaka-kun, as Tokyo City Mayor, emphasize publicly ‘real estate is economic pillar’ for public reassurance; Sato-kun, accelerate your projects with real ‘prosperity scenes’ to silence doubters. As for that young Hiroshi Nohara…”
Saber paused, eyes deepening: “His documentaries intriguing, drawing public to crafts—diverts attention from real estate. As long as he stays out of economics, ignore him—a culturist can’t make waves.”
Mikami Tanaka and Tokugawa Sato nodded hurriedly, hearts fully eased. They raised tea cups to Saber remotely: “Thanks for guidance, Your Excellency! We’ll follow exactly, won’t disappoint!”
“Mm,” Saber nodded slightly, gaze back on files: “Now, Tokyo Bay project—on funding…”
Gilded chandelier light flowed; matcha cooled on the table as Tokyo real estate “prosperity” plans advanced quietly in this secret talk.
No one noticed, in Tokyo’s night beyond the window, neon-lit skyscrapers faintly shadowed by impending economic bubble burst.
After Saber left, the Golden Pavilion atmosphere stayed heated.
Tokugawa Sato pulled Mikami Tanaka, thick palm on his shoulder, excited: “Mikami-kun, hear that? Your Excellency Saber said real estate is pillar—top won’t abandon! Our worries needless!”
Mikami Tanaka smiled long-missing, downing his tea—the matcha’s bitterness unable to quell joy: “Knew it—’control bubble’ talk is Ryuichi Koike hype! With Saber backing, we go full throttle. Your Tokyo Bay project—I’ll push council approval fast; on demolition compensation…”
“Compensation?” Tokugawa Sato sneered, eyes greedy: “Old district residents—give cash, good enough! Paint the ‘new apartments post-demolition’ pie well, they’ll move obediently. Built luxury apartments, any unit sells for over 100 million yen—care about compensation?”
Mikami Tanaka nodded, recalling Kazuo Takahashi’s report, brow furrowing slightly: “But note: NHK symposium harmless, but Hiroshi Nohara’s influence grows. His 《Taste》 loved by public—even Yuichi Miyazawa praises publicly. If he aids Yoshihiro Shimazu promoting ‘real estate control,’ big trouble.”
“Fear what?” Tokugawa Sato waved dismissively: “He’s a creator—what economics? We have TV—Tokyo City Television limps on Shunsuke Kamiki now, but with our money, outhit 《Taste》, overshadow him.”
He paused, eyes vicious: “Worst case, media exposes his ‘dirt.’ Like his ‘Future Manga Company’—maybe tax evasion; or his tie to Misae Nohara, hype it to ruin him. A youth fight us?”
Mikami Tanaka shook head, cautious: “Don’t rush. Hiroshi Nohara tied to Tokyo TV—Nobuhiko Sakata and Asumi protect him; Ryuichi Koike admires too. Touch him, backfire. Priority: nail real estate projects. Post-election, Yoshihiro Shimazu done—deal him then.”
Tokugawa Sato thought it reasonable, dropping Hiroshi Nohara.
He slid fingers over “profit estimate” in project report, face mesmerized: “Tokyo Bay done, I’ll be Japan’s top real estate developer—even Saber gives face. Mikami-kun, you re-elected mayor, we’re Tokyo’s ‘golden duo’—Ryuichi Koike, Yoshihiro Shimazu sideline!”
Mikami Tanaka’s eyes heated, gazing at glittering Tokyo nightscape, envisioning re-election amid developers, declaring “Tokyo global economic center.”
They smiled at each other, clinking tea cups again, oblivious to splashes—immersed in coming “prosperity,” unaware the economic bubble underfoot swelled, ready to burst at a poke.
At that moment in Tokyo TV, Hiroshi Nohara finished follow-up with Yuichi Miyazawa, holding 《Flavors Across Mountains and Seas》 plan discussing details with Asumi and Toshihide Takada.
The office window faced Kirin Group; he glimpsed the lit top floor, brow furrowing—he knew not of the economic-shaping secret talk there, but sensed faintly a economic-cultural contest just beginning.
“Hiroshi-kun, what’s up?” Asumi noticed his gaze, following it: “Kirin Group? Tokugawa Sato’s big Tokyo Bay project lately—rumored billions yen start, ambitious.”
Hiroshi Nohara withdrew gaze, shaking head lightly: “Nothing, just feels real estate market too fanatic lately.”
He opened the plan handbook, eyes firm again.
Whatever economic shifts, he’d do his part—convey culture with real stories, connect hearts with warm works; perhaps best counter to future uncertainty.
Besides, his layouts were nearly complete!
