Chapter 258: The Belated Celebration Banquet! Tokyo Tv Celebration Banquet Ends, Then Kanto Stage! Misae’s Warmth!
Hiroshi Nohara, along with the filming crew, drove towards Mito City in Ibaraki Prefecture at dawn—the eighth episode of “Taste of Neon,” titled “The Sticky Aroma of Natto,” was to document the century-old craftsmanship of the traditional natto family, Sato-ya.
“Mr. Hiroshi, Choshi grilled fish must be grilled until the skin is crispy and the meat is still juicy. It needs charcoal from the fishing port; gas stoves in Tokyo can’t achieve this flavor.” Masayasu Nomizu turned the grilled fish. Amidst the crackling of the charcoal, fish oil dripped onto the fire, sending up tiny sparks.
Ryuji Kuroda wiped the teppan, his eyes full of determination. “Electric teppans can control temperature, but they can’t control ‘feel.’ Old teppans, after long use, develop a layer of oil film on the surface. The meat grilled on them carries the aroma of the teppan, which electric teppans can’t replicate.”
As soon as Nobuhiko Sakata finished speaking, Eiji Kurosawa was the first to stand up, holding a movie poster for “Seven Samurai.” “Hiroshi-kun, I’ve been filming samurai films for forty years, and I always believed the core of samurai films was ‘honor’ and ‘battle.’ It wasn’t until I saw your ‘Seven Samurai’ that I realized samurai films could also depict ‘the courage of farmers’ and ‘reconciliation of classes.’ The farmers in your lens, their hands holding hoes, possess more power than a samurai’s hand holding a sword. This understanding of humanity, I must admit, is beyond me!”
In the evening, the private room at the “Matsuya” club in Ginza was brightly lit.
Asumi picked up a sake bottle and poured a cup of sake for Hiroshi Nohara, his tone filled with emotion. “Hiroshi-kun, I must tell everyone about your ‘responsibility.’ Last time filming ‘Taste of Neon,’ you stayed at Sato-ya for a whole month to capture Mito natto well. You followed Kenichi Sato to turn rice straw at three in the morning every day, and you never complained even when your hands blistered; when filming Matsusaka umeboshi, you followed Sumie Matsumoto to pick green plums and rub salt grains to understand the pickling process, and your skin got two shades darker. This attitude of immersing oneself in life is something many young directors lack.”
Ken Fujishita hugged a stack of advertising contracts, his fleshy cheeks crinkling into a smile. “Hiroshi-san, thanks to you, ‘Asakusa-ya’ Sushi has not only signed an annual advertising contract with us but also sponsored 5 million yen for documentary funding. ‘Matsuya’ pickle shop has also reached an agreement with us to film ‘A Century of Matsusaka Umeboshi Stories.’ Now our advertising revenue at Kanto Stage has increased by 30% compared to last year, and employees’ bonuses can be significantly higher. Everyone is looking forward to your guidance!”
Yuichi Matsui put down his wine glass and picked up the proposal for “Inheritance of Ibaraki Lacquerware.” “Hiroshi-san, look at this proposal. The young director wants to film the process of making Ibaraki lacquerware, but it always feels like something is missing. Could you offer some suggestions?”
Opening the door, Misae Nohara saw his tipsy appearance and quickly helped him to the sofa, handing him a hangover soup. “Hiroshi-kun, why did you drink so much? Drink some hangover soup. I made you natto rice to fill your stomach.”
And all she could do was guard their home, ensuring that when he was tired, he would have a warm harbor to return to.
In the old alleys of Matsusaka City, the wooden signboard of “Matsuya” has hung for 120 years, and the landlady, Sumie Matsumoto, is picking green plums in the courtyard with her apprentice.
“Hiroshi-san, for Matsusaka umeboshi, you must use our local ‘Nankō Ume.’ Its thin skin and thick flesh make it perfectly sour and sweet when pickled.”
She held a bamboo basket, the juice of green plums still clinging to her fingernails, “The green plums I pick must be immediately rubbed with coarse salt, then put into an earthenware jar and pickled for three months, stirred once every day, otherwise they will rot.”
Hiroshi Nohara had the photographer split into two groups for filming: one group to film the green plums in the courtyard, focusing on the moment dew drops slid off them; the other group to film the earthenware jars in the workshop, shooting from above the arc of Sumie Matsumoto stirring the umeboshi with a wooden spoon.
“Ms. Matsumoto, why do you insist on making pickles by hand?” he asked softly. Sumie Matsumoto wiped the sweat from her forehead and pointed to an old photograph on the wall. “This is my mother-in-law. She made Matsusaka umeboshi this way back then. Machine-pickled umeboshi are ready in three days, but without the taste of waiting, how can it be considered true Matsusaka umeboshi?”
In the evening, regular customer Yukie Watanabe came with a cloth bag to buy umeboshi. Seeing the camera, she smiled and said, “Hiroshi-san, I’ve been eating Matsuya’s umeboshi for forty years, from when I was a young woman until I became a grandmother, and the taste has never changed. Last time I watched your Taste of Neon series, I specifically brought my granddaughter to learn how to pickle umeboshi, so she can also know the value of traditional crafts.”
Hiroshi Nohara immediately aimed the camera at the grandmother and grandchild. Yukie Watanabe taught her granddaughter how to identify the pickled umeboshi. The little girl gently touched the umeboshi with her finger and said with a smile, “Grandma, the skin of the umeboshi is so chewy!” This conversation later became the highlight of the ninth episode, reminding countless viewers of their own elders.
Episode 10, “The Sea Breeze of Grilled Fish,” was still being filmed at Choshi Fishing Port in Chiba Prefecture, where Masayasu Nomizu had long been waiting with the fishermen at the wharf.
The fishing port in the early morning was full of the smell of fish. Fishermen gutted and scaled the freshly caught mackerel, rubbed them with coarse salt, and grilled them over charcoal.
“Hiroshi-san, the grilled fish in Choshi needs to be grilled until the skin is crispy and the meat is still juicy. You need the charcoal from the fishing port; the gas stoves in Tokyo can’t replicate this flavor.” Masayasu Nomizu flipped the grilled fish. Amidst the crackling of the charcoal, fish oil dripped onto the fire, spitting tiny sparks.
Hiroshi Nohara had the team film the entire process of fishermen going out to sea. When the mackerel leaped out of the water, the cameraman immediately captured the morning light reflecting off their bodies.
“Record the cheers of the fishermen clearly, and the ‘splash’ sound of the nets being pulled in.”
He shouted to the sound engineer, then turned to his assistant and said, “In the evening, we’ll film the fishermen’s dinner party scene. We’ll have them sitting around the wharf, drinking sake with grilled fish. The worldly life in the sea breeze is what will move people the most.”
《 The concluding episode of “Taste of Neon,” episode 11, “The Craftsmanship of Teppanyaki,” was filmed at “Daikokuya,” a century-old teppanyaki restaurant in Osaka.
The head chef, Ryuji Kuroda, is seventy years old. He started learning teppanyaki from his father at fifteen and can now grill beef to medium-well on the teppan, keeping the onion rings crisp and sweet.
“Hiroshi-san, the heat control for teppanyaki is the most crucial. The beef should be seared on a 220-degree iron plate for 30 seconds, flipped and seared for another 20 seconds, and finally rested in the residual heat of the plate for 10 seconds. This way, the juices won’t be lost.”
Ryuji Kuroda held the teppanyaki spatula, his wrist turning lightly, and the beef sizzled on the hot plate, the aroma of the fat instantly filling the air.
Hiroshi Nohara had the cameraman focus on the teppan—the blood from the beef slowly seeped out, the edges of the onion rings developed char spots, and Ryuji Kuroda’s teppan spatula drew clean arcs on the iron plate.
“Why do you insist on using a traditional iron griddle?” he asked.
Ryuji Kuroda wiped the iron plate, his eyes full of persistence: “Electronic iron plates can control temperature, but they can’t control ‘feel.’ After an old iron plate has been used for a long time, a layer of oil film forms on the surface, and the meat grilled on it carries the aroma of the iron plate, which electronic iron plates can’t compare to.”
When the last shot was finished, the night had fallen over Osaka.
Hiroshi Nohara looked at the image on the monitor and suddenly bowed to the team, “Thank you, everyone. We’ve captured the worldly life of Neon in our lenses with eleven stories.”
The team members applauded. Someone said with a smile, “Hiroshi-san, following you to film the Taste of Neon, we realized how many warm stories are hidden behind food.”
When Hiroshi Nohara returned to Tokyo TV with the final materials for “Taste of Neon,” a red banner congratulating Hiroshi Nohara on his promotion to Second-Class Director was already hanging in front of the office building. Two rows of flower baskets, sent specially by Kanto Stage and NHK, were placed at the entrance.
Nobuhiko Sakata stood at the entrance of the hall, wearing a sharp suit. Seeing Hiroshi Nohara, he immediately walked up with a smile, “Hiroshi-kun, I’ve been waiting for you! The promotion ceremony is set for 2 PM. All mid-level and above cadres from the entire station are here, and even a few retired old station managers have come specifically to see you, the ‘genius director’.”
At two in the afternoon, the Tokyo TV auditorium was packed.
The first row was occupied by first-class directors such as Eiji Kurosawa and Keiko Matsumoto, the second row by second-class directors like Masao Iwata, Soji Ashikaga, and Kouta Asano, and the back row by department chiefs and section chiefs.
Hiroshi Nohara, wearing a dark suit, had just entered the auditorium when warm applause erupted from the entire hall. Even Eiji Kurosawa, who usually maintained a stern expression, showed a rare smile.
Nobuhiko Sakata walked onto the stage, holding Hiroshi Nohara’s promotion document. His voice boomed through the auditorium via the microphone: “Today, we witness a historic moment—Hiroshi Nohara-kun, with a special exemption, is promoted from Third-Class Director to Second-Class Director, and will concurrently serve as Deputy Director of the Kanto Stage Production Bureau. In less than two years with the station, he has delivered an astonishing report card: *An Shizhi* pioneered a new genre of urban legend animation, achieving ratings exceeding 25%; *Super Change Change Change* transformed the indifference prevalent in neon neighborhoods, and was listed by the Cabinet as a ‘Social Harmony Promotion Project’; *Seven Samurai* earned an international film festival nomination, leading Japanese samurai films back to the world stage; *Taste of Neon* boosted local tourism and the revival of traditional crafts, earning a special commendation from the Ministry of Education. Such talent and responsibility are worthy of us all to learn from!”
As Nobuhiko Sakata finished speaking, Eiji Kurosawa was the first to stand up, holding the movie poster for “Seven Samurai”: “Hiroshi-kun, I’ve been making samurai films for forty years and have always felt the core of a samurai film was ‘honor’ and ‘battle.’ It wasn’t until I saw your ‘Seven Samurai’ that I realized samurai films could also portray ‘the courage of farmers’ and ‘reconciliation between classes.’ The farmers in your lens, their hands holding hoes possess more power than samurai hands holding swords. I am ashamed to be inferior to your understanding of humanity!”
Keiko Matsumoto also stood up, holding the script for “Late-night Diner” in her hand: “Hiroshi-kun, I used to think young people couldn’t make heartwarming films with depth until I watched ‘Late-night Diner.’ You used a bowl of ramen to talk about loneliness and a plate of tamagoyaki to talk about regret. There were no fancy lines, yet it touched people more than my romance dramas. Last time, when I filmed ‘Sakura Love,’ I specifically studied your techniques and added a scene where the male lead folds a cherry blossom bookmark for the female lead. The audience said, ‘It’s so sweet!’ All of this is thanks to you!”
Masao Iwata sat in the second row, holding the storyboard for An Shizhi in his hand, his face full of emotion: “Hiroshi-san, I was unconvinced before, thinking you were just lucky filming An Shizhi. But then I studied your storyboards closely – for the ‘Scarecrow’ episode, you used a low angle to shoot the scarecrow’s shadow in the wheat field, and then added crow sounds. That sense of suspense wasn’t created with special effects, but by piling up details. When I filmed Oni-bō Samurai, I only focused on the exquisiteness of the images and lacked this persistence for details. I will learn well from you from now on!”
Soji Ashikaga also stood up, holding the “Sengoku Fuun” (**World of the Strange**) production notebook: “Hiroshi-san, when I film period dramas, I always think about making the armor shiny and the fights dazzling, but you told me ‘the scratches on the armor are the story.’ Last time I filmed “Sengoku Fuun” (**World of the Strange**), I specifically asked the prop department to age the armor and add some battle scratches and rust, and the audience said, ‘It felt immersive.’ Now my production notebook is filled with your suggestions, like ‘When filming a general’s loneliness, don’t film his face, film his hands repeatedly wiping an old sword.’ These details have elevated my work to another level!”
Kouta Asano, holding a viewer letter about purple Mom’s bento box, smiled and said, “Hiroshi-san, you told me last time, ‘For heartwarming films, shoot for details, not tears.’ When I was filming purple Mom’s bento box, I added a scene where Mom draws little pictures on the bento. Mom drew a smiling face on the onigiri and wrote ‘Remember to heat it’ on the pickle bag. These details made the audience cry and laugh. Now this drama’s ratings are 10 percentage points higher than before, and the viewer letters are piled up on the table, all asking ‘When will you film a sequel?’!”
Hiroshi Nohara walked onto the stage and accepted the second-class director certificate from Nobuhiko Sakata. He gently ran his finger over the gold lettering on the certificate, his tone still steady. “Thank you for the station’s recognition, and thank you to all the seniors for your guidance. My achievements today are inseparable from the team’s support—Section Chief Ichiro Hashimoto helped me control the animation quality of “An Shizhi”, Section Chief Tsuyoshi Yamamoto helped me polish the script for “World of the Strange”, and Section Chief Kei Tanaka helped me advance the recording of “Super Change Change Change”; it is also inseparable from Tokyo TV’s platform, which allows me to create freely and show everyone the stories of neon that I see.”
He paused and looked at the young director below the stage:
“I know many young colleagues worry that seniority will bury talent, but I want to tell everyone that true talent is never buried. As long as you are willing to settle down and create works, willing to polish a scene repeatedly, and willing to delve into life for a story, you will definitely be seen. In the future, I will establish a ‘Creation Exchange Room’ at Kanto Stage, where we will discuss proposals and polish works together every week, so that we can film Kanto’s good stories and good crafts for more people to see!”
As Hiroshi Nohara finished speaking, thunderous applause erupted from the entire audience. Even the retired station manager stood up and gave Hiroshi Nohara a thumbs-up, saying, “Young man, you’re amazing! With talented people like you, Tokyo TV won’t have anything to worry about for the next thirty years!”
Now, who wouldn’t affirm Hiroshi Nohara’s talent?
In the evening, the private room of the “Matsuba” club in Ginza was brightly lit.
On the tatami mats were dark-patterned cushions, and a fresh iris was placed in a celadon vase in the corner. On the table, exquisite Japanese dishes such as sashimi, grilled sea bream, and tempura were arranged, along with a jar of ten-year-old sake.
Nobuhiko Sakata sat in the main seat, Toshihide Takada and Asumi sat on either side, First-class directors like Eiji Kurosawa and Keiko Matsumoto sat nearby, and Second-class directors such as Masao Iwata, Soji Ashikaga, and Kouta Asano sat in a circle.
As soon as Hiroshi Nohara entered the private room, Kouta Asano came up holding a wine glass, “Hiroshi-san, a toast to you! Last time you told me that the core of a ‘heartwarming film’ is ‘resonance’, not ‘sentimentality’. When I filmed 《 Mother’s Bento Box 》, I specifically removed the line where the heroine cried and said ‘I miss mom’, and changed it to her eating the bento box, seeing the smiley face on the onigiri, and her lips unconsciously curving up. As a result, this scene became the hottest part of the entire show, and the audience said, ‘It made me cry, and it made me hungry!'”
Hiroshi Nohara took the beer mug and gently clinked it against Kouta Asano’s: “Mr. Asano, you’re too kind. It’s you who inherently understands the core of heartwarming films; I merely offered a small suggestion. The detail you captured of the mother drawing on the bento box is more moving than any dialogue, and that’s what makes a truly great work.”
As soon as the two sat down, Eiji Kurosawa handed him a pair of chopsticks and pointed to the grilled sea bream on the table. “Hiroshi-kun, try this grilled sea bream. It’s the most authentic craft in Ginza. When I was young and tired from filming samurai films, I would come here to eat sea bream. At that time, I always felt that the core of samurai films was ‘battle’. When I was accompanying you on filming, and even now, I’ve been studying 《Seven Samurai《, and I’ve come to realize that the core of samurai films is ‘protection’—samurai protect farmers, and farmers protect the land. This mutual protection is more powerful than mere combat.”
Hiroshi Nohara picked up a piece of sea bream. The sweetness of the fish spread in his mouth. He smiled and said, “Senior Kurosawa, you flatter me. When I was filming Seven Samurai, you were always helping me, and a lot of inspiration came from your work. For example, the scene of ‘samurai and farmers working together’ was learned from your technique of ‘general and soldiers eating together,’ I just changed ‘general’ to ‘samurai’ and ‘soldiers’ to ‘farmers.'”
Eiji Kurosawa laughed heartily upon hearing this, “Good lad, you’ve studied my works! But you’re better than me, you’ve portrayed the topic of ‘class’ in a gentler way, closer to ordinary people’s lives. If there’s a chance in the future, I’d like to collaborate with you on a samurai film, a story about ‘a retired samurai opening a soba noodle shop’. It’s sure to be a hit!”
Keiko Matsumoto picked up a matcha Japanese sweet and offered it to Hiroshi Nohara, “Hiroshi-kun, try this Japanese sweet. It’s made by Toraya, an old Kyoto establishment. When I was filming romance dramas, I always wanted to attract audiences with flowery dialogue and romantic scenes. It wasn’t until I watched your 《Late-night Diner》 that I realized ‘ordinary daily life’ could be more moving. Last time I filmed 《Cherry Blossom Love》, I followed your method and added a scene where the male and female leads bought onigiri together at a convenience store. The male lead heated the onigiri for the female lead, and the female lead wiped rice grains from the corner of his mouth. There was no kiss, but it was sweeter than a kiss. The audience all said, ‘It’s so realistic!'”
Hiroshi Nohara took a Japanese sweet and took a bite. The slight bitterness of the matcha blended with the sweetness of the red beans, and the texture was delicate. “Matsumoto-senpai, you flatter me. The core of a romance drama isn’t ‘romance,’ but ‘companionship.’ It’s like the customers in 《Late-night Diner》, who aren’t there to eat gourmet food, but to find companionship. The scene you filmed of buying onigiri at a convenience store perfectly captured the core of ‘companionship,’ which is why it’s so popular.”
Asumi picked up the sake bottle and poured a cup of sake for Hiroshi Nohara, his tone filled with emotion: “Hiroshi-kun, I have to talk to everyone properly about your ‘dedication’. Last time we filmed ‘Taste of Neon’, you stayed at Sato-ya for a whole month to get the Mito Natto right, following Kenichi Sato to turn over rice straw at three in the morning every day. You didn’t complain even when your hands blistered. When filming Matsusaka Umeboshi, you followed Sumie Matsumoto to pick green plums and rub salt grains to understand the pickling process, and your skin got two shades darker. This attitude of settling down and immersing yourself in life is something many young directors lack.”
Toshihide Takada also nodded, holding the report on “Taste of Neon’s” overseas spread: “Mr. Asumi is right. ‘Taste of Neon’ has surpassed 8 million views in Southeast Asia, and many foreign viewers want to travel to Japan after watching it. Even a television station in Thailand has approached us for cooperation to film ‘Taste of Neon: Thailand and Japan.’ This is all thanks to Hiroshi-kun; you’ve used food as a bridge to let people from different cultural backgrounds feel Japan’s warmth.”
Sakata Nobuhiko put down his sake cup and looked at everyone in the room: “Everyone, what makes Hiroshi-kun most admirable is not his talent, but his ‘original aspiration.’ After he became famous, he didn’t rush to make commercial films for quick money; instead, he continued to produce cultural documentaries like 《Taste of Neon》. After his promotion, he didn’t think about putting on airs, but instead focused on establishing a ‘Creation Exchange Room’ to help young directors. Such an original aspiration is more precious than any talent. From now on, Tokyo TV will fully support Hiroshi-kun’s creative endeavors. Whether it’s funds, equipment, or personnel, if he needs it, we will provide it!”
Hiroshi Nohara looked at the audience of seniors and colleagues, his heart filled with warmth. He stood up, holding his wine glass, and bowed to everyone: “Thank you for your recognition and support. I know I still have many shortcomings, for example, I still need to learn in terms of management, and accumulate experience in international communication. In the future, I will continue to work hard, live up to everyone’s expectations, and not let down Tokyo TV’s nurturing. I raise a glass to everyone, hoping to produce more warm and profound works together with all of you in the future!”
Everyone raised their sake cups, the aroma of sake filling the private room.
Masao Iwata pulled Hiroshi Nohara aside to chat about the follow-up creation for An Shizhi, Soji Ashikaga asked for advice on camera work for historical dramas, Kouta Asano discussed narrative pacing for heartwarming films, while Eiji Kurosawa and Keiko Matsumoto discussed with Nobuhiko Sakata how to secure more resources for Hiroshi Nohara.
Until late at night, the celebration banquet concluded. Hiroshi Nohara walked out of the club slightly tipsy. The evening breeze brushed across the streets of Ginza, and the neon lights reflected on his face, filled with warmth and determination.
The next morning, as soon as Hiroshi Nohara arrived at the Kanto Stage entrance, he was surrounded by Yuichi Matsui, Ryuji Yamada, Ken Fujishita, and others.
Yuichi Matsui, holding a red silk ribbon that read “Congratulations to Hiroshi-san on his promotion to Second-Class Director and appointment as Kanto Stage Deputy Director,” smiled broadly. “Hiroshi-san, we heard about yesterday’s Tokyo TV ceremony. Senior Kurosawa Eiji and Senior Matsumoto Keiko had such high praise for you! Today, our Kanto Stage must also celebrate properly. It’s a celebration of your promotion to Second-Class Director, and also of your becoming our Kanto Stage Deputy Director. This is truly great news for our Kanto Stage!”
Ryuji Yamada held a stack of proposals and said with a smile, “Hiroshi-san, these are documentary proposals submitted by the young directors of our Kanto Stage. They include ‘Ibaraki Lacquerware Inheritance,’ ‘Changes in Chiba Fishing Port,’ and ‘Mie Prefecture Japanese Sweets Production.’ All of them are inspired by your 《 Taste of Neon 《 and aim to film the traditional crafts and culture of our Kanto region. Now that you are the Deputy Director, you must guide us and see how these proposals can be revised to have more warmth.”
Ken Fujishita, holding a stack of advertising contracts, his chubby face crinkled into a smile, said, “Hiroshi-san, thanks to you, ‘Asakusa-ya’ Sushi has not only signed an annual advertising contract with us, but also sponsored 5 million yen for the documentary! ‘Matsuya’ pickles has also agreed to a collaboration, wanting to film a ‘Centennial Story of Matsusaka Umeboshi.’ Now, our Kanto Stage’s advertising revenue has increased by 30% compared to last year, and the employees’ bonuses can be quite substantial. Everyone is hoping you’ll come more often to offer guidance!”
Kojiro Kobayashi held a notebook filled with dense writing. “Hiroshi-san, the ‘Exploring Old Neighborhoods’ proposal that was rejected before has now started filming. Yesterday, we filmed all day in the old Yanaka, Nezu, and Sendagi neighborhoods. The old shopkeepers were very cooperative, saying, ‘Thank you, Hiroshi-san, for letting more people know the stories of our old streets.’ Also, for the ‘Traditional Dyeing’ proposal, I followed your suggestion and added a scene about ‘a young designer collaborating with an old artisan.’ Now the Ministry of Education is asking if this proposal can be included in the ‘Youthful Revitalization of Traditional Crafts’ project!”
Shigeru Saito had been silent, but now he quietly took out his camera and flipped through the behind-the-scenes footage of the “Taste of Neon” Kanto arc. In the video, Hiroshi Nohara was squatting in an Ibaraki Prefecture lacquerware workshop, learning to apply lacquer from an old artisan. His hands were stained with lacquer, but he was smiling happily. There was also footage of him in Chiba Fishing Port, learning to cast a net from Masayasu Nomizu. The fishing net accidentally got tangled around his foot, and the fishermen, smiling, helped him untangle it. He also laughed along with them.
Shigeru Saito handed the camera to everyone, saying, “Hiroshi-san never considered himself a ‘great director.’ He always squatted on the ground with us to film the details and learned traditional crafts alongside the artisans. We respect a leader like him!”
Yuichi Matsui took the camera and, looking at Hiroshi Nohara in the behind-the-scenes footage, said with a smile, “Hiroshi-san, let’s not chat at the doorway. The meeting room has sake and Japanese cuisine prepared, all specialties from our Kanto Region—Ibaraki’s natto rice, Chiba’s grilled fish, Mie’s umeboshi, and tempura made by the chef at the Kanto Stage cafeteria. Everyone is waiting to celebrate with you!”
Everyone crowded around Hiroshi Nohara as he entered the meeting room, where a long table had already been set up. The dishes on the table were steaming, and the aroma of sake filled the air.
Yuichi Matsui raised his beer mug and said to everyone, “Today we’ll have two drinks. The first is to celebrate Hiroshi-san’s promotion to second-class director, wishing him many more good works in the future. The second is to celebrate Hiroshi-san becoming the deputy director of our Kanto Stage, wishing our Kanto Stage’s documentary business more and more prosperity! Cheers!”
“Cheers!”
Everyone raised their sake cups, and the sound of sake clinking echoed in the meeting room.
Hiroshi Nohara looked at his colleagues filling the room, his heart filled with warmth. “Thank you for your recognition and support, everyone. I know Kanto Stage has faced many difficulties before, such as aging equipment and talent drain, but I believe that as long as we work together and produce good content about the traditional crafts and culture of the Kanto Region, Kanto Stage will surely regain its vitality. I will visit Kanto Stage often from now on, to discuss proposals and refine works with all of you. Please feel free to tell me any problems you encounter, and we will solve them together!”
Yuichi Matsui put down his sake cup and picked up the proposal for “Inheritance of Ibaraki Lacquerware” colored with purple and purple: “Hiroshi-san, look at this proposal. The young director wants to film the process of making Ibaraki lacquerware, but I feel like something is missing. Can you give me some advice?”
Hiroshi Nohara took the proposal and carefully looked through it, saying, “This proposal is good, but we can add a scene about ‘the daily use of lacquerware.’ For example, we can film an old artisan serving rice to his grandson with lacquerware, and a young designer using lacquerware as a coffee cup. This will let the audience see that lacquerware is not just an exhibit in a museum, but an object that can be integrated into daily life. Also, we need to film the ‘clash of concepts’ between the old artisan and the young designer—the old artisan insists on traditional patterns, while the young designer wants to add modern elements. This clash can make the film more dynamic.”
Ryuji Yamada also handed over a proposal about the changes in Chiba Fishing Port: “Hiroshi-san, this proposal aims to film the transformation of Chiba Fishing Port from traditional fishing to modern fisheries, but I’m unsure how to balance ‘tradition’ and ‘modernity’.”
Hiroshi Nohara smiled and said, “We can contrast two generations of fishermen—the grandfather using traditional nets to catch fish, and the grandson using satellite positioning to find schools of fish; the grandfather selling fish at the wharf, and the grandson selling fish through online live streaming. But don’t emphasize ‘who is better or worse,’ instead, highlight ‘innovation in inheritance’—the grandfather teaches the grandson how to identify fish schools, and the grandson teaches the grandfather how to check weather forecasts on his mobile phone. This way, we can show the changes in the fishing port and also convey the warmth of ‘inheritance.'”
Everyone gathered around Hiroshi Nohara, listening to his suggestions, nodding in agreement from time to time, and occasionally offering their own ideas, the discussion in the meeting room grew more passionate. Ken Fujishita held the advertising contract, discussing with Hiroshi Nohara how to incorporate the advertisement into the documentary.
Kojiro Kobayashi held the notebook, recording Hiroshi Nohara’s revision suggestions for the proposal.
Shigeru Saito talked with Hiroshi Nohara about equipment upgrades, saying he wanted to apply for funds to buy a few new cameras to make filming smoother.
The celebration banquet didn’t end until evening.
Hiroshi Nohara walked out of the Kanto Stage with a strong, drunken smile on his face.
When the driver dropped him off at the apartment building, he was still muttering, “Tomorrow I have to coordinate with NHK about cultural export” and “I need to help the young director at Kanto Stage revise the proposal.”
Opening the door, Misae Nohara saw his drunken state and quickly helped him to the sofa, handing him a glass of hangover soup: “Hiroshi-kun, why did you drink so much? Drink some hangover soup quickly, I made natto rice for you to fill your stomach.”
Hiroshi Nohara leaned into Misae’s embrace, catching the faint scent of her shampoo and suddenly smiled, “Misae, the colleagues at Kanto Stage are very warm. They talked a lot about proposals with me, and even said they want to film traditional crafts in Kanto together. I feel the responsibility on my shoulders is heavier now, but I’m also more motivated.”
Misae fed him hangover soup and said softly, “I know you’re working hard, but you also need to take care of your health. You’ve been busy for several months straight, first filming 《 Taste of Neon 》, then focusing on promotion, and now managing Kanto Stage’s work. If you continue like this, your body will break down. I’ve already told Mother, and we’ll rest well for these two days. Don’t think about anything, and go back to work when you’ve recovered.”
For the next two days, Hiroshi Nohara spent almost all his time sleeping.
Misae made him plain congee and natto rice every day. Occasionally, she would sit by his bedside, watching him sleep with a gentle smile on her lips.
She knew that this man carried too much on his shoulders—not just his own creative dreams, but also the responsibility of cultural inheritance and the expectations of the entire team.
And all she could do was protect this home, so that when he was tired, he would have a warm harbor.
