Chapter 59: Misae’s Shocked Family!
Inside the car, a scent of high-grade leather and brand-new plastic, along with the special smell of meticulous maintenance and cleaning, enveloped the Oyama Family.
The rear seat space was indeed spacious beyond reason.
Even with four women of varying builds squeezed in, it didn’t feel cramped at all; instead, they were like four dolls carefully placed in a velvet jewelry box.
“Wow—! Amazing! This car is just too awesome!” Mogae Oyama let out an unreserved exclamation as soon as she sat down.
She was like a curious little mouse that had snuck into a rice storehouse, her small hands touching here and pressing there, her big, bright eyes sparkling with a light even brighter than when she saw any handsome man.
She kept turning her head to Takao Oyama sitting next to her and said in surprise, “Big Sis, look at this leather and the woodgrain trim—it’s like brand new!”
Yoshiharu Oyama’s stern face, as he slowly settled into the passenger seat, was almost unable to hold steady due to his youngest daughter’s exuberance.
‘Damn brat! I clearly told her! So embarrassing!’
But Mogae Oyama’s words were not an exaggeration.
Mother Takao Oyama and big sis Masae also noticed this: the car’s newness clearly exceeded the scope of “well-maintained.”
In the corners of some seats, there were even small patches of transparent anti-dust plastic film that hadn’t been fully torn off, like shy marks proclaiming its “virgin state.”
Sitting in the passenger seat, Yoshiharu Oyama’s sensations were even more direct.
That rich, almost overbearing new car smell was continuously drilling into his nostrils, repeatedly emphasizing its uniqueness in a way that brooked no argument.
His face, as cold and hard as Kumamoto Prefecture winter rocks, remained stern, his gaze calmly fixed ahead, as if utterly indifferent to the expensive mobile fortress beneath him.
Only the hands slightly clenched on his knees betrayed the turmoil in his heart.
Even as a Kumamoto Prefecture civil servant.
He had never ridden in such a great car!
“Everyone, pay attention; we’re about to start moving.”
Hiroshi Nohara sat in the driver’s seat, smiled at the faces full of curiosity and scrutiny in the rearview mirror, but offered no explanation.
He deftly started the ignition and shifted gears.
Toyota’s proud V8 engine let out an almost inaudible low roar, and the whole car slid like black silk over ice, silently merging into the flow of cars exiting the parking lot.
“Yoshiharu, look at this young man; he drives quite steadily.” Takao Oyama in the back seat watched the scenery rapidly receding outside the window and couldn’t help whispering to her husband in the front, her tone carrying a bit of initial recognition.
This also helped ease the previous unpleasantness caused by the forceful approach.
Yoshiharu Oyama merely let out an ambiguous “hm” from his nose as a response.
The key was that he no longer harbored prejudice in his heart.
And it was swaying dramatically.
The car’s brand-newness had already made his earlier guess of “borrowed from the leader” somewhat untenable.
After all, which leader would casually lend a brand-new car not yet broken in to an intern?
Unless… this young person was no longer just a trusted subordinate, but… an illegitimate son-level existence?
A big leader’s illegitimate son!?
While he was lost in wild thoughts, his eldest daughter Masae in the back suddenly let out a soft, puzzled “Eh?”
“Eh? Misae, look on the ceiling; what’s that?”
She pointed with her slender finger at the beige suede headliner above the rear seats. Everyone looked up and saw, on that smooth suede surface, a clear, small, unmistakably feminine high heels… shoe print.
The shoe print’s angle was tricky, bearing a dynamic mark left from a forceful kick.
“…”
The entire car fell into a strange silence.
The air seemed to solidify, with only the engine breathing lowly.
Misae Nohara’s small face, already somewhat flushed from nervousness, “whoosh”—instantly turned red like a ripe tomato, the heat nearly steaming mist onto the car window glass.
Staring at that shoe print, her mind uncontrollably flashed to yesterday afternoon, in this brand-new “castle,” certain blush-inducing, heart-pounding scenes.
What castle setting sail… it was clearly the aftermath of the Titanic repeatedly and rapidly impacting the iceberg!
“Ah! That… that’s!”
Like a kitten whose tail had been stepped on, she flailed her hands in panic, trying to change the subject, but her brain blanked from extreme embarrassment, and she blurted out the biggest secret:
“This… this is Hiroshi-kun’s brand-new car that he just bought yesterday! I was afraid of dirtying the interior during the test drive, so I took off my shoes and held them in my hand, and accidentally hit the ceiling!”
“…”
If the earlier silence was solidified air, then now, the car was absolute vacuum.
Even the engine’s breathing seemed to vanish.
“New… new car?” Mother Takao Oyama’s voice trembled slightly.
“Bought… just yesterday?” Big sis Masae’s eyes were full of disbelief.
Even the always excitable little sister Mogae now had her mouth agape, her big bright eyes filled only with pure shock.
“Yeah! Hiroshi paid over five million yen in full cash!” Misae just nodded repeatedly at this point.
As for Yoshiharu Oyama in the front passenger seat, he slowly turned his head, his movements stiff like a rusty robot.
Looking at the young man beside him who had calmly driven the whole time, even with a faint smile on his face, Yoshiharu felt his battle-hardened heart, tempered rock-solid by his dean of students career, cracked wide open at this moment by a giant hammer named reality.
The hand on his knee began to tremble uncontrollably.
Over five million yen.
Full payment.
For a car.
He thought of the middle school where he had worked his whole life, of the principal who always preached “frugality in household management,” whose car was just an old-model Crown driven for over ten years.
And this young man in front of him was only…
Yoshiharu Oyama felt his dean of students career was a joke.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something to maintain his dignity as family head, but the words reached his lips and turned into a powerless turbid breath, which he painfully swallowed back.
Yoshiharu Oyama was at a loss for words.
His gaze toward Hiroshi Nohara.
Was truly full of doubt.
‘Could this guy really be an illegitimate son of Tokyo Television Station high-level leadership? If Misae follows such an illegitimate son, will she be ridiculed? What if they have a child—what then?’
Yoshiharu Oyama’s mind was in chaos.
His worldview was about to shatter!
Just as his fragile worldview teetered on the brink, little sister Mogae in the back suddenly remembered something, slapped her thigh hard, and let out a earth-shattering weird yell.
“Ah! I remember now! Hiroshi Nohara! This name… I think I’ve seen it somewhere!”
She frantically pulled out the latest issue of 《Weekly Shonen JUMP》 from her designer bag; the magazine’s edges were curled from countless readings.
She quickly flipped to the color pages in the middle, pointed at a name in bold font, her voice pitched higher from excitement.
“Brother-in-law! You… you’re Teacher Nohara, the one who draws 《Yu Yu Hakusho》?!”
Her words landed, and before everyone could recover from the five-million luxury car impact, an even more powerful depth charge exploded in the small car.
“What?!” Big sis Masae and Takao Oyama exclaimed in unison.
Though they didn’t read manga, the name 《Yu Yu Hakusho》 was really too hot lately among Kumamoto’s young people.
“No… not just 《Yu Yu Hakusho》!”
Fanaticism like seeing an idol appeared on Mogae’s face as she pointed at the byline small print, practically roaring it out: “—Super popular late-night animation 《An Shizhi》 original work · proposal, genius manga artist · Hiroshi Nohara!”
《An Shizhi》…
This name, like a lightning bolt, split open the chaotic fog in Yoshiharu Oyama’s mind.
He remembered!
Just last night, he was drinking at an izakaya with some old colleagues.
During the gathering, the vice principal who always bragged about his son thriving in Tokyo was spittle-flying about this animation.
He said young people at his son’s company now didn’t dare do overtime alone at night and avoided the copier.
He said this animation’s ratings created a myth for Tokyo Television Station’s late-night slot.
He said this animation’s producer was a once-in-a-millennium genius.
At the time, Yoshiharu Oyama had scoffed, thinking it was just crowd-pleasing gimmicks unfit for the stage.
But now…
That “genius” who created the “myth,” making all of Tokyo’s young people tremble… devil.
Was sitting right beside him, calmly driving, about to become… his son-in-law?
Yoshiharu Oyama felt his world completely collapse at this moment.
He slowly leaned back into the soft leather seat, and that always stern, rock-hard face cracked for the first time.
‘This illegitimate son is pretty capable!’
