Chapter 63: Satisfied Misae Family Departs!
Sunday evening, 8 PM.
Mitsukoshi Department Store.
The Oyama Family emerged from the revolving door, each face flushed with a slightly tipsy glow of shock.
It was a pure radiance of satisfaction from a fully loaded haul.
“Oh my, Hiroshi-kun, this… this is too extravagant, really too extravagant!”
Mother Takao Oyama’s voice carried a sweet burden.
She carefully slung the newly acquired LV Neverfull handbag printed with classic monogram patterns over her shoulder, her posture less like carrying a bag and more like cradling a newborn, pink and adorable child.
Her other hand held several shopping bags marked with “SHISEIDO” and “DIOR” logos.
Inside were top-tier cosmetics and platinum jewelry enough to let her hold her head high at the tea parties of Kumamoto Prefecture housewives for a whole month!
“Yes, Hiroshi-kun, we… we were just browsing casually, really no need to buy so much.” Big sister Masae’s face also glowed with a pretty blush.
She somewhat embarrassedly hid her matching LV bag behind her back, her teacherly dignity teetering under the powerful offensive of money.
“Brother-in-law! You’re simply my god!”
Only little sister Mogae was like a little bear that had just stolen all the world’s honey, blissfully beside herself.
One hand slung with her new bag, the other held high with the just-bought Chanel lipstick, she gazed at the brilliant neon lights of Tokyo Metropolis under the night sky like admiring a victory medal.
Her big, sparkling eyes unabashedly scanned back and forth over her handsome, wealthy, and incredibly generous future brother-in-law.
That gaze was so fervent it seemed ready to melt Hiroshi Nohara on the spot.
“I’ve decided! From now on, when I look for a boyfriend, I want one just like you, brother-in-law! No! Just you!”
“Cough! Cough cough cough!”
Walking at the front, Yoshiharu Oyama was choked by his youngest daughter’s shocking declaration, coughing violently; his face, which had been somewhat ruddy from a bit of tipsiness, instantly turned liver-colored.
He glared fiercely at the ignorant girl, trying to suppress this improper trend with the authority of a father and dean of students.
But when his gaze inadvertently fell on the two heavy wooden boxes in his hand printed with the antique lettering of ‘Juyondai’, the erupting anger was doused like by a bucket of ice water, instantly extinguished.
Far more than just wine.
The handmade suit on him, custom-tailored at Ginza’s most renowned tailor shop, with its supple wool fabric and second-skin fit, silently yet clearly reminded him of one fact over and over—
This young prospective son-in-law, Hiroshi Nohara, truly had real strength.
And truly… was willing to spend money.
“Dad! Mogae was just joking!”
Misae quickly positioned herself between her sister and father like a mother hen protecting her chicks.
She knew her little sister always liked to joke.
But at this moment, Misae’s flushed little face was full of pride: “Besides, this is all Hiroshi-kun’s heartfelt gesture, so just accept it with peace of mind!”
“Yes, Uncle and Aunt, it’s rare for everyone to come to Tokyo, happiness is most important.” Hiroshi Nohara’s face bore a gentle smile, his posture as composed as if he’d just bought a few bottles of cola at the convenience store downstairs.
He was naturally composed.
Just yesterday afternoon, Shueisha had transferred last month’s royalties and manuscript fees for 《Yu Yu Hakusho》 in full into his account.
And it was front-page manuscript fees!
With weekly sales first and top reviews!
That string of long digits was enough for him to strut through any luxury store in Tokyo.
Not to mention he’d already planned ahead.
For that upcoming hot potato 《An Shizhi》 third season, he planned to demand a sky-high price for its copyright and adaptation rights—one that would make the guy taking over 《An Shizhi》 ache all night with nightmares yet have to swallow it.
After all, who in all of Tokyo didn’t know the value of 《An Shizhi》’s golden reputation?
Someone wants to pick the peaches? Fine.
Pay money to take them.
Using the enemy’s money to foot the bill for his woman and family—this feeling was even more satisfying than his manga topping the weekly charts.
Especially knowing 《An Shizhi》’s third season was surely headed for Waterloo.
After all, the first and second seasons had already covered An Shizhi’s core—urban legends—almost completely.
Even Neon’s Tokyo Television Production Bureau had faced Waterloo.
Creative drought.
Unable to produce more innovation.
Forced ratings decline.
Only in the fourth and fifth seasons, by bringing in more screenwriters for collective brainstorming, adding narration and open endings, and deepening the ‘urban legends’ theme in the fifth season while incorporating darker human nature traits,
did they regain new ratings.
Therefore, Hiroshi Nohara didn’t believe the third season of 《An Shizhi》, sticking to traditional thinking, could achieve much!
Of course, for Hiroshi Nohara, it didn’t matter.
Good results would be fine too.
Even if produced by another production bureau’s classroom.
But the father of 《An Shizhi》—wasn’t that still him, Hiroshi Nohara?
He could still get good reputation then.
Of course, if the production fell short.
That would be interesting.
After all, Hiroshi Nohara still held 《An Shizhi》’s fourth and fifth seasons in hand as ace bombs!
Thinking of this, the corners of Hiroshi Nohara’s mouth curved up.
He was indeed extremely pleased.
……
The black Toyota Crown Majesta glided silently like a tamed black beast on the wide avenue toward Tokyo Station.
Outside the car window was this city’s bizarre ukiyo-e; inside, a warm and harmonious scene.
The moment of parting would eventually come.
Tokyo Station, on the Shinkansen platform, the train whistle elongated the sorrow of farewell.
“Hiroshi-kun, this time… thank you so much.”
Prospective mother-in-law Takao Oyama held Hiroshi Nohara’s hand, her always gentle eyes now brimming with undisguisable admiration and satisfaction: “Misae finding a boyfriend like you is her good fortune. If this child acts willful in the future, please bear with her.”
“Yes! Aunt, rest assured, I’ll take good care of Misae.” Hiroshi Nohara bowed slightly, his posture extremely humble.
“Mm… that is…”
Yoshiharu Oyama, who had kept a stern face, finally squeezed out a few words from his throat after a long silence.
Though his voice still carried the dean of students’ stiffness, it lacked the icy coldness that kept people at bay: “Hiroshi, next time… next time you come to Kumamoto, remember… to bring Misae. I like you a lot.”
After speaking, he walked into the carriage first, as if completing some great task, without looking back.
But his slightly reddened earlobes still betrayed his inner reluctance and recognition.
“Brother-in-law, goodbye!”
Mogae fluttered like a butterfly, giving Hiroshi Nohara a big hug and whispering in his ear with orchid-like breath: “I’ll definitely come to Tokyo to find you again!”
Hiroshi Nohara felt a rush of fragrance before the girl had already giggled and run off.
Only big sister Masae paused her steps when she reached him.
Looking at this ‘brother-in-law’ a few years younger than herself, a complex expression mixing envy and a touch of loss appeared on her usually gentle and serene face.
“Hiroshi-kun.” She said softly, her voice carrying an unprecedented seriousness: “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Misae. Please… make sure to keep her happy.”
“I will.” Hiroshi Nohara met her gaze and nodded firmly.
The train slowly departed, carrying away those gazes of gratification, reluctance, or anticipation.
Hiroshi Nohara held Misae’s hand on the platform until the white steel serpent completely vanished from sight.
……
In the Shinkansen’s first-class carriage, spacious independent seats were like tiny private castles, isolating the outside noise and journey fatigue.
The Oyama Family sank into the soft seats, watching the scenery rapidly recede outside, a sense of otherworldliness surging in their hearts.
“Oh my, first class is so comfortable.”
Takao Oyama stroked the fine leather of the seat, sighing: “On the way here in business class, I thought it was already great, but this first class is like a moving hotel room.”
She paused, glanced at her husband beside her who was resting with eyes closed but whose mouth corners were unconsciously upturned, and laughed: “Look at Dad, he won’t say it, but he’s thrilled inside. Those two bottles of ‘Juyondai’, he held them earlier like treasures, afraid they’d get bumped.”
Yoshiharu Oyama slowly opened his eyes at her words, a rare embarrassed blush on his usually stern face.
He cleared his throat, trying to mask his guilty conscience with dean of students authority: “Nonsense! I… I just think that kid is… somewhat sensible.”
Sensible.
This was already the highest praise he could give.
“Far more than sensible.” Big sister Masae looked at her brand-new LV bag, a hint of envy in her eyes she herself hadn’t noticed: “Hiroshi-kun is… truly a great man. Considerate, generous, capable. Misae meeting him is so lucky.”
Her words instantly quieted the carriage atmosphere.
Takao Oyama looked at her eldest daughter’s somewhat dazed profile, sighing softly in her heart.
She gently took Masae’s hand.
And pinched it lightly, then said in a tender tone only they mother and daughter understood:
“Masae, Mom knows you envy Misae. But everyone has their own fate. You and that child from the Fujiwara Family get along well too, right? Fujiwara-kun may not be as… dazzling as Hiroshi-kun, but he’s steady, has a stable job, and from a family we know well—this is the best choice for a life together.”
Fujiwara, son of a capable assemblyman in Kumamoto Prefecture, was personally selected by Yoshiharu Oyama for his eldest daughter, a near-perfect marriage prospect.
“I know, Mom.”
Masae’s face bloomed again with a gentle smile, one carrying the beauty of being cherished: “Fujiwara-kun is of course very good to me.”
“Yes, we women must learn contentment.” Takao Oyama also showed a gratified smile.
But a trace of… dejection flickered in Masae Oyama’s eyes.
Fujiwara was indeed good to her.
But that goodness was like a cup of lukewarm plain water—quenching thirst, yet tasteless.
The flavor within, only she could know.
Beside them, family head Yoshiharu Oyama pretended not to see the mother-daughter talk. He turned to look out the window, nodded in satisfaction at his wife and eldest daughter’s conversation.
He knew his eldest daughter had always been the most worry-free for him.
But when his gaze fell on his youngest daughter, who was engrossed in a fashion magazine with a dreamy smile on her lips, his heart that had just settled leaped back to his throat.
This troublesome girl…
Looking at Mogae’s face, seventy percent similar to Misae’s but more delicate and lively, the old father’s worry welled up like Kumamoto Prefecture’s summer rainy season, endless.
This era changed too fast.
Tokyo’s massive steel forest full of temptations—was it heaven or hell for these simple girls from a small place?
He didn’t know, or rather didn’t want to know.
He only knew his seemingly unreliable second daughter had found a man who could hold up a sky for her in this forest.
And this troublesome youngest…
Yoshiharu Oyama sighed deeply, feeling his dean of students career was far from retirement.
……
The black Toyota Crown steadily pressed forward in the night.
No lights on inside the car, only the dashboard’s eerie blue glow and the window’s flowing neon rendered this small space like a moving dreamscape.
Misae said nothing.
At this moment, she rested her little head gently on Hiroshi Nohara’s shoulder, like a cat finding the warmest harbor, content and lazy.
She could smell his faint scent, a mature man’s mix of tobacco and cologne.
This scent was very familiar.
It made her feel utterly secure.
“What are you thinking?” Hiroshi Nohara looked ahead, his voice as mild as the jazz music flowing in the car.
“Mm…” Misae nuzzled his shoulder, her voice sweetly nasal: “I’m thinking… I must be the happiest girl in the world.”
She lifted her head, her big eyes still sparkling in the dark, staring unblinkingly at him.
That gaze like a lake brimming with starlight.
“Hiroshi-kun, you know? My dad… he rarely praises people. Today on the train, he secretly told me you’re a ‘man who can be entrusted’.”
She paused, a shy blush on her face, her voice mosquito-like: “He also said… for us to… settle the marriage soon.”
Hiroshi Nohara was slightly stunned, then his face broke into a brilliant smile: “Isn’t that how it should be?”
He hadn’t expected that stubborn father-in-law to surrender so quickly.
Handing over the adorable Misae to him.
Looks like his “RPG tactics” （Rare Precious Gifts） had super effective results.
After all, others might not know, but the Oyama Family and Hiroshi Nohara himself knew full well.
He was… six years older than Misae!
Misae was only 18 in Japanese age now.
He was 24 in Japanese age.
Sometimes Hiroshi Nohara was truly glad this was Neon, where Neon girls could marry at 16…
“Oh come on! What do you mean ‘should be’?” Misae lightly bit her lower lip, extremely shy.
“In that case—” Hiroshi Nohara saw Misae’s shy look and deliberately drew out his voice.
He turned his head, seeing his clear reflection on that tender, inches-away little face: “What do you think? My destined Mrs. Nohara?”
“I… I…” Misae’s face was red enough to drip blood; she buried her head deeper, her voice almost squeezed from her chest: “I… I’ll listen to you…”
Hiroshi Nohara felt a heat surge from his heart to his head; he yanked the steering wheel, and the black beast silently turned into a quiet, seldom-visited riverside lane.
He stopped the car.
The world instantly quieted, leaving only the river gently lapping the embankment in the evening breeze and their increasingly rapid heartbeats.
He turned, pulling the already lovesick little woman into his arms.
“Then… let’s take care of some… official business first.” His voice was hoarse, like a match lighting a fuse.
“Ah… ya meow… this is… outside…”
Misae’s protest was soon drowned in a stormy, slightly boozy hot kiss.
Outside the car window, Tokyo Tower’s gentle, brilliant lights.
Inside, two young souls in this vast, cold city, warmed each other in the most primal, fervent way.
This was their small, yet utterly sturdy castle.
And the castle’s king, after enjoying his spoils, was already plotting the next, grander war.
‘Phew—’
Hiroshi Nohara contentedly smoked, sitting in the spacious back seat, holding Misae buried in his chest.
He gazed at the deep night sky outside, eyes calm and sharp.
Tomorrow was Monday.
It was time for him… the section chief of Hiroshi Nohara’s special classroom, to truly step onto a more brilliant stage!
Thinking of the many things he’d heard at the Tokyo Television Production Bureau before.
Thinking of Deputy Director Asumi’s advice to him.
Hiroshi Nohara narrowed his eyes slightly.
“That S-grade live-action terror proposal?”
He murmured softly.
Hiroshi Nohara had already guessed a certain possibility from many things and prepared in advance—
He chuckled lightly, slowly exhaling a name: “…《World of the Strange》.”
