Chapter 76: Rematch In Front Of The Audit Department!
Friday, eight o’clock in the morning.
Production Bureau Headquarters Building, Audit Department.
The corridor was polished to a mirror shine, with central air conditioning’s cold air intertwining with printer ink, creating a special sense of solemnity.
Hiroshi Nohara walked at the forefront. Today, he wore a well-tailored dark gray casual suit, no tie, with the top two buttons of his collar casually undone. A faint, carefree smile hung on his handsome face, exuding an air of leisurely composure.
Behind him, Hoshi Minamimura, Roji Hase, and Yō Kitagawa were like knights about to charge into a holy war, each holding their heads high, their faces filled with solemnity and excitement.
Hoshi Minamimura and Roji Hase flanked him, one on each side, like the most loyal guards, carefully cradling a master tape meticulously wrapped in shockproof packaging.
Yō Kitagawa tightly clutched a folder, which contained the section chief’s painstaking effort and the hopes of their entire team—the World of the Strange proposal.
“Good morning, Miss Takeshita.”
Hiroshi Nohara reached the Audit Department and gave a perfectly measured gentle smile to the female staff member who wore black-rimmed glasses, appeared somewhat stern, but was always efficient and capable in her work.
“It’s Section Chief Nohara. Good morning.” Aiai Takeshita pushed up her glasses, and her usually expressionless face softened imperceptibly upon seeing Hiroshi Nohara.
After all, this young person before her was a legendary figure known to everyone in the entire Production Bureau.
He was also someone she had watched grow step by step.
“This is the master tape and proposal for our classroom’s new project. Please help submit them.” Hiroshi Nohara stepped aside slightly, signaling the three behind him to present the items.
“Yes!”
Hoshi Minamimura and Roji Hase stepped forward almost simultaneously, gently placing the box in their hands on the reception desk. The motion was so solemn, as if presenting a secret decree concerning the fate of the nation.
Aiai Takeshita nodded, about to log them in per procedure, when her peripheral vision caught several figures approaching unhurriedly from the other end of the corridor.
Her expression turned to disgust.
Because the leader was none other than Masao Iwata, the capable general of the currently ascendant Tokyo Faction in the Production Bureau.
Hiroshi Nohara noticed too. He turned his head, his smile unchanged, but a flicker of understanding passed through his clear eyes.
This really was a case of enemies crossing paths.
Masao Iwata had obviously seen them too. Far from avoiding, he quickened his pace, a victor’s smug smile on his face, striding straight over.
Behind him trailed the assistant named Kojima, and… Ichiro Hashishita, whose face was as gloomy as the sky before a storm.
“Yo, isn’t this Section Chief Nohara? What a coincidence.”
Masao Iwata’s voice was loud and full of false enthusiasm. He reached the reception desk and slammed his own exquisitely packaged master tape and proposal down with a heavy thud—not loud, but full of provocation.
“We’ve finished the sample film for the third season of An Shizhi. We’re also here to ask Miss Takeshita to help review it.”
At these words, Ichiro Hashishita’s face darkened further behind him, and he instinctively shrank back.
However, Hoshi Minamimura and Roji Hase behind Hiroshi Nohara didn’t even spare him a glance.
All expression on their young faces froze into icy indifference the moment they saw Ichiro Hashishita.
And beneath the indifference, burning anger.
They even tacitly turned their heads in unison to look out the window on the other side of the corridor, their posture suggesting that this man, once their senior, was nothing more than colorless, odorless air, not worth a second of their attention.
This disregard was more wounding than any vicious curse.
Ichiro Hashishita’s body stiffened abruptly, his already gloomy face turning pig-liver red. He clenched his fists tightly, feeling his dignity trampled underfoot by these former juniors in the most contemptuous way.
Masao Iwata took it all in, a playful curve hooking his lips.
This was exactly the effect he wanted.
He wanted Ichiro Hashishita to fully see his isolation by the Kanto Faction, thereby devoting himself completely as the most loyal dog under Masao Iwata’s command.
“Oh dear, how unpredictable the world is.”
Masao Iwata deliberately sighed at length, patting Ichiro Hashishita’s shoulder as if consoling a wronged meritorious minister, but his gaze fixed straight on Hiroshi Nohara, filled with condescending pity.
“Back in the day, it was Section Chief Suzuki standing here. Now, he’s been promoted to second-class director, off to the Kanto Regional Station to produce a new animated film and start a second career spring. And me? I had the honor of taking over the golden signboard of An Shizhi. Speaking of which, I really have to thank you, Section Chief Nohara, for laying such a solid foundation for us. Now, I’m going to use this work to prove my success.”
These words dripped with sarcasm.
Every word was like a poison-tipped needle, precisely stabbing at the sore spots of everyone from the Kanto Faction present.
“You—!”
Hoshi Minamimura and Roji Hase exploded instantly, their young faces filled with anger as they whipped around simultaneously to confront him.
However, Hiroshi Nohara merely raised his hand lightly, steadily suppressing their erupting fury.
He looked at Masao Iwata, his face still bearing that unruffled smile, as if the other’s petty tricks were nothing more than a clown’s ridiculous performance.
“Section Chief Iwata, you flatter me.” His voice was calm, betraying no emotion: “A work’s success is the result of the entire team’s effort. Now that you and… Senior Hashishita have taken over, I naturally hope you can produce a good third season of An Shizhi.”
“I also hope that during our previous production of An Shizhi, the techniques, concepts, and innovative ideas involved were truly learned.”
He paused, his gaze finally settling on Ichiro Hashishita, who had kept his head down the entire time, avoiding his eyes. That look was as calm as a bottomless lake.
“Otherwise, all the effort I put in before would really… be wasted.”
These words were spoken lightly, yet they landed like an invisible slap across Ichiro Hashishita’s face.
Behind the seemingly encouraging words lay the original creator’s raw contempt for a shoddy imitator.
—You’re just an inheritor, while I am the creator. Don’t waste my effort.
“I—!”
Ichiro Hashishita jerked his head up, his bloodshot eyes glaring fixedly at Hiroshi Nohara. The long-suppressed humiliation and anger erupted like a breached dam!
“Hiroshi Nohara! Don’t get too smug!” His voice sharpened piercingly with agitation, like shattered glass: “I was involved in An Shizhi’s production too! From proposal to storyboard, which part didn’t I give you suggestions on?! I’m a contributor too! Why does all the credit go to you alone?! Why does everyone only see you?!”
He gasped heavily, his flushed face distorting with intense emotion.
“Now, I’m going to use this third season of An Shizhi to prove myself! Prove that I, Ichiro Hashishita, can succeed without you!”
This hysterical declaration plunged the entire corridor into dead silence.
Masao Iwata watched with keen interest, a look of enjoying the show on his face.
And before Hiroshi Nohara could even speak, the trio behind him had reached their limit.
“Ha! Did I hear that right?”
Hoshi Minamimura was the first to scoff. He looked at Ichiro Hashishita as if at a shameless thief: “Suggestions? Senior Hashishita, your so-called suggestions were just trailing behind the section chief every day, asking ‘Wouldn’t this storyboard be better drawn like this?’ ‘Isn’t that color too dark?’ Then, once the section chief finalized everything, you take notes and pretend to jot them down pretentiously—that’s your contribution?”
“Exactly!”
Roji Hase stepped forward too, his usually somewhat shy face now full of contempt: “Just us two helping the section chief organize materials and draw auxiliary background lines—that workload was far more than yours as so-called ‘line producer’! And you have the nerve to call yourself a contributor? Your words are nothing but boastful self-praise! I’m embarrassed for you!”
Even the usually quiet Yō Kitagawa couldn’t help clenching her small fists, her always sparkling big eyes filled with disappointment and anger: “Senior Hashishita, we all used to respect you so much. But you… you’ve really let us down!”
These three blows landed like the loudest slaps, shattering what little self-respect Ichiro Hashishita had left!
His bold self-defense rang so hollow before these three who knew the inside story best.
So laughable.
“I… I…” Ichiro Hashishita’s face drained from red to white, then to green.
He gaped, unable to retort a single word, his eyes like a wild dog skinned alive in public, filled with endless malice and madness.
“Fine! Fine! You’re all on his side!”
In furious humiliation, he lost all reason, venting all his resentment on the young person who had merely watched him calmly from start to finish.
“Hiroshi Nohara! Don’t think you’ve won! I heard about your World of the Strange—it was shot in one day! And you got some has-been old director for a cameo! No matter how you submit this shoddy crap for review, it’s doomed to fail! Absolutely doomed!”
He roared near-curse-like, his voice gratingly shrill in the quiet corridor.
Yet at the peak of his roar, an icy gaze cold enough to freeze the air pierced his pupils like a drawn sharp sword.
The smile on Hiroshi Nohara’s face had vanished without trace.
In its place was a cold detachment like an ancient glacier.
He slowly turned, his usually gentle smiling eyes now like two bottomless cold pools—calm, yet harboring terrifying power to devour all.
He said nothing, just stared fixedly and quietly at Ichiro Hashishita.
That gaze held no anger, no contempt—only pure, deity-overlooking-ant absolute indifference.
It was a warning.
A silent one, yet more intimidating than any words.
“…”
Ichiro Hashishita’s next venomous curse was choked off at the throat by an invisible hand, not a syllable escaping.
His body began trembling uncontrollably.
Under that icy gaze, he felt stark naked in Siberian winds, a chill surging from his soles to the crown of his head, instantly sobering his rage-clouded mind.
He was afraid.
Because he was deeply guilty inside.
So he shut his mouth.
The corridor fell into dead silence again.
Hiroshi Nohara withdrew his gaze, his handsome face resuming its carefree demeanor.
He gave a gentle smile to Aiai Takeshita, now stunned speechless by the turn of events, and nodded:
“Miss Takeshita, thank you.”
With that, he led his three subordinates away without looking back.
His back was upright and composed, like a king finishing his territory inspection, leaving not a trace of cloud.
Only after those figures vanished at the corridor’s end did Ichiro Hashishita slump as if exhausted, legs buckling nearly to the floor.
He leaned on the wall, gasping heavily, his forehead covered in fine cold sweat.
“Section Chief… Iwata…” His voice hoarse, he looked to Masao Iwata beside him, eyes carrying post-disaster terror.
Masao Iwata said nothing.
The show-watching smile had vanished from his face, replaced by unprecedented solemnity and curiosity.
He had felt it too.
In that instant, the terrifying aura erupting from that young person—enough to make anyone shudder.
That was not something a twenty-three-year-old should possess.
It was as if…
Absolute confidence and absolute assurance!
What exactly was this Hiroshi Nohara’s background?
For the first time, Masao Iwata felt genuine, heartfelt wariness toward this opponent he had seen as a hotheaded youth.
But he quickly suppressed the emotion.
He patted Ichiro Hashishita’s still-trembling shoulder, his voice low but commanding.
“What are you afraid of?”
“No matter how great he is, he’s just one person. We will win this time!”
Ichiro Hashishita looked at Masao Iwata’s ambition-filled face, recalled that icy gaze, gritted his teeth, and nodded heavily.
He knew he had no way out.
He could only walk this bridge of betrayal to the dark end.
PS: A bit wiped out, nine chapters, calling it here to sleep. Will grind more tomorrow. Give some monthly and recommendation tickets~
