Chapter 78: 39 Episodes Of 《world Oddities》 All Filmed! In Less Than A Month!
When Aiai Takeshita personally sent back the proposal stamped with a bright red “approved” seal, along with that master tape that created a miracle, to Hiroshi Nohara’s Special Production Team, the entire office was instantly drowned in a tsunami-like roar of cheers!
“Oh oh oh oh oh—!”
“It’s approved! We made it!”
“Awesome! We did it!”
Hoshi Minamimura and Roji Hase, the two hot-blooded young men, were so excited they jumped around like monkeys bouncing up and down.
That pure and fiery joy belonging to young people infected everyone present.
Yō Kitagawa clutched her mouth tightly, her always sparkling big eyes already brimming with excited tears.
Even the Kanto Faction veterans who had seen all kinds of storms couldn’t help but reveal heartfelt smiles, patting each other’s shoulders, their faces weathered by years regaining a long-lost radiance.
In the corner, Eiji Kurosawa was holding a cup of hot tea, quietly watching his performance as the “storyteller” on the monitor.
He looked at himself on the screen, wrapped in soft lighting and profound darkness, a faint indescribable astonishment appearing on his usually somewhat serious face.
He had guest-starred in many roles, either tragic and heroic samurai or upright elders, but he had never imagined that simply sitting quietly like this, narrating a story in a near-recitative style, could create such a eerie yet captivating sense of mystery.
He clearly remembered that during filming, Hiroshi Nohara gave him no guidance on acting.
The young man just told him: “Director Kurosawa, just pretend you’re telling a bedtime story to your grandson, except this story is a bit… dark.”
It was this simple, almost straightforward direction, paired with the tricky camera position, the perfectly balanced light and shadow, and the rhythm control in post-production editing that was precise to the millisecond…
In the end, it presented an artistic effect full of high-level sophistication that even he himself felt unfamiliar with.
“This young man…”
Eiji Kurosawa set down his teacup, his eyes that had witnessed countless rises and falls flickering with an unprecedented sense of emotion and admiration: “He’s not filming with a director’s techniques at all; he’s capturing the souls of light and shadow and humanity with an almost instinctive intuition. What a… born monster.”
This wasn’t praise; it was stating a fact.
Because Eiji Kurosawa had truly witnessed how Hiroshi Nohara handled storyboarding, lenses, lighting, actor expressions and eye angles, and final editing all by himself on set.
At the time, he just felt Hiroshi Nohara had broad knowledge.
He even worried he was biting off more than he could chew.
Now…
Eiji Kurosawa had seen the complete first episode, and even after pondering it himself, he felt uneasy that he couldn’t achieve such completion in an afternoon.
And that was with many people helping.
So.
That’s why Eiji Kurosawa looked at Hiroshi Nohara with such emotion—this was a true genius like a monster!
In fact, not just him; everyone saw Hiroshi Nohara as a monster.
Beyond ordinary people!
‘Clap clap clap!’
“Everyone, pay attention!”
However, amid this victorious frenzy, the young man whom everyone saw as a monster just calmly clapped his hands, drawing all attention to him.
“Alright, everyone, celebrations end here.”
Hiroshi Nohara’s voice wasn’t loud, but it rang like thunder, drawing all eyes to him.
He walked to the whiteboard, picked up a pen, and under the World of the Strange title, wrote two new names—Machio Rumors, Double Six Dice.
“Approval is just the ticket to entry. The real battle is only just beginning.”
His gaze swept over everyone, with an irrefutable resolve as he said in a deep voice: “Now, I announce that starting now, we enter the filming phase for the next stage.”
He paused, then said something that plunged the entire office into dead silence.
“Today’s goal is to finish both of these episodes completely!”
“…”
If the previous cheers were a volcanic eruption, then now the entire office was like a vacuum zone drained of air.
Everyone stood frozen like they were under a body-bind spell, staring at the young man by the whiteboard, their eyes like they were looking at a lunatic who just announced he’d dismantle Tokyo Tower barehanded.
One day, two episodes?!
This wasn’t just crazy; it was a suicidal challenge to the entire television industry’s production norms!
“No, not just today.”
As if the bomb wasn’t explosive enough, Hiroshi Nohara turned around, looking at those faces full of shock and stupor, and threw out an even more outrageous plan.
“From today until the end of June. In less than a month, I want to finish filming all thirty-nine episodes of the first season of World of the Strange!”
‘Boom—!’
This time, everyone’s brains completely crashed.
One month, thirty-nine episodes?!
What did that mean?
It meant averaging more than one episode per day! Plus time for post-production!
This was unprecedented in all of neon television history—a miracle never heard of or seen! No! This wasn’t a miracle; it was a pipe dream!
“Nohara-kun, calm down!”
Even the usually steady Eiji Kurosawa couldn’t help standing up, a deep worry appearing for the first time on his always somewhat serious face: “I know you’re talented and driven. But live-action drama filming is completely different from animation production! It needs time to polish, actors to brew emotions, scenes to set up, needs…”
“Senior Kurosawa, I understand your concerns.” Hiroshi Nohara interrupted him, his face showing no sign of being dissuaded.
He walked to his desk and held up a stack of manuscripts thick as a brick overhead.
“But here, none of that’s a problem.”
He distributed the stack of manuscripts, one per person, to all the core production staff present.
On them were complete storyboards for the first ten episodes of World of the Strange.
From the town driven mad by an absurd rumor in Machio Rumors, to the eerie chess game deciding life and death in Double Six Dice… every shot, every scene, every micro-expression of every character was precisely depicted on paper with his godlike brushwork.
“Minamura, Hase, Kitagawa.”
Hiroshi Nohara pulled out a material list, his gaze falling on the three stunned veterans, and said in a deep voice:
“This lists all costumes, props, and makeup requirements for each episode. You three, immediately contact the relevant departments. I don’t care how; by today, get all materials for the first three episodes ready!”
“Director Yamamoto, Section Chief Sato.” He turned his gaze to the two Kanto Faction veterans: “Actor scheduling and on-site execution remain in your hands as before.”
Finally, he looked at the team members still reeling from the shock, his voice like a decisive bell ringing clearly in everyone’s ears:
“I know this sounds like an impossible task.”
“But what I need you to do is very simple.”
He paused, his clear eyes burning with a flame capable of igniting the world.
“That is, to completely and utterly believe in me.”
“Follow the rhythm I set with the storyboards I gave you. I guarantee you, we’ll not only complete it, but complete it better than anyone else!”
Dead silence in the office.
Everyone looked at the young man standing in the center, his body seeming to contain a sun radiating infinite light and heat.
That near-arrogant confidence, that defiant aura, spread like the fiercest virus, instantly infecting everyone present.
The doubts and fears born from production realities in their hearts were shattered at this moment by a more primal, fiercer impulse called “following the strong”!
“…Hai!!”
No one knew who shouted first.
Then, a tsunami-like chorus formed a flood powerful enough to shake the entire building!
“Hai!!”
“We understand! Section Chief!”
“Let’s do it! Damn it! I’ve never been this crazy in my life!”
On those faces, all hesitation was gone, replaced by a break-the-cauldrons-and-sink-the-boats, do-or-die fighting spirit!
Even Eiji Kurosawa, the industry titan who’d seen all kinds of storms, was deeply infected by this youthful vigor and madness rushing at him.
He looked at the young man strategizing, at this team ignited with hot blood by one sentence, and his heart, long quieted by years, uncontrollably began beating fiercely again.
He suddenly felt that perhaps he really was old.
But to witness and participate in such a frenzy destined to enter the history books in his final days…
What fortune!
Thus, a filming frenzy that seemed like a miracle to outsiders officially began.
The entire Hiroshi Nohara Special Production Team became a clockwork precision machine running at an unbelievable speed.
Morning, Studio 5, Machio Rumors.
Afternoon, Studio 3, Double Six Dice.
Evening, post-production room: editing, dubbing, music, all in one go.
Time lost meaning in this mad creation.
Boundaries between day and night blurred, fatigue and excitement intertwined.
From the suffocating Cabinet in episode four, to the eerie Dark Elf in episode five; from the Japanese horror atmosphere of New House in episode six, to the thought-provoking Gift in episode ten…
Then to episode eleven The Murderer Regretted, episode thirteen Monkey’s Paw, episode seventeen The Flaw, episode twenty-one The Hotel with No Time, episode twenty-eight Live Crab, episode thirty-one Plastic Surgery, episode thirty-six Man-Faced Plant, and the final episode, the warm yet regretful Grandpa’s Love Letter…
Thirty-nine bizarre and wonderful worlds, under Hiroshi Nohara’s absolutely blueprint-like memory and Ryosuke Kudo’s localization polish as a veteran screenwriter, were perfectly presented before the lens.
They were no longer simple urban legends, but infused with deeper analyses of this parallel neon world—on hearts, humanity, family, workplace, and the repressed, twisted interpersonal relationships unique to neon society.
Each story was like a sharp scalpel, precisely slicing open this seemingly peaceful and prosperous society, tearing off its glossy surface.
Revealing the horrifying yet utterly real flesh and veins beneath.
On the last day of June, when the final shot of episode thirty-nine Grandpa’s Love Letter was completed, the entire film crew was like soldiers who had endured a long, grueling expedition and finally reached the end.
They didn’t cheer.
They just quietly collapsed in various corners of the set, faces bearing an aftermath-of-a-disaster-like, fatigued yet satisfied smile.
‘Hoo—’
“Finally done!”
And Hiroshi Nohara let out a long breath at this moment.
This month for him.
Was equally a huge test!
But looking at those thirty-nine master tapes that condensed all his effort and carried all his ambitions, he knew he had won the bet.
Time reached the end of June, with only days left until July 1, the premiere day that would decide life or death.
The entire Kanto Faction became unprecedentedly united because of this historic “all-out war.”
Or rather.
United around him, Hiroshi Nohara.
Those once marginalized entertainers, by frequently appearing in this S-grade project, not only honed their acting skills but gained real income.
And the Kanto Faction veterans were completely convinced by Hiroshi Nohara.
Because after the project ended, Hiroshi Nohara made an unexpected decision.
He took the massive budget savings from ultra-high efficiency—tens of millions of yen—and instead of turning it in or pocketing it, distributed it fully to all participating Kanto Faction members as “overtime pay” and “project bonuses”!
When those entertainers received the heavy envelopes far exceeding expectations, the way they looked at Hiroshi Nohara was no longer just admiration.
It was absolute loyalty that would make them go through fire and water!
Who doesn’t love money?
They knew that following this young section chief meant not just meat, but soup too!
This was the real one of their own!
The leader of the Kanto Faction!
Production Department building, meeting room: Deputy Director Asumi, Eiji Kurosawa, Kenji Sato, Tsuyoshi Yamamoto, and Hiroshi Nohara—the five representing the new and old core forces of the Kanto Faction—gathered together.
The atmosphere was unprecedentedly harmonious.
“Nohara-kun, you’ve truly rendered an immortal service to our Kanto Faction this time!” Asumi’s face bloomed with an unprecedentedly brilliant smile, his laughter hearty.
“Indeed.” Eiji Kurosawa stroked his beard and sighed: “I’ve directed my whole life and never seen anyone like you who can squeeze every bit of potential from a team. You’re born for this, kid.”
Eiji Kurosawa had already shown the master tapes to Asumi.
So Asumi was so happy.
Others might not know.
But Asumi, having immersed in Kanto Television Station for over twenty years, rising from grassroots to leadership—even in Tokyo Television Station, relying on his excellent grassroots experience to steadily hold deputy director in the Production Bureau—knew.
So Asumi’s insight and level were top-tier.
And when Asumi first watched the first episode of World of the Strange, he knew this near-political gamble he’d tasked Hiroshi Nohara with had succeeded.
He succeeded!
Then watching episode by episode until the last of World of the Strange’s 39-episode first season.
His original worries about quality dropping from filming too fast.
Completely vanished!
Instead, the exquisite images, clever dubbing, precise shot transitions, and actors’ near-perfect acting.
Put his heart at ease.
Only ecstasy filled his mind.
“You’re too kind!”
Hiroshi Nohara just smiled calmly: “This is the result of everyone’s joint effort. I just happened to know the right path and how to take it.”
This wasn’t humility; it was fact.
This was thanks to the neon of his previous life.
