I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

Chapter 147 Samurai Saga: Immortal? Koyama Yumeya put on her older sister's pajamas!

But Hiroshi Nohara didn't care about any of that; all he cared about was how to make Seven Samurai in the shortest amount of time!
Monday at 2 PM sharp.

When the clapperboard for the first scene made a crisp "snap" sound in the still slightly trembling hand of assistant director Shohei Soejima.

The Seven Samurai series has officially begun!
"Lights! Move the main light at camera position one up another five centimeters, and stop down the aperture by half a stop. I want that feeling... of a sliver of light barely squeezing through a gap in the clouds."

Hiroshi Nohara didn't sit behind the monitor that symbolized the director's authority; instead, he wandered around the set like a ghost.

And he gave various instructions with piercing eyes.

Or.

All guidance.

"Eh?"

The lighting technician, named Otomo, a man who had worked for the Kurosawa group for nearly twenty years and whose temper was more volatile than a light bulb, subconsciously frowned upon hearing this.

He glanced at the soft lighting screen above his head, specially set up to simulate a cloudy day, and then at the already near-perfect image on the monitor. His voice carried a hint of impatience typical of a veteran: "Nohara... Director, this lighting is already the most natural lighting we can achieve. If we raise it any higher, the characters' faces will appear... flat, lacking depth."

Although the words were spoken politely, the underlying meaning was all too clear—

If you're not an expert, don't give me advice!
The entire film set fell silent instantly.

All the members of the "Kurosawa Group" were like a group of sharks that had smelled blood, and they all focused their expectant gazes on the young man.

They were waiting to see him make a fool of himself, waiting to see him rendered speechless by Master Otomo's "lighting theory," which was full of professional jargon.

However, Hiroshi Nohara didn't even bother to lift his eyelids.

He simply uttered two words calmly.

"Just do it."

There was no room for negotiation in that voice, only an absolute command that could not be questioned.

Master Dayou's already dark face instantly turned a deep liver color!
He was about to speak, to defend his dignity as a "professional" in a more vehement way, when a cold voice suddenly rang out from behind him.

"Dayou, are you deaf?"

Eiji Kurosawa had appeared behind him without him noticing.

Those sharp eyes were fixed on him, as if he were looking at a disobedient foot soldier about to be cut down.

"Didn't you hear the director's order?!" Eiji Kurosawa snapped.

"..." Otomo's body trembled violently.

All the rebuttals that were on the tip of his tongue were swallowed back down by that gaze that could freeze a person to death, turning into a feeling of grievance.

This lighting technician, Otomo, is very obedient to Eiji Kurosawa.

So he pursed his lips, not daring to say another word, and could only act like the most obedient puppet, frantically directing his subordinates to readjust the damn lights according to the young man's requirements.

The atmosphere on set instantly plummeted to freezing point.

Everyone understood.

Director Kurosawa, this time you're serious.

He genuinely intended to hand over the power of life and death of this film entirely to that seemingly harmless young man!
"Camera! Camera two, pull the lens down three degrees. Yes, I need one, from below, with a slightly upward angle."

Hiroshi Nohara's voice rang out again.

“But, Director…” The cameraman in charge of the second camera, a young man who was also quite famous in the industry, hesitated for a moment, but finally mustered up his courage and whispered a reminder: “This angle… will make the person’s chin look very… strange. It doesn’t conform to traditional aesthetic composition.”

“I said, do as I say.”

Hiroshi Nohara didn't even bother to turn around; instead, he focused his gaze on the veteran actor, Taiji Miyoshi, who was standing in the rain, waiting for filming to begin. He was playing the role of "Kanbei."

“Miyoshi-san,” Hiroshi Nohara continued instructing, “In a moment, when the farmers kneel before you, I don’t want you to show ‘sympathy,’ nor do I want you to show ‘arrogance.’ I only need one expression—”

He paused, and amidst countless bewildered gazes, slowly uttered two words.

"—I'm fed up."

"Annoyed?!" Miyoshi Taiji was stunned.

He instinctively wanted to retort: ​​"But...but, Director, isn't the character of Kanbei a 'benevolent person'? Shouldn't he feel...compassion for these suffering farmers? How could he feel...annoyed?"

"Because he saw through it all."

Hiroshi Nohara looked at him, a profound insight into human nature flashing in his calm eyes: "He saw through war, saw through killing, and saw even more clearly these seemingly simple farmers who were actually more cunning than bandits. He was disgusted by it all; he just wanted to escape. But his damned 'benevolence' as a samurai wouldn't allow him to do so. What I want is this extreme contradiction—a mixture of disgust and compassion."

This interpretation, full of philosophical speculation, was like a lightning bolt that pierced through the chaos, instantly illuminating Miyoshi Taiji's bewildered heart!
He stared blankly at the young man, whose composed face had lost all its doubts.

All that remained was a profound and awe-inspiring realization!
“I…I understand!” He nodded emphatically.

The "Kurosawa Group" members who had initially been waiting to see what would happen next showed undisguised astonishment on their faces after hearing these words.

For the first time, they realized that this young man might actually be quite different from the "academics" they had met before, who only knew how to talk theory on paper.

"Alright, all departments, get ready!"

Hiroshi Nohara clapped his hands, instantly bringing the tense film set back on track.

"Action!"

With a command given, the scene of pleading for help in the rain, filled with oppression and despair, officially began filming!
Then, a miracle happened.

Under Hiroshi Nohara's "god-like" guidance, which was precise down to every micro-expression, every glance, and even the breathing rhythm of every line of dialogue.

The actors from the Kanto region, who were already used to his "nanny-style" filming, were like a group of war machines whose potential was instantly activated, bursting out with an unprecedented energy!
Kanbei's contradictory feelings of annoyance and pity.

The farmers' struggle, a mixture of humility and cunning.

Katsushiro's innocent and naive nature, and the shock it evoked...

Everything, under the precise control of that young man, was presented vividly before the camera, like a painting infused with a soul!
Over and over again!

Another one-take success!

Even those amateur contestants from "Super Transformation" who played minor roles without a single line, delivered Oscar-worthy performances that would put any professional actor to shame, thanks to Hiroshi Nohara's magical guidance!
The entire filming process was as smooth as a symphony that had been rehearsed a thousand times, without the slightest bit of hesitation or delay!

Those "Kurosawa Group" members who had initially held the group in contempt were now like a group of puppets frozen in place.

They watched the young man strolling leisurely on set, seemingly in complete control of everything. On their faces, all that remained was a deep numbness and...fear, a result of their values ​​being repeatedly crushed by heavy blows!
They had never seen a movie made like this before!

Even director Eiji Kurosawa, the giant of samurai films who was once famous throughout the country, has never had such a smooth filming schedule!
……

As dusk fell, the first day of filming came to an end prematurely, at a speed far exceeding everyone's expectations and almost miraculously fast.

The makeshift screening room, set up temporarily from a tent, was already packed with people.

A strong sense of curiosity filled the air.

All the members of the "Kurosawa Group" stared solemnly at the huge curtain on which a "public execution" was about to take place, like a group of prisoners about to be tried.

They don't believe it.

Deep down, they didn't believe that they could produce anything decent using such "amateurish" and "counterintuitive" filming techniques.

"let's start."

Hiroshi Nohara's voice rang out calmly.

Editor Ichiro Watanabe took a deep breath and pressed play.

Then, the whole world went silent.

On the screen, the light, which was deliberately adjusted to be somewhat "flat," did not make the figures appear stiff. Instead, it created a unique texture, like that of a classical oil painting, full of repression and a sense of fate.

That shot, taken from below and with a sense of looking up, magnified Kanbei's face, which was full of contradictions and struggles, to a degree that was enough to make all the viewers feel breathless!
That weariness, that compassion, that extreme pain of a fallen hero facing a world he both wants to save and escape...

Like the sharpest knife, it pierced the heart of everyone present!
No editing needed!
It doesn't even need background music!
Each of those near-perfect shots is itself a silent poem, full of tragedy and power!

"..."

The screening room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Assistant director Shohei Soejima stared blankly at the curtain, his face now showing only a deep sense of powerlessness and... awe!
He finally realized that he seemed to have been wrong from the very beginning.

This young man wasn't "breaking the rules" at all.

He is setting the rules!

A brand new set of movie rules, belonging only to him, named "Hiroshi Nohara"!
“Back when we were on ‘Tales of the Unusual,’ I told you all this, but you didn’t believe me.”

Eiji Kurosawa's voice, filled with emotion, slowly rose, like a boulder shattering the deathly silence.

"Now, do you believe me?"

"..."

No one answered.

Or rather, there's no need for an answer anymore.

Those once skeptical and disdainful gazes are now completely filled with a fervent, almost pilgrimage-like flame!

However, the young man who created the miracle seemed to have already gotten used to it all.

He simply stood up calmly.

Amidst countless gazes filled with awe, he slowly uttered a new command: "Alright, take a ten-minute break. Then, prepare to shoot the night scene."

Night...night play?!

Everyone was stunned.

They looked out the window at the deep night, then at their own exhausted bodies, their faces filled with disbelief and horror.

This...this guy...is he even human?!
Doesn't he... need to rest?!

However, this time, no one dared to raise any objections.

Because they knew they were following a monster, creating a completely new history unlike any they had ever heard of!
At the same time, everyone understood why the production headquarters of TV Tokyo was calling Hiroshi Nohara a monster!

So for the next whole week...

Studio 7 has become a sleepless purgatory filled with miracles and wails.

Hiroshi Nohara, like a precision war machine wound up like a perpetual motion machine, frantically propelled the entire filming process with an almost "abnormal" and outrageous efficiency.

By day, they rolled in the mud, fought amidst the flames, and endured torrential artificial rain, enacting the tragedy and end of an era.

At night, under the dim light of an oil lamp, amidst dialogues filled with calculation and probing, they dissect the hypocrisy and struggles of a social class.

Everyone was pushed to their limits.

Those actors who were used to being pampered had long since lost all their star airs. They were all covered in dust and dirt, yet they were as excited as if they had been injected with chicken blood.

Those seasoned veterans of the "Kurosawa Group" had long since abandoned all their old experience and pride, and like a group of the most devout believers, they almost blindly carried out every seemingly absurd yet miraculously effective order given by that young man.

Lighting technician Otomo, for the sake of what Hiroshi Nohara called "a gaze light that can illuminate the depths of the soul," led his team to spend a full forty-eight hours in front of the monitor.

The entire crew seemed to have gone mad.

Like a swarm of ants caught in a giant vortex, they involuntarily followed the young man standing at the center of the storm, sprinting madly toward that unknown destination at a speed that defied all common sense!

Until dusk on the seventh day.

When the last scene, Kanbei, looked at the jubilant field and uttered the words "We've lost again," was filmed in a near-perfect sequence...

"Cut!"

Hiroshi Nohara's calm voice finally brought a perfect end to this war filled with madness and miracles.

"Seven Samurai has officially wrapped filming!"

"..."

The whole world seemed to have been muted once again.

Everyone stood there, stunned. Their faces, etched with exhaustion and grime, held only a profound sense of bewilderment, a result of having experienced an unreal dream.

ended?
That's it... over? A monumental production worthy of being called an "epic" was actually... filmed in just one week?!
"oh--!!!"

After a brief silence, a roar of ecstasy and catharsis erupted, loud enough to shake the entire studio!
Everyone cheered!
They embraced, roared, and wept, like a group of soldiers who had won an impossible war in a desperate situation.

He used the most primal roar to vent the emotions that had been pent up to the limit in his heart!
And right here in this boiling ocean filled with revelry and tears.

The young man who created all of this simply handed those heavy film reels to Kurosawa Hideki, who was already moved to tears.

"Director Kurosawa, the rest is up to you."

“Okay…okay!” Eiji Kurosawa nodded slowly, looking at Hiroshi Nohara’s face, which was also full of fatigue but still composed. His tone became more and more emotional: “Nohara-kun, do you know?” he said softly.

"What?" Hiroshi Nohara looked at him.

“I’m so glad I wasn’t born in the same era as you,” Kurosawa said, a relieved smile on his face.

Especially looking at the heavy film reels in his hands, he slowly shook his head: "I used to be proud of the samurai films I shot, but after watching your 'Seven Samurai,' I realized that the samurai films I shot were just action films, still at the 'technique' stage..."

As he spoke, Eiji Kurosawa looked at Hiroshi Nohara, who had raised his eyebrows, and said with emotion, "And you, Nohara-kun, you have already reached the level of 'the Way,' you have already reached the level of 'sage'!"

"...Director Kurosawa, you don't mean to say that my samurai films can be called 'samurai film master', do you?" Hiroshi Nohara joked, his eye twitching.

But Eiji Kurosawa wasn't joking at all. Looking at Hiroshi Nohara, he nodded seriously: "That's right, you, Hiroshi Nohara, are the 'Samurai Sage'!"

"..." Hiroshi Nohara was speechless.

Although I know that Japan was the country of origin, Akira Kurosawa's "Seven Samurai" is an international film that transcends national standards.

From the individual to the class, and then to class contradictions and conflicts.

The principles he expounded were close to the 'Tao' (the Way).

But coming to this neon world and being praised as a 'samurai film master' who's so commonplace is a bit like trapping oneself in a trap.

"No, no, no, I'm not some 'samurai film immortal'." Hiroshi Nohara smiled wryly: "I'm just an ordinary person."

Immortal... Immortal my ass!

These aren't even nice words!
Hiroshi Nohara inwardly grumbled, but he had no choice but to maintain the humility befitting a junior. He exchanged a few more pleasantries with the master who had fallen into complete fanaticism before finally managing to escape.

"Nohara-kun, Monday!" Kurosawa Eiji stood beside the black van and said earnestly, "On Monday, I'll be personally going to the production department to see you and Deputy Director Asumi, with the edited sample footage! See you there!"

"Okay, Director Kurosawa." Hiroshi Nohara reluctantly agreed, but inwardly let out a long sigh of relief.

He felt more tired in this week than in the previous three months combined.

Physical fatigue is secondary; the more important issue is the mental exhaustion.

He simply couldn't handle an old stubborn man whose boundless energy defied all physiological laws.

In the driver's seat, the driver, who had been like a loyal background figure from beginning to end, asked, "Minister Nohara, where are we going now?"

"Go home, go home to my home."

Hiroshi Nohara leaned back in the soft leather seat of the back seat, gave his home address, and then closed his eyes, intending to take a nap.

The car silently glided into the endless stream of traffic in Tokyo. Outside the window, the twilight gradually deepened, and the dazzling lights, like stars falling to earth, were lit up one after another.

He didn't think about anything else.

Because in his mind, there was only one figure left.

Wearing an adorable bear apron, she would always complain with her big, watery eyes, a hint of coquettish reproach in her voice, about how he wasn't home for dinner on time. Yet, the moment he opened the door, she would flutter into his arms like a swallow returning to its nest, wiping away his weariness with her charming figure.

Misae.

His place in this cold city was the only, and the warmest, harbor.

……

The night was as dark as ink, gently enveloping the entire city.

The dim streetlights below the apartment building cast a lonely yet warm glow on the cold concrete ground.

Hiroshi Nohara declined the driver's offer to take him upstairs, and dragged his leaden legs step by step toward the familiar door that held all his sweet memories.

He did not ring the doorbell.

Instead, he carefully took out the key from his pocket, which had already been warmed by the warmth of his hands.

He wanted to give her a surprise.

The key was inserted into the lock, making a barely audible click.

The door was silently pushed open a crack.

A fragrant aroma, a blend of fresh vegetable scents and rich soy sauce, eagerly wafted out through the crack in the open door, like the gentlest of hands, instantly soothing his already pent-up exhaustion.

She is cooking.

"what is it then?"

Hiroshi Nohara's heart was instantly filled with a huge surge of warmth.

He changed into slippers, casually placed the heavy briefcase on the shoe cabinet in the entryway, and then, on tiptoe, like the most cunning cheetah, silently crept towards the kitchen, which exuded an enticing aroma and warm glow.

The main lights in the kitchen were off; only the dim yellow light under the range hood was on.

A petite figure stood with her back to him in front of the kitchen counter.

She was wearing the pink pajamas he knew best, printed with a cute little bear pattern, and her long, smooth black hair was casually draped over her shoulders, swaying gently with her rhythmic chopping movements.

The scene was filled with the gentle beauty of a peaceful and serene time.

Hiroshi Nohara's lips curled into an uncontrollable, mischievous smile full of doting affection.

Especially the contours of her buttocks, which were already straining against her pajamas below her slender waist.

'The big tiger is coming!'

So Hiroshi Nohara opened his arms, like a tiger about to pounce on its prey, and silently, step by step, approached the poor little lamb who was completely unsuspecting of him.

However, just as his hand was about to touch that delicate body that exuded a faint fragrance, his movement suddenly froze in mid-air without warning.

His usually calm eyes suddenly narrowed uncontrollably at this moment!
wrong!

That figure... wait!
Although we were wearing the same pajamas and had the same hairstyle, she was just too petite!
She's at least a head shorter than Misae!

The slender frame unique to a young girl, and the youthful, slightly immature body curves, were clearly outlined under the dim light, creating a familiar yet deadly and dangerously unfamiliar silhouette!

Hiroshi Nohara felt as if his brain had been struck by a thunderbolt!
A thought, filled with absurdity and horror, grew uncontrollably and wildly from the depths of his mind!
Hiroshi Nohara blurted out, "Koyama... Yumesae?!"

"oops!"

The petite figure who was intently chopping vegetables suddenly trembled!
She turned around quickly, like a startled little rabbit.

A pretty face, bearing a striking resemblance to Misae Koyama but with a more delicate and lively quality, appeared in Hiroshi Nohara's line of sight.

Those big, dark eyes, like two of the most dazzling obsidian, first flashed a hint of panic at being caught red-handed when they saw who it was, and then were completely filled with an even stronger light full of surprise and fervor!
"Brother-in-law!"

She dropped the kitchen knife in her hand and, like a happy little butterfly, took light steps, bringing a fragrant breeze with her, and pounced towards Hiroshi Nohara!
"You're back! I missed you so much!"

"..."

Hiroshi Nohara felt his temples throbbing wildly.

He instinctively reached out and, just before that vibrant, youthful body was about to crash into his arms, firmly pressed down on her fluffy little head with an air of elder brotherly authority.

"Stop." His voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable force: "How did you get here?"

Why can't I be here?

He held Xiaoshan Mengsai's head down, stopping her only a meter away from him. She pouted her cherry-like lips in dissatisfaction, but her big, dark eyes sparkled with excitement: "This is my second sister's house, which is half my house! Do I need to report to you, an 'outsider,' when I come to my own home?"

She deliberately emphasized the word "outsider," her words overflowing with the confident "provocation" unique to a sister-in-law.

Several clearly visible black lines suddenly appeared on Nohara Hiroshi's forehead.

He was about to speak, using his brother-in-law's authority to suppress this unhealthy trend, when a voice full of surprise came from the doorway of the steamy bathroom.

"Hiroshi-kun! You're back!"

With a soft "whoosh," the frosted glass door to the bathroom was pushed open from the inside.

Misae Koyama was wearing another set of equally adorable pajamas, her long, wet hair casually wrapped in a towel. Her pretty face, fresh from a bath, had a charming blush, like a ripe peach, exuding an alluring fragrance.

When she saw Hiroshi Nohara, his beautiful big eyes instantly crinkled into a sweet crescent moon. With light steps, she wanted to go up to him and give him a loving hug.

However, when her gaze fell upon the two figures who were locked in a tense standoff at the kitchen doorway, all the sweet words she was about to utter turned into a soft sigh filled with helplessness.

"Hey, you two, what are you doing now?"

She strode forward, like a mother hen protecting her chicks, and gently patted her sister and husband on the shoulder amidst their tense standoff.

"Mengsai, don't be so disrespectful! This is your brother-in-law!"

"Hiroshi-kun, really, why are you arguing with a child?"

As she spoke, she naturally took Hiroshi Nohara's arm and pulled him to her side, her posture like that of a most dutiful hostess mediating a harmless family dispute.

"Don't listen to this girl's nonsense." She raised her rosy little face and gave Hiroshi Nohara a sweet, apologetic smile: "Yesae only arrived yesterday. Not only her, but her parents came too."

"……what?"

Hiroshi Nohara felt his heart, already weakened by a week of intense work, being completely overwhelmed by an even more absurd, almost unreal feeling!

My parents-in-law are here too?!

"Yes."

Misae nodded, her pretty face beaming with pride: "You know how popular your 'Super Transformation' is all over the country right now! We also have a folk art troupe from Kumamoto Prefecture called 'Fire Country Taiko,' which fought its way through the competition and made it to the national finals! My dad, as a representative of the education sector in Kumamoto Prefecture, was specially sent by the prefecture to be the head of their 'family and friends support team'!"

"..."

Hiroshi Nohara's lips twitched uncontrollably.

He could almost picture his stubborn father-in-law, as hard as a rock, wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with "Kumamoto will win," waving a small flag, and leading a group of equally rustic uncles and aunties on the streets of Tokyo, chanting cheers in their distinctive Kumamoto accents—a scene full of magical realism.

"Then...where are they?" he asked weakly.

"Oh, Mom and Dad, they went to the TV station with the art troupe today to familiarize themselves with the venue and participate in the rehearsal."

As Misae spoke, she pulled him to sit down at the small dining table, and then, like a little squirrel presenting a treasure, she brought out the pot of fragrant vegetable miso soup that had been simmering for a long time.

"That kid, Yumesa, insisted on coming along to join in the fun. She said she wanted to see with her own eyes how her legendary genius brother-in-law really managed to manipulate the entire Japanese nation."

As she spoke, she playfully glared at her younger sister, who was sticking out her tongue and making a face.

"So, I'm sorry to trouble you today, Hiroshi-kun." She served him a bowl of steaming miso soup, her beautiful eyes filled with tenderness and apology: "It might be a bit lively at home for a while."

Hiroshi Nohara looked at the scene before him, which was full of life, listened to the lively chatter of the girls, and smelled the aroma of food from his hometown.

That already weary heart was inexplicably filled with a warmth that was full of the warmth of everyday life.

He let out a long breath.

That breath seemed to carry away all the fatigue and loneliness of the past week.

Looking at the two girls before him, one big and one small, both vibrant and equally captivating, and both causing him great distress, a genuine, gentle smile, filled with helplessness yet boundless affection, finally bloomed on his handsome face.

"I see."

He picked up the bowl of miso soup, which was filled with the taste of "home," and took a small sip. The warm liquid slid down his throat like the gentlest current, instantly dispelling all the gloom in his heart.

"Welcome home, Yumesae."

His voice was calm, yet it possessed a power that could bring peace to any wandering soul.

"And... my dear Mrs. Nohara, please remember to let me know in advance next time your aunt and uncle come over. We haven't prepared any gifts yet, so it would be impolite of me, their future son-in-law!"

"Oh dear, oh dear!" When Misae heard words like "Mrs. Nohara" and "future son-in-law," her face immediately turned red with embarrassment.

But she said with a happy smile, "I just didn't want you to be too busy~"

(End of this chapter)