I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

Chapter 148 Two Directors! Chaos at the Recording Site of "Super Transformation"!

On Monday morning, Hiroshi Nohara woke up to a sickeningly loud cracking sound.

He didn't sleep on his own soft tatami mat, which could accommodate any wild imagination, but rather curled up on the slightly cramped single sofa bed in the study.

She was covered with a thin blanket covered with cartoon bear patterns, which gave off a faint, sweet fragrance that belonged to a young girl.

"Hiss—" He rubbed his aching back, which felt as if it had been plowed by a hundred oxen, and a helpless expression appeared on his face.

Last night, he, the head of the household, was helplessly kicked out of his bedroom by the two sisters who had taken over his place.

Of course, the most crucial one is Koyama Yumeya.

But it’s okay.

Last night, Misae Koyama shyly and quietly came to his study and comforted him for an hour.

So Hiroshi Nohara was quite content.

"Great!" Hiroshi Nohara stretched out his arms and legs, feeling refreshed and invigorated.

The sunlight streaming in through the window had already cast a bright glow, tinging the dust motes dancing in the air with a warm golden hue.

Hiroshi Nohara glanced at the wall clock; it was 9:03.

"Well, I'm late." He chuckled self-deprecatingly, picked up his coat, pulled out his portable mobile phone—a rarity in this era—from his pocket, and skillfully dialed the internal line to Kitagawa Yao's office.

The call was answered almost instantly, and Kitagawa Yao's energetic and clear voice came from the other end: "Minister! Good morning! What are you doing today..."

"I have something to do outside today, so charge me for fieldwork," Hiroshi Nohara casually made up an excuse.

"Yes! Got it!" Kitagawa Yao replied without hesitation.

Then, her voice rang with barely suppressed excitement and admiration: "By the way, Director Nohara! Director Eiji Kurosawa has arrived and has been waiting in your office for almost half an hour. I told him you might be a little late today, and he said it was alright, he could wait. Right now, he's having tea in Deputy Director Asumi's office."

"Okay." Hiroshi Nohara hung up the phone with a sigh.

It seems that Director Kurosawa's efficiency is even faster than he imagined.

The movie "Seven Samurai," which revolutionized the history of Japanese cinema in its previous life, is probably already taking shape.

He stood up, stretched his stiff neck, and decided to take a shower to wash away his fatigue.

After all, he was banished to the study last night before he even had a chance to take a shower after returning home.

And after a long night of hard work.

He still feels sticky.

However, when he opened the wooden door to the study, the scene before him made his heart pound uncontrollably once again.

In the living room, the two sisters, who should have left home long ago, were now wearing matching cute pajamas. One was humming a little tune while frying eggs in the kitchen, while the other, like a lazy cat, was curled up on the sofa, yawning and flipping through the latest fashion magazine.

The scene was filled with the gentle tranquility of a peaceful life, yet it also carried a chilling, out-of-place leisure.

"Brother-in-law! Good morning!"

Koyama Yumesa was the first to spot him. Her big, dark eyes instantly crinkled into a sweet crescent moon as she waved at him with her little hand still clutching a fashion magazine.

His relaxed posture made it seem as if Hiroshi Nohara was the guest in this house.

"..."

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

He ignored the quirky little girl and instead focused his gaze on the person who was carrying two plates of golden-brown, tempting tamagoyaki (Japanese rolled omelets) out of the kitchen—the so-called "president."

"Misa, why are you still at home?" His voice carried a hint of confusion that even he himself didn't realize: "Aren't you the president? It's Monday today, don't you have to go to the company?"

"Oh dear!" Misae's pretty face, fresh from her bath, flushed red instantly. She put the plate on the table, stuck out her tongue somewhat embarrassedly, and said in a voice barely audible, "Um... I went to bed too late last night, so this morning... I overslept."

As she spoke, her large, watery eyes glanced furtively at the study filled with "evidence of the crime," her shyness and sweetness almost overflowing.

"Cough cough!" Hiroshi Nohara opened his mouth but couldn't utter a single word, only managing a dry cough to cover up his guilty conscience.

Of course he knew that last night, this audacious little woman had sneaked into his study while Yumesa was asleep, and in a gentle manner full of "presidential concern," had given him, the "hardworking investor," a full hour of "personal guidance."

“Exactly! My sister is the club president!” Seeing this, Koyama Yumesa immediately puffed out her small but imposing chest like a mother hen protecting her chicks, and said righteously, “Can the club president’s job be called being late? That’s called…that’s called flexible work hours! Right, brother-in-law?”

As she spoke, she winked playfully at Hiroshi Nohara, her big, dark eyes sparkling with the excitement of watching a good show.

"..." Hiroshi Nohara felt his temples throbbing wildly.

He was speechless and could only nod, which was tantamount to acquiescing to this fallacy that was full of "the decadent atmosphere of capitalism".

He pulled out a chair at the table, sat down, picked up the glass of warm milk that had been prepared for him, and asked casually, "By the way, where are your aunt and uncle? Are they still at the hotel?"

"No, that's all." Misae handed him chopsticks and answered with a smile, "My parents went to the TV station early this morning with the 'Fire Country Taiko' art troupe. They said today is the official recording day for 'Super Transformation,' and they're going to cheer on our Kumamoto Prefecture team!"

"Oh." Hiroshi Nohara nodded; this was exactly what he expected.

He took a sip of milk and looked at the two vibrant girls in front of him, girls who also captivated him. The helplessness he felt from his disrupted plans was replaced by a warmth filled with the warmth of everyday life.

"And what about you? What are your plans for today?" he asked.

"Of course I'm going to watch the game live!" Koyama Yumesa answered without hesitation, her youthful and pretty face filled with boundless anticipation for the upcoming carnival: "I heard that there will be lots and lots of celebrities as guests today! Maybe I can even get the autograph of the most popular star right now, Kamiki Shunsuke!"

Upon hearing this, Hiroshi Nohara's eyes flashed with a hint of doubt.

Kamiki Shunsuke?

do not know……

"Alright." He didn't say much, but calmly swallowed the last bite of tamagoyaki.

Now, everyone who knows him is Hiroshi Nohara.

"In that case, you can stop dawdling. I'm going to the TV station anyway, so I'll give you a ride."

"Yay! Brother-in-law, you're the best!" Koyama Yumesa cheered excitedly.

So, after buying some bento boxes at a familiar convenience store on the road to solve the breakfast problem for the three of them who hadn't had enough to eat, the black Toyota Crown Majesta, like a black lightning bolt, carried the family of three, filled with laughter, and sped towards that dream palace that they had long been crazy about.

After safely delivering the two chattering sisters to the already packed audience entrance of Studio Three, Hiroshi Nohara turned the car around and drove into the underground passage reserved for the production bureau's senior management.

When he stepped back into the [Hiroshi Nohara Independent Production Department], which had long become a "holy land" for the entire TV Tokyo, the clock had already quietly struck ten.

After briefly explaining the follow-up work arrangements to the three section chiefs who had been waiting for a long time, he did not linger and went straight to the throne of power, located at the very top and most central part of the entire floor.

Asumi's office.

Before he could even knock, a burst of hearty laughter unexpectedly pierced through the heavy mahogany door!

The laughter was full of energy, excitement, and fervor!

Eiji Kurosawa's laughter.

Hiroshi Nohara's lips seemed to be infected by the laughter, and a knowing smile appeared on his face.

He pushed open the door.

The office was empty except for Asumi and Eiji Kurosawa, two men who were nearly 150 years old combined, both looking excited as they stood around the Sony projector.

On the screen, a rough cut of a video is playing, without any background music or special effects yet.

That tragic battlefield filled with mud and blood, those seven towering figures standing between heaven and earth like mountains, that group of peasants filled with cunning and compassion...

Like an epic, long-lost classical oil painting, it silently tells the story of the end of an era and the lament of a social class.

"Hiroshi-kun! You've come!"

Asahi was the first to spot him, and his usually refined and composed face was now filled with undisguised excitement!
"Monster! You...you're a complete monster!"

Asumi's voice became hoarse with extreme excitement: "I... I just watched all the footage you shot with Director Kurosawa from beginning to end! I... I really don't know what to say!"

"This...this is no longer a simple movie!" He pointed at the screen, his eyes burning with intense passion. "This is art! It's art that can represent Japan, compete for an Oscar, and amaze the whole world—immortal art!"

This exaggerated praise carries more weight than any viewership report.

Eiji Kurosawa, a true master of art, also said with admiration: "That's right, this is indeed a film that could compete for an Oscar. I really didn't expect it to be so wonderful after the editing!"

He spoke slowly, his voice hoarse:
“I, Eiji Kurosawa, have spent my whole life filming samurai. I used to think I had captured their glory, their tragedy, and their helplessness. But today, after reading this story you wrote, I realize that what I… what I filmed was nothing more than childish, lowbrow stuff.”

"You are the one who truly understands the 'samurai' and also understands the tragic destiny that has long been ingrained in the bones of our nation."

Eiji Kurosawa looked at Hiroshi Nohara with deep emotion. "So, I've made up my mind."

He paused, and under the increasingly tense gazes of the two men, slowly made the final decision that was enough to drive the entire Tokyo TV station into a frenzy.

"For this film, *Seven Samurai*, there can only be one director—"

He pointed at the young man and said, "It's just you, Hiroshi Nohara!"

"As for this old man like me..."

Eiji Kurosawa's lips curled into a relieved smile: "Just give me the empty title of 'art director,' so I can have the opportunity to witness firsthand how a brand new era, belonging only to you, will arrive. That's... enough for me."

The atmosphere fell into an almost frozen solemnity.

This master, revered as a "living legend" in the Japanese film industry, is now gazing at Hiroshi Nohara with an almost entrusted look of solemnity, his admiration emanating from the depths of his soul, without the slightest concealment.

"Director Kurosawa, you flatter me."

Hiroshi Nohara, with the respect a junior would show to a senior, comforted this master who had long been revered but was now as humble as an apprentice: "Although the idea for the story of Seven Samurai came from me, you are the only one in all of Japan who can truly and perfectly present its tragic grandeur and weight of the era on the big screen. Therefore, the position of director is rightfully yours."

These words were perfectly worded, saving face for the other party while cleverly placing himself in the most appropriate and safest position.

Even Asumi nodded repeatedly, admiring Hiroshi Nohara's high emotional intelligence.

However, Eiji Kurosawa reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, instantly bristling with anger!
"Nonsense!"

He puffed out his beard and glared, his face full of stubbornness: "I, Eiji Kurosawa, have spent my whole life making movies, and what I value most is the four words 'legitimate'! What's yours is yours! I will never take credit for someone else's work and turn your talent into a tool for my old bones to glorify myself!"

“This…” A helpless expression, both amused and exasperated, appeared on Hiroshi Nohara’s face.

He realized that this old stubborn man was even more obstinate than he had imagined.

"Oh dear, Director Kurosawa, don't take it so seriously."

Amidst this standoff filled with "artistic integrity," Asuka, the cunning old fox of officialdom who excels at smoothing things over, finally found his stage to shine.

He came up with a smile, carrying two steaming cups of fragrant tea, and handed them to the two men.

"Hiroshi-kun is young, energetic, and has great ideas, which is a good thing. But the film industry is a complex and dangerous place. You, on the other hand, are the pillar of our Japanese film industry. With you in charge, this project can be guaranteed to succeed. In my opinion, how about this..."

His eyes lit up, and he offered a win-win suggestion:

“Let’s follow Hollywood’s example and implement a ‘dual director’ system. You’ll be the nominal director, responsible for overseeing the overall artistic style and shooting direction. Hiroshi will be the co-director, responsible for refining the script and handling on-set execution. This way, we can ensure the artistic quality of the work, fully utilize Hiroshi’s talent, and also… help him, this junior, establish himself in the film industry. What do you think?”

These words were perfectly worded, giving Eiji Kurosawa a huge amount of face while subtly and firmly pinning Hiroshi Nohara's contribution on the list of achievements.

Upon hearing this, Eiji Kurosawa's thick eyebrows, which had been furrowed into a "川" shape, relaxed slightly.

He glanced at the young man who had been smiling calmly the whole time, then at Asumi's face which seemed to say, "Please give me some face." Finally, he let out a long sigh, tacitly accepting this compromise solution that was full of "Japanese characteristics."

"Hmph, we'll do it your way." He snorted lightly, but his tone had long lost its initial stubbornness: "However, let me make this clear from the start! This movie, from beginning to end, is Nohara-kun's work! I'm just his assistant! If this gets out in the slightest, I'll be the first to object!"

"Hey! Hey! Of course! Of course!" Asuka responded repeatedly, finally feeling relieved.

With the issue of who would direct the film resolved, Eiji Kurosawa's heart, already ignited by his creative desires, could no longer contain itself.

"Nohara-kun, what are your thoughts on the soundtrack?" Like the most humble student, he pushed the script, which he had already read countless times, in front of Hiroshi Nohara.

"The soundtrack is the soul of a film."

Hiroshi Nohara didn't mince words; he knew that in the presence of a true artist, any humility was a form of insult.

He simply and calmly constructed, in words, that immortal melody in his mind that had already been verified countless times by a film master from another time and space.

"I hope that the soundtrack for this film can have two completely different styles."

"The first type belongs to the samurai. I hope it can integrate elements of our Japanese traditional Gagaku and Noh drama, using the desolation of the shakuhachi, the passion of the shamisen, and the power of the taiko to express the tragic end of the samurai class."

"The second type belongs to the farmers. I hope it can be more down-to-earth, using the simplest folk songs and tunes, or even... those work songs full of rural flavor, to express their resilience and indomitable spirit, which, although cunning, is full of primal vitality."

"When these two styles of music intertwine and collide on the battlefield, it will be an epic and tragic spectacle filled with a sense of destiny."

This professional and vivid description, like the sharpest key, instantly unlocked Eiji Kurosawa's long-depleted inspiration!
"Great! Great! Great!" He slapped his thigh. "That's the plan! I'm going to find my old buddy right now! If he hears about your idea, he'll be so excited he won't be able to sleep for three days and three nights!"

As he spoke, he grabbed the script like a gust of wind and rushed out of the office without looking back.

That silhouette showed no trace of the desolation of a hero in his twilight years; it was clearly that of a passionate young man who had found his life's purpose!

Only Asumi and Hiroshi Nohara remained in the office.

Asuka looked at the door that was still swaying slightly, then at the young man in front of her who was calmly picking up his teacup as if he had just casually mentioned the weather. Finally, a bitter smile appeared on his refined face.

“A monster… a true monster…” he muttered to himself. “Hiroshi-kun, I truly believe it now. Perhaps there really are people in this world whose brains have been kissed by gods.”

He looked at Hiroshi Nohara with the same gaze he would give a national treasure that could change history.

“Deputy Director, you flatter me.” Hiroshi Nohara put down his teacup, smiling as he steered the conversation back to the project he was most concerned about: “So… about *Hachiko: The Tale of a Loyal Dog*…”

"Ahem!" Asumi's face flushed red: "Um... Hiroshi-kun, don't worry! As long as... as long as the box office of 'Seven Samurai' can... can exceed 2 billion yen! No! 1.5 billion! As long as it can exceed 1.5 billion! I promise! I'll kneel down and beg Director Sakata to approve the budget for 'Hachiko' for you!"

"Then it's a deal." Hiroshi Nohara's lips curled into a confident smile.

He knew this game; he had already foreseen its ending.

The two then briefly discussed the release date of "Seven Samurai," and unsurprisingly, they set their sights on the New Year's season at the end of December, a crucial period that would drive all filmmakers crazy.

"Alright, Deputy Director, if there's nothing else, I'll head over to the recording site of 'Super Transformation' first."

After all, his future in-laws are still around.

……

TV Tokyo, Studio 3.

The air backstage was filled with a unique atmosphere of tension and excitement.

Makeup artists, like a group of the most dedicated worker ants, shuttled between various independent dressing rooms, doing the final makeup touch-ups for the celebrity guests who were about to go on stage.

However, amidst this seemingly orderly busyness, a sharp voice filled with arrogance and impatience broke the tranquility at an inopportune moment.

"Are you pigs?! How many times have I told you! I want to sit in the middle! In the middle! Can't you understand human language?!"

The special guest for the sixth episode, an idol star who is currently extremely popular among girls, is like a Persian cat whose tail has been stepped on, hysterically roaring at the on-site director in front of him, who is already pale with fright.

His already somewhat effeminate handsome face was now slightly distorted with anger, and his carefully drawn inner eyeliner-lined peach blossom eyes stared intently at the guest seating chart that had already been arranged not far away.

"Why?! Why is that washed-up comedian, Kaneko Yuuhachi, sitting in the center?! I'm the most popular right now! I have a hundred times more fans than him! Are you trying to make me laugh to death by putting me on the far side?!"

These childish and self-centered remarks caused the busy staff around to subconsciously stop what they were doing.

A strange expression appeared on each of their faces.

Kei Tanaka, the variety show section chief who had already undergone a complete transformation, rushed out of the control room upon hearing the news.

He watched as the "top idol" threw a tantrum like a spoiled child, even kicking the prop box next to him. His already serious face instantly turned icy cold.

"Shinmoku-kun." His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a bucket of perfectly placed ice water, instantly extinguishing the powder keg that was about to explode: "The seating arrangements were made long ago by the production team after considering all the guests' qualifications, popularity, and roles in this episode. If you have any objections to this arrangement, you can appeal to your agency. But now, please return to your dressing room immediately and prepare for recording. Otherwise, we will consider it a unilateral breach of contract on your part."

This professional and unquestionable firm stance was like an invisible slap in the face, hard hitting Kamiki Shunsuke's handsome face!

He was stunned.

He never imagined that a scene director, whom he considered nothing more than a "jack-of-all-trades," would dare to speak to him in such a tone!
"Who...who do you think you are?!" His voice became shrill with extreme shame and anger: "Do you even know who I am?! Do you believe that with just one phone call, I can make sure you can never make it in this industry again?!"

However, Tanaka Kei simply looked at him calmly, his gaze as if he were looking at a clown jumping around, yet utterly ridiculous.

In the midst of this tense atmosphere, a calm and collected voice drifted over without warning from behind the group of onlookers.

"Really?"

The voice carried a perfectly timed, playful chuckle.

"I'd really like to see which phone call has such power that it can completely ruin my Section Chief Tanaka's career in this industry?"

Hiroshi Nohara walked over slowly.

Gently raise your head.

Looking at the effeminate-looking celebrity in front of him, a hint of disdain appeared on his lips: "You can't exactly say that you're our Director Sakata Nobuhiko, can you?"

P.S.: That's all for today's fourth update~ Please give me lots of recommendation tickets and monthly tickets~
(End of this chapter)