I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

The theme and depth of Chapter 158, "Seven Samurai," are almost at the level of Tao!
In this deliberation room, which symbolizes the highest authority in Japanese cinema, a huge wave was instantly stirred up by Eiji Kurosawa's words!

"what?!"

"Are you...are you kidding me?!"

"Director Kurosawa, are you... are you serious?"

After a brief silence, a flurry of whispers filled with absurdity and skepticism erupted among the suited committee members, like a lit fuse, and lingered for a long time.

Or rather, these committee members simply didn't want to, and dared not, believe what Eiji Kurosawa said!
They were like a group of believers who had witnessed a god descend to earth, yet claimed to be just ordinary mortals; their faces now showed only undisguised skepticism.

"A greenhorn who makes variety shows?" A committee member who looked quite young and was known as a "rising star" in the industry bluntly asked, "Does he even know anything about film art?"

"that is!"

Another senior committee member, with graying hair and known in the industry for his "conservatism," couldn't help but let out a disdainful snort: "Director Kurosawa, we respect you as a senior, a master. But you can't... make fun of us like this, can you? This young man at most gave you some immature suggestions. We can understand that you care about your juniors and want to mentor him. But to say that he directed this film... that's simply ridiculous!"

These words reflected the sentiments of everyone present.

They would rather believe that Eiji Kurosawa was expressing his appreciation for the young man in a way full of dark humor than believe that a samurai epic that would leave a strong mark on the history of Japanese cinema could come from the hands of an amateur who didn't even have a decent film to his name!
This doesn't make sense! It also doesn't conform to the industry rules about "seniority" and "experience" that these "insiders" have adhered to for decades!

Yes! They had heard of Hiroshi Nohara!

So talented!
That's a great idea!

This deserves recognition and praise!
However, that was, after all, an animated film, a TV series, or a variety show—a genius, an idea, and a source of affirmation and praise!

It's not a movie!

However, amidst this clamor filled with doubt and contempt, Fujiwara-sama, who had been sitting quietly in the corner as if detached from the matter, spoke slowly once again.

"Quiet down, everyone," said Hideaki Fujiwara.

Everyone instinctively shut their mouths, and all those gazes filled with astonishment and uncertainty focused on the man who truly held the fate of all of them in his hands.

Fujiwara Hideaki ignored them.

He simply stood up slowly and walked to the huge screen where the last images of the movie still remained.

His gaze calmly swept across the field filled with tragedy and irony, over the four lonely graves with samurai swords stuck in them, and finally landed on the three samurai who had survived, yet seemed to have lost everything.

"Do you think this movie is just a simple story of a samurai saving farmers?"

His voice was calm, yet like the sharpest scalpel, precisely dissecting the seemingly simple surface of the film's story.

It lays bare the cruel core of class conflict and human struggle within the story to everyone!
“You have seen the warriors’ ‘benevolence,’ their ‘courage,’ their ‘loyalty,’ and their ‘honor.’ But have you seen the ‘evil’ of the peasants?”

He slowly turned around, his calm eyes like two bottomless ancient wells.

A cold smile curved his lips as he clearly uttered the subversive line that he had already etched into his mind, word by word.

"What do you take farmers for? Do you think they are bodhisattvas?"

"...That's a joke! Farmers are the most cunning. They won't give you rice if you ask, and they'll say they don't have wheat if you ask. But they actually have everything. Lift up the floorboards and look. They're either underground or in the storage room. You'll definitely find a lot of things: rice, salt, beans, wine...Go deep into the valley and look. There are hidden rice paddies!"

"They appear honest but are the worst liars; they'll lie about anything! When war breaks out, they kill the wounded and steal weapons. Listen to this: the so-called peasants are the stingiest, the most cunning, the cowardly, the wicked, the incompetent—they're murderers!"

"But who made them like this?"

"It's you, you warriors, all of you, die! Burning villages, ravaging fields, forcing labor, abusing women, killing those who resist—what are you expecting the peasants to do? What are they supposed to do?!"

This argument, full of dialectical irony, struck a chord deep within the hearts of everyone present!
The deliberation room fell into a deathly silence once again.

Those committee members who were full of superiority just a moment ago now had faces filled with shock and amazement!
These lines are fantastic!
Very good!
Bravo!

But precisely because of this, they looked at Hiroshi Nohara with even more suspicion, at such a young age.

How did they come up with such lines?

How could this be captured...?

What a fantastic movie!

However, Fujiwara Hideaki's words were far from over.

"You understood why four of the seven samurai died and only three survived."

His voice rang out calmly once again.

"The four who died represent the complete bankruptcy of the traditional Bushido spirit. The three who survived represent the true tragic core of this story."

"Kanbei's disillusionment, Shichiroji's compromise, Katsushiro's integration... This is the most tragic and profound elegy played for the demise of a social class!"

"Such a concept, such a vision, such a precise insight into the tragic destiny that has long been ingrained in the bones of our nation..."

Fujiwara Hideaki slowly walked back to his seat, a look of emotion appearing in his calm eyes.

And a little tired.

Especially when looking at his old friend, a friend he had known and been close to for over thirty years, he slowly made a comment: "These things are indeed not something that Director Kurosawa, who is limited to samurai, is good at."

"..."

Eiji Kurosawa's body trembled violently!
He slowly raised his head, all expression gone from his face, leaving only bitterness and... relief.

"Lord Fujiwara is right."

He let out a long breath, a breath that seemed to carry away all the pride and stubbornness of his life.

Looking at the committee members who were already stunned and bewildered by his words, a self-deprecating smile appeared for the first time on his old face, which was always filled with arrogance and prejudice.

"I, Eiji Kurosawa, have spent my entire life filming samurai. I used to think I had captured their glory, their tragedy, their helplessness. But today, after reading this story written by Nohara-kun, I realize..."

He paused, and his voice carried a hint of heartfelt admiration.

"...The things I photographed were nothing more than lowbrow, childish stuff full of fighting, killing, and grudges."

"And he..."

Eiji Kurosawa turned his head and focused on the young man who had been calmly sipping his tea the whole time.

"He was the one who truly understood the 'samurai' and also understood the tragic destiny that has long been ingrained in the bones of our nation."

"So, I'll say it again."

Eiji Kurosawa slowly began, "This 'Seven Samurai' is entirely his work, Hiroshi Nohara's, from beginning to end!"

The declaration, brimming with candor and pride, was like a resounding slap in the face to every committee member present who still harbored any illusions!

They stared blankly at Eiji Kurosawa.

My mind is completely blank.

Their thoughts were filled with utter absurdity, and they were all completely speechless, their lips trembling.

Such a perfect samurai film, and it turns out, was actually made by this young man!

"All right."

Fujiwara Hideaki watched all this calmly, a genuine smile on his face.

He slowly picked up the red stamp on the table that symbolized "passed" and pressed it heavily onto the review document that had long been ignored by everyone!

"Seven Samurai, passed unanimously."

His voice was calm, yet it was like a divine oracle that spanned heaven and earth, bringing a perfect end to this deliberation meeting filled with dramatic conflict.

"Unrestricted public screening. In addition, I will recommend this film to next year's Japan Film Festival under the name 'Eirin'."

His Excellency Fujiwara's calm eyes were like two ancient wells, reflecting the young man's handsome yet serene face.

"Nohara-kun, I look forward to you bringing a new storm to our country, which has been silent for too long."

"Just like... 'Super Transformation'!"

This is no longer just a simple matter of valuing something.

This is a tremendous expectation, almost like a "national policy"!

...When Hiroshi Nohara and Eiji Kurosawa walked out of that gray building filled with oppression and power, it was already dusk.

The afterglow of the setting sun, like melting golden honey, cast two long shadows on the cold cement ground, each one imbued with a sense of the intertwining of different eras.

"call--"

Eiji Kurosawa let out a long breath, a breath that seemed to carry away all the stubbornness of his life.

He turned his head and looked at the young man beside him, who seemed as nonchalant as if he had just attended an ordinary tea party. A bitter smile appeared on his weathered face.

"Nohara-kun, do you know?" he said softly, "It's a good thing I'm retiring soon, otherwise, I'm afraid you would have taken my job away from me."

A self-deprecating joke broke the tense atmosphere.

"Director Kurosawa, you flatter me." Hiroshi Nohara smiled, his eyes flashing with heartfelt respect for this master: "You are a master who created an era, while I am just... a lucky one who stood on the shoulders of giants and was fortunate enough to see a more distant view."

This is the truth.

Hiroshi Nohara is, after all, the reincarnation of a plagiarist from Japan.

In other words, standing on the shoulders of a parallel neon world, how could one not be stronger than Eiji Kurosawa, who was fighting alone in this neon world?
However, Eiji Kurosawa took it as Hiroshi Nohara's modesty.

First stunned.

Then, he let out a hearty laugh that he had been suppressing for too long.

"Hahaha! Good! What a lucky one!"

He patted Hiroshi Nohara's shoulder heavily, all the desolation in his eyes gone, replaced by excitement:
"Come on! Nohara-kun! To celebrate passing the review today, I'll treat you to drinks! We'll go to Ginza, drink the best sake, and eat the best Wagyu beef! Today, this old man is going to drink with you until we're both drunk!"

"Okay," Hiroshi Nohara replied with a smile.

One old and one young.

The atmosphere was extremely harmonious!

……

The black minivan slid silently into the huge underground parking lot of TV Tokyo as the city lights began to twinkle.

At the production bureau headquarters building, many people were still working overtime.

The elevator doors opened with a "ding".

Two figures, one old and one young, supported each other as they staggered out.

The overwhelming smell of alcohol, like an invisible biological weapon, instantly spread from the two people to the entire floor.

"belch--!"

Eiji Kurosawa, the master revered as a "living legend" in the Japanese film industry, is now just an ordinary drunken old man.

Her face was flushed, and her eyes were glazed over.

He was still holding an empty sake bottle in one hand, while his other hand was heavily draped over the shoulder of the young man next to him, humming an old song that was no longer in tune.

Hiroshi Nohara wasn't in much better shape either.

His already simple casual clothes were crumpled up, and his signature gentle smile now had a touch of childlike naivety due to the alcohol.

Although he still managed to maintain a sliver of consciousness, his slightly swaying body had already betrayed the fact that he was equally unable to hold his liquor.

This scene, which was full of the implication of "disqualification from being a member of society," instantly stirred up ripples of shock and bewilderment throughout the entire production bureau headquarters building.

"Hey...who...who are those two people?"

A young intern, fresh out of Waseda University and harboring the purest dreams of the television industry, looked at the two figures exuding an aura of "broadcasting mishap" and subconsciously lowered his voice, asking his companion in a tone full of disdain.

"Drinking like this during work hours? It's... a disgrace to our TV station!"

"Who says it isn't?"

Another newly hired girl frowned, her pretty brows furrowing. "I've heard that the production department has a very strict hierarchy and numerous rules. How can there be people like this... who lack even the most basic professional ethics? Are they relatives of some high-ranking official?"

Whispers filled with a sense of justice quickly emerged.

However, before their "judgment," filled with a sense of superiority, could end, a sigh filled with vicissitudes and helplessness suddenly rang out from behind them.

"Sigh...you young people are still too green."

The speaker was a seasoned director who was nearly fifty years old and whose hair was already somewhat gray.

He held a cup of coffee, leaned against the wall, glanced at the two ignorant "righteous men," and said helplessly, "Do you know? The 'unethical guy' you're talking about, the old man who's so drunk he can't even walk straight, is Eiji Kurosawa."

"Kurosawa...Eiji?" The young intern was stunned for a moment, and then, an incredulous look of horror instantly appeared on his still somewhat student-like face!

"Could it be...could it be that legendary director...Kurosawa, who made countless samurai films and the 'Samurai Trilogy'?!"

"Otherwise what?" The old director curled his lip, looking at the two country bumpkins who had never seen the world: "In the entire production bureau, besides him, who else would dare to drink like this on Director Sakata's turf?"

"Then... what about the young man next to him?" The girl's voice trembled.

For a figure as prominent as director Kurosawa to personally assist him, and to act with such a close, age-gap relationship, this young man's identity must be...

"he?"

Upon hearing this, the old director's expression became increasingly strange, a complex mix of awe, envy, and a hint of barely perceptible jealousy.

He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled the name that was now like a god to everyone at Tokyo Television.

"He is the only living legend in this building."

"That monster who turned the entire Japanese television industry upside down with just three works—"

Hiroshi Nohara.

"..."

The whole world seemed to have been muted.

The two young people who were full of a sense of justice just a moment ago were now standing there dumbfounded.

Then they all nodded in agreement and said:
"Then everything is fine..."

……

"This is unreasonable! This is simply unreasonable!"

However, in Asuka's office, this deputy director, who could silence any producer outside, was pacing back and forth in front of the huge mahogany desk with his hands on his hips.

His face was filled with frustration and helplessness at their lack of ambition.

"Look at you two! Look at you two! One of you is the pillar of our Kanto faction, and the other is the future hope of our Kanto faction! And now, you're both drunk as mush! If that old fox Takada sees this, tomorrow the entire production bureau's bulletin board will probably be plastered with notices criticizing you two for 'drunken misbehavior'!"

He pointed at the two "culprits" who were already slumped on his expensive leather sofa like two salted fish, his voice filled with barely suppressed anger.

However, this reprimand, full of "motherly" concern, only earned him a hearty laugh filled with arrogance and disdain.

"Hahahaha! A public reprimand? I, Eiji Kurosawa, have been making films my whole life. What kind of criticism haven't I seen?!"

Eiji Kurosawa swayed as he sat up from the sofa. He grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the table and gulped down two large mouthfuls. His flushed face calmed down considerably.

"Mingrihai! Don't give me that arrogant air of a deputy director! Let me tell you, I'm happy today! I've never been happier in my life!"

"Fine, you can deduct it from my salary!"

"You—!" Asuka was so angered by these words that he almost spat out a mouthful of blood.

Deduct wages?
He'd like to deduct it! But does he dare?!

Let alone the fact that he was just a deputy director, even if Nobuhiko Sakata himself came, he would have to be polite and respectful to this old stubborn man who had already achieved great success and had one foot in the "temple of art" and address him as "Director Kurosawa"!
Don't assume that Japan is devoid of human relationships.

There's a lot more to it than meets the eye.

There are so many!
So Asumi helplessly turned his gaze to the young man who had been chuckling foolishly the whole time and seemed to have some sense of reason.

(End of this chapter)