I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

Chapter 209 The awards ceremony begins! Best screenplay! Hiroshi Nohara! Well deserved!
Three days passed quickly, and the highly anticipated Japan Television Drama Academy Awards ceremony was about to begin.

As one of the four major mainstream broadcasters, TV Tokyo naturally needed to send its best personnel to attend.

TV Tokyo's delegation was led by Toshihide Takada, the executive vice president of the production department, accompanied by the renowned first-class director and "Goddess of Love," Keiko Matsumoto.

Seeing Hiroshi Nohara arrive on time, Toshihide Takada forced a smile onto his usually gloomy face, and Keiko Matsumoto nodded slightly to him with the approval of a senior looking at a junior.

Although neither of them spoke, their attitude of regarding Hiroshi Nohara as one of their own, a core member of the television station, was already quite clear.

Standing next to Hiroshi Nohara were three of his capable section chiefs: Takeshi Yamamoto, who was in charge of "Tales of the Unusual", Kei Tanaka, who was in charge of "Super Transformation", and Ichiro Hashimoto, who was in charge of the "Yamishibai" anime.

These three individuals, along with Hiroshi Nohara himself, are practically the creators of TV Tokyo's most dazzling achievements in recent years.

The anime "Yamishibai" achieved a 15% viewership rating, becoming a phenomenon; the anthology series "Tales of the Unusual" reached an even higher 21%, leading the "urban ghost story" trend; and the variety show "Super Transformation" achieved a terrifying 40% viewership rating, making it a national phenomenon.

Just then, a somewhat unexpected figure approached the edge of the group with slight hesitation.

It's Masao Iwata.

This third-rate director, who was once incredibly popular at the television station and whose rival was even Hiroshi Nohara's mentor, Seito Suzuki, was now greeting Hiroshi Nohara with an embarrassed smile and humbly saying, "Director Nohara, hello."

"Oh? Director Iwata is here too." Hiroshi Nohara responded calmly, his tone revealing little emotion.

“Yes,” Masao Iwata nodded quickly. “Thanks to Deputy Director Takada, the station also submitted my ‘Onibo Samurai’ for the competition this time.”

"Hmm," Takada Toshihide responded from the side, confirming the news.

Hiroshi Nohara looked at Masao Iwata's respectful yet slightly apprehensive expression, but his heart remained unmoved.

In a short period of time, the gap between him and this "senior" who he once had to look up to and who could even have become a huge threat has become so vast.

Now, he no longer fears Iwata Masao as he once did. Instead, the once arrogant Iwata Masao now has to carefully read his expression and speak cautiously when facing him.

After all, in Japan's rigid hierarchical system, the decisive role of 'strength' cannot be ignored in the current change of status.

Hiroshi Nohara was well aware of this.

He remained polite and nodded slightly to Masao Iwata: "Wishing you all the best."

Upon seeing this, a barely perceptible hint of satisfaction flashed across Takada Toshihide's eyes.

Masao Iwata was his wife's cousin, and seeing that the two sides got along well, he was naturally even more pleased.

"Let's set off now that everyone's here," said Toshihide Takada. The other three directors from TV Tokyo, all over 42 years old, along with several assistants, were already waiting nearby. The group boarded the TV station's private minibus and headed towards the awards ceremony venue.

The seating arrangement inside the vehicle subtly creates a hierarchy.

Takada Toshihide and Matsumoto Keiko naturally sat in the front row.

Hiroshi Nohara followed closely behind.

Behind him were three section chiefs, including Takeshi Yamamoto, and Masao Iwata.

The three second-level directors sat in positions further back.

Not long after the car started moving, one of the second-level directors sitting in the back row, Hideya Noguchi, who was good at period dramas and had a somewhat stern face, took the initiative to speak to the front row, his tone full of respect: "Deputy Director Takada, Director Matsumoto, with the two of you and Director Nohara together this time, our TV Tokyo's momentum completely overwhelms the other stations."

He looked at Hiroshi Nohara: "Minister Nohara, your work is a strong contender for the award this time. The dramas we old guys submitted are just there to make a spectacle of ourselves."

Another slightly chubby, always-smiling second-tier director, Koichi Amuro, chimed in, speaking sincerely: "Yes, Director Nohara's works are truly amazing! Especially the 'urban ghost story' genre you pioneered, it's simply a revolutionary innovation! Director Ashikaga and I were just discussing the other day why those seemingly ordinary urban corners become so immersive and terrifying in your lens and stories?"

The last, somewhat silent, second-tier director couldn't help but chime in with curiosity: "Especially the 'Little Girl Playing Hopscotch' segment in 'Tales of the Unusual,' the scene in the phone booth at midnight—thinking about it now still sends chills down my spine. Director Nohara, when you were creating this atmosphere that was both relatable and terrifying, did you have any particular thoughts on it?"

Hiroshi Nohara, facing the advice of these seasoned directors, showed no arrogance, remaining calm and composed: "You flatter me, seniors. The core of 'urban ghost stories' lies in 'the estrangement of familiar places.' Audiences have fixed perceptions of the urban environment and rules. Breaking these perceptions—allowing the unknown to appear in the safest home, hiding terror at the most ordinary street corner, and imbuing everyday objects with eerie attributes—this subversion of 'preconceived notions of security' is the source of fear. When filming, it's important to restrain from showing 'monsters,' focusing on depicting the 'unusual' feeling of the environment and characters, allowing the audience to fill in the gaps for the most terrifying scenes. Sound and rhythm are key to amplifying this effect."

Keiko Matsumoto then turned to join the discussion, her voice carrying the confidence of a seasoned director, yet also a hint of appreciation: "Director Hiroshi is right. The core of horror is the projection of the human heart. The brilliance of your 'Urban Ghost Stories' lies in the fact that those seemingly bizarre plots, upon closer examination, can all find their reflection in the anxieties of reality—for example, that office unit where the phone keeps ringing but no one is there is simply an alternative portrayal of overtime culture. Using the sugar coating of 'ghost stories' to wrap insights into social phenomena is the fundamental reason why they resonate so widely, rather than becoming mere sensory stimulation." She looked at the directors in the back row, "Ashikaga, Asano, you should also pay more attention to the thinking of young people; genre films also need depth."

Hiroshi Nohara nodded: "Director Matsumoto hit the nail on the head. Fear is the outward manifestation of social pressure, loneliness and anxiety. Finding that 'pain point' that can resonate with urbanites, and then expressing it in a way that conforms to the rules of the genre but also has the personal imprint of the creator, is the core creative logic of 'urban ghost stories'."

Masao Iwata sat at the back, listening intently, feeling both shocked and ashamed.

He used to be so proud of the so-called "exquisite" costumes, props, and action design of his "Onibo Samurai," but now he realizes how big the gap is between him and Hiroshi Nohara in terms of creative concepts and insight.

He finally couldn't hold back any longer, setting aside his reserve, and leaned forward respectfully, like a student humbly seeking knowledge, asking, "Chief Nohara, what about the ending design of the episodes? Many viewers say that the endings of your ghost story episodes are often open-ended, or even abruptly ending with a blank space, yet they are more thought-provoking and terrifying than a clear explanation. How do you strike the right balance? Is it intentional or is there a pattern to it?"

All eyes were on Hiroshi Nohara. After a moment's thought, he answered clearly: "An open ending is to emphasize that the 'unknown' itself is the greatest fear. When the strange event occurs, regardless of whether the protagonist escapes, the 'rule-breaking' world he experienced already exists and may continue in any corner of the city. Rather than giving a false sense of security like 'the monster is destroyed' or 'the curse is lifted,' it's better to let the sense of the abnormality linger, reminding the audience of the fragility beneath everyday appearances. This isn't about being deliberately mysterious, but rather using the 'unsolvable' ending to reinforce the theme: the 'modern rules' of our lives are inherently vulnerable to certain forces. Leaving things unsaid doesn't mean there's no answer; the answer lies in the preceding hints and the audience's imaginative logic. The key is sufficient foreshadowing and logical consistency; letting the audience deduce the possibilities themselves is more terrifying than being directly told."

These words are clear and insightful, carrying a calm and discerning perspective beyond one's years.

The carriage fell silent for a moment as the directors pondered these words.

Even Takada Toshihide nodded slightly, while Matsumoto Keiko's eyes flashed with undisguised admiration.

Koichi Amuro was the first to react, and couldn't help but slap his thigh: "Brilliant! This is truly enlightening, Captain Nohara! Listening to your words is worth more than ten years of study!"

Hideaki Noguchi exclaimed, "I see! No wonder those episodes are so memorable, they leave a lasting impression for days after you finish watching them!"

Amidst a professional and enthusiastic discussion, the minibus drove smoothly toward the hall of fame of the Japanese television industry—the Japan Academy Film Prize ceremony.

Outside the car window, Tokyo street scenes from 1991 flashed by, while inside the car, the discussion grew increasingly heated.

People are increasingly amazed by Hiroshi Nohara's talent.

……

The air in the New Takanawa International Conference Center of the Grand Prince Hotel in Tokyo was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes, tense anticipation, and the paper about to have its pages turned by fate.

Tokyo nights, especially in such grand occasions, temporarily suppress the hustle and bustle of daily life, leaving only dazzling dreams and the illusion of money intertwined.

Countless flashes of light fell like stars, each burst tearing through the curtain of night and freezing each meticulously sculpted face in an eternal moment.

Hiroshi Nohara and his group slowly entered this dazzling area with the crowd.

They were the representative team of TV Tokyo, and each of them had a calmness that seemed out of place in this glitz and glamour, or perhaps a sharp edge that was about to be unleashed.

Executive Deputy Director Takada walked at the front. He was not tall, but he had a natural aura, as if he had been immersed in this world of fame and fortune for many years and had long since developed a composure that was impervious to all poisons.

Following the signs, they arrived at the designated seating area for TV Tokyo. The words "TV Tokyo" gleamed under the crystal chandeliers, a testament to the prestige and heritage of this long-established television organization.

However, just as Executive Deputy Director Takada was about to sit down, his gaze inadvertently swept towards the seat next to him.

There, a sign similar to theirs stood prominently—"Tokyo City Television Station".

Takada, the executive deputy director, frowned slightly, almost imperceptibly.

The curve was extremely shallow, yet it resembled the calm before the undercurrents surged beneath the surface of the deep sea.

"Managing Director Takada, it seems we've run into each other again." Yamamoto Takeshi's voice was low, carrying a hint of barely perceptible worry. He pushed up his glasses and glanced sharply at the seat next to him.

Hashiichiro also came over, his usually cheerful face now covered with a layer of solemnity: "Tokyo TV is coming on strong this time. A while ago, their show 'South Island Afu and His Beloved Dog' was clearly aimed at our station's 'Midnight Diner,' and now they're so close to us."

“It’s not just that it’s close,” Tanaka Kei added, a hint of wariness flashing in his eyes. “That old fox, Takahashi Kazuo, never does anything without a profit. The fact that he personally brought his people to this awards ceremony is probably because he has ulterior motives.”

"They're up to no good," Yamamoto Takeshi concluded, his tone filled with anticipation of the impending potential conflict.

Hiroshi Nohara stood behind them, listening quietly without any change in expression.

His eyes, which always carried a hint of nonchalance, were now as deep and unfathomable as Tokyo Bay under the night sky, its surface seemingly calm but its depths unfathomable.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," he said softly, his words like a gentle breeze, dispelling the tension in everyone's hearts.

Upon hearing this, Executive Deputy Director Takada unconsciously smiled, and his eyes flashed with approval.

Yes, there's nothing to be afraid of.

TV Tokyo has never been afraid of any challenge.

Besides, the TV series "South Island Ah Feng and His Beloved Dog" has already been defeated by their "Midnight Diner," so why should we care too much?!
Just then, Hideya Noguchi's voice rang out, his gaze fixed on the entrance, a complex expression on his face.

"They're coming."

Upon hearing this, everyone simultaneously looked in the direction Noguchi Hideya was looking. There, at the entrance of the venue, a large group of people were walking in.

Leading the group was Kazuo Takahashi, the executive vice president of Tokyo Television.

His slightly puffy face wore his signature fake smile, but his eyes, like those of a venomous snake, scanned the entire room.

Behind him were several well-known directors in the industry, as well as the rising star, Shunsuke Kamiki, who was being heavily promoted by Tokyo TV.

Shinki Shunsuke was handsome and full of vigor. He had a confident smile on his lips that seemed to melt ice and snow, but it also revealed a hint of arrogance that was hard to hide.

The gazes of the two groups met in mid-air, and invisible sparks seemed to flash in the air.

Kazuo Takahashi took the first step and walked straight toward the seats at TV Tokyo, a fake smile plastered on his face.

"Oh my, isn't this Executive Deputy Director Takada? Long time no see, you're still as dashing as ever!" Takahashi Kazuo approached, his tone a little too enthusiastic, but his voice held a sharp edge.

Executive Deputy Director Takada subtly took a half-step back, maintaining a proper distance, and a polite smile appeared on his lips: "Deputy Director Takahashi is joking. You are the one who is still vigorous despite your age. You look several years younger than when we last met."

These polite exchanges, to onlookers, sound like two sharp swords gently clashing in their sheaths; though no sparks are seen, a chilling aura pervades the air.

Kazuo Takahashi's gaze then turned to Hiroshi Nohara.

A hint of disdain flickered in his eyes, yet he feigned friendliness as he said, "This... must be Nohara-kun, right? I've long admired your name; you're really making waves lately, a truly formidable young man!"

"I've heard that Nohara-kun's 'Midnight Diner' has received good reviews and its ratings are decent, but..." Kazuo Takahashi paused, his tone becoming sarcastic, "Our Tokyo TV station is planning to gather many famous screenwriters and directors to discuss more creative content. Nohara-kun, you'd better work hard. Young people always have to strive to catch up with their seniors."

His words caused several directors and producers at TV Tokyo to look rather displeased.

This is clearly a provocation, and it's done in front of everyone, openly belittling Hiroshi Nohara and praising their own drama.

Hiroshi Nohara, however, did not get angry. He simply smiled faintly, a smile that conveyed composure.

"Thank you for your guidance, Deputy Director Takahashi. I will keep it in mind." Hiroshi Nohara's tone was calm and even, yet it did not reveal any weakness. "However, judging the quality of a work may involve more than just ratings. For example... whether it can touch people's hearts, whether it can leave a ripple in the hearts of the audience, and whether it can still be remembered many years later."

His words were gentle, yet like a fine needle, precisely piercing Takahashi Kazuo's vanity.

Kazuo Takahashi's smile froze on his face, and his eyebrows twitched slightly.

Seeing this, Executive Deputy Director Takada chimed in at the opportune moment: "Hiroshi is right, art always has its unique value. Of course, ratings are also a hard truth. However, I heard that Deputy Director Takahashi has recently put in a lot of effort for the celebration banquet of 'South Island A-Feng and His Beloved Dog,' so it must have been a great success and deserves a big celebration?"

Takada, the executive deputy director, made a very clever remark.

On the surface, it was a compliment, but in reality, it implied that Tokyo TV had invested too many resources and energy in order to achieve short-term ratings, and that it was even being somewhat sensationalist.

The implication is that their success may be short-lived and not profound enough.

Kazuo Takahashi's expression darkened further. He took a deep breath, about to retort, when Shunsuke Kamiki interrupted.

“Deputy Director Takada is too modest. Our station’s ‘South Island Afu and His Beloved Dog’ won the audience’s favor with its solid script and superb acting skills. This cannot be measured by a celebration banquet.” Kamiki Shunsuke’s tone carried the sharpness of youth, but also seemed a little impatient.

Hiroshi Nohara turned his gaze to Shunsuke Kamiki, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes.

He asked softly, "Shinki-kun's acting skills are indeed superb. The role he played in 'South Island Afeng and His Beloved Dog' was very memorable. However, I heard that Shinki-kun has recently taken on quite a few advertising endorsements?"

Upon hearing this, a hint of pride flashed in Shunsuke Kamiki's eyes. He straightened his back and said, "Of course. The audience appreciates my performance, and the manufacturers naturally value my commercial worth."

Hiroshi Nohara nodded slightly, his tone calm: "That's good. Actors can enjoy art while also receiving economic rewards, which is a win-win situation. However, while pursuing commercial value, we should not forget the original intention of acting. After all, popularity is temporary, but works are eternal."

Upon hearing this, Shunsuke Kamiki immediately felt embarrassed.

Hiroshi Nohara's words, though seemingly a well-intentioned reminder, actually pointed out what he found most difficult to say: that he, Shunsuke Kamiki, was merely an idol star who relied on his looks, rather than a truly respectable actor!
This is actually a topic that many people in the industry discuss privately.

"You!" Kamiki Shunsuke gritted his teeth, but couldn't say a word, because he really couldn't refute it.

Kazuo Takahashi was furious when he saw his "favorite general" rendered speechless by Hiroshi Nohara's few words.

He glared fiercely at Hiroshi Nohara, then glanced at the calm expression on the face of Deputy Director-General Takada, realizing that his side had lost the verbal battle today.

"Hmph!" Kazuo Takahashi snorted coldly, turning all his dissatisfaction into a heavy nasal sound. "Deputy Director Takada, Nohara-kun, we'll see!"

After saying that, he turned and left angrily with Kamiki Shunsuke and the others, returning to their seats at Tokyo TV.

The whole process was like two male lions briefly probing each other on the edge of their territory. Although there was no direct confrontation, it was still full of tension.

As he watched Kazuo Takahashi's departing figure, Deputy Director-General Takada let out a disdainful sneer. His smile carried the composure of a victor and utter contempt for his opponent's petty tricks.

"A mere trifle," Deputy Director Takada commented casually, then turned to the crowd and said, "Sit down, everyone. There's no need to pay attention to those clowns. Our stage is in our works, and in the hearts of our audience."

He waved for everyone to sit down. Then, he took out his cell phone—in 1991 Japan, that was an extremely rare luxury item, owned only by a very small elite group.

He dialed a number and instructed into the microphone, "This is Takada. Inform all the main actors from our station to come to the venue now. Yes, right now, everyone be here."

A brief reply came from the other end of the phone. Executive Deputy Director Takada hung up, his face remaining calm. He knew the real contest was far from over.

Not long after, a small commotion broke out again at the entrance of the venue.

Several lead actors from TV Tokyo, including those from popular dramas such as "Yesterday's Cherry Blossoms," "Tales of the Unusual," "Super Transformation," "Midnight Detective," and "Tokyo's Top Specialist," entered one after another. They had arrived in a separate car and had been waiting in the lounge before being notified, so they all showed up together.

Dressed in elegant attire and sporting perfectly timed smiles, they immediately drew the attention of many present. As the faces of TV Tokyo, each of them boasts a massive fan base and immense national recognition.

However, just as they entered the venue and headed towards the Tokyo TV booth, even more industry giants and celebrity guests poured in. This time, the number of attendees was greater, and the caliber of the attendees was also higher.

Many of them are vice presidents or managing directors of other well-known television stations in Japan, as well as influential film directors and veteran actors who hold a significant place in the hearts of the people.

Each of them represents a force to be reckoned with, and is the true backbone of the Japanese film and television industry.

But then something unexpected happened.

As these important figures entered the room one after another, their eyes invariably swept towards the seats of the Tokyo TV station.

Many people, after exchanging a few pleasantries and pleasantries with Takada, unexpectedly turned their attention to Hiroshi Nohara, who was standing next to Takada.

"Nohara-kun! Hello!"

"Director Nohara! It's a pleasure to meet you!"

One loud voice after another rang out, breaking the original social etiquette in the venue.

Those industry leaders who are usually aloof and unapproachable are now walking towards Hiroshi Nohara with great enthusiasm, as if they were seeing long-lost friends.

They all extended their hands to shake hands with Hiroshi Nohara, their tone filled with undisguised admiration and affirmation.

"I've been following Nohara-kun's 'Midnight Diner'! It's so well-made, the human touch it captures is absolutely amazing!" A famous film director patted Hiroshi Nohara on the shoulder, his eyes filled with mutual appreciation.

"Director Nohara is truly young and promising! I happen to have a project that I've been feeling is missing something, and meeting you today has suddenly given me inspiration! I hope we can collaborate sometime!" Managing Director Takada from another local television station was even more direct, enthusiastically handing over his business card, his tone filled with a desire for cooperation.

"Nohara-kun, your grasp of urban themes is simply masterful! I've been watching 'Tales of the Unusual' all this time! When do you have some free time? We can chat and discuss future collaborations." A veteran actor stepped forward, offering his business card with both hands, his demeanor humble and sincere.

One after another, gold-embossed business cards drifted into Hiroshi Nohara's hands like snowflakes.

Those business cards all bear the names of prominent figures in the Japanese film and television industry.

Their attitude towards Hiroshi Nohara was not merely polite; it was a genuine respect and high regard from the bottom of their hearts.

This respect even subtly surpassed their politeness towards Takada, the Executive Deputy Director.

Everyone present could see that these people were genuinely giving Hiroshi Nohara face.

Their eyes held no hint of perfunctoriness, only appreciation for talent and anticipation for the future.

In a short period of time, Hiroshi Nohara has become a recognized "rising star" in the industry with one work after another, and in some aspects, he has even surpassed many veterans.

Standing aside, Executive Deputy Director Takada watched as his "favorite" was surrounded and fawned over by a group of bigwigs, a complex expression on his face showing both pride and a touch of "jealousy".

He quickly stepped forward and pulled Hiroshi Nohara slightly towards him, his tone carrying a hint of protectiveness, yet also sounding so sincere:
"Ladies and gentlemen! Hiroshi is a priceless treasure of our TV Tokyo, he is not for sale!"

His words were half a joke and half a declaration.

Everyone present understood the deeper meaning behind Takada's words—Hiroshi Nohara was a core asset of TV Tokyo, and anyone trying to poach him would have to think twice.

These words indirectly increased Hiroshi Nohara's value, making him a rare treasure coveted by everyone.

This scene was naturally witnessed by the people at Tokyo TV station, who were not far away.

Kazuo Takahashi originally wanted to see TV Tokyo make a fool of itself, but he didn't expect to see such a scene.

He stared intently at Hiroshi Nohara, who was surrounded by a crowd of admirers, and then looked at the industry bigwigs who usually ignored him, now showing such enthusiasm for Hiroshi Nohara. His face darkened horribly, and his teeth clenched so tightly they made a grinding sound.

Kamiki Shunsuke's face turned pale and then red. He had thought he was a rising star of Tokyo TV and was quite well-known in the industry.

But now, the treatment Hiroshi Nohara was receiving was something he had never seen before in his life. The way those big shots looked at Hiroshi Nohara was one of admiration, respect, and longing.

The way Kamiki Shunsuke looked at him was nothing more than perfunctory politeness; he didn't even stop to look at him.

The enormous sense of disparity made him feel an unprecedented sense of humiliation.

The flames of jealousy burned fiercely in the eyes of everyone at Tokyo TV.

They were as if they had been stripped naked in public; all their glamour paled in comparison to Hiroshi Nohara's brilliance.

Kazuo Takahashi and Shunsuke Kamiki were experiencing a mix of emotions, a bitter taste, anger, and resentment that made them want to tear apart the facade of harmony before them.

The awards ceremony began slowly amidst this silent competition and surging undercurrents.

……

The awards ceremony began slowly amidst this silent competition and surging undercurrents.

The dazzling crystal lights, like a silent prophecy, fall on the marble floor, refracting countless illusory angles.

In the center of the stage, two emcees, dressed in formal attire, slowly stepped into the spotlight with professional yet approachable smiles.

Their voices, amplified by the calibrated microphones, carried an irresistible solemnity, announcing the official start of this annual grand event.

The whispers in the hall gradually subsided, and everyone's attention was drawn to the light shining in the center of the stage.

Hiroshi Nohara's gaze, however, inadvertently drifted past the crowded audience seats and toward the VIP section.

There, several figures who are usually only seen on the front page of newspapers are sitting upright, their expressions serious and reserved.

Their presence added a weighty significance to this already star-studded ceremony.

"Hiroshi, do you see those two over there?" Takada's voice, with a hint of barely perceptible depth, rang in his ears.

Hiroshi Nohara followed Takada's gaze.

"Yes, President Shimazu and Tanaka Mikami are both here." Hiroshi Nohara nodded slightly, his tone calm.

The two elderly people, one to the east and one to the west, were not far apart, yet they were like two invisible mountain peaks, each exuding an aura that could not be ignored.

President Shimadzu, the top executive of TV Tokyo, was smiling and talking quietly with the person next to him. His smile contained the wisdom and composure that came with the years.

On the other side, Tanaka Mikami sat upright like a pine tree, his sharp eyes scanning the entire arena as if searching for some invisible crack.

"Don't underestimate them." Deputy Director Takada turned slightly to the side, blocking some of the possible gazes from him, and lowered his voice even further. "This is no ordinary awards ceremony."

"Oh?" Hiroshi Nohara raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly.

"President Shimadzu is a 'regulatory' member of the 'liberal public opinion' faction," said Managing Director Takada slowly, each word seemingly drawing a clear outline in the air.

"The regulators?" Hiroshi Nohara repeated, his understanding of politics far less than his sensitivity to the language of the camera.

"He advocates for macroeconomic regulation of the economy, especially addressing the overheated real estate market, hoping to cool it down," explained Executive Deputy Director Takada, a profound look flashing in his eyes.

"What about Tanaka Mikami?" Hiroshi Nohara pressed.

"He's a representative of the 'real estate faction'," said Executive Deputy Director Takada with a light laugh, his laughter carrying a hint of worldly wisdom.

"The name says it all." Hiroshi Nohara's lips curled into a smile.

“That’s right. He supports continuing to promote real estate development, believing it to be a symbol of economic prosperity.” Takada’s voice became somewhat complicated. “Right now, Japan’s economy is like a giant ship sailing at high speed. Whether it should continue to accelerate or slow down and re-examine its direction, everyone has their own opinions.”

“So they’re mortal enemies.” Hiroshi Nohara’s gaze darted back and forth between the two big shots.

“A head-to-head confrontation.” Takada, the executive deputy director, said firmly, “Now, on the eve of the elections in the second half of the year, they are not here just to watch the awards ceremony, but also to win the support and votes of people from all walks of life. This stage is also an invisible battlefield.”

"Politics..." Hiroshi Nohara sighed softly, a hint of detachment in his eyes.

“I still don’t want to get involved in these things.” Hiroshi Nohara shook his head; he prefers to tell stories behind the scenes using images.

"Haha, not getting involved is the best kind of involvement." Upon hearing this, Takada, the executive deputy director, laughed instead, his smile carrying a calm acceptance of the world. "You should focus on developing your career at TV Tokyo and create more excellent works."

“In the future, political figures will naturally come to you seeking your help,” said Takada, the managing deputy director, his gaze fixed on Hiroshi Nohara, his eyes filled with expectation.

“But it seems I’m already one of President Shimazu’s men.” Hiroshi Nohara shrugged. After all, he had given President Shimazu a lot of advice, including the information cocoon that even Director Sakata had been personally controlling recently. Wasn’t that something he helped with?
"You'll find out when the time comes." Deputy Director Takada patted him on the shoulder, said nothing more, and left with a meaningful remark.

While this whispered exchange took place at TV Tokyo, the atmosphere at the Tokyo City TV station not far away was as frozen as ice.

Kazuo Takahashi's face was ashen. He stared intently at Hiroshi Nohara, who was surrounded by many industry bigwigs, his eyes burning with jealousy.

"Hmph, that old Shimazu guy is here too, putting on airs." Kazuo Takahashi snorted coldly, his voice extremely low, like a viper flicking its tongue.

Kamiki Shunsuke's face was a mixture of pale and ashen, and he clenched his teeth and fists tightly.

"President, it's no use even if he comes." Kamiki Shunsuke tried to calm his resentment, his voice trembling slightly.

“Of course.” A sly glint flashed in Kazuo Takahashi’s eyes. “Our backer, Mikami Tanaka, will definitely be re-elected.”

"Then let's see how arrogant Tokyo TV will be." Kamiki Shunsuke's tone was full of resentment.

"That old fox Takada Toshihide, and that brat Nohara Hiroshi, just you wait!" Takahashi Kazuo roared in a low voice, as if he was about to pounce on the two and tear them to pieces at any moment.

"I will show them what true strength is." Kamiki Shunsuke's jealousy of Nohara Hiroshi had also reached its peak.

Those connections that he can no longer reach, those connections that look down on him, actually went to approach Hiroshi Nohara. He really didn't expect it, and he was extremely jealous!
"Our Tokyo TV station will definitely grow rapidly!" Kazuo Takahashi's eyes gleamed with a crazy light, as if he could already see the future glory.

"TV Tokyo, just wait to be surpassed by us!" Shunsuke Kamiki added viciously, as if he could already foresee the decline of TV Tokyo.

Kazuo Takahashi and Shunsuke Kamiki exchanged a glance, seeing the same burning ambition and hatred in each other's eyes.

They raised their glasses and clinked them together. The crisp sound of the clinking glasses was particularly jarring in the noisy hall, like a vow or a curse for the future.

The stage lights changed again, and the host had finished reading the opening remarks. At this moment, the short film of the first major award nominations began to play on the big screen.

All eyes were drawn to it, and the atmosphere in the venue shifted from the previous undercurrents to a mix of anticipation and tension.

"Next up is the award for Best Screenplay of the Year!" The host's voice was passionate and infectious, every word striking a chord in the hearts of the audience.

On the big screen, highlights from the nominated works and biographies of the shortlisted screenwriters were played on a loop.

Hiroshi Nohara's name was prominently listed. His "Tales of the Unusual" achieved phenomenal success this year with its unique imagination and profound social commentary, becoming a topic of conversation for countless viewers.

Takada, the executive deputy director, looked confident; he knew that Hiroshi Nohara was determined to win the award.

"Congratulations to all the outstanding screenwriters who were shortlisted!" another host continued. "Your talent has added countless highlights to the television screens of Japan!"

"But there can only be one winner in the end!" The male host deliberately kept everyone in suspense, whetting everyone's appetite.

In the audience, everyone from TV Tokyo, including Takeshi Yamamoto, Ichiro Hashimoto, Kei Tanaka, Hideya Noguchi, and the lead actors who had just arrived, held their breath, their eyes fixed on the big screen. They knew this was TV Tokyo's first major move of the night, a crucial moment to showcase its strength to the world.

Meanwhile, in the seats at Tokyo TV, Kazuo Takahashi and Shunsuke Kamiki looked even more grim.

They stared intently at the close-up shot of Hiroshi Nohara on the big screen, their eyes practically spitting fire. They knew, of course, how successful Hiroshi Nohara's "Tales of the Unusual" was, but the greater the success, the more it stung them.

"The winner of the Best Screenplay of the Year award is..." The host's voice rang out again, this time pausing for an exceptionally long time, making the atmosphere in the entire venue extremely tense.

The air seemed to freeze, with only the sound of heartbeats echoing in my ears.

Hiroshi Nohara, however, felt a profound sense of calm. He stared at his name on the big screen as if reading the story of a stranger. He knew his worth couldn't be fully defined by a single award.

“You will win.” Takada, the managing deputy director, said in a low voice to Nohara Hiroshi beside him, his tone full of certainty.

“Of course.” Yamamoto Takeshi pushed up his glasses, his eyes shining with approval of Nohara Hiroshi.

"Hiroshi Nohara!" The host's voice boomed like a thunderclap, shattering the silence in the venue.

Before he finished speaking, thunderous applause and cheers erupted from the seats at TV Tokyo.

Everyone stood up and cast congratulatory glances at Hiroshi Nohara.

Hiroshi Nohara stood up, nodded slightly to the people around him, and then walked slowly toward the stage with steady steps.

The spotlight followed his figure, projecting his solitary yet resolute silhouette onto the large screen, making it stand out prominently.

He walked step by step onto the stage and accepted the heavy trophy from the presenter.

The trophy gleamed under the lights, as if it embodied the countless nights of thought and hard work he had put in.

The moment he took the microphone, all eyes were on him.

"Thank you everyone." Hiroshi Nohara's voice, carried through the microphone, resonated throughout the venue with a unique magnetism and penetrating power. "Thank you to the jury, thank you to TV Tokyo, and thank you to all the viewers who have supported 'Tales of the Unusual'."

His gaze swept across the audience, finally settling on the seats at TV Tokyo, and on Managing Director Takada and his colleagues.

“This award doesn’t belong to me alone.” Hiroshi Nohara’s voice became a little hoarse, but it made him even more sincere. “It belongs to everyone who has put in the effort for this work.”

"What we've done is simply to use images to depict the wonders and realities hidden in the corners of the city." Hiroshi Nohara paused, his tone tinged with emotion, "to touch the forgotten softness and unknown struggles deep within people's hearts."

"This world is full of wonders, but as long as we feel it with our hearts, we can always find our own wonder." Hiroshi Nohara looked into the distance again, as if he could see through the roof of the venue and see the stars and the sea. "Thank you all. It is your recognition that makes me know that the stories we tell have their own meaning."

His speech lacked flowery language and passionate pronouncements, yet it touched the hearts of everyone present in a subtle and pervasive way. The applause thundered again, even more enthusiastically and for a longer duration than before.

Amid applause, Hiroshi Nohara smiled, bowed, and then slowly walked off the stage, holding the trophy.

Every step he took appeared so calm and firm, as if he were not just walking on the podium, but on the road to a broader future.

P.S.: Please continue to vote with recommendation tickets and monthly tickets. Thank you so much for your support, I'm extremely grateful!

(End of this chapter)