I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

Chapter 236: The Exchange Between Nobuhiko Sakata and Toshihide Takada! Regarding the Protection of Hiroshi Nohara!

On the top floor of the Tokyo TV headquarters building, the door to the station director's office was gently pushed open.

Takada Toshihide held a thick stack of Kanto TV's financial statements in his hand, his fingertips unconsciously brushing against the edges of the papers, leaving a few shallow marks—the red words on the statements, "Advertising revenue decreased by 45% year-on-year" and "Original programs accounted for less than 8%", were as glaring as needles.

The office was filled with a faint aroma of Uji matcha.

Nobuhiko Sakata was sitting behind a rosewood desk by the window, holding a yellowed old photograph in his hand—a photograph of him and Ryuichi Koike twenty years ago, both wearing sharp suits, standing in front of the old Tokyo TV office building, their smiles full of youthful vigor.

In the corner of the desk sat an unsheathed samurai sword. The cherry blossom pattern on the scabbard had faded somewhat. It was an item that Sakata had inherited from his father and rarely showed to others.

"Director Sakata, here is the monthly report for Kanto TV that you requested." Takata placed the report on the table, and when he bowed, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were particularly noticeable. "I just confirmed with the finance department that Kanto TV's production budget exceeded its budget by 200 million last month, and the advertising department only secured 130 million in new collaborations. We're almost unable to pay employee bonuses."

Sakata put down the photo, tapped the report cover lightly with his fingertips, and asked in a voice with the composure characteristic of an old-school manager: "Asumi, did you go to Kanto-dai with Hiroshi this morning?"

“Hi.” Takada nodded, pulled up a chair next to him and sat down, leaning forward slightly. “Miyazawa just came to report that the bus departed at nine o’clock sharp. The people traveling with us are all former employees of Kanto TV, including Sato and Watanabe—the two directors who worked with Hiroshi on ‘Tales of the Unusual’ before.”

Sakata hummed in agreement, picked up the rough ceramic teacup on the table, took a sip, and the slight bitterness of the matcha spread in his mouth.

He looked out the window at the bustling traffic of Tokyo, his expression gradually becoming complicated: "Kanto TV has been a mess ever since we acquired it four years ago. Asumi spent half a year there, his hair turned quite a bit white, but he still couldn't turn it around. Now, handing it over to Hiroshi is really unfair to that kid."

Upon hearing the word "wronged," Takada couldn't help but frown, his tone tinged with regret: "Indeed, Director. Who is Hiroshi-kun? At 23, he won the Best New Director award at the Tokyo International Film Festival. 'Seven Samurai' grossed over 89 billion yen, 'Hachi: A Dog's Tale' grossed over 10 billion yen, and 'Super Transformation' is currently the number one variety show in the country—every project he's involved in is a cash cow for the station. Now, asking him to clean up the mess at Kanto TV is like using a precious samurai sword to cut wild vegetables. It's such a waste."

He paused, then pointed to the words "average age of Kanto-dai employees is 48" on the report: "And as you know, the older employees at Kanto-dai are very stubborn. That old guy Matsui Yuichi doesn't even give Asumi any face. If Hiroshi goes there, who knows how much he'll suffer. If he messes things up, it will only damage his reputation. It's not worth it."

Upon hearing this, Sakata suddenly laughed.

He put down his teacup, leaned back in his chair, and looked at Takada's face—this man who used to always think about the interests of the "Tokyo Faction" and even looked at Asumi with hostility, was now worried about Hiroshi's reputation, which made him much more insightful than before.

"Kim, Nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara, nohara.
Sakata's tone was somewhat sarcastic: "Remember when the first season of 'Yamishibai' aired last year? You strongly supported Masao Iwata's 'Onibō Samurai,' saying, 'What urban fantasy? This kind of niche subject is destined not to go far.' And what happened? 'Yamishibai' broke 12% in ratings, while 'Onibō Samurai' didn't even reach 5%. You must have been losing face at the production meeting, right?"

A hint of embarrassment flashed across Takada's face. He reached up and touched his nose, then said with a wry smile, "Director, why are you bringing this up again... Back then, I was young and impetuous, and I didn't see things clearly. Now it's different. I'm the head of the production department, and I have to consider the interests of the entire Tokyo TV network. Hiroshi is a treasure to the station. If Kanto TV loses its wings because of this, the entire Tokyo TV network will suffer."

"So you think it's a waste to send him to Kanto?" Sakata pressed, his eyes sharpening.

“…Yes.” Takada hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “At least for now. If we wait until he’s a few more years older, like after he turns thirty, and has a few big projects in his hands, then it would be perfectly legitimate for him to integrate the Kanto TV station, and no one would dare to question it. Right now he’s too young. Even if he has the ability, he can’t control those old hands.”

Sakata didn't immediately refute, but got up and walked to the window, his fingers gently brushing over a pot of asparagus fern on the windowsill—a gift from Koike Ryuichi when he first became the station director, which was now growing lush and green.

He was silent for a few seconds, then slowly spoke: "Jun, the surface is the same as the surface (you only see the surface)."

"The surface?" Takada paused, then said, "Director, you mean..."

"Nohara's biggest problem is, too great."

Sakata turned around, his tone becoming more serious: "23 years old, a third-tier director, head of the independent production department, a key manga artist for Shueisha—do you know how many people in the station are watching him behind the scenes? Although Keiko Matsumoto said he has a 'promising future,' she also told me privately that 'young people who have it too easy are prone to stumbling.' Senior Eiji Kurosawa admires him, but which of those old directors and screenwriters in the Kurosawa school isn't jealous that he was able to make a samurai film like 'Seven Samurai'?"

He walked up to Takada, picked up a copy of the Asahi Shimbun from the table, and pointed to the headline in the entertainment section—a photo of Hiroshi attending the Tokyo Film Festival last month, with the headline "The youngest film director, Japan's pride."

“Take a look at this.” Sakata tapped the headline heavily with his finger. “The media is praising him so highly, but the bigger the tree, the more the wind blows. Tanaka Mikami’s side has been taking notice of him for a while now—didn’t Sato Tokugawa publicly say at the Tokyo TV’s promotional event that he wanted to invite Nohara Hiroshi to direct variety shows? That wasn’t admiration, it was a test. If Hiroshi really stays at TV Tokyo and stays in the eye of the storm every day, he’ll get caught up in it sooner or later.”

Takada's brow furrowed more and more. He had only considered the difficulties of the Kanto region, but had not realized the external pressure Hiroshi was facing.

He looked at Sakata, his tone questioning: "So you sent him to the Kanto Station to let him avoid all this? But the Kanto Station isn't far from Tokyo, and... it's away from the center of power. He can't participate in the station's important meetings, project approvals, or resource allocations. Won't he be marginalized over time?"

Marginalization?

Sakata smiled and shook his head: "You misunderstand power. True power isn't about spending your days in a meeting room signing documents; it's about having something that no one can take away from you. If Hiroshi can revitalize Kanto TV, he'll have access to the resources of 30 million viewers in the Kanto region, plus the connections of local businesses—then even if he's not at TV Tokyo headquarters, who would dare treat him as an outsider?"

He paused, his tone growing more serious: "And do you think the current struggle is just a competition between Tokyo TV and the city TV station? Not at all. This is a struggle between Governor Koike's Greater Tokyo Reform Faction and the real estate faction behind Tanaka Mikami. Why does Sato Tokugawa support the city TV station? Because Tanaka Mikami promised him that if he were elected mayor, he would grant the Kirin Group a plot of land in Shinjuku; why did the former president of Shimazu run for mayor? Because he is one of Governor Koike's men and wants to preserve the achievements of the Greater Tokyo Reform."

Takada's expression changed—he had heard about these political matters, but he hadn't expected them to be related to Hiroshi. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Sakada raised his hand to interrupt him.

"If Nohara were now at the center of Tokyo TV, she would be drawn into this struggle sooner or later."

Sakata's voice carried a hint of helplessness: "He made 'Super Transformation,' which promoted connections between people, and Governor Koike praised him for 'changing the indifference of Japan'; he made 'Midnight Diner,' which reflected the lives of ordinary people, and Tanaka Mikami said that 'this is the most authentic Tokyo story'—both sides wanted to pull him to their side. Do you think a 23-year-old can handle it?"

"What if he chooses the wrong side?" Takada asked instinctively, his tone filled with worry.

"That's it."

Sakata's eyes turned cold: "Either he'll be abandoned by Governor Koike, or he'll be suppressed by Tanaka Mikami. At that point, forget about the independent production department, it'll be questionable whether he can even stay at TV Tokyo. And even if he doesn't take sides, neither side will let him off the hook—his enemies will suppress him, and his own people will be jealous of him. How long do you think he can hold out?"

Takada fell silent.

He recalled overhearing two veteran directors chatting in the production department corridor a few days ago, saying, "Hiroshi Nohara is just lucky. If it weren't for Director Sakata protecting him, would he be where he is today?"; and the head of the variety show department, who complained when he was drinking with him last time, "Super Transformation takes up too much of the budget, and other variety shows are almost out of funding"—he hadn't paid attention to these complaints before, but now he realized they were all undercurrents targeting Hiroshi.

"So you sent him to Kanto to protect him?" Takada looked up, his eyes filled with sudden realization.

“Yes.” Sakata nodded, returned to his desk, and picked up the cup of matcha again. “Kanto TV may be a mess, but it’s also a refuge. It’s far from the political struggles in Tokyo, so he can focus on making programs and building his team—those young directors selected from Kanto TV will be his people in the future. Even if things go wrong at Tokyo TV in the future, he’ll still have a foothold in Kanto and won’t be left with nothing.”

He sighed, his tone tinged with regret: "If Nohara were in his forties, I would definitely have him involved—when Shimazu ran for mayor, he could have made a few documentaries promoting reforms; when Tanaka put pressure on him, he could have used the ratings of 'Tales of the Unusual' to fight back—these would have been excellent resumes. But he's only 23 now, he has at least 40 years to go, it's too cruel to push him to the forefront now."

Takada nodded silently, finally understanding Sakata's intention. He had previously thought it was a waste, but now he realized it was the safest form of protection.

Looking at the reports from the Kanto TV station on the table, he suddenly felt that those red numbers didn't seem so glaring anymore—because behind them lay a deep appreciation for a young man.

“Director, I understand.” Takada’s tone became serious. “I was too naive before. From now on, whatever support Hiroshi-kun needs at Kanto TV, the production department will do its best to cooperate. Budget, resources, as long as he asks, I will coordinate immediately.”

"Ah."

Sakata nodded in satisfaction, leaning back in his chair, his tense shoulders relaxing a bit. "It's good that you understand. Actually, I never expected the reforms at Kantotai to yield results within three months—that was for show. The real goal was to let him establish a foothold there, cultivate his own power, and then come back after this storm has passed."

"A storm?" Takada keenly grasped the word. "Director, you mean... the election of the former president of Shimadzu?"

Sakata's eyes darkened. He picked up the katana on the table and gently drew it a few inches, the blade gleaming coldly in the sunlight: "Shimazu's odds of winning are only 55 to 45. Tanaka Mikami has a high approval rating in the city council, financial support from Sato Tokugawa, and propaganda tools from the city radio station. He's not easy to deal with."

He sheathed his sword and said in a low voice, "If Shimazu loses, TV Tokyo will be in trouble. Tanaka will definitely send Kazuo Takahashi to infiltrate the network. Then the production team will have to be replaced, the programs will have to be changed, and those of us who follow Yoshihiro Shimazu will not have an easy time."

Takada's expression changed instantly—he only knew that Shimazu was running for office, but he did not expect the situation to be so serious, and it might even affect the survival of TV Tokyo.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say, "It can't be that serious, can it?" but seeing Sakata's solemn expression, he swallowed his words.

"So I need to be prepared for the worst."

Sakata's tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable firmness: "Hiroshi went to Kanto TV so that if something happened to Tokyo TV, he could hold the line in Kanto—Kanto TV is our backup plan, and also Nohara's backup plan. As long as he's there, Tokyo TV still has a chance to turn things around."

Looking at Sakata, Takada suddenly felt a surge of admiration.

This 61-year-old man is not only considering the present of TV Tokyo, but also paving the way for its future, and even planning for the future of a young director. He used to think that Sakata was just old and steady, but now he realizes how much vision and responsibility lies behind that steadiness.

"Director, please rest assured." Takada stood up, bowed, and said with unprecedented seriousness, "I will definitely cooperate with you to protect Hiroshi-kun and safeguard the production bureau. No matter what the final outcome is, I will not let TV Tokyo collapse."

Sakata looked at him, smiled, and waved his hand: "Sit down, no need to be so serious. We haven't reached that point yet, it's just taking precautions. By the way, have you talked to Asumi about these things?"

“No.” Takada shook his head. “I only heard you mention this today. Before that, I only knew that he was to cooperate with Hiroshi in reforming the Kanto government.”

“Then don’t tell him,” Sakata said. “Asukai is a sensitive person, and knowing this will only put pressure on him. Let him follow Hiroshi and help with the daily affairs of the Kanto Bureau. We two can handle these political matters.”

"Yes." Takada nodded in agreement.

Sakata picked up the Kanto TV report again, turned to the page with the "List of Young Directors," and stopped his finger on the name "Honda Nao"—a young director recommended by Suzuki Kiyoto who wanted to make a documentary about "old street exploration."

He smiled and said to Takada, "I've heard that Honda has a lot of ideas, but she's been held back by Matsui. If Hiroshi goes there, he'll definitely give her a big role—maybe this young girl can become the breakthrough point for the reform of the Kanto region."

Takada also came over to look and said with a smile, "Hiroshi is the best at discovering talent. Hashimoto, Yamamoto, and Ito, weren't they all promoted from ordinary directors to section chiefs by him? If this Honda really has talent, he can definitely bring him out."

"Ah."

Sakata nodded, placed the report on the table, picked up his teacup and took a sip. "By the way, Hiroshi's independent production department, add another 200 million yen to the budget for next month—say it's for the production of the fourth season of 'Yamishibai,' but actually let him allocate it flexibly so that if Kanto TV needs money, it can be supplemented in time."

“Okay, I’ll have the finance department arrange it tomorrow.” Takada immediately wrote it down.

The office returned to calm, with only the occasional car horn outside the window and the soft clinking of Sakata's teacup against the table.

Looking at Sakata, Takada suddenly realized that his previous worries were unnecessary—with a far-sighted leader like Sakata and a talented young man like Hiroshi, even if Kanto TV was a mess and even if it faced the pressure of political struggles, Tokyo TV would definitely be able to get through it.

“Oh, right, Director.” Takada suddenly remembered something. “Yesterday, Miyazawa told me that the city’s TV station has started filming ‘Exploring the Tokyo Area,’ with the first stop being Senso-ji Temple in the Kanto region. They’ve even invited Shunsuke Kamiki to be the host. Should we have Hiroshi-kun do a similar program to compete with them?”

Sakata shook his head, his tone resolute: "No need. Hiroshi has his own ideas, and he won't follow the city's rhythm. Just wait and see, he'll definitely make a different kind of program that showcases the characteristics of the Kanto region and attracts viewers—just like the 'Kumamon' program he made in Kumamoto. He always comes up with ideas that others can't."

Takada thought about the current popularity of "Kumamon"—not only has it become the mascot of Kumamoto Prefecture, but it has also spawned merchandise, comics, and even plans to make an anime, which gave him confidence.

He smiled and nodded: "You're right, Hiroshi never disappoints."

Sakata looked out the window, a hint of anticipation in his eyes.

Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting a long shadow on him.

He knew that this game over the future of TV Tokyo had only just begun.

Hiroshi Nohara, this 23-year-old, will be the most crucial piece in this game—not to charge into battle, but to protect hope and wait for the future.

“Things will get better,” Sakata said softly, as if speaking to Takada, but also as if speaking to himself. “As long as we stay calm, as long as Hiroshi can establish himself in Kanto TV, Tokyo TV will get better.”

Looking into Sakata's determined eyes, Takada nodded vigorously.

The aroma of matcha in the office seemed to have become stronger, carrying a touch of warmth and hope as it quietly permeated this Tokyo morning at the end of the bubble economy.

……

In front of the office building of Guandong TV Station, the autumn wind swirled a few withered yellow sycamore leaves, which stuck to the mottled exterior wall tiles—tiles that were re-laid ten years ago when "Guandong Scenery" was a hit. Now the edges have curled up, revealing the dark cement base underneath.

On the bulletin boards on both sides of the entrance, there are still old posters from last year's broadcast of TV Tokyo's "Yamishibai". The edges of the posters are curled, and the words "12% rating" in the upper right corner are blurred by rain.

Just after 10 a.m., five men in dark gray suits huddled around the bulletin board, each clutching a folder, but none of them were looking at the documents—their eyes were fixed on the distant intersection. Every now and then, one of them would glance at the quartz watch on his wrist, his knuckles turning white from the effort. These five men were all mid-level core members of the Kanto TV organization.

The man on the far left, Takashi Yamada, is the deputy director of the production department. His hair is neatly combed, but it can't hide the gray hair at his temples. He and Yuichi Matsui have been working at Kanto TV for thirty years, so he is considered a veteran.
Next to him was Ken Fujishita, the head of the advertising department. His beer belly stretched his suit too tight, and he was holding half a tuna sandwich in his hand—he had a bad advertising deal with Asakusa ramen that morning and hadn't even had breakfast.

Hiroshi Kimura in the middle is the head of the personnel department. He wears round-framed glasses and always talks about "rules," but he secretly increased the subsidies of long-term employees twice after the acquisition of TV Tokyo.
On the right is Kobayashi Jiro, the deputy director of the planning department. His notebook is filled with densely packed words, all of which are program proposals that have been rejected in the past six months.
At the far end was Shigeru Saito, the head of the technical department. His face was expressionless, and he was holding a black pager in his hand. He remained silent for a long time. He was the most silent of the five, but he also knew the most about the equipment. The few cameras at Kanto TV that were about to break down were all kept in place by him.

"Yamada-san, are you sure it's 10 o'clock today?"

Fujishita Ken took a bite of his sandwich, and crumbs fell onto the front of his suit jacket. He wiped them away casually, his tone filled with anxiety. "I just spoke with the owner of Asakusa-ya. He said that the people from the city TV station came by yesterday and offered us advertising space at a price 20% higher than ours. They also said they want to hire Kamiki Shunsuke to film a promotional video for the ramen shop. If this continues, our advertising department is probably going to starve this month."

Yamada frowned and straightened his tie—the same tie he'd received at last year's annual meeting, its edges worn smooth: "Secretary Miyazawa called this morning, no doubt about it. This time, Managing Director Asumi is leading the team personally, along with Deputy Director Takada—you forgot? Deputy Director Takada is also currently the director of our Kanto TV station, so his visit is definitely about reforms."

"Tomorrow's Executive Director..."

The sandwich in Fujishita Ken's mouth suddenly lost its appeal. He put down the packaging bag in his hand, and his tone became more complicated. "Speaking of which, wasn't Asumi, the managing director, also from our Kanto TV before? I remember ten years ago, he was the deputy director of the production department, and he was filming 'Kanto Folklore' with Suzuki Seito. Back then, he was quite protective of our Kanto TV. Later, when TV Tokyo acquired it, he was transferred to Tokyo, and he hasn't come back much in the past few years."

Kimura adjusted his glasses, his voice softer than the other two, yet carrying a certain certainty: "It's more than just protecting them. Back when TV Tokyo wanted to dismantle our production team and move them to Tokyo, it was Managing Director Asumi who argued with Station Manager Sakata, saying, 'Kanto TV's roots are in Kanto; dismantling the team would mean losing its soul,' which saved our current production department. With him here this time, coordinating things, Director Matsui will be less resistant—after all, he's an old leader, and we have to give him face."

"face?"

Kobayashi Jiro suddenly interjected, flipping through his notebook to the page on "TV Tokyo Personnel List," and tapping the name "Asukai" with his fingertip. "Do you think that after four years at TV Tokyo, Managing Director Asumi will still be as supportive of us as before? Last month, when I went to TV Tokyo to submit a proposal, I heard people from the Variety Department say that Managing Director Asumi is now very close to Vice President Takada, and even his tone of voice is the same as that of people at TV Tokyo—he keeps talking about the 'Greater Tokyo Area,' and he hasn't mentioned 'Kanto TV' at all?"

Yamada's expression darkened, but he did not refute.

Kobayashi Jiro was telling the truth. Last year, when Kanto TV applied for a production budget, Asumi approved it, but it was 300 million yen less than what they applied for, because "Tokyo TV's 'Super Transformation' needs additional funding." At that time, he felt that Asumi might have really changed.

"Kobayashi-san, you can't say that."

Kimura sighed, took a mint out of his pocket, and handed it to Kobayashi Jiro. "Last winter, our technical department's cameras broke down. Managing Director Asumi secretly transferred two from TV Tokyo without following the proper procedures. If he really forgot about TV Kanto, would he have taken that risk? His position at TV Tokyo is precarious. On one hand, there's Director Sakata's 'Greater Tokyo Area' policy, and on the other hand, there are the expectations of us old subordinates. He's caught in the middle."

Fujishita Ken chewed on his sandwich and mumbled in agreement: "Kimura-san is right. If Managing Director Asumi really wanted to distance himself, he wouldn't have come in person this time; he could have just sent a subordinate to deal with it. His coming shows that he still cares about Kanto TV—with him around, at least Tokyo TV won't push us too hard."

Yamada nodded, his gaze returning to the intersection, his tone softening: "Actually, I spoke with Suzuki Seito last month. He said that Managing Director Nichikai has been trying to persuade Director Sakata to give us more autonomy—this reform shouldn't be like the previous ones, where they forced Tokyo TV's programs onto us."

"Suzuki Seito-san..."

Kobayashi Jiro's tone softened. When he first joined Kanto TV, Suzuki was the head of the production department and had taken him to shoot many short films on local themes. "It's a pity that Suzuki-san didn't come this time. If he had, Director Matsui would definitely have listened to him. Director Matsui and Suzuki-san have been partners for decades. Back when they were filming 'Kanto Folklore,' the two of them, one directing and the other writing, worked together so well."

Saito suddenly looked up, twirling his pager in his hand, his voice low and rumbling like thunder: "Suzuki-san went to solicit advertisements. I ran into his secretary this morning, who said he went to 'Marui Soy Sauce'—that company has been cooperating with us for ten years, but this year they transferred their budget to the city TV station, and Suzuki-san wants to try to get it back."

After these words were spoken, everyone fell silent.

Marui Soy Sauce is a long-time client of Kanto TV, with an annual advertising investment of 20 million yen, which is an important source of income for the advertising department—now even this company is leaving, Kanto TV is really having a tough time.

Fujishita Ken patted his beer belly and sighed, "If Suzuki-san can bring Marui Soy Sauce back, our advertising department can finally breathe a sigh of relief this month. But speaking of which, besides Managing Director Asumi and Vice President Takada, who else is coming this time? It can't just be the two of them, can it?"

Just as Yamada was about to speak, his pager beeped twice—it was a message from Miyazawa's secretary: "The Tokyo TV bus has passed the Meiji intersection, and the entourage includes Hiroshi Nohara."

"Hiroshi Nohara?!" Yamada's eyes lit up as he looked at the message, and his voice rose several decibels. "Is it Hiroshi Nohara, the one who directed 'Seven Samurai'?"

Which Hiroshi Nohara?

Fujishita Ken paused for a moment, then realized what he meant, and the sandwich bag in his hand fell to the ground with a "thud." "Is that the guy who won Best Director at the Tokyo International Film Festival at the age of 23? And that variety show 'Super Transformation,' my son watches it every day and says it's much better than the talent shows on the city TV station!"

Kobayashi Jiro's notebook flipped to the last page with a "whoosh," revealing Hiroshi Nohara's resume, which he had specially copied from TV Tokyo's database yesterday: "More than that! He's the father of the anime 'Yamishibai,' the creator of the 'urban ghost story' genre, and also the manga 'Yu Yu Hakusho' and 'Doraemon.' He's currently a key contracted manga artist with Shueisha—my daughter watches 'Doraemon' every day and says she wants a Doraemon pocket."

"23 years old?"

Kimura pushed up his glasses, his tone full of disbelief, "When I was 23, I was still serving coffee to my seniors, and he's already won Best Director? I went to see Seven Samurai in the theater, and the cinematography was even better than Eiji Kurosawa's samurai films—wasn't Kurosawa famously stubborn? I heard he even became close friends with Hiroshi Nohara, playing Go together every day."

Yamada nodded, tapping his finger on the pager, his tone tinged with emotion: "I also heard that Hiroshi Nohara's independent production department was approved as an exception, a privilege usually reserved for elite level-two directors, and he, a level-three director, has it—Director Sakata really values ​​him. Did he bring him to Kanto TV this time to help us produce programs?"

"Making a TV show?"

Ken Fujishita scratched his head and picked up the packaging bag from the ground. "But he makes movies and does variety shows. Our Kanto TV station now focuses on local news and rural dramas. Can he understand that? Besides, he's so young. Do you think our senior directors will respect him? Director Matsui even dared to contradict Managing Director Asumi, let alone a 23-year-old."

Saito spoke again, his voice still low and deep, but with a touch more seriousness than before: "He understands. Have you seen 'Midnight Diner'? It depicts the lives of ordinary people, similar to the rural dramas we used to make—he can capture the 'warmth' that the audience wants, which is more important than anything else. Moreover, he dares to innovate. Nobody thought 'Yamishibai' would be a hit, but he made it a success; nobody thought 'Super Transformation' would be a hit, but it became the number one show in the country—what our Kanto TV station lacks right now is someone who can break the mold."

Kobayashi Jiro nodded in agreement: "Saito-san is right. I watched his interview, and he said, 'The program isn't made for the judges, it's made for the audience'—that's exactly what Suzuki Seito-san said before. If he can really help us make a few down-to-earth programs, maybe we can bring back the young audience. Right now, the average age of our station's audience is almost 50. If this continues, we'll be squeezed out by the city station sooner or later."

"But why should we let him do the reforms?"

Fujishita Ken still didn't understand. He kicked a sycamore leaf at his feet. "There are so many directors on TV Tokyo. Asano Kita is good at heartwarming films, Ashikaga Takashi is good at period dramas. Which one of them can't come? Why do we have to send Nohara Hiroshi? He has so many projects on his plate. Can he handle it all?"

Yamada sighed, his gaze drifting into the distance—the bus was already visible at the intersection, its Tokyo TV logo prominently displayed. "It's probably because of the city TV station. They're launching 'Tokyo Surrounding Area Exploration' next month, and they've hired Shunsuke Kamiki as the host. They're clearly trying to steal our Kanto audience. Hiroshi Nohara's program has a strong following; with him around, we can at least compete with the city TV station—and he doesn't get along with Tokugawa Sato, who's a major financial backer of the city TV station. Hiroshi Nohara definitely won't let the city TV station have an easy time."

“Sato Tokugawa…”

Kobayashi Jiro frowned. "That boss of the Kirin Group? I heard he wanted to poach Hiroshi Nohara from Kirin Entertainment, but Nohara refused—in that case, Hiroshi Nohara and the city TV station are indeed natural rivals."

Kimura suddenly remembered something and lowered his voice, saying, "I also heard that Hiroshi Nohara gave a lot of advice to the former president of Shimazu when he ran for mayor. For example, the 'information cocoon' idea was proposed by Hiroshi Nohara. Now the former president of Shimazu's approval rating is rising very quickly, and Tanaka Mikami must be anxious. The city TV station's promotion of 'Exploring the Tokyo Area' this time might be an attempt to garner votes for Tanaka Mikami. Hiroshi Nohara's visit to the Kanto TV station might also be an attempt to win over Kanto voters for the former president of Shimazu."

After these words were spoken, everyone fell silent.

These middle-level managers usually dare not touch politics, but they also know that the current reforms at Kanto TV are no longer as simple as "making programs".

"It's a pity that Suzuki-san isn't here."

Yamada added, his tone full of regret, "If Suzuki-san were here, he would definitely be able to get along with Hiroshi Nohara—Suzuki-san is Hiroshi Nohara's senior and also a former subordinate of Managing Director Asumi. With him acting as a bridge, Director Matsui would have been less resistant. Director Matsui is too wary of people from TV Tokyo now. Last time, when Managing Director Asumi wanted to send a young director to help, he directly said, 'Kanto TV's affairs are none of outsiders' business,' and turned them away."

"Director Matsui had no choice."

Ken Fujishita sighed. "He's been with Kanto TV for thirty years, and it's hard for him to see the station go from its glory days to its current state. The last time I drank with him, he said, 'If Kanto TV loses its local flavor, it won't be Kanto TV anymore'—he's afraid that Tokyo TV will uproot us."

Kobayashi Jiro shook his head, flipping through his notebook: "We can't keep going. Our original programming accounts for less than 8% right now. We're all relying on rebroadcasting TV Tokyo's programs. Advertising revenue has dropped by 45%, and even the cameras in the production department are almost unusable. Last month, the personnel department counted that five young directors have already left this year, all poached by the city station—if we don't change, we're really doomed."

Saito gripped the pager, his knuckles turning white: "Things will change. Managing Director Asumi is here, Hiroshi Nohara is here, and Suzuki-san is still getting advertising for us—as long as we don't give up, there's still hope."

He had barely finished speaking when the bus in the distance reached the intersection, its body gleaming coldly in the sunlight, slowly heading towards Guandongtai.

"coming!"

Yamada immediately straightened his back and straightened the hem of his suit. "Look up, everyone. Don't let the people at TV Tokyo laugh at us. Fujishita Ken, throw away that sandwich wrapper you're holding; Kimura, wipe your glasses; Kobayashi Jiro, put your notebook away—we're middle management at TV Kanto, we can't let people think we're insecure."

The group quickly straightened their clothes.

Ken Fujishita stuffed the packaging bag into his pocket and patted the bread crumbs off his suit.

Kimura took a glasses cloth out of his pocket and carefully wiped the lenses;

Kobayashi Jiro closed the notebook and tucked it between his elbows;

Saito tucked the pager into his inner pocket, his face still expressionless, but he stood even straighter than before.

The bus slowly pulled up in front of the Kanto TV station. The door opened with a hiss, and the first person to get off was Asuka Hai. He was wearing a dark gray trench coat, his hair was neatly combed, he was carrying a black briefcase, and although he didn't have a smile on his face, he exuded a calm and composed aura.

He had barely steadied himself when his gaze swept over the five people at the door, lingering on Yamada for a few seconds before giving a slight nod.

Following closely behind was Toshihide Takada, who was wearing a navy blue suit. His belly was even more prominent than Kenji Fujishita's. He was holding a thermos in his hand and had a formulaic smile on his face, but when he saw the old building in Kanto-tai, a complex look flashed in his eyes.

Finally, Hiroshi Nohara came down—he was wearing a black suit, younger than Asumi and Takada, but he stood ramrod straight, carrying a brown briefcase containing Kanto TV's data and a list of directors compiled by Kitagawa Yao.

As soon as he got out of the car, his gaze fell on the old poster of "The Scenery of Northeast China" on the wall of the office building. His eyes were calm, but he didn't stay for long. He quickly turned to the five people at the door and bowed slightly.

"Yamada-san, Fujishita-san, Kimura-san, Kobayashi-san, Saito-san." Asumi walked over, her tone gentler than before, and shook hands with Yamada. "Long time no see, how are you all?"

Yamada quickly returned the handshake, his hand trembling slightly: "Manager Asumi, it's been a long time. We're all doing well, it's just... it's just that the station has been having some difficulties lately, thank you for your concern."

"It's all part of my job."

Asumi smiled and pointed to Takada beside him, "This is Deputy Director Takada, who was personally invited by the current director of our Kanto Station to come along. He is Hiroshi Nohara. Deputy Director Takada attaches great importance to this reform and specially asked Hiroshi Nohara to come with me."

The group nodded quickly, but their eyes all fell on Hiroshi Nohara.

This director, who was younger than they had imagined, had no arrogance on his face and his eyes were as calm as a deep pool, yet he was not to be underestimated.

Hiroshi Nohara stepped forward, bowed again, and said with just the right amount of respect: "Yamada-san, Fujishita Ken-san, Kimura-san, Kobayashi-san, Saito-san, I am Hiroshi Nohara. I would like to ask for your cooperation in the reform work this time. If there is anything I have done wrong, please give me your guidance."

His voice wasn't loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly. It lacked the impetuousness of youth, instead carrying a touch of old-fashioned composure—which made Fujishita Ken and Kobayashi Kijiro, who were initially somewhat resistant, breathe a sigh of relief.

Looking at Hiroshi Nohara, Yamada suddenly thought of Kiyoto Suzuki in his youth—equally composed, equally polite, and equally daring and enterprising. He quickly reached out to help Hiroshi Nohara up, his tone now more sincere: "Nohara-san, you're too kind. We've all seen your talent, and it's our honor to work with you. Please come in, the meeting room is ready, and Director Matsui and the others are waiting inside."

Hiroshi Nohara nodded and followed Asumi.

As he passed the bulletin board, Hiroshi Nohara's gaze lingered for a second on the old poster for "Yamishibai," then turned to Yamada and asked softly, "Yamada-san, how long has this poster been up?"

Yamada paused for a moment, then smiled wryly: "It was put up when we broadcast it last year, and we haven't changed it since—our station doesn't have any new programs right now, so we don't have the time or inclination to change the posters."

Hiroshi Nohara didn't say anything more, just nodded slightly, and turned his gaze back to the interior of the office building—the corridor was quiet, with only the occasional sound of printers. The group photo of the cast of "Kanto Scenery" hanging on the wall had yellowed, but you could still see young Asumi and Suzuki Seito standing in the middle, with bright smiles.

He knew that the reforms to come would not be easy—Matsui Yuichi's stubbornness, the resistance of veteran employees, competition from other municipal stations, budget shortages… But looking at the people around him who were still working hard for Kanto TV, and at the photos on the wall that recorded Kanto TV's glory, he suddenly felt that it was all worth it.

Just as Kiyoto Suzuki said, Kanto TV has the affection of its viewers and the dedication of its veteran employees. As long as it can find the right direction, it can be revitalized.

What he needs to do is find that direction, to make the sound of cameras turning again in this old building, to make the laughter of directors discussing programs again, and to make it once again the TV station in the hearts of the Kanto audience that "can see the stories around them".

The meeting room door was just ahead, and Matsui Yuichi's voice could be heard from inside, carrying a hint of stubbornness, but also a hint of anticipation.

He raised his head and followed Yamada into the conference room, with Asumi and Takada following closely behind.

Sunlight streamed through the corridor windows, casting long shadows on them, as if heralding the start of a reform destined to be difficult.

P.S.: Hope everyone has a great mood for going back to work on the first day after the holiday!
(End of this chapter)