I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

Chapter 237 Kanto Television Reform! Hiroshi Nohara's Ideas! The Transformation of Humanistic Television!

The meeting room at the Kanto-dai was older than Hiroshi had imagined.

A shallow crack appeared on the wall near the air conditioner vent, revealing the yellowish cement underneath; the edges of the long wooden conference table were worn shiny, and a stubborn dark brown coffee stain remained in the gap of the tabletop near Matsui Yuichi's end—supposedly, it was spilled by Matsui when he accidentally knocked it over ten years ago during the celebration of "Kanto Scenery".

Three framed pictures are hanging on the wall.

In the very center is a group photo of the cast and crew of "Kanto Folklore". The young Asumi stands on the right, holding a sign that reads "18% viewership".

On the left is a photo of an advertising sales conference during the heyday of Kanto TV, where people in suits and ties filled the venue, clutching contracts in their hands.

On the right is a faded cherry blossom painting, signed "Presented by all employees in Showa 62 (1987)"—that was the last profitable year for Kanto TV.

Yuichi Matsui stood at the door of the conference room, wearing an old dark gray suit with a tie that was given to him at last year's Tokyo TV annual meeting, and the cuffs were frayed.

When he saw Asumi enter, his previously tense lips relaxed slightly, but he didn't smile immediately. Instead, he extended his hand, his voice slightly hoarse: "Asukai-kun, it's been a long time."

"Matsui-san."

Asahi grasped his hand, his fingertips able to feel the calluses on the other's palm—the result of years of handling a camera. "I wanted to visit you last winter, but I was held up by a meeting at the station and didn't have time."

Matsui snorted, but stepped aside to make way for him: "Please come in and sit down. This is the deputy director of Kanto TV appointed by our Tokyo TV, Asumi, and Mr. Nohara. This way please."

His gaze swept over Hiroshi, pausing for two seconds—he had clearly heard of the young director before; his eyes held scrutiny, but no obvious hostility.

Asumi smiled and nodded, her thermos cup still in her hand: "Matsui-san, I'm sorry to bother you this time. We're both here about Kanto TV, so let's talk things over."

"Let's make arrangements for the colleagues from TV Tokyo first." Matsui turned to Yamada behind him and said, "Have the production department tidy up the small conference room on the third floor and pour a cup of tea for the TV Tokyo staff—use leftover Uji tea from last year, don't try to make do with instant tea."

"Yes!" Yamada immediately replied, turned around and walked out quickly.

Kimura pushed up his glasses and quickly followed: "I'm going to the administration office to get a teacup, and I'll ask the logistics staff to bring over some snacks—I just bought some dorayaki this morning, they're still warm."

Fujishita Ken patted his beer belly and said with a smile, "I'll go with Kimura-san and see if we have enough tea—the owner of Asakusa-ya gave us two cans of sencha last time, so we can use them to entertain guests."

A short while later, the Tokyo TV staff followed Yamada to the small conference room, leaving only Asumi, Hiroshi, Matsui, Yamada, Kimura, Kobayashi, and Saito in the large conference room.

Everyone sat down around the conference table, and Kimura placed the brewed tea in front of each person. The steam rising from the ceramic cups, mixed with the faint aroma of tea, eased the tense atmosphere somewhat.

"Speaking of which, Asuka Kai-kun."

Matsui picked up his teacup but didn't drink it. He just looked at the tea leaves at the bottom of the cup. "Do you remember when we filmed 'Kanto Scenery' twenty years ago? That time we went to Chiba Prefecture to film the Inari Festival, you waited for a good shot and squatted at the entrance of the shrine for three whole days. In the end, you got a fever from the cold, but you still managed to finish editing the film."

Asuka laughed, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes: "How could I not remember? Matsui-san, you scolded me for 'being reckless,' but then secretly made me ginger soup that night—it was so spicy, I still remember it to this day."

Yamada immediately added, "I remember too! After that episode aired, the ratings soared to 18%, which was 3 points higher than Tokyo TV's 'Tokyo Wide Angle'! The people in the advertising department were almost frantic. The phone rang from morning till night. The boss of Marui Soy Sauce even came to our door in person, insisting on adding 20 million yen to our advertising budget."

"you do not say!"

Kobayashi opened his notebook and pointed to an old newspaper clipping tucked inside. “Look, this is a report from the Asahi Shimbun back then. It said that our ‘Kanto Scenery’ captured the soul of Kanto. Back then, who wouldn’t envy our Kanto TV station? People from NHK even tried to poach me, offering double my salary, but I didn’t go.”

Fujishita Ken slammed his hand on the table, his voice full of excitement: "I still remember that year's investment conference! At the 'Kikusui' Hotel in Ginza, more than 30 companies came, and in the end, we signed an advertising contract worth 1.2 billion yen. Matsui-san, you were drunk at the time, and you sang 'Kanto Love Song' into the microphone. Everyone on the stage sang along with you, and the party didn't end until midnight."

Kimura pushed up his glasses, smiled and nodded: "Our employee benefits were so good back then! We got ice pillows in the summer, down jackets in the winter, and team building trips to Hokkaido at the end of the year—my daughter still asks me when we're going to Hokkaido to see the snow again."

Kobayashi quickly added, "And there's the production department's late-night snack! Every day when we work overtime until eight o'clock, the logistics staff would bring over ramen, with char siu pork bigger than our faces—but now, we have to buy our own instant noodles when we work overtime, and we have to fix the equipment ourselves when it breaks down."

Asumi sighed, her tone filled with emotion: "We were so motivated back then! The production team would often work overtime together until late at night, then go to the izakaya downstairs for drinks, talking about what programs we'd film next, and about the future of Kanto TV—who would have thought that in just ten years, it would turn out like this?"

Yamada's eyes darkened, and he gripped his teacup tighter. "Yes... Back then, the programs we filmed were all things that people in the Kanto region loved to watch. For example, we filmed the old streets of Kamakura, the rice harvest in Ibaraki, and the hot spring festival in Gunma—viewers wrote in saying that seeing their own homes on TV made them feel especially close to home. And now? We broadcast TV Tokyo programs every day, and there are hardly any shots of the Kanto region."

Fujishita Ken rubbed his stomach, his tone tinged with helplessness: "It's getting harder to get advertising these days. Before, we could just shoot a short video about a local specialty and businesses would come knocking on our door; now, we're running ourselves ragged and nobody wants to advertise—the owner of Asakusa-ya told me yesterday that the city TV station offered us advertising space for 20% more than we did, and they even hired Kamiki Shunsuke to shoot a promotional video, and he was tempted."

Matsui didn't speak, but took a sip of tea, his brows furrowing even more deeply.

Hiroshi sat quietly to the side, his gaze sweeping over everyone's expressions—Matsui's fingers unconsciously rubbed the rim of his cup, Yamada stared at the old photos on the wall, Kobayashi flipped through a notebook filled with proposals, Fujishita Ken rubbed bread crumbs off his suit, and Saito gripped his pager, his knuckles turning white.

He knew perfectly well that while these people talked about the past glories, they harbored dissatisfaction with the present and resentment towards TV Tokyo—after all, TV Tokyo was partly responsible for the current state of TV Kanto.

"Speaking of which, Asuka-kun," Matsui suddenly spoke, his tone becoming more serious, "when TV Tokyo acquired us four years ago, you were still at TV Kanto, right? Later, when you were transferred to Tokyo, did you also feel... that TV Kanto was crushed by TV Tokyo?"

The meeting room fell silent instantly upon hearing this.

All eyes were on Mingri Hai, filled with anticipation, scrutiny, and a touch of grievance.

Asumi put down his teacup, tapped his fingers lightly on the edge of the table, and said in a heavy tone, "Matsui-san, everyone... I won't hide it from you. I was against the acquisition four years ago. I told the old director that Kanto TV has its own unique characteristics and its own audience, and it shouldn't be swallowed up like this. But at that time, the board of directors of Kanto TV had already made the decision, and I, as a deputy director, couldn't stop it at all."

He paused, his voice lowering further: "After I was transferred to TV Tokyo, things weren't easy for me either. The people from Tokyo called me an 'outsider from Kanto,' and they wouldn't let me touch important projects. I couldn't even get a word in edgewise during meetings. For three whole years, I was doing trivial chores and never even touched a camera—did you think I didn't want to help TV Tokyo? I couldn't even take care of myself."

Matsui's body trembled slightly, and the teacup in his hand wobbled, spilling a little tea, but he didn't care: "I knew it... those people at TV Tokyo have never treated us at TV Kanto as their own. In the first year after the acquisition, we wanted to film a sequel to 'Kanto Scenery,' and the script was already written, but TV Tokyo said it 'didn't fit the positioning of a national program' and rejected it outright!"

“It’s not just the program!” Yamada immediately chimed in, his voice full of anger. “The production department’s budget was cut in half, several young directors were poached by TV Tokyo, and even Lao Zhou’s camera has been broken for half a year. When we applied for a new one, they said it was a ‘waste of money’—Lao Zhou had no choice but to pay for the repairs himself, and he’s still in the hospital!”

Fujishita Ken slammed his hand on the table, breadcrumbs falling onto it: "The advertising department is in even worse shape! TV Tokyo has snatched away all our major clients. Marui Soy Sauce has been working with us for ten years, but last year they diverted their budget to TV Tokyo's 'Super Transformation'! When I went to argue with the people in the advertising department, they said, 'Kanto TV has no presence, investing in it is a waste'—isn't that bullying us?"

Kimura pushed up his glasses, his voice tinged with grievance: "The HR department is the same. I wanted to increase the subsidies for long-term employees, but TV Tokyo said 'we have to follow the same standards as headquarters,' and rejected it outright. There was an old editor who worked at TV Kanto for twenty years and retired last year, and even his pension was reduced by half—I went to the finance department to argue with them, but they said 'it's the rule.'"

Kobayashi flipped through his notebook, pointing to a proposal: "Last year I submitted a proposal for 'Exploring the Old Streets of Kanto,' wanting to film some old crafts that are about to disappear, but the people at TV Tokyo said, 'Nobody likes to watch this kind of niche program,' and rejected it outright. Honda, that young girl, cried several times because of this proposal, and she's still upset about it now."

Saito finally spoke, his voice low and deep like muffled thunder: "The equipment in the technical department hasn't been replaced in five years. Last time we were filming local news, the camera suddenly broke down, and I drove to Tokyo overnight to borrow one, but the people at TV Tokyo said 'the equipment is not lent out,' so I could only buy a home video camera from an electronics store on the street to make do—the footage was very blurry, and viewers wrote letters to complain that our Kanto TV station was 'fooling people.'"

"And me!" Matsui's voice rose slightly, and he slammed his teacup heavily on the table. "Last winter, I wanted to film the snowscapes of the Kanto region, so I applied for a grant of 50,000 yen. But TV Tokyo only approved 20,000, saying, 'What's so great about filming snowscapes? They're all in the weather forecast on TV Tokyo'—they simply don't understand. The snow in Kanto is different from the snow in Tokyo! The snow in Kanto is heavy and thick, reaching up to our knees. Children build snowmen in the snow, and the elderly cook rice cakes indoors. That's what winter in Kanto is all about!"

Asumi listened quietly, nodding occasionally, her eyes full of understanding. Hiroshi sat beside her, saying nothing, only tapping his fingers lightly on his notebook—he remembered how he had been ostracized by senior directors when he first joined TV Tokyo.

At that time, when he wanted to make "Yamishibai", some people said, "No one watches urban ghost stories," some people tried to steal his production funds, and some people secretly boycotted him.

He could understand Matsui and the others' feelings better than anyone else—the frustration of having something they cherish looked down upon and having their own desires blocked.

"Everyone," Asumi said slowly after everyone had finished speaking, "I know you feel wronged, and I know you hate TV Tokyo. But now is not the time to complain—the city TV station has already started to steal our viewers. If this continues, TV Kanto will really be finished."

Matsui took a deep breath, his grip on the teacup turning white. "Asukai-kun, do you think we want to complain? We have no choice! TV Tokyo has almost uprooted us, and now they're talking about reform and bringing us back to life—it's not that easy."

“It’s not easy.” Asumi nodded, but his tone became more determined. “But we can’t give up. Matsui-san, do you remember that old lady from Chiba Prefecture when we were filming ‘Kanto Folklore’? She said, ‘It’s so nice to be able to see things about Kanto on TV’—we can’t let those viewers down.”

Matsui paused, a hint of emotion flashing in his eyes. Yamada also sighed: "Asukai-kun is right... Last time we went to Gunma Prefecture to film the news, an old man pulled me aside and said that he hadn't seen the Gunma hot spring festival on TV for a long time, and asked when we would film it again—I almost cried at that moment."

“Actually, it’s not that we don’t want to reform,” Fujishita Ken said, rubbing his stomach, his tone softening. “It’s just that we’re afraid… after the reform, Kanto TV won’t be Kanto TV anymore. If we all become like TV Tokyo, producing those nationwide programs, then what’s the difference between us and a subsidiary station of TV Tokyo?”

“No way,” Asumi said immediately. “This reform is not about turning Kanto TV into a subsidiary of Tokyo TV, but about letting Kanto TV do what it does best. For example, producing local Kanto programs, getting local Kanto advertisements, and serving Kanto viewers—these are things that Tokyo TV can’t do, and things that the city TV can’t take away.”

He looked at Hiroshi, his tone filled with anticipation: "Nohara-san, why don't you tell us? Your 'Midnight Diner' became popular precisely because it resonated with the lives of ordinary people, right? The reforms at Kanto TV are actually based on the same principle as 'Midnight Diner'. As long as we produce what the audience wants to see, there is hope."

All eyes were on Hiroshi.

Matsui's eyes held scrutiny, Yamada looked expectant, Kobayashi flipped through his notebook to take notes, Fujishita Ken and Kimura awaited his answer, and Saito, though expressionless, also looked at him.

Hiroshi put down his teacup, leaned forward slightly, and said in a calm but firm tone: "Seniors, I know you have reservations about TV Tokyo and lack confidence in the reforms. But I want to tell you that I make programs not for TV Tokyo, nor for any 'national positioning,' but for the audience—just like Matsui-san said, the snow in Kanto is different from the snow in Tokyo, and the audience in Kanto also wants to watch programs that belong to them."

He paused, then continued, "I'm not here to 'command' everyone this time, but to work together to find solutions. For example, I think the 'old street exploration' proposal that Kobayashi-san mentioned is excellent; regarding the equipment issue that Saito-san mentioned, I will apply for a budget from Tokyo TV to replace it as soon as possible; as for Fujishita-san's advertising issue, we can work together to reach out to local businesses in the Kanto region, such as Asakusa-ya and Marui Soy Sauce. They are all established brands in Kanto and would definitely be willing to support Kanto TV."

Matsui looked at Hiroshi, his scrutiny lessened and his seriousness more evident: "Nohara-san, do you really think... Kantodai can come back to life?"

“Yes.” Hiroshi nodded, his tone certain. “As long as we find the right direction, as long as we are still willing to do things for the audience in Kanto, we will definitely be able to survive. Just like in Seven Samurai, as long as there are still people willing to protect, we can win no matter how many enemies there are.”

The meeting room fell silent. Sunlight streamed through the windows, falling on the conference table, illuminating the tea in the cups, and lighting up everyone's faces.

Matsui slowly loosened his grip on the teacup, Yamada's eyes regained their light, Kobayashi closed his notebook with a slight smile on his lips, Fujishita Ken rubbed his stomach and stopped complaining, Saito's pager beeped, but he didn't look at it immediately, he just looked at Hiroshi and nodded.

Asuka breathed a sigh of relief as he watched this scene unfold—this was exactly the effect he wanted.

These people harbor feelings for Kwantung TV and nostalgia for the past. If these feelings can be awakened and their grievances can be vented, they will be willing to fight for Kwantung TV one more time.

"Alright." Asumi stood up, picked up his coat from the back of the chair, and said, "It's getting late, let's go have lunch first. We'll have another meeting this afternoon to discuss the reform plan in detail—I've already asked the logistics team to order ramen from Asakusa-ya, as well as some Kanto specialties. We can eat and talk at the same time."

Matsui also stood up, a smile finally appearing on his lips: "Alright! Let's eat and chat then. Perfect timing, I also wanted to talk to Nohara-san about 'Seven Samurai'—that movie was really well made."

"Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Matsui." Hiroshi nodded with a smile.

As everyone walked out of the meeting room, the sunlight in the corridor was just right, shining on the old photos on the wall. Young Asumi and Matsui stood at the front, their smiles radiant.

Hiroshi walked at the back, looking at the crowd in front of him, and suddenly felt that the reform of Kanto TV might not be so difficult—these people still loved Kanto TV and were still willing to work hard for it, and that was enough.

……

When the Asakusa-ya takeout arrived, the long table in the Kanto-dai conference room had just been wiped clean.

Ken Fujishita rushed to open the door, still clutching the packaging of the tuna sandwich he hadn't finished that morning. As soon as the door opened, he smelled the rich aroma of tonkotsu soup—the owner of Asakusa had specially given him two extra cans of char siu, wrapped in tin foil and still steaming.

"Hurry up and set it up, hurry up and set it up!" Fujishita Ken shoved a sandwich into Kobayashi's hand, reached for the takeout box, and smacked the table with his beer belly. "Let me tell you, Asakusa-ya's char siu is fatty but not greasy. Last year, Suzuki-san and I came to eat there, and we could each show off three big photos!"

Kimura brought a folding chair from the office, shaking his head with a smile: "Fujishita-san, first wipe the bread crumbs off your suit. When Suzuki-san comes later, he'll say you're not tidy."

As he spoke, he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed one to Fujishita Ken—this handkerchief was a gift from his daughter last year, printed with Chibi Maruko-chan, which didn't quite match his serious demeanor.

Saito didn't say anything, but silently picked up the disposable chopsticks, broke them apart one by one, and arranged them neatly, his movements as precise as if he were adjusting a camera.

Yamada stared at the old photos on the wall, his fingers unconsciously tracing the coffee stains on the edge of the table. Suddenly, he said, "When we finished filming 'Kanto Scene,' we often came to Asakusa-ya. Suzuki-san always said, 'Tonkotsu soup can replenish the energy and spirit lost during filming,' and we always ordered two soft-boiled eggs."

Hiroshi sat in the corner, watching everyone busy at work, a smile appearing on his lips.

The atmosphere among everyone was quite good.

Asumi sat next to him, disassembling disposable chopsticks. Suddenly, she turned her head and whispered, "Suzuki-san looks serious, but he's actually very protective of his own. Back when Kanto TV was competing with Tokyo TV for the time slot of 'Kanto Folklore,' he and the production team worked three consecutive all-nighters to edit the show flawlessly, and in the end, they managed to win back the ratings."

Hiroshi nodded, recalling what Suzuki Seito had said at the izakaya yesterday, and felt even more respect for this senior.

"Suzuki-san is here!" Fujishita Ken suddenly shouted from the doorway, almost dropping the char siu he was holding on the table.

Everyone looked up and saw Suzuki Kiyoto wearing a navy blue trench coat, his hair neatly combed, but with a hint of fatigue in his eyes. He was carrying a black briefcase, clearly having just come from Marui Soy Sauce's place.

He was taken aback by the scene in the conference room, then a smile appeared on his face: "Wow, it's so lively? I could smell the Asakusa ramen from far away."

"Suzuki-san!" Yamada was the first to greet him, reaching out to help him with his briefcase. "You're finally back! We thought you wouldn't make it to lunch." "I made it, I made it."

Suzuki Kiyoto patted Yamada on the shoulder, his gaze sweeping over the people in the room—Matsui was standing by the table, holding an empty wine glass in his hand, his eyes no longer tense as before.

Asumi sat in the corner, smiling and nodding at him.

Hiroshi also stood up and bowed slightly in greeting.

He secretly breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that his worries in the morning were unnecessary. His old subordinates had not fallen out with Asuka and Hiroshi.

"Suzuki-san, please have a seat!" Fujishita Ken gave up the best seat and even handed over a can of ice-cold beer. "Just got it from the fridge, your favorite Asahi draft beer."

Kiyoto Suzuki took the beer, popped the tab, took a big gulp, and sighed contentedly: "It still tastes the same! This morning I was talking to the owner of Marui Soy Sauce and drank a lot of cheap sake. My mouth is still bitter."

He paused, his tone turning somber, "But thankfully, we've finally finalized the advertising budget for next year—although it's only ten million, half of last year's, it's still better than having it snatched away by the city's TV station."

"Ten million!" Fujishita Ken's eyes lit up, and the ramen bowl in his hand wobbled. "Suzuki-san, you're amazing! I talked to Asakusa-ya three times before they agreed to give me three million, and even then, it would be paid in quarterly installments!"

Kimura adjusted his glasses and nodded in agreement: "With the Marui soy sauce ad, our advertising department's bonuses for this month are finally secured. The Tokyo TV finance department was urging us to cut the budget, but now with this money, at least we can have some breathing room."

Suzuki Kiyoto waved his hand with a smile, his gaze falling on Asumi, and teased, "Asukai-kun, long time no see. Your belly hasn't changed much—last time I saw you at the Tokyo TV cafeteria, you said you were going to lose weight, but it seems you didn't stick to it."

Asumi laughed, picked up her chopsticks and took a bite of ramen: "I can't compare to you. You're always running commercials, you get a lot of exercise. I sit in an office at TV Tokyo, and all I do is attend meetings and look at reports. It's hard not to gain weight."

Everyone laughed, and the atmosphere in the conference room became very lively.

Matsui walked up to Suzuki Kiyoto and offered him a cigarette: "Suzuki-san, I was just talking to Nohara-san about 'Seven Samurai.' The camera work in that rice paddy battle scene he filmed was even better than that of Eiji Kurosawa."

"Oh?"

Kiyoto Suzuki looked at Hiroshi with a hint of anticipation in his eyes. "Hiroshi-kun, I haven't had a chance to watch 'Seven Samurai' yet, but I heard from Kurosawa-senpai that you captured the 'righteousness' of the samurai perfectly, adding even more humanity than his original 'Seven Samurai'."

"You flatter me, Mr. Suzuki." Hiroshi smiled modestly. "I'm just standing on the shoulders of my predecessors and adding my own understanding."

Kiyoto Suzuki didn't say anything more, he just nodded, feeling even more satisfied with this young man—he was neither arrogant nor impatient, completely different from those juniors who became complacent as soon as they achieved a little success.

"Alright, alright, let's eat first, the noodles are getting soggy." Asumi smiled and smoothed things over, putting a piece of char siu on Suzuki Kiyoto's plate. "You probably didn't eat well this morning, eat more."

Everyone picked up their chopsticks, and the meeting room was filled with the slurping sounds of people eating noodles.

Fujishita Ken ate the fastest, his mouth full of ramen, and said indistinctly, "Suzuki-san, you don't know, we just talked a lot about the past with Asumi-kun and Nohara-san. We talked about the time when we filmed the Inari Festival for 'Kanto Folklore'. Do you remember? Matsui-san waited for three days in front of the shrine to get a good shot, and ended up getting a fever from the cold."

"How could I not remember?" Suzuki Kiyoto put down his beer can and picked up a soft-boiled egg. "I even cursed him for being crazy, but that night he secretly made me ginger soup, which was so spicy that my eyes welled up with tears."

Matsui blushed, picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and muttered, "That was all for the sake of the film... At the time, TV Tokyo's 'Tokyo Wide Angle' was watching us closely. If we messed it up, TV Kanto would lose all face."

“Exactly!” Kobayashi put down his chopsticks and flipped through his notebook. “I still have the ratings data for that episode here—18%! That’s 3 points higher than TV Tokyo! The advertising department’s phones were ringing off the hook, and the boss of Marui Soy Sauce even came to our door in person, insisting on adding 20 million yen to our advertising budget.”

Kimura adjusted his glasses and reminisced, "Our employee benefits were so good back then! We got ice pillows in the summer, down jackets in the winter, and team building trips to Hokkaido at the end of the year. My daughter still asks me when we're going to Hokkaido to see the snow again."

As Suzuki Seito listened to everyone's words, his eyes were full of nostalgia. He put down his chopsticks, looked at Asumi, and said with a touch of emotion, "Asukai-kun, back then you and I filmed 'Kanto Folklore Season 2' together. We said we would film all the mountains and rivers of Kanto, but we only filmed half of it before it was acquired by TV Tokyo."

Asuka sighed and nodded: "Yeah... if we hadn't been acquired back then, we might have already made the tenth season of 'Kanto Folklore' by now."

“But it’s not too late now.” Hiroshi suddenly spoke, his tone calm but firm. “As long as we work together, we might be able to produce a better program than ‘Kanto Folklore’ and make the Kanto audience fall in love with Kanto TV again.”

Everyone looked at Hiroshi, their eyes filled with anticipation. Suzuki Kiyoto looked at him and suddenly smiled: "Hiroshi-kun is right! We can't always live in the past; we have to look forward. By the way, I haven't formally introduced myself to everyone yet."

He stood up, pointed at Asumi, and teased, "This is Asumi-kun, an old leader from our Kanto TV, now the executive deputy director of the Tokyo TV Production Bureau, and he's still in charge of Kanto TV's affairs—I don't need to introduce him further, right? You've dealt with him for so many years, who doesn't know he's a fiercely protective person?"

"Hahaha!" Everyone laughed, and Matsui laughed along with them, shaking his wine glass and not caring at all about spilling the wine.

After everyone finished laughing, Suzuki Kiyoto solemnly pointed to Hiroshi, his tone full of admiration: "This is Hiroshi Nohara, a third-level director at TV Tokyo, and also the head of the independent production department who was promoted by an exception in our station—don't let his young age fool you, he's incredibly capable."

He paused, then began counting Hiroshi's achievements on his fingers:
"You've all seen 'Yamishibai,' right? It's an anime that aired in the early morning and managed to get a 13% viewership rating. It also pioneered the new genre of 'urban ghost stories,' and now all the TV stations in Japan are copying it. 'Tales of the Unusual,' an episodic series with plot twists in every episode, consistently gets a viewership rating of over 15%, and even NHK is learning from it. 'Super Transformation,' needless to say, is the number one variety show in the country. It brings people closer together, and Governor Koike even specifically praised it, saying that the show 'changed the indifference in Japan.'"

Everyone nodded, their eyes filled with agreement—they had all watched these shows, especially "Yamishibai," which had a 13% viewership rating in the early morning slot, a true miracle.

Before Suzuki Seito could finish speaking, he continued, "There's also the movie, 'Seven Samurai,' which grossed over 89 billion yen and was praised by Eiji Kurosawa as the 'true progenitor of samurai films,' thoroughly capturing the 'era,' 'human nature,' and 'class.' The manga is even more impressive, with 'Yu Yu Hakusho,' 'Doraemon,' and 'Midnight Diner,' all top-tier works from Shueisha. 'Doraemon' is currently being watched by all the kids in Japan, and my grandson keeps asking for Doraemon's pocket every day."

"My God..." Fujishita Ken almost dropped his chopsticks on the table. "So many achievements? I thought 'Yamishibai' was impressive enough, but I didn't expect there to be so many more!"

Yamada was also stunned, his eyes filled with shock as he looked at Hiroshi: "I went to see 'Seven Samurai' in the cinema. The cinematography was even better than Eiji Kurosawa's. I thought it was directed by some old director, but I didn't expect it to be directed by someone as young as Nohara-san..."

“13% viewership…” Matsui murmured, his wine glass hovering in mid-air. “Our prime-time programs on Kanto TV don’t even get more than 5% viewership, while Nohara-san’s midnight anime gets 13%. That’s a huge difference.”

Kimura pushed up his glasses, his tone filled with emotion: "When I was 23, I was still serving coffee to my seniors, while Nohara-san had already won the Best New Director award at the Tokyo International Film Festival and become a key manga artist for Shueisha. It's true that the younger generation surpasses the older one."

Xiaolin flipped through his notebook and suddenly said, "I also have the viewership data for 'Midnight Diner' here. Last time it was rebroadcast, the viewership rating was still 8%. Viewers wrote to say that watching this show made them feel warm inside—it's a bit like 'The Scenery of Northeast China' that we filmed before. They are both close to the lives of ordinary people."

Seeing everyone's shocked expressions, Suzuki Kiyoto smiled and said, "See? I didn't lie to you, did I? Hiroshi-kun is our treasure from TV Tokyo. The reason we brought him to TV Kanto this time is to have him help us make real reforms, instead of just forcing TV Tokyo's programs on us like before."

He looked at Mingrihai, and the two smiled at each other—a smile full of tacit understanding, the trust that only old comrades-in-arms have for many years.

The meeting room suddenly fell silent, and everyone lowered their heads, seemingly lost in thought.

Matsui put down his wine glass, tapping his fingers lightly on the edge of the table. He suddenly looked up at Suzuki Seito, his tone tinged with annoyance: "Suzuki-san, I know Nohara-san is capable, and I know that you and Asumi-kun are doing this for the good of Kanto TV. But I'm still worried—if Kanto TV really does improve, will TV Tokyo suppress us again like before? Last time we wanted to film 'Kanto Old Crafts,' the script was already written, but TV Tokyo said it 'didn't fit the positioning of a national program,' and rejected it outright; and the production budget, every time we apply, it gets cut in half, and they won't even give us good equipment..."

“Matsui-san is right!” Fujishita Ken immediately chimed in, his tone full of agreement. “Last time I was negotiating an advertisement with Asakusa-ya, the people from TV Tokyo suddenly jumped in and gave Asakusa-ya a 20% higher rebate than us, which almost ruined our cooperation! If Suzuki-san hadn’t gone to Marui Soy Sauce to negotiate this time, Marui Soy Sauce might have been snatched away by TV Tokyo as well.”

Kimura nodded, his voice tinged with grievance: "I wanted to increase the subsidies for long-term employees, but TV Tokyo said 'we have to follow the same standards as headquarters,' and rejected it outright. There was an old editor who worked at TV Kanto for twenty years and retired last year, and even his pension was reduced by half—when I went to the finance department to argue with them, they said 'it's the rule.'"

Kobayashi flipped through his notebook, his tone heavy: "Last year, I submitted a proposal for 'Exploring the Old Streets of Kanto,' wanting to film some old crafts that are about to disappear, but the people at TV Tokyo said, 'Nobody likes to watch this kind of niche program,' and rejected it outright. Honda, that young girl, cried several times because of this proposal, and she's still upset about it now."

Saito finally spoke, his voice low and deep like muffled thunder: "The equipment in the technical department hasn't been replaced in five years. Last time we were filming local news, the camera suddenly broke down, and I drove to Tokyo overnight to borrow one, but the people at TV Tokyo said 'the equipment is not lent out,' so I could only buy a home video camera from an electronics store on the street to make do—the footage was very blurry, and viewers wrote letters to complain that our Kanto TV station was 'fooling people.'"

Seeing everyone's excitement, Suzuki Kiyoto remained silent, only looking at Asumi.

Asumi understood, cleared his throat, and said, "I understand everyone's concerns. I used to worry that TV Tokyo would suppress TV Kanto. But this time it's different—Director Sakata has made it clear that he wants TV Kanto to become an important part of the 'Greater Tokyo Area,' not an appendage, but a television station with its own characteristics."

He paused, looked at Hiroshi, and said with a hint of seriousness, "Moreover, the core of this reform is Hiroshi-kun. Hiroshi-kun is not only talented, but more importantly, he has a connection with our Kanto faction—when I was first transferred to TV Tokyo, many employees of the Kanto faction had no work. It was Hiroshi-kun who found a way to bring them into the production teams of 'Tales of the Unusual' and 'Super Transformation,' giving them the opportunity to make money."

"Is that so?" Yamada looked at Hiroshi in surprise. "How come I didn't know? Last year, I had a nephew who was an assistant director at TV Tokyo. He said he worked on a program with a young department head and earned a lot of bonuses. Could it be Nohara-san?"

Hiroshi smiled and nodded: "Probably. Last year, when filming the 'Old Postman' segment for 'Tales of the Unusual,' we needed a director familiar with the customs and culture of the Kanto region, so I selected a few from the Kanto school, and your nephew might be one of them."

"No wonder!" Yamada exclaimed in realization. "My nephew also said that the department head was really amazing. He taught him how to pay attention to details and how to communicate with the actors. Now he can independently manage small projects."

As Suzuki Seito watched this scene, a hint of relief flashed in his eyes—it seemed that Hiroshi had already made contact with the Kanto faction, which would make the reforms go more smoothly.

He cleared his throat and said, "Everyone, Asuka-kun is right. Hiroshi-kun genuinely wants to help our Kanto TV station. Now, let's listen to Hiroshi-kun's thoughts and see what good ideas he has for reform."

Everyone looked at Hiroshi, their eyes filled with anticipation.

Hiroshi was taken aback, not expecting the topic to suddenly turn to him. He subconsciously said modestly, "All of you seniors are veterans of the Kanto TV station and have more experience than me. I just have an immature idea and need your opinions."

"Hiroshi-kun, don't be modest!" Asumi patted him on the shoulder and said with a smile, "You can even make 'Yamishibai' and 'Seven Samurai,' so you must have some good ideas. We're all on the same side, so just say what you're thinking and we'll discuss it together."

Looking at the expectant eyes of everyone, Hiroshi took a deep breath and slowly said, "I think that our Kanto TV doesn't need to compete with Tokyo TV for the national market, nor with city TV for entertainment—we can transform ourselves into a 'special TV station'."

"A special television station?" Matsui frowned, asking in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"It is a TV station that mainly produces humanistic documentaries, while also featuring local news and special advertisements."

Hiroshi explained, “Our Kanto region has many old crafts that are about to disappear, such as woodblock prints in Kamakura, washi paper in Gunma, pottery in Chiba, and many old streets with stories, such as Chinatown in Yokohama and old streets in Kawasaki—these are things that TV Tokyo and TV stations will not film, and they are the ones that Kanto viewers are most familiar with and have the most feelings for.”

He paused for a moment, then continued, "We can make a series of humanistic documentaries called 'Old Crafts of Northeast China,' with each episode focusing on a different old craft. We'll live with the old craftsmen, record their production process, and explore the stories behind them. This way, we can preserve these old crafts and allow viewers in Northeast China to see things happening around them. The ratings are sure to be good."

"And advertising!" Ken Fujishita's eyes lit up as he excitedly said, "We can combine advertisements for local specialties with documentaries—for example, when filming Chiba pottery, we can also film how potters use Marui soy sauce bottles as decorations; when filming Gunma washi paper, we can also film Asakusa ramen packaged in washi paper—this way the advertising won't feel forced, and businesses will be willing to invest money!"

Kobayashi flipped through his notebook excitedly and said, "My proposal last year to explore the old streets of Kanto is similar to Hiroshi's idea! I've also collected a lot of information about the old streets, such as the century-old steamed bun shop in Yokohama Chinatown and the old bookstore in Kawasaki Old Town—if we could make a documentary about it, I'm sure there would be a lot of viewers who would love to watch it!"

Matsui stroked his chin thoughtfully and said, "That's a good idea... However, the production cost of humanistic documentaries is not low, and can we guarantee viewership? If no one watches them, we'll have worked for nothing."

"Don't worry about that."

Hiroshi laughed and said, “We can film three episodes as a pilot to see the response. If the response is good, we can apply to TV Tokyo for a production budget to expand the scale. Moreover, we can cooperate with local governments, such as the Kamakura City Government and the Gunma Prefectural Government. They would definitely be willing to support this kind of program that promotes local culture, and we might even get subsidies.”

Kiyoto Suzuki watched Hiroshi articulate his ideas methodically, his eyes full of admiration: "Great idea! This avoids the advantages of Tokyo TV and the city TV stations while highlighting the unique features of our Kanto TV station. Moreover, cooperating with local governments can attract more advertising resources—such as local tourism bureaus and specialty product merchants, who all need such a promotional platform."

Asumi nodded and said with a smile, "I think this idea is feasible. I'll report to Director Sakata later and apply for pilot funding. If the pilot is successful, we'll officially launch this project and make 'Kanto Old Crafts' our Kanto TV's signature program."

Everyone became excited and began discussing the details.

Yamada suggested finding veteran cameramen who had previously filmed "Kanto Scenery," as they were most familiar with the local customs and culture of Kanto.

Kimura suggested selecting a few promising young directors to learn from Hiroshi.

Fujishita Kenichi said he would immediately go to Asakusa-ya and Marui Soy Sauce to discuss advertising collaborations and try to increase next year's advertising budget.

The atmosphere in the meeting room was more enthusiastic than ever before. Previous concerns and dissatisfaction had disappeared, replaced by anticipation for the future.

Hiroshi sat in the corner, watching everyone's excited expressions, and a smile appeared on his lips—he knew that the reform of Kanto TV had finally taken its first step.

Suzuki Kiyoto took a sip of beer and looked at the scene before him. Suddenly, he felt that the glorious Kanto-Taiwan of yesteryear might really be able to return.

He looked at Hiroshi with gratitude in his eyes—this young director was not only talented but also warm-hearted; he truly understood Kanto TV and the Kanto audience.

"OK OK."

Kiyoto Suzuki clapped his hands and said with a smile, "Everyone, let's not just focus on the discussion, let's finish our meal first. This afternoon we'll have a formal meeting to finalize the reform plan. I believe that as long as we work together, Kanto TV will definitely be able to stand up again and let all of Japan know that Kanto TV has its own characteristics and its own soul!"

"Okay!" the crowd responded in unison, their voices filled with determination.

Sunlight streamed through the window, falling on the conference room table and illuminating the remaining ramen in the bowls, as well as everyone's faces.

That was the light of hope that appeared after hope had emerged!
P.S.: I hope to get more recommendation votes and monthly tickets. Thank you!

(End of this chapter)