I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

Chapter 241 Tokyo TV's Disdain for Documentaries! Tanaka Mikami's Intuition!

The conference room of Tokyo TV was smaller than that of TV Tokyo. On the wall was a promotional poster for "Exploring the Tokyo Area" - Shunsuke Kamiki wearing a bright-colored jacket, making a V-sign at the camera, and the corner of the poster also read "Every Friday at 8 pm, explore the Tokyo area with Shunsuke".

The conference table was made of dark solid wood with some dents on the edges. The canned coffee on the table had gone cold. Several men in suits sat around the table with a casual and nonchalant expression on their faces.

The first to speak was Keisuke Morikawa from the city's information department. He held a crumpled report in his hand and spoke with a deliberately understated tone: "Everyone, I just received news that TV Tokyo is planning to reform itself in conjunction with the recently acquired TV Kanto. The direction they've set is on humanistic documentaries—they say they're going to film something about 'Kanto local culture,' and they've even approved a budget for it."

No sooner had these words been spoken than Yamada Jun, the head of the production department of the municipal television station, sitting opposite Morikawa, burst out laughing. He twirled a pen in his hand, his eyes full of disdain: "Humanistic documentary? Is TV Tokyo out of talent? Or has Sakata Nobuhiko gone senile? Our station is making 'Exploring the Tokyo Area,' and we hired Kamiki Shunsuke as the host. We secured 30 million yen in advertising sponsorships just during the pre-production phase. And here they are, betting everything on a documentary that nobody watches—aren't they just blatantly making way for us?"

The city TV director, Takashi Sato, nodded in agreement. He had previously directed several short films on rural themes, but the ratings were not ideal. He was full of resistance when it came to documentaries: "That's right! Section Chief Yamada, have you forgotten? Last year, NHK produced 'A Journey Through Ancient Temples in Kyoto,' which took half a year to produce, and the final ratings were only 2.8%. The advertisers almost went crazy. Now that TV Tokyo is having TV Kanto make this, I'm afraid they want to completely shut TV Kanto down—after all, TV Kanto was already on the verge of collapse. If they pull this stunt, they might not even be able to afford to rent office space next year."

Keisuke Morikawa chimed in, tossing the report onto the table and leaning back in his chair: "I heard that Kanto TV doesn't even have many usable cameras. They used to have to borrow equipment to film local news, and now they want to film documentaries? I'm afraid the footage will be even blurrier than a VHS tape. Besides, who would watch old craftsmen cooking soba noodles or fishermen hauling in their nets? Viewers tune in at night to watch stars like Shunsuke Kamiki, to watch lively variety shows, not documentaries that are so slow they put them to sleep."

Kazuo Takahashi, seated at the head of the table, remained silent, his fingers lightly tapping the surface. His eyes held a scrutinizing quality typical of politicians. Only after the others had finished laughing did he slowly speak: "Don't be so quick to laugh. I'd like to know why TV Tokyo chose the documentary genre. I've seen a few NHK documentaries on humanities, and they were quite good, like last year's 'Hokkaido Fishermen's Story.' Although the ratings weren't high, the reviews were good, and it even won a small award—maybe TV Tokyo is trying to gain attention through word-of-mouth?"

Upon hearing this, Jun Yamada immediately shook his head. He leaned forward, his tone carrying a hint of certainty as he retorted, "Deputy Director Takahashi, you just don't understand! Can reputation feed you? What we, as a television station, need are ratings and advertising revenue! Look at our station's 'Exploring the Tokyo Area,' although the reviews are so-so, the ratings are consistently at 8%, and Marui Soy Sauce alone has invested ten million yen in advertising—what about documentaries? Even if the reviews are excellent, will any businesses be willing to invest money? Those established local shops hesitate for ages just to sponsor a filming location, let alone expect them to pay for advertising?"

Takashi Sato added, recalling his previous frustrating experience trying to secure sponsorships, his tone becoming even more agitated: "Exactly! Last time I was filming 'Chiba Fishing Port Story,' I approached the local seafood market for sponsorship, and the owner told me directly, 'Filming this is useless, you might as well hire a celebrity for promotion'—you see, even businesses know that no one watches documentaries. TV Tokyo's current efforts are a pure waste of money; they'd be better off using the budget to hire a second-tier celebrity for a variety show, at least that would attract some young viewers."

Keisuke Morikawa nodded, pulling out a flip phone that the company had just provided to its executives. The screen was small, only good for texting and making calls. He glanced down at the messages, then looked up and said, "Also, I heard from an informant that TV Tokyo's budget for TV Kanto this time is only ten million yen. That's not even enough to hire Shunsuke Kamiki to shoot a commercial. With that little money, you think you can make a good documentary? It probably won't even cover the travel expenses, let alone renting professional equipment or hiring an editor."

Kazuo Takahashi frowned, his fingers hovering over the table. He was still a little uneasy: "That's true, but isn't there Hiroshi Nohara on TV Tokyo? That young man is no ordinary person. He saved the midnight slot with 'Yamishibai' and made 'Seven Samurai' which grossed over 8 billion yen. Maybe he has a way to make documentaries stand out—we can't be too careless."

These words silenced the laughter in the meeting room.

Jun Yamada's smile faded slightly. He stroked his chin, his tone tinged with uncertainty: "You mean Hiroshi Nohara? He's involved in the reform of Kanto TV this time too? I thought Tokyo TV was just having Asumi or Toshihide Takada keep an eye on things—if he's involved, he might actually be able to stir things up."

Sato Takaya's expression also darkened. He had worked at TV Tokyo for two years and had seen Hiroshi Nohara when he was filming "Tales of the Unusual"—he was only in his twenties, yet he understood the camera better than veteran directors and knew how to grasp the audience's psychology. Thinking of this, he felt a little apprehensive: "If Hiroshi Nohara takes the lead, then we really need to be careful. His 'Midnight Diner' didn't have any big stars or big scenes, but it was still a hit, wasn't it? The ratings were consistently above 10%, and it even secured a long-term sponsorship from Nissin Ramen—if he manages to make a documentary with the same effect as 'Midnight Diner,' our 'Exploring the Tokyo Area' might lose viewers."

Keisuke Morikawa then dropped his previous arrogance. He picked up the report on the table, flipped through it again, and said with a hint of nervousness in his voice, "My report doesn't mention Hiroshi Nohara... I'll check with my informant again."

As he spoke, he picked up the landline on the table, dialed a number, said a few words to the person on the other end of the phone, and after hanging up, his face became even more grim. "Everyone, the informant has replied—this reform of Kanto TV is indeed being spearheaded by Hiroshi Nohara, and he has already finalized his first project, a food documentary called 'Neon Flavors,' which will begin filming next week at the Chiba Seafood Market."

"Food documentary?"

Kazuo Takahashi frowned even more, leaning forward slightly, his voice tinged with worry. "Midnight Diner is also a food-themed show, and it's incredibly popular. If Hiroshi Nohara were to make a documentary like Midnight Diner, taking the 'food + human touch' approach, he might actually attract viewers—after all, audiences are getting a bit tired of purely entertaining variety shows these days. If a documentary can convey warmth, it might actually succeed."

Jun Yamada's expression changed as well. He had previously thought that no one would watch documentaries, but the success of "Midnight Diner" made him uneasy: "Impossible, right? 'Midnight Diner' is a TV series; each episode has a plot and conflict, so viewers can keep watching. What about documentaries? You can't just show the old craftsman cooking noodles in every episode, can you? That would be too monotonous, and viewers would change the channel after watching two episodes—besides, food documentaries are just about showing how to process and cook the ingredients, right? It looks tempting, but you can't eat it, so who would keep watching?"

Takashi Sato nodded in agreement, recalling his previous short film about seafood. His tone held a hint of self-consolation: "Section Chief Yamada is right! The Japanese value 'restraint.' Being too direct about 'wanting to eat' is seen as 'uncultured.' Look at 'Midnight Diner,' although it focuses on food, the emphasis is on the 'story,' not the 'eating' itself. But if a documentary is about food, it'll definitely show close-ups of the glistening oil on the sashimi and the steaming heat of the buns—isn't that just whetting the audience's appetite? Even if the audience doesn't say it, they'll definitely think it's 'vulgar'—how could that kind of film possibly be popular?"

Keisuke Morikawa also recovered his composure. He leaned back in his chair, his tone regaining its previous certainty: "And don't forget, a large part of the success of 'Midnight Diner' is because it's a TV drama that can be broadcast during prime time. What about documentaries? TV Tokyo definitely won't give it prime time. It will most likely be placed in the late-night slot or a less popular time slot on weekend afternoons—there are fewer viewers during those times, so even if the film is very well made, not many people will see it."

As Kazuo Takahashi listened to their conversation, he tapped his fingers lightly on the table, and the worry in his eyes gradually subsided.

He picked up the canned coffee on the table, took a sip, and felt the coolness spread in his throat, making him clearer-headed: "You're right. That's just how society is in Japan. People are very sensitive about 'gluttony,' considering it a 'sin,' and are unwilling to show it on camera. If a documentary focuses on food, it's easy for viewers to feel 'uncomfortable'—after all, no one wants to admit that they're attracted to food on screen."

Jun Yamada immediately chimed in, his tone tinged with eagerness to claim credit: "That's exactly the point! Vice President Takahashi, think about it. When we film 'Exploring the Areas Around Tokyo,' although we also film local cuisine, the focus is on the 'exploration process,' on Shunsuke Kamiki chatting with shopkeepers and interacting with tourists. The food is just a 'decorative element.' But if a documentary on TV Tokyo makes food the main focus, it's like putting 'wanting to eat' on the table, and the audience will definitely resist—after all, nobody wants to be accused of 'lacking self-control.'"

Takashi Sato added, recalling a television industry conference he had attended, his tone now carrying a more professional certainty: "I once heard an old NHK director say that Japanese documentaries either focus on history and culture or social issues, and very rarely on food—not that no one wants to make them, but that no one watches them. For example, ten years ago, TBS produced 'Osaka Food Tour,' which cost a lot of money, but only achieved a 1.9% viewership rating and was criticized by the media for being 'vulgar,' saying that 'it made eating seem like showing off'—TV Tokyo is probably going to repeat the same mistake by making this now."

Keisuke Morikawa also took out his phone, pulled out the viewership data he had saved, and handed it to Kazuo Takahashi: "Look, these are the viewership data for all food documentaries in Japan over the past five years. The highest is only 3.5%, and that's NHK's 'Okinawa Seafood Story,' which barely achieved that result thanks to the Okinawa Tourism Bureau's strong promotion. TV Tokyo's 'A Bite of Japan' has neither the reputation of NHK nor the full support of the Tourism Bureau. Do you think it can surpass this viewership? Absolutely not."

Looking at the data on his phone and then at the confident expressions on the faces of the people in front of him, Kazuo Takahashi's last bit of worry disappeared.

He leaned back in his chair, let out a long sigh, and said with a hint of relief, "I see. I was worried that Hiroshi Nohara might come up with something, but now it seems I was overthinking it. Documentaries don't have a market, and with food being such a sensitive subject, even with Hiroshi Nohara, it would be hard to turn things around—after all, no matter how good he is, he can't go against the prevailing social trends."

Jun Yamada immediately laughed, picked up the canned coffee on the table, and held it up to Kazuo Takahashi: "Deputy Director Takahashi, don't worry! Our 'Exploring the Tokyo Area' will premiere next week. Shunsuke Kamiki even went to Senso-ji Temple yesterday for a promotional event, and a lot of fans came. The topic is also very popular on Weibo. Even if TV Tokyo's documentary is made, it can only be broadcast in the late-night slot, which doesn't conflict with ours at all—maybe they'll even be envious of our ratings!"

Takashi Sato nodded in agreement, recalling his previous collaboration with Shunsuke Kamiki, his tone tinged with excitement: "Shunsuke Kamiki's fans are mostly young people aged 15-25, which is exactly the demographic advertisers value most. We've already reached agreements with three cosmetics companies; if the viewership exceeds 10%, we'll add an extra 20 million yen to our advertising budget. As for TV Tokyo? Even if their documentaries manage to secure sponsorships, they'll only get small ads from local shops, which is nothing compared to what we offer."

Keisuke Morikawa echoed, folding the report and putting it into his briefcase: "I've already spoken to my informant, asking him to keep a close eye on TV Tokyo's movements. If they make any new moves with their documentary, we can prepare accordingly. But in my opinion, it's unlikely to make much of a splash—after all, TV Kanto's equipment is subpar, and their team lacks experience in making documentaries. Even with Hiroshi Nohara, it's unlikely they'll produce anything worthwhile."

Kazuo Takahashi nodded, picked up the broadcast schedule for "Exploring the Tokyo Area" on the table, flipped through a couple of pages, and said with a hint of satisfaction, "That's good. Our focus now should remain on preparing for the premiere of 'Exploring the Tokyo Area.' Section Chief Yamada, you should coordinate with Shunsuke Kamiki's team again to ensure a smooth premiere next week; Director Sato, you'll be in charge of post-production editing, cut out several trailers highlighting the first episode, and start looping them on the station tomorrow; Morikawa, you'll continue to keep an eye on TV Tokyo's movements and report any news promptly—but don't be too nervous, after all, their opponent isn't really a threat."

"Hi!"

The three responded in unison, their tone relaxed yet confident. The atmosphere in the meeting room became lively again, and they began discussing advertising opportunities and follow-up filming plans for "Exploring the Tokyo Area." Occasionally, when the Tokyo TV documentary was mentioned, it was only with a teasing smile, and there was no longer any trace of the previous worry.

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the promotional poster for "Exploring the Tokyo Area," making Shunsuke Kamiki's smile particularly radiant. Kazuo Takahashi looked at the poster, recalling the earlier analysis, and a smile involuntarily crept onto his lips—he suddenly felt that the competition between the city's TV station and TV Tokyo was probably a foregone conclusion from the very beginning.

After all, TV Tokyo had bet everything on documentaries that nobody watched, while they had popular celebrities and popular variety shows, making their chances of winning much greater.

Keisuke Morikawa suddenly remembered something, took out a photo from his briefcase, and placed it on the table: "By the way, everyone, this was sent by an informant. It's a photo of Hiroshi Nohara at a meeting at Kanto TV yesterday—what he's holding should be the storyboard for 'A Bite of Japan.' It looks quite detailed, but what's the use of being detailed? If the content isn't good, no one will watch it no matter how well it's drawn."

Jun Yamada picked up the photo and looked at it. In the photo, Hiroshi Nohara was wearing a dark suit, holding a piece of paper covered with simple drawings, and talking to several employees of Kanto TV. He looked very serious.

Jun Yamada scoffed and threw the photo back on the table: "What's the use of being serious? If you're going in the wrong direction, no amount of seriousness will help. When our station was filming 'Exploring the Areas Around Tokyo,' Shunsuke Kamiki was very serious. He even went to learn the local dialect. That's what you call 'being serious in the right place'—Hiroshi Nohara's approach can only be described as 'wasting his efforts'."

Takashi Sato nodded in agreement. He picked up the photo, glanced at it, and tossed it back onto the table. "Look at his storyboard," he said, "it's all the same old stuff: fishermen hauling in their nets, steamed buns at a baozi shop. It's all so unoriginal. Our first episode of 'Exploring the Areas Around Tokyo' will be at the beach in Kamakura. We'll be filming Shunsuke Kamiki learning to surf with a surfing instructor, and we'll also be making handcrafted coffee at a local trendy cafe—that's much more interesting than watching fishermen haul in their nets. The audience will definitely love it."

Kazuo Takahashi looked at the photos on the table and then at the relaxed expressions of the people in front of him, and felt completely relieved.

He stood up, picked up the broadcast schedule on the table, and said with a firm tone, "Alright, it's getting late, everyone get busy. Next week, 'Exploring the Tokyo Area' will premiere, and we must give it our best to show TV Tokyo what a truly popular program is—as for their documentaries, let them work on them slowly, we'll just wait and see the results."

"Hi!" the three responded again, stood up, tidied up the documents and coffee cans on the table, and walked towards the meeting room door.

Jun Yamada walked at the back, and as he passed the poster, he patted Shunsuke Kamiki's smiling face, his tone tinged with pride: "Shunsuke, Shunsuke, whether we can surpass TV Tokyo this time depends on you."

The meeting room door slowly closed, leaving only the photos on the table and the cold coffee can.

Sunlight still streamed through the glass, falling on Hiroshi Nohara's earnest face in the photo, as if silently telling the story—this seemingly one-sided competition might not be as simple as everyone at the city TV station thought.

……

The mayor's office at the Tokyo City Hall was simpler than I had imagined. A dark brown wooden desk took up most of the space, with thick stacks of documents piled on the left and a black landline phone on the right, its edges slightly worn.

A map of Tokyo hangs on the wall, with several undeveloped areas circled in red – these are real estate projects promoted by Tanaka Mikami.

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting dappled shadows on the floor, and a faint aroma of tea filled the air.

Kazuo Takahashi stood in front of his desk, holding a report he had just brought from the city radio station. His tone was deliberately relaxed: "Mayor, I just received news from the city radio station that the reform direction for the Tokyo TV and Kanto TV joint project has been decided. It's a documentary about humanities, and they've even approved a budget of ten million yen. The project is called 'Neon Flavors,' and we'll start filming at the Chiba Seafood Market next week."

Tanaka Mikami, who was looking down at a real estate development plan, looked up when he heard this, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. His tone was emotionless: "A documentary about humanities? A budget of ten million? Takahashi-kun, what do you think are the chances of success for this direction?"

Kazuo Takahashi immediately straightened his back, his tone carrying the confidence he had expressed in the city TV team's analysis: "Based on the professional judgment of the city TV production department and the directing team, the chances of success are very low. As you know, the documentary market in Japan has always been sluggish. The highest viewership in the past five years was only 3.5%, and that was only achieved by NHK with the help of the tourism bureau's heavy promotion. This time, TV Tokyo has neither the reputation of NHK nor the full support of the local government. In addition, food is a sensitive subject—Japanese people value restraint, and too straightforward food scenes can easily irritate viewers. I'm afraid it will be difficult to make any progress."

"Oh?"

Tanaka Mikami raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, his eyes scrutinizing her. "Are you sure? I remember last year's NHK 'Hokkaido Fishermen's Story,' although the ratings weren't high, it received excellent reviews and even won a minor industry award. Besides, Sakata Nobuhiko and Shimazu Yoshihiro aren't stupid at TV Tokyo. If they were really that unsure, would they have so easily approved a budget of ten million?"

Kazuo Takahashi paused, surprised that Mikami Tanaka would ask such a question. He instinctively explained, "But...but Section Chief Yamada and Director Sato from the city station have both analyzed that documentaries themselves have no market, and advertisers don't buy into them. Look at our city station's 'Exploring the Tokyo Area,' they hired Shunsuke Kamiki as the host, and they secured 30 million yen in advertising sponsorships just for the pre-show promotion. Even if the documentary from TV Tokyo is produced, it can only be broadcast in the late-night slot, which doesn't conflict with ours at all—their move is clearly a risky one." Tanaka Mikami gave a soft hum, picked up the teacup on the table, took a sip, and spoke with a hint of barely perceptible sarcasm: "A risky move? Takahashi-kun, you're still too young and think too simply. Sakata Nobuhiko has been in the television industry for over forty years, and Shimazu Yoshihiro has risen from reporter to station director. If they couldn't see any hope, would they invest their resources in documentaries? Especially Shimazu, after losing to me in the last election, he's been holding back a lot of energy. This reform of TV Tokyo might just be a pawn he's using to win votes—do you think he really cares about whether TV Kanto can rise up? What he cares about is whether he can use this project to please voters in the Kanto region."

Kazuo Takahashi then realized that he had only focused on the market prospects of the documentary and forgotten the underlying political considerations. He quickly bowed and said, "It was my oversight. Please enlighten me, Mayor."

Tanaka Mikami put down his teacup, traced his finger on the "real estate development plan," and said in a low voice, "I may not understand TV ratings, but I do understand the vision of my competitors. Don't forget, this time, the reform of TV Tokyo and TV Kanto was spearheaded not by Sakata or Shimazu, but by that young man named Hiroshi Nohara."

“Hiroshi Nohara?” Kazuo Takahashi looked up in surprise. He had seen the name in the report before, but he hadn’t paid much attention to it. After all, the other party was only 23 years old. Even with the achievements of “Yamishibai” and “Seven Samurai”, he was still just a young director. “You mean… he led this reform? But no matter how good he is, he can’t go against the overall market environment.”

"cannot?"

Tanaka Mikami smiled, took out a newspaper from his drawer, and spread it out in front of Takahashi Kazuo—it was a report from the Akita Prefecture Tourism Bureau last year, with the headline "Akita dogs boost tourism, with tourist numbers up 40% year-on-year in the third quarter," accompanied by pictures of several adorable Akita dogs, and a note next to it that "the Akita dog design was created by TV Tokyo director Hiroshi Nohara."

"Look at this."

Tanaka Mikami pointed to the report, his tone somewhat grave. "At the beginning of last year, Akita Prefecture's tourism industry was still declining, and the local government was almost at its wits' end. Then Hiroshi Nohara designed an Akita Inu character and even filmed a short three-minute promotional video, which was broadcast during the breaks in 'Super Transformation.' Guess what? In three months, the number of tourists to Akita Prefecture increased by 40%, and the sales of local specialties doubled—a 23-year-old young man who could achieve this, do you think he wouldn't be confident enough to tackle a documentary?"

Kazuo Takahashi looked at the data in the newspaper and his heart sank. His previous confidence slowly dissipated: "But...but the Akita Inu is a mascot, not like the one in the documentary."

"What's the difference?" Tanaka Mikami retorted, his tone sharp and insightful. "Essentially, they're both about 'unearthing local characteristics,' only one is a mascot and the other is a documentary. Think about Kumamoto Prefecture—before Kumamon became popular last year, who knew what Kumamoto Prefecture had to offer? As a result, Kumamon, designed by Hiroshi Nohara, has now become a viral mascot across Japan, tripling Kumamoto Prefecture's tourism revenue, and even local agricultural products have become hot commodities."

He paused, tapping his fingers on the newspaper:

"You think these are all coincidences? Hiroshi Nohara's greatest strength is turning what others consider 'useless' into 'useful' things. Who was optimistic about urban fantasy anime in the early morning? His 'Yamishibai' broke 12% in viewership. Who thought samurai films were outdated? His 'Seven Samurai' grossed over 89 billion yen. Now nobody is optimistic about documentaries, can you guarantee he won't create another miracle?"

Kazuo Takahashi nodded silently. He recalled that when the city TV team analyzed the situation, they hadn't considered Hiroshi Nohara's past "ability to break through"—every time, in areas that others didn't have high hopes for, he was able to forge a path out of nothing.

His initial disdain slowly turned into worry, and he subconsciously clenched the report in his hand: "Then... what should we do now? The city TV station's 'Exploring the Tokyo Area' is about to premiere next week. If the Tokyo TV documentary really becomes popular, it might affect our ratings, and in turn, our advertising revenue and subsequent promotional plans."

Tanaka Mikami picked up the landline on the table, dialed a number, and said to the person on the other end of the phone, "Have the publicity department compile all the reports and data related to Hiroshi Nohara from the past six months and send them to my office in ten minutes."

After hanging up the phone, he looked at Kazuo Takahashi, his tone carrying an undeniable seriousness: "From now on, closely monitor the movements of TV Tokyo and TV Kanto. First, have the intelligence department of the city's TV station strengthen its contact with informants, especially those within TV Kanto, to find out the filming schedule, broadcast time, and publicity strategy for 'A Bite of Japan'; second, have Jun Yamada and Takashi Sato prepare several backup plans. If the documentary on TV Tokyo shows signs of becoming a hit, adjust the content of 'Exploring the Areas Around Tokyo' in advance, such as increasing the proportion of local cuisine or inviting second-tier celebrities to make cameo appearances, to attract viewers before they do; third, have a word with Tokugawa Sato of the Kirin Group, and ask him to keep an eye on Hiroshi Nohara—Sato has always wanted to poach Nohara from Kirin, and we might be able to get some information from him."

Kazuo Takahashi quickly pulled out his notebook and jotted down Tanaka Mikami's request, the sound of his pen scratching across the paper particularly clear: "I understand what you mean. I'll go back to the city station now and arrange these things. Also, should we talk to the local tourism bureaus and ask them not to cooperate with TV Tokyo? For example, the tourism bureaus of Chiba Prefecture or Gunma Prefecture. If they don't provide support, TV Tokyo's filming might be affected."

Tanaka Mikami shook his head, tapping his fingers lightly on the table: "No need. Falling out with the local tourism bureau now would only give them ammunition to criticize us, allowing Shimazu Yoshihiro to seize on the accusation of 'suppressing local culture,' which would affect our voter support. Besides, even if the local tourism bureau provides support, it doesn't necessarily mean that TV Tokyo's documentary will become popular—what we need to do now is to be fully prepared, not to take the initiative to engage in underhanded tactics."

He paused and added:
"Also, have the city's public relations department pay more attention to media trends. If there are positive reports about 'A Bite of Japan,' find some industry 'experts' to come out and disagree, such as questioning the authenticity of the documentary, or saying that Hiroshi Nohara is 'consuming local culture'—don't be too deliberate, just touch on it, the main thing is to plant a seed of 'doubt' in the minds of the audience."

Kazuo Takahashi nodded quickly: "I understand. By the way, Mayor, the city broadcaster also received information that Hiroshi Nohara's team this time consists mostly of veteran employees from the Kanto Broadcasting Corporation. They haven't filmed documentaries before, and they only have a camera director transferred from the Tokyo Broadcasting Corporation—won't...won't the lack of experience of the team affect the quality of the filming?"

Tanaka Mikami picked up his teacup and took a sip, his eyes filled with a complex expression: "Inexperienced? Perhaps. But don't forget, when Hiroshi Nohara was filming 'Yamishibai,' most of the team members were also newcomers. And what happened? He personally stayed up all night drawing storyboards and taught the newcomers how to film, and in the end, it was a success, wasn't it? The most terrifying thing about this person is not that he is talented, but that he can turn the 'impossible' into the 'possible'—you can't use conventional standards to measure him."

Just then, the office door was gently pushed open, and a staff member from the publicity department walked in with a stack of documents, bowing as he placed them on the table: "Your Excellency Mayor, these are the reports and data related to Hiroshi Nohara that you requested."

Tanaka Mikami picked up the documents and flipped through a few pages. They contained viewership data for *Yamishibai*, a box office report for *Seven Samurai*, and an analysis of the tourism impact of Kumamon and Akita dogs. Pointing to a page, he said to Takahashi Kazuo, “Look here. At first, nobody signed up for *Super Transformation*. Hiroshi Nohara led his team to the streets and schools to promote it, even personally designing costume plans. In the end, it became the number one variety show in the country. Even Governor Koike praised him for ‘changing the indifference of Japan’—this person never relied on luck, but on real ability and hard work.”

Kazuo Takahashi leaned over to look. The data showed the viewership curve of "Super Transformation," which rose from an initial 5.2% to 40.2%. Next to it was audience survey data, showing that 83% of viewers said, "Because of this program, I have more interaction with my family and friends."

His worries deepened. It seemed that the analysis by the municipal team had overlooked Hiroshi Nohara's ability to "break the deadlock".

"Therefore, we must not let our guard down."

Tanaka Mikami placed the documents on the table, his tone grave. "Shimazu Yoshihiro is now betting everything on Nohara Hiroshi. If this documentary really becomes a hit, he'll definitely use the 'focus on local culture' rhetoric to garner votes, which will be very detrimental to our upcoming mayoral election. Takahashi-kun, I'm leaving this to you. Keep a close eye on things, and report any suspicious activity to me immediately—even if it's Nohara Hiroshi, I can't let him affect our plans."

Kazuo Takahashi immediately bowed, his tone more serious than ever before: "Please rest assured, Mayor! I will arrange all the work of the city radio station, closely monitor the movements of Tokyo Radio and Kanto Radio, and absolutely not let them affect our projects and election plans."

Tanaka Mikami nodded, picked up the real estate development plan on the table again, and his tone returned to its previous calmness: "Alright, you can go back to the city government now. Remember to make sure that the points we just mentioned are implemented. Also, when you contact Sato Tokugawa, be careful not to make him feel like we are using him—after all, the Kirin Group's real estate project still needs his support."

"Hi!"

Kazuo Takahashi bowed again, picked up the reports and documents on the table, and turned to walk towards the office door.

As he reached the door, he couldn't help but glance back—Tanaka Mikami was looking down at the real estate plan, his finger lightly tracing the "Shinjuku undeveloped area," his eyes filled with a sharp determination.

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, falling on him and giving the politician a cold, hard glow.

Kazuo Takahashi took a deep breath and gripped the documents in his hand tightly.

He knew that the days ahead would not be easy; Hiroshi Nohara and his "Neon Flavors" might become the biggest variable for the city TV station and Tanaka Mikami.

The previous contempt has completely disappeared, replaced by utmost vigilance—after all, no one dares to underestimate a young man who can make Akita dogs and Kumamon famous throughout Japan.

Stepping out of the city hall building, the sunlight outside was a bit dazzling.

Kazuo Takahashi took out his pager and sent a message to Jun Yamada of the city TV station: "Convene an emergency meeting of the production department immediately to discuss a solution for 'A Bite of Japan,' and bring all materials related to Hiroshi Nohara."

The pager quickly replied: "Received, meeting in ten minutes."

Kazuo Takahashi put away his pager and walked quickly toward the car parked by the roadside.

He knew that this seemingly simple “TV station competition” involved too many political interests and election chips, and that Hiroshi Nohara and his documentary were the most unpredictable piece in this game.

Meanwhile, in the filming preparation room of Kanto TV, Hiroshi, Yuichi Matsui, and Sakurako Honda are checking the equipment they need to bring tomorrow.

Shigeru Saito was squatting on the ground, adjusting the high-definition camera. The lens was pointed at the clock on the wall, and the second hand was clearly visible moving in the frame. Yuichi Matsui was holding the shooting list and checking it one by one: "Ten spare batteries, twenty memory cards, three windproof microphones, two reflectors... everything is ready."

Sakurako Honda held a notebook filled with details about Sato's seafood restaurant: "Sato-san said that the tide at 3 a.m. tomorrow is the best for fishing, so we have to be at the pier by 2:30 a.m. He also specially prepared hot soup, saying that it's cold at the beach in the early morning, so we should warm up before filming."

Hiroshi nodded, picked up a reflector, and tested the angle against the light: "When we're filming tomorrow, pay attention to capturing the details, such as the calluses on Sato-san's hands when he's pulling in the net, and the look in his eyes when he's talking to his son—these are the things that will move people. Matsui-san, you're very experienced, so please give the younger assistants some guidance and don't let them get nervous."

Matsui Yuichi immediately patted his chest and said, "Don't worry, Hiroshi! I've been making films for thirty years, how could I not handle this little thing? I guarantee I'll capture the freshest footage tomorrow!"

Saito Shigeya stood up, holding a camera in his hand. His tone was still low but energetic: "The equipment is all set up. It's windy at the beach, so I added a double windproof cover to the recording equipment to make sure the wind noise isn't recorded. Tomorrow I'll be with the cameraman to handle any emergencies."

Hiroshi looked at the busy crowd in front of him and a smile appeared on his lips.

He was unaware of the discussions at the Tokyo City Hall, nor did he know that he had become the focus of Tanaka Mikami's "attention." He only knew that tomorrow's filming was very important—it was not only the beginning of "A Bite of Japan," but also the hope for Kanto TV to rise again.

The autumn wind blew gently through the window, swirling a few fallen leaves in the air.

Inside the Kanto TV office building, the lights were on, and everyone's face was filled with anticipation and enthusiasm. They may not know how many difficulties they will encounter in the future, but as long as they think about working with Hiroshi Nohara to make a truly heartwarming documentary, their hearts are filled with strength.

Meanwhile, at the Tokyo City Hall, Tanaka Mikami was looking at the Akita Inu promotional report on the table, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface.

Hiroshi Nohara is a formidable opponent, but he is even more confident that his years of accumulated political resources and real estate projects will not be easily defeated by a documentary. This game has only just begun.

(End of this chapter)