I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

Chapter 97 Black humor! It turns out that everyone has been dug!
In the last week of July, Tokyo's midsummer was like a ignited furnace, scorching the entire city with heat waves.

Even hotter than the weather was the viewing craze for "urban horror stories" that swept across Japan, sparked by the name of Nohara Hiroshi.

The ratings of "Wonderful Stories of the World" are like an unshakable mountain, steadily, even a little arrogantly, hovering at the terrifying high of 21%.

It is no longer a simple number, it has become a weekly ritual, a cultural phenomenon that is deeply rooted in the bones of the Japanese people.

Countless families would tune into Tokyo TV at nine o'clock every evening from Monday to Friday, waiting for the mysterious man in sunglasses to open the door to a wonderful world for them.

What surprised all the industry insiders even more was that the drama "Dark Zhiju: True Season 3", which had been sentenced to death, was miraculously reborn.

After the show's triumphant return with 8.35% in the first week, its ratings did not drop as the audience's novelty wore off. Instead, it climbed steadily at an almost crazy pace, like a vine injected with divine nutrients.

9.12%!

9.58%!

On the last Sunday night of July, when the seventh episode of "An Zhi Ju Zhen Season 3" "The Woman Behind" was broadcast, the freshly released ratings report was like a real bomb.

10.01%!

“Break…break through 10%?!”

"A late-night horror anime has a viewership rating of over 10%?! Is this... is this a fucking joke?!"

"Monster! That Nohara Hiroshi, he's simply an unreasonable monster!"

The entire Tokyo TV production department was completely speechless when they saw this number.

Everyone seemed to be strangled by an invisible hand, and all that was left on their faces was undisguised, bottomless awe.

"I understand……"

A senior analyst from the Data Analysis Department, looking at the two ratings graphs advancing in tandem like twin dragons emerging from the sea, muttered to himself, his voice tinged with the trembling of someone who had grasped the truth: "This is... a driving effect!"

"The incredibly high viewership of 'The Wonderful World' has cultivated a group of extremely loyal viewers. After watching that masterpiece at 9 o'clock, they're still not satisfied, and then subconsciously wait for 'Anshiji', also by Nohara Hiroshi, at 10:30!"

"He... He used these two works to forcibly build a ratings empire of his own in the evening time slot of Tokyo TV, one that no one could shake!"

These words made everyone who heard them feel a chill running from the tailbone to the top of the head.

And in the center of the storm, in the office of [Nohara Hiroshi·Special Production Team], there was a carnival of victory.

"Section Chief! We won again!"

"10% of the late-night slots! This is unprecedented and will probably never be surpassed!"

Everyone's face flushed with excitement, and each face was filled with a kind of pride that came from the heart.

Nohara Hiroshi just looked at the report calmly, with a satisfied smile on his lips.

Everything was within his expectations.

In fact, not much was within his expectations, and some things were a little beyond Nohara Hiroshi's expectations.

For example, the viewership rate exceeded 10%.

"If I remember correctly, 'An Zhi Ju' doesn't seem to have such a high viewership rating." Nohara Hiroshi frowned slightly.

The first and second seasons of "Dark House" were successful. When the ratings were at their peak, the end of the second season broke 1% of the ratings because of the climax and the conclusion, plus the fact that everyone was not working the next day, Saturday. This was within his expectations.

It was well deserved that it reached the top of the ratings with over 8%.

However, the show's performance in the previous life was not very good, and it ranked as the worst in the ratings among the first five seasons.

Coming to this parallel neon world, it actually received the highest ratings.

"I'm really a little surprised." Hiroshi Nohara touched the back of his head and felt quite surprised.

If you think about it now, you can probably guess the reason.

"It must be that guy Masao Iwata who made the third season of "Anshiba" so bad. It made the audience angry, so it created a kind of revenge watching effect. There was also "The Wonderful World of Tales" broadcast before it. Both are urban ghost story type programs, and they are also unit dramas, which also had a driving effect." Hiroshi Nohara made an analysis.

Just then, the door of the classroom office was gently pushed open.

It's Hashijita Ichiro.

He seemed to have received some news just now, went out to fiddle with his pager for a while, and now he is back.

But everyone saw that his face now had an extremely complicated expression, a mixture of excitement, gratitude and a hint of barely perceptible panic.

He did not join in the cheers, but just lowered his head and took heavy steps, walking step by step to the door of Nohara Hiroshi's office.

"Section Chief Nohara." He bowed deeply, his voice hoarse but full of awe. "Please allow me to report something to you."

"Ah."

Nohara Hiroshi gestured for him to close the door, then extended his hand to signal Hashiji Ichiro to sit down on the chair in front of him: "Tell me, what's the matter?" Nohara Hiroshi's voice was very gentle.

Hashijita Ichiro sat down, trembling slightly.

His face was complicated.

He looked at the young man in front of him who was twelve years younger than him, but seemed to be able to control all his destiny. His heart, which had long been filled with regret and awe, began to beat violently uncontrollably.

He carefully took out a few gold-stamped business cards that looked very valuable, and... a few thin checks that seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, from the inner pocket of his slightly worn suit.

"Section Chief Nohara..." His voice was filled with tears. "These... these were all given to me by the people who came to see me today."

"There's one from Osaka TV, one from Kansai TV, and one from Nagoya..."

"They...they all want me to switch jobs and help them produce an animation similar to 'Anzhiju'."

"They...the price they quoted is very high, very high." He handed over the checks with both hands. The numbers on them were all at least 500,000, which was enough to drive any middle-aged man in Tokyo who was burdened with a heavy mortgage crazy.

"This... is from Kansai TV. They said that if I agree, this check for 500,000 yen will be my signing fee. From now on, I'll receive a monthly salary of 300,000 yen, plus project dividends."

"This... is from Nagoya. They were more direct. They said that as long as I bring the production process and core ideas of 'Anzhiju' to Nagoya TV with me, this check for one million will be cashed immediately..."

Nohara Hiroshi just looked at him calmly without saying a word. His clear eyes were like a bottomless lake without any ripples.

That calm, however, was like an invisible mountain, weighing heavily on Hashirō's heart, causing his already fragile spirit to collapse completely. "Ugh..."

He could no longer hold on. The 35-year-old man knelt down helplessly like a child, buried his head deeply in his arms, and let out a suppressed and painful whimper.

"Nohara-sensei! I…I didn't agree! I really didn't!"

"I know, I'm a loser! I don't have any talent at all! Back in Iwata's classroom, I thought I had learned it, I thought I could do it, but what happened? I messed everything up!"

"I...I only realized it now! The success of 'Anzhiju' has nothing to do with me! From beginning to end, it's all you! It's all your credit! I...I'm just a ridiculous imitator following behind you!"

"I won't betray you again! I swear! I will never betray you again in my life!"

"I don't want any of this! I don't want business cards, I don't want checks! I just want to stay in your class and continue learning from you!"

Tears seeped out from between his fingers, dripping onto the smooth floor, leaving a small, messy stain.

When Nohara Hiroshi saw him like this, the resentment caused by betrayal in his heart had long disappeared without a trace.

This is the effect he wants.

What he wants is a loyal executor who has completely shattered all pride and recognizes his true value.

"Get up."

He spoke slowly, his voice calm, yet with a power that could calm people's hearts.

"Put these things away. If something like this happens again, just report it directly to me."

He paused, and a hint of approval flashed in his clear eyes.

"Hashimoto-kun, you've done a great job. I'll ask Deputy Director Asumi to double your bonus this month."

"……Hi!"

Hashijitaro kowtowed heavily to the floor. The sound was dull, yet full of relief for having survived the disaster.

When he stood up again, wiped the tears from his face, and walked out of the office, he was no longer greeted by cold contempt, but by a burst of applause, although still sparse, but full of goodwill.

"Under the bridge, well done!"

"Finally you didn't let us down this time!"

In the office, the veterans from the Kanto faction all had knowing smiles on their faces.

Inside the classroom is Nohara Hiroshi's private office. Although it is called private, it is actually just a partition covered by a thin layer of plastic board, and it is not soundproof at all.

Of course they heard the conversation.

They looked at the man whose eyes were red but whose face was glowing again. His eyes finally showed a hint of true recognition from his colleagues.

"It's not just Hashimoto-senpai."

At that moment, Yamamoto Takeshi's hoarse voice echoed through the office. He waved a few equally gold-stamped business cards in his hand, a look of bitterness on his face, "I've received several calls, too. The prices they've offered are higher than Hashimoto-kun's, not lower."

"Me too."

"It's the same here. There's even someone who's even more outrageous. They said if I'm willing to go, they'll give me a second-level director position."

For a moment, the echoes in the office merged into a torrent full of black humor.

Only then did they realize that the guys who were so-called sincere to them and said that they appreciated their talents, their first move was so simple and crude - poaching people.

And it wasn't just me, everyone was poached.

"These guys really think highly of us." An old fellow in charge of photography laughed self-deprecatingly. "Don't you think about who took us in when we were worse off than dogs at Tokyo TV? Now that we've become successful under Section Chief Nohara, they think they can just take advantage of us? Dream on!"

"That's right!" Another colleague in charge of art also snorted coldly: "They pay a lot of money, but it's a lot of money! What if we go there and mess it up? Then, both sides will be in trouble. That would be really disastrous!"

As they spoke, some people looked at Hashijita Ichiro, whose face had turned sad, and they all smiled at him kindly.

Isn’t this an example?
"After all, it's because we don't have the ability."

Yamamoto Takeshi let out a long breath, and in that breath, there was a sense of insight into the essence of things.

He looked at the tightly closed office door, his sharp eyes filled with genuine awe.

"Think about it, when we were filming 'Wonderful Stories of the World,' did we...really put in much effort?"

"We are just a group of craftsmen with decent skills, replicating a piece of art that has already been designed according to a flawless blueprint."

"All our success and glory are just a reflection of one ten-thousandth of the brilliance of that young man."

These words caused the entire office to fall into a long silence.

Everyone subconsciously turned their eyes to the closed door.

All the pride in those eyes had faded away, and in its place was a kind of admiration for an absolute genius that came from the heart after recognizing the reality.

They knew that as long as the sun in that door was still burning.

These planets that revolve around the sun will never lose their light.

At this moment, the young man whom they regarded as the sun had already completely isolated himself from the noise of the outside world.

In front of him was a huge piece of white paper.

In his hand, he held an ordinary pencil.

His eyes were calm yet fiery, as if they contained a brand new universe about to be born.

On that piece of white paper, there were no storyboards, no lines, only simple drawings full of childishness and imagination.

At the very top of the paper, written in a unique artistic font were a few large, magical words.

——"Super Change" Season 1, planning proposal (final version).

He knew that it was time to add another blazing fire to the television industry that he had already turned upside down, enough to burn away all the old rules.

(End of this chapter)