I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

Chapter 31 Good News
The next day, at the Tokyo TV production headquarters building.

On Thursday morning, sunlight filtered through the huge glass curtain wall, illuminating the corridor, like laying a silent carpet for a belated coronation ceremony.

The air was no longer filled with the stagnant, iron-like oppression of the past few days, but instead was filled with a strange undercurrent of curiosity and awe.

In Suzuki's classroom, the door that was always closed was open for the first time today.

There was neither the dead silence nor the bustle of yesterday, but a deeper heat and calmness, like the heat and calmness emitted by the lava after a volcanic eruption while it is still cooling down.

When Hashimoto Ichiro walked in with the report, his steps were light and floating.

He felt like he was not walking on a cold floor, but on a cloud called "happiness".

He didn't say anything, but just placed the thin piece of paper, which seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, gently in the middle of the table, as if he was placing a rare treasure.

"Late-night animation "Anzhiju", fifth episode rating: 3.51%."

“The ratings are excellent!”

3.51%.

Another new record.

The office was quiet for a moment, and then the ecstasy that had been suppressed in everyone's chest and fermented overnight finally found an outlet.

This time, there were no hugs, no tears.

Nancun Xing simply picked up a can of leftover, long-deficient Coke on the table, drank it down, and then let out a long sigh of extreme satisfaction.

Chang Gulu walked to the window and looked at the pedestrians downstairs who were as small as ants. For the first time, he felt that he was also a person worthy of admiration in this huge city.

Beichuan Yao sat at his seat, typing the number 3.51% countless times on a word processor, then deleted it all, just smiling foolishly.

The first taste of victory is like strong liquor, a kind of ecstasy. The second taste becomes an aged wine, a kind of intoxication.

The door of the classroom was not closed, so the aroma of the aged wine inevitably drifted out, attracting countless visitors who came for the scent.

"Section Chief Suzuki, congratulations! 3.51%! You are going to make history!" The director of the classroom next door, a middle-aged man who usually looks down on others, now has a warm smile on his face, and in his hands are two cups of hot coffee he just bought from the vending machine.

"No, no, it's just young people fooling around." Suzuki Seidou said modestly, but the wrinkles on his old face were brighter than blooming chrysanthemums.

"Suzuki-senpai, that's really not fair!" Another, less experienced director came over and said half-jokingly, half-seriously, "We all went to see 'Paper' last night. It's every office worker's nightmare! Our female assistant in the classroom came in this morning and said she'd never dare use the copy machine alone again! You have to give us some compensation for the damages!"

"Hahaha, easy to say, easy to say!"

For a moment, the small Suzuki classroom became the liveliest place on the entire floor.

There was an endless stream of people coming to congratulate, to learn from others, or simply to watch the fun.

They walked around Nancun Xing and Changgu Road, inquiring about the details of the creation, and their words were full of amazement and curiosity about this "Anzhiju type" creative technique.

"Actually...actually, we didn't do anything." Nancun Xing, surrounded by a group of seniors, was somewhat flattered, his face flushed, but he still straightened his back and said with great pride, "All the ideas, all the storyboards, all the core concepts were completed by Mr. Nohara alone! We just put what he had in his mind on paper."

"Teacher Nohara?" Everyone was stunned.

"He's the genius cartoonist who drew Yu Yu Hakusho!" Hase Jizo added proudly.

A stone stirred up a thousand waves.

The gazes of the crowd toward that corner grew increasingly complex. There, Hiroshi Nohara sat quietly, seemingly oblivious to the surrounding commotion.

There was no drawing or information in front of him, only a cup of tea. The steam curled up, making his face a little blurry and even more unfathomable.

He didn't greet anyone, but just nodded to Suzuki Seito in the middle of all the noise, then stood up and walked into the independent office next door that had been vacant and used as a storage room, and closed the door gently.

Everyone looked at each other in bewilderment, a kind of awe that came unconsciously when facing a strong person.

He didn't want to chat with these people.

I still have to rush to finish the comics!

Nohara Hiroshi spread the drawing he brought from home on the table, picked up the brush that had long been in tune with his heart, and dipped it in ink.

The noise and glory outside the window seemed to be isolated from him.

Things were already on track at the TV station, the ball was already rolling, and he no longer needed to worry about it. He was like a skilled chess player, laying out a winning strategy before calmly turning to another, more expansive game.

The tip of the pen touched the paper, making a slight rustling sound.

That was Urameshi Onsuke's spirit pill gathering strength, Kurama's rose quietly blooming, and Hiei's Evil King Flame Killing Black Dragon Wave roaring to tear the world apart.

He knew that the success of "Anzhiju" was only the first step in his journey to gain a foothold in this world. It would bring him fame, status, and the qualification to have equal dialogue with great figures like Ming Rihai.

But this is not enough.

What he wants is real power that is not dependent on anyone and can control his own destiny.

And "Yu Yu Hakusho", a manga that was praised as a "genius work" in the previous life, is another sharper sword in his hand.

……

Time passed with the rustling sound of the pen tip, and the night of Tokyo fell again.

Friday morning, 12:20.

【Anzhiju·different level】

This time, the story takes place in a brightly lit department store.

A young father, his wife, and young son are choosing birthday gifts. The scene is warm and everyday, filled with the slightly exhausted happiness that is unique to urban families.

However, a call from his boss broke the peace, and his father had to rush back to the company to deal with an urgent matter.

The crying of the child and the look in his wife's eyes—a calm look yet with a hint of cold resentment, like a soft knife, pierced the father to the point of shame.

He apologized awkwardly, retreated hastily, and fled into an elevator that happened to open.

"Hey, someone can leave me alone for a moment..." He muttered to himself irritably in the small space.

The elevator was quiet, and he was the only one there.

Then, a cold, emotionless voice, as if coming from deep within the machine, sounded faintly.

"clear."

(End of this chapter)