Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

As soon as the director announced "Cut, live broadcast over," the tense atmosphere in the studio instantly thawed.

The staff began to applaud wildly, and some even whistled.

This is not only because the ratings exploded, but also because Kitahara Iwa showed everyone how a high-and-mighty, morally upright figure was stripped of his hypocritical mask and left battered and bruised.

This exhilarating feeling of having authority stripped away gave these working people, who usually had to bow and scrape to the guests and suffer endless humiliation, an unprecedented sense of catharsis.

Amidst the enthusiastic applause, the two arrogant figures who had been so domineering before the show had completely lost their swagger.

Mrs. Oshima, her face ashen, shoved aside the staff member who tried to help disassemble the microphone.

Her once-proud elegance vanished; she simply lowered her head, covered half her face with a handkerchief, and fled hastily into the shadows of the lounge with the help of her assistant.

Meanwhile, the former manager, Fujiwara, was hunched over, not even bothering to pick up his folding fan from the ground. He slunk behind Mrs. Oshima like an old dog with its spine broken, tail between its legs, disappearing into the end of the corridor.

Watching the two figures flee in a disheveled state, Kume Hiroshi chuckled contemptuously.

He then quickly caught up with Kitahara Iwa, who was about to leave, while removing his headset.

"Kitahara-san! Please wait!"

Japan's top news anchor had an undisguised flush of excitement on his face.

He patted Kitahara Iwa on the shoulder, his tone warm and familiar, as if speaking to a comrade-in-arms: "That was amazing! Absolutely amazing! Mrs. Oshima's face just now... haha, in my twenty years as a news anchor, I've never felt so exhilarated!"

Kume Hiroshi glanced at his watch and warmly invited, "It's only eleven o'clock. If you don't mind, I've got a bottle of good wine at a members-only bar in Ginza."

"There's also a fantastic high-end sushi restaurant where the owner specially reserved the best tuna belly for me."

At this point, Kume Hiroshi winked and invited Kitahara Iwao, "Tonight it's my treat, let's celebrate this victory properly, how about it?"

As Kume Hiroshi finished speaking, the surrounding staff members all cast envious glances at him.

Being personally invited by Hiroshi Kume to drink in Ginza is a great honor in the Japanese media industry, signifying that you have truly entered the top circle of resources.

However, Kitahara Iwa stopped and turned to look at Kume Hiroshi.

"Kume-san, thank you for the invitation."

Kitahara Iwa's face showed a hint of apology, but his eyes were firm as he said, "However, I'm sorry. I already have plans for tonight."

"A date?"

Kume Hiroshi paused for a moment, then continued, "Was this a celebration party arranged by your company president? I can call your president..."

"No."

Kitahara Iwa shook his head, a gentle smile curving his lips. "It's a friend. She just got her paycheck and said she'd treat me to a nice meal in Roppongi."

"If I don't go, I'm afraid she'll cry."

Kume Hiroshi was a shrewd man, and upon seeing Kitahara Iwa's expression, he instantly understood.

Then he smiled meaningfully, patted Kitahara Iwa on the back, and said, "I see. Compared to the sushi in Ginza, the promise over there is indeed more important."

"Go ahead, Kitahara-kun. Don't keep the lady waiting."

Roppongi, back alley.

Leaving the brightly lit television station, Kitahara Iwa turned into a small alley deep in Roppongi.

There are no neon lights of upscale clubs here, only izakayas with red lanterns and small restaurants filled with the smell of cooking oil.

Kitahara Iwa stopped in front of an old-fashioned barbecue restaurant called Daisho.

Before you even step inside, the strong aroma of grilled meat wafts over you, a blend of charcoal and beer.

Kitahara Iwa pushed open the somewhat greasy sliding door.

Welcome!

Amidst the noisy, swirling smoke, Kitahara Iwa spotted a figure in the corner at a glance.

Sachiko Kamachi was wearing a baseball cap pulled low and a pair of rather comical large black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose.

This is a disguise she made to avoid being recognized, even though she isn't that famous yet.

At this moment, Sachiko Kamachi was staring blankly at a plate of raw meat in front of her, her hands cupping her face, looking both anxious and expectant.

"Sachiko."

Kitahara Iwa walked over and sat down opposite her.

Upon hearing the familiar voice, Sachiko Kamachi abruptly raised her head.

In that instant, the large eyes hidden behind the thick-rimmed glasses seemed to be lit up, bursting forth with brilliance.

"Ah! Kitahara-kun!"

She was so excited that she tried to get up to greet them, but her movement was too big, and her elbow almost knocked the sauce bottle off the corner of the table.

After a flurry of activity as she was helped up, she scratched her head sheepishly and chuckled sheepishly, "You...you're finally here! I thought you were surrounded by reporters at the TV station and couldn't get out!"

Then, Sachiko Kamachi looked Kitahara Iwa up and down, as if to make sure he wasn't missing a piece of flesh, before lowering her voice and saying with adoration, "I saw him on the TV in the store just now! He's so handsome!"

"And that PTA lady's face turned green! Especially that last line... paper-thin garbage! It was so satisfying!"

Looking at the girl dancing and gesturing in front of him, Kitahara Iwa felt all the anger he had accumulated in the studio vanish instantly.

"Yes, we won."

Kitahara Iwa unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, let out a long sigh, and said, "But right now, I'm so hungry I could eat a whole cow."

"No problem! Leave it to me!"

Sachiko Kamachi patted her chest proudly and took an envelope out of her bag.

This is the salary she just received today as a karaoke model. It's not much, but it's a huge sum for her.

"Boss! Two more servings of premium diaphragm meat! And two large draft beers!"

"Okay!"

Soon, the sizzling charcoal stove was brought out.

Sachiko Kamachi clumsily used tongs to place the marinated diaphragm meat slices one by one onto the grill rack.

It's sizzling!

Oil dripped onto the charcoal fire, sending up an enticing plume of white smoke.

"Kitahara-kun, this meat is absolutely delicious! The shop is a bit run-down, but the meat is incredibly fresh!"

While meticulously flipping the meat to prevent it from burning, Sachiko Kamachi chattered on and on as if it were the finest dish in the world.

Looking at her face, which was flushed from the smoke, Kitahara Iwa smiled.

He remembered Kume Hiroshi mentioning the high-class sushi in Ginza.

That's the taste of success.

But at this moment, looking at the few sizzling, oily slices of cheap beef in front of him, and at this girl who hadn't yet become Izumi Sakai, but was just a small-time model struggling in Tokyo for her dreams, Kitahara Iwa felt that this was the taste he wanted most right now.

"Alright! Eat quickly! Be careful, it's hot!"

Sachiko Kamachi picked up a perfectly grilled piece of diaphragm meat and placed it in Kitahara Iwao's bowl, her eyes sparkling with anticipation for his opinion.

Kitahara Iwa picked up a piece of meat and put it in his mouth.

The meat juices were overflowing, and the aroma of charcoal filled the mouth.

"How is it?"

Sachiko Kamachi asked nervously.

Kitahara Iwa looked at her, nodded seriously, and replied, "Yes. It tastes even better than I expected."

"This is the best dinner I've had in Tokyo."

Upon hearing this, Sachiko Kamachi squinted her eyes happily and revealed her signature warm and healing smile.

"Of course! It's on me!"

Then, Sachiko Kamachi raised her heavy beer mug and clinked it against Iwao Kitahara's, saying, "Cheers! To... to defeat those annoying adults!"

"Cheers."

Two glasses clinked crisply in the lively little shop.