My Name is Hiroshi Nohara, Star of Neon Film and Television! Chapter 19: Midnight Diner

Nohara Hiroshi's words were like a shot of adrenaline injected into the heart of everyone in the Suzuki Section. That despair that almost crushed people was forcefully torn open by the powerful self-confidence radiating from his body, letting in the light.

Yes, they hadn't lost yet.

What they held in their hands was an unprecedented sharp blade nad "Yamishibai". Its sharp edge needed ti to fernt and word-of-mouth to polish.

"I... I'll go buy coffee!" Kitagawa Yao abruptly stood up and forcefully wiped the corners of her reddened eyes with the back of her hand, a strong smile blooming on her face once again. "Everyone, perk up your spirits! We still have the work for the second episode to prepare today!"

"That's right! We can't let Nohara-kun charge forward alone at the front!" Haseji Kakeru also slapped the table, as if wanting to smash all the previous dejection to pieces.

The stifling air in the office was swept clean, replaced once again by a passionate fervor of breaking the cauldrons and sinking the boats.

Looking at this group of young people who had pulled themselves together again, and then glancing at Nohara Hiroshi standing in the center of the crowd with an expression forever as calm as water, Suzuki Kiyoto had mixed feelings in his heart. He knew that this young man had already beco the true soul and pillar of the entire section.

Nohara Hiroshi nodded at the crowd, said no more, turned, and left the office.

What he needed to do was already done.

Next, he would leave it to ti, leave it to those 1.75% of viewers.

He believed that those who were gripped by the terror of "Yamishibai" late at night would absolutely not remain silent.

After all, this was a result verified in his past life!

...

1:00 AM, Shinjuku.

The hustle and bustle of feasting and revelry gradually faded away. Only late-returning pedestrians and the midnight shops still open for business remained, preserving the last trace of warmth for this sleepless city.

Mizukami Sho's Midnight Diner was exactly the warst spot within this trace of warmth.

The small eatery wasn't large; its L-shaped bar counter could barely seat about ten people.

Standing behind the bar, Mizukami Sho silently wiped a freshly washed white porcelain bowl.

He was a man of few words, in his early thirties, with delicate and handso features. He always wore a washed-out white apron. His movents were neither hurried nor slow, carrying a calming tranquility.

At this mont, six or seven custors still remained in the shop.

"Boss, another large mug of draft beer." A middle-aged man wearing a suit with a crookedly pulled tie slumped on the bar counter, waving his hand with a face full of drunkenness.

He was an employee at a nearby ad company nad Tanaka. He visited almost three or four tis a week.

"Mr. Tanaka, drink a bit less, you still have to go to work tomorrow." Sitting next to him was a young woman with exquisite makeup nad Akemi. She worked at a bar not far away and had just gotten off work.

She picked up a piece of tamagoyaki with her chopsticks and ate it in small bites. Her posture was elegant, sowhat out of place with the surrounding environnt, yet strangely blending in.

"Work? What work!" Tanaka abruptly lifted his head, his bloodshot eyes filled with indignation. "That damn guy changed my proposal seventeen tis! Seventeen tis! And in the end, he actually used the first draft! I really wanted to smash that stack of waste paper onto his face!"

While cursing, he took a large gulp of the beer Mizukami Sho handed over, then heavily smashed the beer glass onto the table, producing a muffled "thump."

No one felt it was strange. In the Midnight Diner, this kind of complaint played out every day.

To alleviate this oppressive atmosphere, Akemi cast her gaze toward the old television set hanging in the corner of the wall and smiled, changing the topic: "Speaking of which, Mr. Tanaka, weren't you still complaining about that horror program on TV Tokyo last week? You said it looked uglier than your client's face."

"Hah! Don't ntion it!" The mont this was brought up, Tanaka seed to find a new outlet to vent and instantly beca energetic. "That live-action show called sothing like 'Trembling Space'? It's simply garbage! Finding a few third-rate actors, splashing so ketchup, hiding in a closet and doing a few ghost wails, and they think they can scare people? Let tell you, the terror level of that thing isn't even as much as my Departnt Manager's life-claiming face I saw this morning!"

His words drew a burst of loud laughter.

At the other end of the bar, a young man wearing glasses who looked like a university student also pushed up his glasses and chid in, "It's indeed very ugly to watch, with no originality at all. The week before last, I stayed up late rushing to finish a paper and watched an episode. It was a story about an abandoned hospital. In the end, that 'earth-bound spirit' hadn't even completely torn off the dry cleaner's tag from its white gown. It was too imrsion-breaking."

"Exactly, exactly, it's not scary at all. Might as well broadcast an animation earlier," Akemi also teased with a charming smile.

Mizukami Sho listened quietly, the corners of his lips also curling up slightly.

He stayed open until 4:00 AM. This television set was his silent companion. He had watched almost every single episode of TV Tokyo's late-night slot without missing one. The custors were right; that 'Trembling Space' was indeed shoddily made to the point of making one's hair stand on end.

Right at this mont, the television screen suddenly flickered, and the image turned into a burst of noisy static snowflakes.

"Oh? Is it broken?" Tanaka pointed at the television with drunken eyes.

Mizukami Sho walked over, gently patted the top of that old television set twice, then turned a dial that had sowhat poor contact.

The static snowflakes disappeared, and the image beca clear again.

It was precisely the TV Tokyo channel.

"Tch, it's that garbage program again." Seeing the TV Tokyo logo, Tanaka couldn't help but curl his lips in disdain, preparing to continue drinking.

But the sound coming from the television made everyone blank out.

It wasn't the exaggerated, cheap sound effects in 'Trembling Space', but a distant and eerie childlike singing voice, accompanied by the "clack, clack, clack" knocking sound of a small drum.

A man wearing a yellow mask with a bizarre smiley face drawn on it appeared next to an old-fashioned bicycle. On the back seat of the bicycle was a small wooden stage.

"Step right up, don't walk on by, it's ti for Yamishibai..."

The voice coming from under the mask was hoarse, flat, and devoid of a trace of emotion, yet it was like an ice-cold hand silently stroking the back of everyone's necks.

"Hm?" Akemi let out a sound of surprise and doubt. "Changed programs?"

"Hah! It must be because that 'Trembling Space' was too garbage and the viewership ratings plumted, so it got axed!" Tanaka laughed gloatingly. "Serves them right! This is what you get for not making programs properly!"

The young man who looked like a university student also looked curiously at the screen. "What is this? A paper puppet show? The art style is so strange..."

Mizukami Sho also stopped the work in his hands, his gaze falling upon the television.

As professional film and television production personnel, the likes of Iwata Masao saw "crudeness," "shabbiness," and "colors filled in a complete ss."

But as ordinary viewers, what Mizukami Sho and his custors saw was a completely different kind of thing.

That deliberately aged yellowish paper tone with water stains and scratches looked exactly like an old photograph that had been forgotten for a long ti, revealing a musty aura. The characters in the drawing had simple lines and flat coloring, no light and shadow, and no gradients, yet because of this, they appeared exceptionally stiff and eerie.

Especially that man wearing the mask. He was clearly smiling, yet it didn't make people feel the slightest bit of warmth, only a chill that ca from the marrow of the bone.

The Midnight Diner, which had originally been chatting and laughing, unknowingly fell silent.

Everyone's gazes were firmly attracted by that small screen.

The masked man pulled open the curtain of the wooden stage, revealing the first picture.

[Yamishibai · The Talisman Woman]