My Name is Hiroshi Nohara, Star of Neon Film and Television! Chapter 221: Kumamon Silly Short Films! The Impact of Short

Yamada Ichiro reached into his briefcase and produced a shooting schedule, presenting it to Hiroshi.

Then he explained in detail: "Take a look — this was put together overnight. Phase one: three teaser shorts, fild at Mount Aso, Kumamoto Castle, and Central Comrcial Street respectively. Each short thirty seconds — perfect for inserting into the prefectural station's news and variety programs. If you approve, we can assemble the crew this afternoon and start shooting tomorrow morning."

Hiroshi accepted the schedule, fingertip pausing on "Shooting Ti: 9 AM - 11 AM." When he looked up, approval glinted in his eyes: "You've calculated the timing down to the minute — impressive attention to detail. However..."

His tone shifted, and he clapped his hands with sudden decisiveness: "No need to wait until tomorrow. Notify the crew now — assemble in thirty minutes at the Prefectural Office entrance. We'll go straight to Central Comrcial Street for the first teaser. The streets are busy right now — footage will have more life to it."

Both Fujiwara and Yamada froze, surprise written across their faces.

Fujiwara's briefcase nearly slipped from his grip. He clutched it tight, voice uncertain: "Right NOW, Nohara-san? The crew hasn't had ti to prepare, and the shooting equipnt is still in the prefectural station's warehouse — thirty minutes might not be..."

"I already had the station people send the equipnt over — it should arrive any mont."

Yamada was first to recover. He pulled out his phone and pressed several keys rapidly, looking up with amusent: "Before I left this morning, I warned them we might start ahead of schedule and told them to stand by. As for the crew — I'll page them now, have them at the Prefectural Office entrance within thirty minutes. Our Kumamoto youth are efficient!"

Fujiwara watched the two leap into action, equal parts astonished and awed.

His Prefectural Office experience had accustod him to the steady rhythm of "finalize the plan today, prepare tomorrow, execute the day after." This was his first ti witnessing anyone implent "do it NOW" so completely.

"But Nohara-san, we haven't even refined the shooting scripts..." Fujiwara still worried, touching the draft notebook in his pocket — only rough scene ideas jotted down.

Hiroshi waved it off with absolute confidence: "Teaser shorts don't need complex scripts. Just film Kumamon doing silly things on the comrcial street — grabbing the wrong snack at a convenience store, haggling with the taiyaki vendor, helping a grandmother pick up dropped oranges. The more lifelike these scenes, the more relatable for audiences."

He pulled a pen from his pocket and quickly sketched on a sticky note Yamada handed him — Kumamon on tiptoe reaching for snacks on a convenience store shelf, clutching an empty snack bag, while the clerk stifled laughter and handed over a new one. Vivid and entertaining.

"Follow this approach — let the perforr improvise." He handed the sticky note to the two. "What we want is 'unforced' cuteness. An overly rigid script would make it stiff."

Yamada studied the sketch and couldn't help laughing: "Brilliant! Fun AND showcasing Kumamoto's shopping street, PLUS promoting local snacks and taiyaki — three birds with one stone! I'll page the crew right now — have them bring the equipnt ASAP!"

He strode to a nearby public phone booth, fingers flying across the dial, issuing continuous instructions: "Right — have the cara crew bring the wide-angle lens. Central Comrcial Street's alleys are narrow, we need wide-angle to capture both sides of the shops... Lighting team, bring reflectors — it's a bit overcast this morning, we'll need fill light..."

Fujiwara looked at Hiroshi, eyes full of admiration: "Your thinking is SO agile, Nohara-san. If it were , I'd still be agonizing over script details — never imagining we could start this fast."

Hiroshi smiled, glancing at the Prefectural Office clock — 9:15 sharp. "Promotion lives and dies by timing. Right now, locals have minimal expectations for 'Kumamon.' Launching teasers at this mont catches everyone off guard — instant recognition. Once they're familiar, rolling out the full campaign and rchandise will hit even harder."

He added: "Plus, people still have disposable inco and high receptivity to new things. Perfect window to build Kumamon's profile."

Fujiwara nodded repeatedly, suddenly enlightened. He'd been fixated on "executing thodically step by step" while neglecting the macro environnt. Hiroshi's words drove ho how crucial "efficiency" and "timing" were to promotion.

"You're right — I was thinking too narrowly." Fujiwara's voice carried a touch of self-reproach. "I'll notify the manufacturer imdiately — have the mascot suit delivered to the Central Comrcial Street convenience store so it's ready when we arrive."

"No need to go in person — just page them." Hiroshi pointed at the phone booth. "Director Yamada's almost done. Use his phone — saves a trip."

Fujiwara acknowledged and hurried to the booth.

Hiroshi stood in place, gazing up at the clock on the Prefectural Office tower. Sunlight through the glass facade ward his face.

He recalled last night's call with Asumi — the "Tokyo City TV awards scandal." A thought surfaced: perhaps Kumamon's arrival could change not only Kumamoto's fate, but bring a different kind of warmth to Japan's people in these turbulent tis ahead.

Before long, Yamada and Fujiwara returned from their calls, faces bright with excitent.

"The crew says twenty minutes — equipnt's already loaded, heading straight for Central Comrcial Street." Yamada wiped sweat from his temple. "The manufacturer confird too — suit's being delivered to the convenience store now. We can start shooting the mont we arrive."

"Shall we go?" Fujiwara looked at Hiroshi, eyes eager.

Hiroshi nodded, leading the way to the old Toyota: "Let's move. Central Comrcial Street. We aim to finish the first short before noon, then head to Kumamoto Castle for the second this afternoon — maximum progress today."

Yamada and Fujiwara followed, watching Hiroshi's back with surging confidence. They knew this lightning-fast young director might truly bring an entirely different future to Kumamoto through that roly-poly black bear.

The old Toyota pulled out of the Prefectural Office lot, sunlight glinting warmly off its body.

Outside the windows, Kumamoto's streets grew livelier — taiyaki stalls wafting sweetness, uniford students chatting and laughing, Mount Aso in the distance trailing white smoke — a picture of quiet warmth.

Hiroshi gripped the wheel, watching the road ahead, lips curving upward.

There might be obstacles during shooting — but whenever he thought of that endearingly silly Kumamon, of the smiles Kumamoto's people might soday wear, energy surged through him.

This was the aning of his transmigration — using his abilities to bring change to the people around him, to this land.

The car soon reached Central Comrcial Street's entrance. In the distance, several black-jacketed figures bustled around a white van marked "Kumamoto Prefectural TV Station."

"The crew!" Fujiwara pointed at the van, beaming.

Hiroshi parked and opened his door. A man in blue workwear hurried over, cara in hand: "You must be Director Nohara Hiroshi? I'm Ishigami, the caraman — we spoke on the phone yesterday."

"Ishigami-san, thank you for your effort." Hiroshi shook his hand warmly. "Today I'll need you to cover several locations — let's get these shorts wrapped quickly."

"You can count on us!" Ishigami thumped his chest, gesturing at his team. "Lighting and sound crews are already staking out positions by the convenience store. The mascot suit just arrived — the perforr is suiting up right now. We can start imdiately — Scene One: Kumamon grabs the wrong snack at the convenience store."

Hiroshi nodded and followed Ishigami toward the store.

Yamada and Fujiwara hurried alongside, plans in hand, briefing crew mbers on details.

At the convenience store entrance, a perforr in the Kumamon suit stood adjusting the headpiece. The black body was perfectly rotund, the two red-cotton blush patches conspicuous — endearingly silly.

"This suit is even CUTER than the blueprints!" Yamada reached out and squeezed the belly — soft and squishy, like hugging a giant marshmallow.

The perforr turned clumsily, waving a paw. Through the suit's built-in microphone: "Director, I'm ready. We can start."

Hiroshi regarded the Kumamon before him with a satisfied smile: "Good — let's begin. Walk into the convenience store, browse the snack aisle, then grab the wrong items — like mistaking dog food for crackers, or condints for candy. The clerk will remind you. Act embarrassed, put them back, then buy a bag of mandarin-flavored candy. On your way out, trip and fall on your butt."

He paused, adding: "Rember — move slowly, clumsy yet cute. Don't force it — the more natural, the better."

"Got it!" Kumamon nodded and lumbered into the convenience store.

Ishigami instantly raised his cara. Lighting adjusted reflectors. Sound followed with a boom mic, shadowing Kumamon.

Inside, the clerk in blue uniform was already positioned, stifling laughter beside the snack aisle.

Kumamon entered, looked around curiously, then waddled to the snacks, pawing through the shelves.

First: a bag of dog food — examined the package, set it down. Then: a bottle of soy sauce — puzzled pause — hastily returned. Nearby custors burst out laughing.

"THAT'S the feeling!" Hiroshi watched the monitor, eyes bright, whispering to Ishigami: "Capture the custors' laughter too — adds authenticity."

Ishigami nodded, adjusting the angle to include the laughing onlookers.

Then Kumamon finally grabbed a bag of mandarin candy, held it up triumphantly, turned to leave — missed the step — and landed flat on its rear. Candy scattered everywhere.

"Oh no!" The clerk rushed to help.

But Kumamon clumsily scrambled up, scratched its head sheepishly, then squatted to collect the spilled candy.

Every custor was laughing. So pulled out caras, snapping photos of Kumamon.

"CUT!" Hiroshi called, face beaming. "That shot is PERFECT! Fun, natural — exactly what we needed. Ten-minute break, then Scene Two — Kumamon haggles with the taiyaki vendor."

The crew relaxed, setting down equipnt. Yamada and Fujiwara approached, faces aglow.

"Nohara-san, that was INCREDIBLE!" Yamada gushed. "I couldn't stop laughing the entire ti. This Kumamon is just TOO adorable! Once this airs, people will LOVE it."

"Even better than I imagined!" Fujiwara nodded, eyes full of respect. "Your direction is amazing — a few words and the perforr found the perfect feel. I'd have had no idea where to begin."

Hiroshi smiled, accepting water from Ishigami: "Nothing special, really. Just have the perforr beco Kumamon — a slightly clumsy but lovable little bear. Don't overthink — follow instinct."

He glanced at custors surrounding Kumamon for photos: "See? They already like him. That's exactly our goal — Kumamon blending into daily life like a real 'Kumamoto resident,' not a cold promotional tool."

Yamada and Fujiwara followed his gaze. Children clustered around Kumamon, chattering excitedly, asking for photos. Kumamon awkwardly squatted, throwing peace signs alongside them, blush patches gleaming adorably in the sunlight.

"You're right."

Yamada reflected: "Only when people feel Kumamon is 'one of us' can it truly enter their hearts. Eventually, seeing Kumamon will conjure the shopping street, the taiyaki, everything about Kumamoto — THAT'S the best promotion."

Hiroshi nodded, checking the sky — bright sun, gentle breeze. The first short had gone smoothly. Everything ahead would only flow better.

Perhaps soon, that roly-poly black bear would beco Kumamoto's most brilliant calling card — letting all of Japan know that in Kumamoto, an adorable, warm little bear was waiting to be discovered.

After ten minutes, the crew reassembled for Scene Two — Kumamon haggles with the taiyaki vendor.

The vendor was a white-haired old man who'd already heard about Kumamon and volunteered to participate. Spatula in hand, he grinned: "Little bear — my taiyaki is the best in Kumamoto. One hundred yen each, can't go lower."

Kumamon shook its head, holding up paws showing "eighty" — uttering little "mmm-mmm" sounds as if negotiating.

The old man pretended to struggle, brow furrowed: "Eighty yen? Too little! The red bean paste is sourced directly from southern Kumamoto farms — I can barely cover costs!"

Kumamon persisted — pointing at its empty belly, then making pitiful faces. Surrounding custors cracked up.

"Fine, fine — you win." The old man finally "conceded," laughing as he handed over two taiyaki: "Eighty yen this ti. Don't haggle this hard next ti!"

Kumamon gleefully accepted the taiyaki, bowed clumsily, spun to leave — but tripped over its own paws after two steps. Taiyaki hit the ground.

It froze, then squatted dejectedly to retrieve them, blowing off the dust, about to put one in its mouth — when the old man offered a fresh one: "Here — that one's dirty, you can't eat it."

Kumamon looked up with grateful eyes, accepted the new taiyaki, then bounced away happily.

"CUT!" Hiroshi called, deeply satisfied. "Beautiful scene! Funny AND warm — perfectly on target. Ten-minute break, then Scene Three — Kumamon helps a grandmother pick up oranges."

The crew exhaled collectively.

"Nohara-san, your shooting speed is UNREAL!" Yamada checked his watch in amazent. "From first shot to now — barely an hour, and two scenes are done! Normally our prefectural station spends half a day on ONE scene."

Hiroshi sipped water from Ishigami: "Nothing complicated — just nailed Kumamon's 'clumsiness' and 'cuteness,' let the perforr improvise. These are everyday situations — easy for the perforr to inhabit."

He added: "At TV Tokyo, I often used this quick-and-lean shooting style. Saves ti while maintaining quality. Perfect for Kumamon shorts."

After the break, Scene Three began — Kumamon helps a grandmother pick up oranges.

A white-haired grandmother tottered along the stone-paved street carrying oranges when her bag tore — oranges rolling everywhere.

Kumamon happened to pass, saw the scene, and imdiately rushed to help — picking up oranges clumsily, grinning foolishly at the grandmother, making her laugh: "Thank you, little bear."

Kumamon shook its head, handed back the gathered oranges, found her a new bag, and loaded everything in.

The grandmother smiled: "What a good child — have an orange."

Kumamon accepted with a clumsy bow, then watched her walk away before continuing on its way.

"CUT!" Hiroshi called. "All three teasers — DONE! Everyone's worked hard today. We'll stop here — post-production editing goes to Ishigami-san's team."

His voice was calm, yet the entire crew sighed with relief.

Ishigami checked his watch — exactly two hours from first shot. Three teasers completed.

In all his years, he'd never seen such efficient shooting — no repeated takes, no complex choreography. Even the perforr's improvisation felt pre-rehearsed;

every comic beat landed perfectly.

Fujiwara approached the monitor, watching a replay of Kumamon nearly tumbling into the orange crate, brow furrowed slightly.

His overnight shooting schedule still read "Two hours per scene" — and here all three combined took just two hours.

"That's... it?" His voice held uncertainty. He glanced at the schedule, then at Hiroshi. "Each short is barely two minutes — isn't that a bit..."

"Short?" Hiroshi took the schedule, scanning its dense ti annotations, fingertip pausing on "two hours/scene." "Tell , Fujiwara-kun — how long does it take an audience to rember a cartoon character? A ten-minute narrative? Or three laugh-out-loud monts cramd into two minutes?"

Yamada joined them, peeling a mandarin hard candy: "I thought it was great. During the haggling scene, the senbei vendor next door was laughing so hard he cried — asked when this little bear would be on TV."

Fujiwara still wavered. He pulled out a Yamishibai broadcast list from his briefcase, pointing at "eight minutes per episode": "But your Yamishibai episodes were eight minutes each. Won't two-minute shorts feel... incomplete?"

Hiroshi didn't answer directly. Instead, he produced a small notebook, opening to a page of simple storyboards — Kumamon dropping taiyaki, helping with oranges, mistaking soy sauce for a drink — each fra annotated "under 30 seconds."

"Yamishibai tells STORIES — it needs ti to build atmosphere. Kumamon is different."

He pointed at the fras, voice certain: "We don't need audiences to rember a story. Just rember 'a cute little bear that makes mistakes.' Three laughs in two minutes, played three tis — more morable than a ten-minute feature."

He closed the notebook, watching the crew pack up — Ishigami chatting with the lighting technician, both laughing freely.

"See how relaxed they are? This lean approach saves costs AND allows rapid iteration. If audiences love it, we shoot longer episodic content. If not, we adjust quickly."

Yamada snapped his fingers: "I GET it! Like Tokyo street ads — nobody watches a ten-minute comrcial, but a thirty-second spot played repeatedly gets stuck in your head. Treat these shorts as ad inserts — guaranteed impact!"

Fujiwara studied Hiroshi's storyboards, recalled the audience's laughter during shooting, and finally nodded thoughtfully.

He'd been so focused on "making comprehensive content" that he'd forgotten promotion's core was simply "being rembered."

Nohara Hiroshi's thinking was indeed far clearer than his own.

The crew finished packing and gathered around.

The lighting technician Matsushita marveled: "Nohara-san — your pacing is LEGENDARY! When I shoot tourism promos with the prefectural station, one shot takes an entire afternoon. Working with you today, it feels like my brain sped up."

"No kidding!"

Sound engineer Rukawa nodded, recorder still playing raw footage — audience laughter clearly audible: "When Kumamon dropped the oranges, a grandmother said 'this little bear is more adorable than my grandson.' You can't BUY reactions that genuine — so much more natural than staged extras."

Ishigami secured his cara in its case: "I've been working in Osaka TV shooting 'Kansai Chronicles' — the director always insisted on 'pursuing perfection.' One shot, fifteen takes — yet audiences barely rembered a thing. Today I learned: sotis 'imperfection' IS the charm. Kumamon's tumbles are more morable than any choreographed move."

"And your actor direction!" Costu assistant Iwanami chid in, holding a Kumamon paw. "You simply told the perforr 'imagine you're a bear cub learning to walk' — and he INSTANTLY found the groove. So much better than my instructions of 'be cute, be adorable.'"

Hiroshi listened to the praise with a mild smile.

Behind this "ease" lay countless nights in his previous life scrolling through Kumamon viral clips. The segnts that earned infinite replays were never polished to perfection — they were clumsy, authentic, heart-smile monts.

"This isn't my brilliance."

He plucked a stray black fiber from the suit and blew it away: "Kumamon as a character has its own life force. It doesn't need to sing or dance or preach. It just needs to BE itself — tripping, making silly mistakes, getting ecstatic over a single taiyaki. THAT'S what audiences fall in love with."

He paused, watching the taiyaki vendor packing up in the distance, voice warming:

"These shorts aren't 'promotion for promotion's sake.' They're showing everyone Kumamoto's charm — a little bear that haggles, an old man who gives away taiyaki, a stranger who helps pick up oranges. THESE are Kumamoto's most precious things."

The crew fell silent. The recorder still played soft, genuine laughter — warr than any elaborate soundtrack.

Yamada recalled the Governor's words yesterday: "Make Kumamoto feel warm."

So genuine warmth wasn't manufactured by glossy promo reels — it seeped into hearts through these monts of everyday humanity.

"Nohara-san." Fujiwara spoke up with quiet determination: "Tomorrow I'll coordinate with the prefectural station to loop these shorts in their news and 'Kumamoto Living Guide.' I also want to talk to local convenience stores — play the clips on their checkout counter TVs for maximum exposure."

"I'll reach out too!" Ishigami volunteered. "I have friends at Osaka TV — I'll ask them to air these. Maybe Kansai audiences will love Kumamon too!"

"And rchandise!" Tanaka's eyes lit up. "I know plushie manufacturers — we can rush-produce a batch of Kumamon dolls, sell them at the Prefectural souvenir shop. They'll fly off the shelves!"

Everyone chid in, transforming a casual break into a lively brainstorming session.

Hiroshi watched the light in their eyes and felt deeply grounded. Sotis change doesn't require earth-shaking plans — just an adorable character, a group of dedicated people, and a genuine love for ho.

Sunset gradually sank, painting Central Comrcial Street's stone pavent warm gold.

Hiroshi watched the crew still deep in animated discussion, and an idea struck.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Asumi — wanting to propose adding a "Kumamon Hocoming" segnt to Kasou Taishou, letting Kumamoto natives in Tokyo see their hotown's charm while introducing all of Tokyo to this adorable bear and its warm people.

The instant the call connected, Hiroshi looked at the gradually illuminating street lamps and the crew's energized silhouettes, and his lips curved.

He knew Kumamon's story had barely begun. And this adorable little bear, carrying Kumamoto's warmth, would eventually find its way into countless hearts.

...

The car pulled away from Central Comrcial Street, sunlight glinting warmly off its body.

Outside, Kumamoto's streets grew quiet. The taiyaki stall had closed, the uniford students had gone ho. In the distance, Mount Aso trailed white smoke — a picture of peaceful warmth.

Hiroshi gripped the wheel, watching the road ahead, smiling. He knew: though Kumamon's campaign had only just begun, as long as they persevered, this adorable bear would bring Kumamoto an entirely different future.

Back at the Prefectural Office, he said goodbye to Yamada and Fujiwara, then drove to the Koyama house.

Walking through the front door, he found Misae in the living room, drawing Kumamon on a sheet of paper.

"Hiroshi, you're back!" She jumped up, thrusting the paper at him. "Look — my Kumamon! Is it cute?"

Hiroshi took it — a roly-poly black bear with prominent blush patches, holding a taiyaki, endearingly silly.

"Very cute!" He smiled. "Even better than mine."

Misae's cheeks pinked. She whispered: "I just copied your design and added my own touches. How did the shooting go? Are the shorts done?"

Hiroshi sat beside her and recounted the day — Kumamon grabbing the wrong snack, haggling for taiyaki, helping the grandmother with oranges.

Misae's eyes sparkled: "That sounds SO fun! I can't WAIT to see them! When will they be on TV?"

"Soon — editing finishes tomorrow, should air on the prefectural station the day after." He stroked her hair gently. "I'll watch with you."

Misae nodded eagerly, eyes shining: "Yes! I'll tell the comic club girls to watch too."

As they talked, Takasae erged from the kitchen with fresh dorayaki: "Have so — still warm. Your favorite red bean filling."

They thanked her and dug in. The crisp shells and smooth sweet filling tasted exactly like his mories.

Over snacks, Hiroshi told Takasae about the day's shoot and Kumamon's promotional plans.

Takasae nodded warmly: "Hiroshi, you're truly remarkable. Doing so much for Kumamoto — we're all proud of you."

"Too kind, Auntie. Just doing what needs doing. Making Kumamoto better — that's what makes happy."

Then Yoshiharu returned, newspaper in hand, face excited: "Hiroshi! Today's Yomiuri Shimbun covers your Seven Samurai AND ntions your Kumamoto promotion work!"

The headline read: "Seven Samurai Blockbuster — Director Nohara Hiroshi Helps Kumamoto Promotion Campaign."

"Amazing!" Misae bead proudly. "Now all of Japan knows you're helping Kumamoto. Kumamon will DEFINITELY go viral!"

Hiroshi gazed at the paper, feeling moved. This was only the beginning — much remained — but with these people behind him, he was confident.

That evening, in his studio, pencil scratching paper, Hiroshi designed new Kumamon outfits based on viral clips from his previous life — a red kimono, a yellow hat — making the character even more lovable.

The next morning, Ishigami called: editing was finished. Hiroshi drove to the station.

Inside the editing suite, Ishigami and several editors clustered around a monitor, watching the completed shorts.

"They look even BETTER than expected!" Ishigami pulled Hiroshi to the screen.

Short One played: Kumamon bumbling through the convenience store — dog food, soy sauce, custors roaring — then the triumphant candy grab, the tumble, the scattered sweets.

"Excellent editing!" Hiroshi approved. "Kumamon's charm and clumsiness co through perfectly."

"We added upbeat background music too," Ishigami grinned.

Shorts Two and Three followed — the taiyaki haggle, the orange rescue — each earning Hiroshi's warm approval.

"All three are fantastic. Start airing tomorrow — loop them frequently across the prefectural station."

Ishigami confird: "Already arranged with broadcasting — morning news, midday variety, evening drama slots. All covered."

Hiroshi thanked the team, then drove ho — finding Misae and Musae in the living room playing with handmade Kumamon dolls.

"Look what we made!" Misae presented their creations — black fabric, stitched red blush — adorably clumsy.

"Wonderful!" Hiroshi laughed. "Even better than store-bought."

Musae chid in: "I want to make MORE and sell them at school — so everyone loves Kumamon!"

Over dinner, Yoshiharu asked: "Think it'll catch fire?"

"Absolutely." Hiroshi set down his chopsticks. "Fun, cute, and with heavy airti rotation — recognition builds fast. Then rchandise — plushies, keychains, T-shirts — they'll sell brilliantly."

The following morning, Misae's excited shout woke him: "Hiroshi! Kumamon is on TV!"

In the living room, the convenience store short played onscreen — Kumamon's stumbling antics drawing laughter from the entire household.

"SO cute!" Misae bounced. "I already heard the neighbors praising it!"

Hiroshi watched, smiling. Kumamon's first step had landed successfully.

Over the following days, the shorts aired on loop — news, variety, drama — and recognition soared.

People spotted Kumamon plushies in convenience stores and bought them on impulse. Restaurants put up Kumamon posters and launched limited-edition nus. On the streets, tourists flocked to the costud Kumamon for photos.

The Prefectural Office phone lines were flooded — callers demanding to know where to buy Kumamon rchandise, when more shorts would air.

Yamada and Fujiwara watched the wave build, eyes alight. Kumamon had caught fire — Kumamoto's "living billboard."

Hiroshi observed it all with quiet satisfaction. There was still a long road ahead — but persistence would ensure this adorable bear kept bringing Kumamoto new surprises.

That afternoon, a call ca from Tokyo — but not from Asumi.

It was Executive Deputy Director Takada Toshihide himself.

"Executive Deputy Director Takada." Hiroshi answered — and heard Takada's excited voice on the other end.

...