My Name is Hiroshi Nohara, Star of Neon Film and Television! Chapter 227: Great News for Doraemon! The Ministry of Educat

Three days after the Sakura no Sato engagent eting was settled, Hiroshi sat on the tatami of the Koyama house's second-floor study, three neat stacks of sketch pads spread before him.

Morning light filtered through the washi-paper sliding window, casting fine speckles on the cream-toned manuscript paper — illuminating Yusuke Urashi's black hair from YuYu Hakusho, Doraemon's roly-poly blue belly, and the Midnight Diner owner's callused hands with vivid clarity.

His HB pencil pressed firmly, laying down the signature "Nohara Hiroshi" in the final page's corner. The scratching stopped.

He leaned back against the cushion, rubbing his stiff neck, eyes scanning the three stacks — fifteen chapters each, precise storyboards, dialogue bubbles neat as typeset, even the golden sheen on Midnight Diner's tamagoyaki rendered with perfectly blended pale-orange marker.

"Done at last." He sipped green tea from a celadon cup — the cool ceramic against his lips, the sweet bitterness washing away a morning's fatigue.

His pocket buzzed. He pulled out his phone — the screen showed a familiar number. Tadokoro Masato's office line at Shueisha.

"Hello, Tadokoro-san?"

"Hiroshi-san! You FINALLY answered!"

Tadokoro's excited voice ca through, a printer chattering in the background. "I paged you twice this morning with no response — thought you might be busy! How's your health? I heard you went to Kumamoto for a relative's engagent — went smoothly?"

Hiroshi smiled at his editor's fastidious concern — Tadokoro had been with him since the YuYu Hakusho serialization, the type who always asked about health before business.

"I'm fine. I was helping with Masae's engagent preparations — left my pager in the living room. Sorry to worry you."

He touched the manuscripts. "Sounds like YOU'RE busier than last ti — is Shueisha pushing deadlines?"

"You could say that!"

Tadokoro sighed with underlying enthusiasm: "Doraemon's monthly serialization in Shogakukan's CoroCoro — reader mail piles half a desk high every issue, the printer keeps demanding reprints. And Midnight Diner — last week's tankōbon sold over fifty thousand copies in week one! Editor-in-Chief Torishima praised you at yesterday's eting, said you've 'brought everyday warmth to life.'"

Then, shifting to business: "Actually, Hiroshi-san — about the follow-up manuscripts for all three series. When can you deliver? The printer wants to schedule ahead. The Manga Association keeps asking too — they want your work for an 'Annual Outstanding Manga' exhibition."

Hiroshi glanced at the three stacks: "All done. Fifteen chapters each, with storyboard notes and coloring references. I'll bring the originals to Shueisha when I return to Tokyo next week. No rush on scheduling."

"Fifteen chapters... all... DONE?"

Tadokoro's voice cracked higher. Hiroshi pictured his wide-eyed face — YuYu Hakusho's complex fight choreography, Doraemon's intricate gadget designs, Midnight Diner's painstaking Tokyo alley atmospherics — three simultaneous series at this quality would take any other mangaka two months minimum. Hiroshi had done it in under two weeks.

"You DON'T have to rush like this!"

Tadokoro's voice mixed admiration with worry: "Your health matters! A mangaka was just hospitalized for two days from overwork. Torishima specifically told — if you submit too fast, I MUST urge you to rest. Your storytelling never misses a beat — even two weeks late, readers and the Association would understand!"

Warmth stirred in Hiroshi. He gazed out the window — cherry buds in the Koyama garden were swelling, ready to bloom. He recalled binge-reading these very manga in his previous life — the plots engraved in mory like pre-written scripts, needing no laborious invention.

"I know, Tadokoro-san. The storylines were clear in my head — I drew during dayti only, no all-nighters. I'm perfectly fine."

What he didn't say: every panel, every line of dialogue was crystal-clear from past-life mory. He was rely "copying" those mories onto paper, stroke by stroke.

Silence, then Tadokoro's voice, heavy with emotion: "You're the most talented creator I've ever t — directing films, writing scripts, producing variety shows, AND simultaneously serializing three hit manga. Honestly, volunteering to be your editor was the best decision of my career."

"You flatter . Without Shueisha's typesetting and promotion, my manga wouldn't reach readers. We built this together."

"TOO humble!"

Then Tadokoro's excitent surged: "Oh! I watched the Kumamoto station's news this morning — that 'Kumamon' sweeping the prefecture is YOUR design? That wobbly little bear in the red vest — SO adorable! My daughter's been begging for a Kumamon plushie!"

Hiroshi rembered Musae's joyful squealing with her plushie at Sakura no Sato: "Yes, it's mine. Beyond the shorts, I'm planning a Kumamon manga — Misae's Future Comic Club will draw it. Their young artists excel at cute styles. For publishing, I'll need your and Shueisha's help."

"Ay honor!"

Tadokoro's voice turned almost reverent: "Collaborating with Future Comic Club would be a privilege! Misae-san's coloring work on Midnight Diner was exceptional — Torishima even asked if her artists could do illustrations for other publications. I'll contact Misae-san tomorrow to coordinate layout and printing details!"

Hiroshi sipped his tea: "No rush. When I'm back in Tokyo next week, Misae can et you in person — she's recruiting new artists, seventeen on staff now, and needs mature publishing resources."

They discussed the Kumamon manga's direction — slice-of-life cody or adventure elents? Supporting characters, like Kumamon's "friends"?

Hiroshi suggested having Kumamon "visit" Kumamoto's landmarks — maintaining cuteness while promoting the prefecture's culture. Tadokoro called it "both fun and aningful."

Ten minutes in, Tadokoro hesitated: "Hiroshi-san... there's sothing else. I'm not sure if I should ntion it..."

"What is it? Publishing issues?"

"No, no! It's about Doraemon... The All-Japan Manga Association sent Shueisha a letter yesterday — they want to partner with the Science and Technology Association to adapt Doraemon into an ani for all of Japan's elentary students. But it's just preliminary — nothing confird — so I hadn't dared tell you..."

Hiroshi's pulse quickened. He rembered the ani's sensational launch in his previous life — the blue robot cat becoming a generational icon. In 1991, without internet, with TV as the primary entertainnt, a Doraemon ani would beco an absolute phenonon.

"That's great news."

"The story was always perfect for children. An ani would reach even more elentary students. Does the Science Association have a suitable production team?"

"Not yet..." Tadokoro sighed. "The Manga and Science Associations have only had preliminary talks. The Science Association says Doraemon's gadget designs are too complex — the Anywhere Door, the Ti Machine — requiring high-precision animation. Current studios either lack capability or fear costs... so nothing's settled."

Hiroshi thought of his own Independent Production Departnt — Hashimoto Ichiro's animation team, well-honed from Yamishibai, currently with free capacity. He knew Doraemon's animation style, character voices, everything. His team could guarantee quality and prevent plot "butchering."

"If they're serious, I can help." His voice was calm but carried unshakeable confidence. "My production departnt has a dedicated animation section. Hashimoto-san handled Yamishibai — he knows production workflows inside out. As the original creator, my grasp of characters and story is the most accurate. Our team's adaptation should satisfy audiences."

Stunned silence. Then, trembling with excitent: "You AN it?! With your production departnt, the Doraemon ani is as good as done! I'll report to Torishima first thing tomorrow — with you as creator AND director overseeing it, no one will refuse!"

"Easy, Tadokoro-san. When I'm back in Tokyo next week, we'll et the Association in person. Let's handle the manuscript handoff first."

"Yes! Yes! Whatever you say!"

After hanging up, Hiroshi set his phone down, gazing at the manuscripts. Sunlight fell on the page where Nobita and Doraemon sat eating dorayaki — golden and warm.

"What's making you smile?"

Misae appeared in a lavender house dress, carrying strawberries and warm milk on a wooden tray.

She sat beside him: "Was that Tadokoro-san? Good news about publishing?"

Hiroshi ruffled her hair: "He asked about manuscripts — I said next week. Also — the Manga and Science Associations want to adapt Doraemon into ani. I recomnded our production departnt AND your Future Comic Club for character design and support illustration."

"Doraemon — an ANI?!" Misae's eyes blazed, strawberry forgotten. "With Doraemon and Nobita? I always thought it'd make an adorable ani! If our artists handle character design, they'll be THRILLED!"

She grabbed his arm: "Kobayashi-san just told he LOVES Shizuka from Doraemon — said he'd gladly work overti to design her ani look! And Sato-san — he's obsessed with the gadgets, even drew Anywhere Door concept art!"

Hiroshi smiled at her childlike excitent, handing her a strawberry: "Calm down. When we're back in Tokyo, we'll finalize collaboration details. No rushing — take care with the character designs."

"Mm! I know!"

She bit the strawberry, savoring the sweetness: "Oh — Mom's making your favorite tonkotsu ran and says to co help. Dad wants to teach you the Koyama family's secret broth recipe!"

Hiroshi stood, pulling Misae up: "Perfect — I've been wanting to learn. I could make it for you and the artists back in Tokyo."

She gathered the manuscripts protectively: "These need safekeeping — they could beco ani originals!"

He tucked them neatly into a portfolio and took her hand downstairs. Takasae's chopping sounds drifted up alongside Yoshiharu humming a Kumamoto folk song, tonkotsu aroma mingling with strawberry sweetness.

"Hiroshi." Misae stopped on the stairs. "When the Doraemon ani is ready — can we take Musae to the premiere? She told her favorite gadget is the Bamboo Copter — said if she had one, she'd fly to Tokyo to see ."

He looked into her bright eyes: "Of course. Not just Musae — Uncle, Auntie, and Masae too. When it airs, our whole family will watch Nobita and Doraemon's adventures together in our Tokyo ho."

Misae nestled against him, nodding firmly, cheek against his jacket, feeling his steady heartbeat.

From the kitchen: "Hiroshi! Misae! Co help! The pork bones need blanching first!"

Hand in hand, they hurried to the kitchen. Sunlight poured behind them — 1991 Kumamoto, cherry blossoms about to bloom, their story unfolding toward hope like the ani soon to premiere.

...

Seven AM, Tokyo. Chiyoda Ward's air held lingering morning mist. Train tracks clattered as navy-suited commuters hurried past, so checking pagers.

1991's Tokyo — the very word ant bustle. Even Shueisha headquarters' glass facade glinted with busy energy.

Tadokoro clutched a thick leather folder, forehead damp, striding in forty minutes early. His folder held notes compiled through the night — every detail about Hiroshi's manuscripts and the Doraemon ani adaptation.

This concerned Shueisha's second-half flagship projects. He hadn't even eaten his convenience store onigiri.

He knocked on the walnut door marked "Editor-in-Chief's Office."

"Enter."

Inside, manuscripts and galley proofs towered on the desk. Torishima sat in his black leather chair, red pen circling notes on a Midnight Diner tankōbon.

Black-frad glasses slipped to his nose tip, silver-streaked hair neatly combed. A corner Panasonic TV played Kumamoto's morning news — Kumamon's wobbling silhouette occasionally crossing the screen.

"Good morning, Chief." Tadokoro bowed, placing his folder gently to avoid toppling the coffee cup. "I spoke with Hiroshi-san yesterday — about the three manga manuscripts and Doraemon. I'd like to report in detail."

Torishima looked up, smiling at his tense editor: "Sit. Fresh matcha on the desk — pour yourself so. Good news from Hiroshi-san?"

"The BEST news!"

Tadokoro sat without touching tea, leaning forward: "Hiroshi-san finished fifteen chapters of EACH — YuYu Hakusho, Doraemon, Midnight Diner! Storyboards, dialogue, even coloring reference codes all annotated. He's bringing the originals personally next week from Kumamoto. And he said the remaining fifteen chapters are ALSO done — he'll bring everything at once!"

"Fifteen each? ALL done?"

Torishima's pen clattered onto the desk. He stood, pacing to the window, fingers unconsciously tapping glass.

YuYu Hakusho's fight choreography was the most laborious — every panel's action seamless. Doraemon's gadgets required precision — Ti Machine gears, Anywhere Door patterns. Midnight Diner demanded atmospheric detail — tamagoyaki sheen, miso soup steam. The most senior mangaka would need two months for all three simultaneously.

Hiroshi finished in half a month.

"That efficiency... is absurd."

Torishima turned, surprise fading into a grin: "When we last spoke, he ntioned helping with an engagent ceremony — I expected manuscripts next month at earliest. He didn't waste a single day. Tadokoro — you confird the manuscripts are solid? He didn't cut corners on plot details?"

"Confird — I asked THREE tis!"

Tadokoro flipped open his densely scribed notebook: "Hiroshi-san says every chapter's storyboard is verified, plot continuity intact, and he even added two Easter eggs in Doraemon for the elentary students. He said to call or page him anyti — phone's on twenty-four hours."

Torishima took the notebook, scanning the red-circled notes beside "no plot holes" and "Easter egg design," nodding: "Good. But Tadokoro — when he delivers next week, check EVERY page. Especially Doraemon — many elentary readers now. Character personalities can't drift: Nobita's timidity, Shizuka's warmth, Gian's bluntness, Doraemon's helpfulness — all must align with previous chapters. NO character breaks, NO plot breaks. Clear?"

"Yes sir! I'll take the manuscripts to proofreading with three senior proofers — storyboards, dialogue, even facial expressions verified. Doraemon's bell position must be consistent chapter to chapter;

the Midnight Diner owner's scar angle can't shift. ANY issue, I'll contact Hiroshi-san imdiately. Not a flawed page reaches the printer."

Torishima patted his shoulder: "I trust you. Anything else? You ntioned Doraemon earlier — new developnts?"

"Yes! Hiroshi-san asked about the Doraemon ani adaptation — he knows the Manga Association and Science Association want it pushed to all elentary students. He's VERY interested and offered his production departnt for the project!"

"He volunteered?" Torishima raised his brows, switching the TV to TV Tokyo showing a Tales of the Unusual rerun. "That saves us trouble. Actually, this was already decided — the Ministry of Education sent an official letter requesting 'edutainnt' ani to develop elentary imagination. Doraemon is the top recomnded work. And as you know, the ruling Liberal Public Opinion Party is aligned with TV Tokyo — Hiroshi-san's a TV Tokyo director AND Doraemon's creator. No one above would object."

He held up the Doraemon tankōbon, turning to the dorayaki scene: "Two years ago, Hiroshi-san walked in as a fresh graduate with YuYu Hakusho drafts — I worried he couldn't sustain a long serialization. Two years later: Level 3 Director at TV Tokyo, his own production departnt, each manga more popular than the last — even the Ministry of Education values his work. Life truly is unpredictable."

Tadokoro laughed: "Back then he wore his school uniform, spoke shyly. Now on the phone he sounds like a veteran director. But he's still courteous — asked yesterday if Shueisha's been busy, told not to overwork. Unlike so authors who get famous and start posturing."

"That's exactly why you need to maintain the relationship."

Torishima turned serious: "Hiroshi-san is Shueisha's AND TV Tokyo's future. His works drive our sales;

his TV connections create ani and live-action adaptation opportunities. Give his manuscripts extra attention, satisfy every request. Don't let him feel Shueisha takes talent for granted."

"Yes sir! His pager ssages — ten-minute response guaranteed. Manuscript deliveries — I'll personally et him at the entrance. New manga concepts — imdiate report to you for fastest project approval."

Torishima waved: "Don't be so tense — just treat him normally. He's not the ceremonial type. By the way — see the Kumamon plushie on my desk? My granddaughter insisted I bring it to work. Says the bear is 'SO cute.'"

Tadokoro spotted the palm-sized Kumamon on the desk corner, "Kumamoto" printed on its red vest: "My daughter has one too — sleeps with it nightly, wants to take her to Kumamoto to see the real Kumamon! Oh — Hiroshi-san told those promotional shorts are HIS work."

"Indeed!" Torishima squeezed Kumamon's round ear. "I watch Kumamoto's morning news daily just for the Kumamon clips. The wobbly walk, the occasional tumble — utterly unaffected. More likable than any idol trying too hard. With my decades in publishing, I can tell: a Kumamon manga would be a HIT — especially with elentary students."

Tadokoro pounced: "Hiroshi-san said exactly that! He's already preparing the manuscript — Future Comic Club will draw it. Misae-san — you know her — she colored Midnight Diner, received excellent reader feedback. Hiroshi-san wants Shueisha to publish it and asked to give you advance notice."

"Is THAT so?" Torishima's eyes lit up, plushie forgotten in hand. "WONDERFUL! Kumamon's already huge in Kumamoto. If WE publish the manga, riding the Doraemon ani wave, it could beco this year's 'phenonon manga'! Full collaboration with Future Comic Club — premium layout, printing, promotion. Target: one hundred thousand copies, week one!"

"My thoughts exactly!" Tadokoro leaned in. "I already paged Misae-san — told her Shueisha's eager to collaborate. When she returns to Tokyo, I'll arrange a eting — format, paper stock, rchandise tie-ins like Kumamon stickers and notebooks. They'll sell like wildfire."

Torishima sipped matcha, satisfied: "This is YOUR project. With Hiroshi-san's three manga continuations PLUS the Doraemon ani and Kumamon manga — two major projects — our second-half performance is LOCKED. Compile today's report, have it on my desk by afternoon — I'm briefing the President. Mark Hiroshi-san's delivery date clearly;

I want to et him too, to discuss long-term collaboration."

"Yes sir! Compiling imdiately!"

Tadokoro bowed and strode out, folder clutched tight. Down the corridor — editors debating manuscripts, printers whirring — he touched his pager, recalling Hiroshi's warm voice, and smiled.

He sensed: this partnership would propel Shueisha to new heights, and his own career with it.

In the office, Torishima opened the Doraemon tankōbon to page one — Nobita and Doraemon's first eting — and smiled.

He eyed the Kumamon plushie, calculating: when Hiroshi arrives next week, they MUST discuss long-term exclusivity. Perhaps even lock down his manga rights.

Creators this talented AND industry-savvy didn't co around every day.

Then the phone rang — the old rotary's tallic weight cold against his ear.

"Shueisha Manga Departnt — Torishima speaking."

A low, formal male voice: "Torishima-san, good morning. I'm Sato Takeru, Ministry of Education, Educational Promotion Bureau — also liaison for the All-Japan Manga Association. I'm calling about an important eting invitation."

"Sato-san! Good morning!"

Torishima sat bolt upright — direct Ministry contact was rare. His nerves tightened.

"The eting's the is 'Elentary Student Inspirational Manga and Ani Adaptation Policy Discussion.'"

Sato's voice carried rustling papers: "The Ministry has received extensive feedback from local education committees — too few quality manga for elentary students. We're partnering with the Manga and Science Associations to screen works that fit an 'combining education with entertainnt' profile, prioritizing ani adaptation. Shueisha, as the industry leader, must participate."

Torishima's heart leaped — Doraemon imdiately ca to mind. The Association had been pushing it;

now the Ministry itself was convening. The opportunity was right in front of him.

"Absolutely, Sato-san! Full cooperation! I happen to have just the work — Doraemon — a robot cat and elentary student Nobita. Friendship, courage, 'effort leads to reward' thes. Reader response is phenonal, especially from elentary students — mail fills half a drawer every issue. I'll bring comprehensive materials to the eting!"

"Doraemon — yes, I recall it." Pages turned. "The Manga Association's recomndation list ranks it very high. Torishima-san, do prepare thoroughly — not just plot summary, but reader feedback, teacher evaluations, and ideally several original chapters so committee mbers can see the art and storyboarding firsthand."

Sato's tone softened, the bureaucratic stiffness easing into subtle guidance: "The eting will finalize three to five priority works. The Ministry will provide policy support for their ani adaptation and coordinate TV broadcast slots. Certain works already align well with the Ministry's requirents — the more prepared you are, the smoother things will go. You understand my aning?"

Torishima's mind blazed — Sato's hint was unmistakable. Doraemon was almost certainly already the Ministry's target. A solid presentation at the eting, and selection was virtually guaranteed.

"Perfectly understood! Thank you, Sato-san! I'll have materials compiled today — originals, reader letters, Shogakukan's student popularity surveys — everything to demonstrate the work's strengths!"

"Don't ntion it — this serves elentary education developnt."

Sato returned to formality: "eting: this Friday, ten AM, Ministry building, third floor, Conference Room One. My secretary will fax the agenda and materials checklist to Shueisha's front desk shortly."

"I'll watch for the fax! I'll arrive thirty minutes early Friday. Anything additional — call anyti. I'm available twenty-four hours."

After hanging up, Torishima held the receiver for several seconds until a train whistle snapped him back.

Ministry policy support PLUS TV broadcast resources — once Doraemon's ani was greenlit, Shueisha's sales would jump AND they'd build deeper Ministry ties. Massive for the company's future.

Tadokoro knocked again, returning with compiled materials. Seeing Torishima's broad grin: "What happened? More good news?"

"The BEST! Ministry's Sato-san just called — invited us to Friday's policy discussion on elentary inspirational manga and ani adaptation. I told him we'd highlight Doraemon. He HINTED its profile matches the Ministry's needs perfectly — with thorough preparation, selection probability is extrely high!"

Tadokoro nearly dropped his files: "Direct Ministry invitation? ntioning Doraemon? The ani's basically CONFIRD?"

"Depends on Friday's presentation — but the door is WIDE open."

Torishima retrieved Doraemon reader letters and sales reports from the cabinet: "Three things, NOW: First — compile Doraemon's serialized plot summaries, highlighting elentary-resonant episodes: Nobita helping Shizuka find her lost notebook, Doraemon using gadgets to solve problems. Second — photocopy Shogakukan's student popularity surveys ten tis, select twenty representative reader letters, bind them. Third — borrow the five most impressive Doraemon original chapters from proofreading for Friday's presentation."

"On it!" Tadokoro bolted for the door, then stopped: "Should we tell Hiroshi-san in advance?"

Torishima considered: "Not yet. Wait for Friday's definitive result — if there are changes mid-process, we'd only distract him. Once Doraemon's confird, we'll invite him to discuss ani details — character design, production team coordination. More prudent."

"Agreed!" Tadokoro dashed out.

Torishima reopened the Doraemon tankōbon — Nobita carefully sewing a toy bear's ear while Doraemon held a mini sewing machine, sunlight warming them through the window.

He recalled Sato's words — "certain works already align with the Ministry's requirents."

Indeed. Doraemon had no violent conflict, no complex scheming — only childhood friendship, dreams, and the belief that "never giving up brings hope." THAT was true elentary "inspirational" content.

The corner TV showed Kumamon clumsily helping a grandmother with shopping bags, passersby snapping photos.

Torishima looked at the wobbling bear, then at his Doraemon — sensing that Hiroshi always found the softest spot in people's hearts.

Manga, ani, even a mascot — everything he touched radiated warmth.

He wrote in his notebook: "Friday eting Focus: 1. Doraemon plot highlights. 2. Reader feedback data. 3. Ani feasibility analysis."

Then doodled a small Doraemon head beside it — self-encouragent.

Morning mist had cleared entirely. Sunlight poured through glass onto the tankōbon — the blue robot cat clutching dorayaki, vivid in the light.

Torishima closed the notebook, anticipation building — after Friday's eting, Doraemon would embark on a brand-new journey, and Shueisha would ascend with it.