My Name is Hiroshi Nohara, Star of Neon Film and Television! Chapter 51: Myth

For Nohara Hiroshi, this truly was just a beginning.

Tuesday night, when Episode 3 "Inside" and Episode 4 "Wall Woman" of "Yamishibai" were broadcasted, that curve representing viewership ratings broke free from gravity's pull like a giant dragon, lifting its head towards the sky in an almost completely unreasonable posture!

Wednesday early morning, viewership rating 5.54%.

Thursday early morning, viewership rating 5.98%.

Friday early morning, viewership rating 6.44%.

Saturday early morning, viewership rating 6.87%!

Numbers, at this mont, seemingly lost their original icy aning.

It was no longer data.

But rather war drums, a bugle call.

It was a song of triumph declaring that an old era was being unrcifully crushed, and a new king was slowly rising!

The entire TV Tokyo Production Bureau lost its voice over this.

Those gazes that previously carried sympathy and pity had now all turned into astonishnt.

Astonishnt further turned into shock.

At the end of the shock, was respect for a powerhouse.

"That Suzuki Section... no, that Nohara Hiroshi, exactly what kind of monster is he?"

"He isn't making ani, he is conducting a large-scale psychological experint on the entire audience of Tokyo!"

"I heard that right now, taxi drivers all over Tokyo are afraid to take orders going to remote places at night, deeply afraid of encountering sothing bad, every single one of them scared to death!"

"Not just taxi drivers, my sister now doesn't dare to work overti at the company anymore. Seeing a bit of sothing bad makes her feel terrified!"

Various discussions flowed quietly in the pantry, in the corridors, in every corner.

The na Nohara Hiroshi, like a mysterious urban legend, along with those ghosts and monsters beneath his pen, beca the most fascinating and also the most shuddering protagonist in the night talks of this city.

...

Finally, Saturday night descended.

This was the final chapter of "Yamishibai" Season 1, and also the final judgnt of this viewership rating war that lasted for two weeks.

The television station, uncharacteristically, arranged an unprecedented consecutive broadcast of three episodes for this late-night slot animation.

When that familiar nursery rhy and drumbeat sounded for the last ti, all of Tokyo seemingly held its breath.

【Gacha Capsule】, 【Farewell】, 【Torntor】.

Three stories, like three poisoned scalpels, precisely and unrcifully dissected the most secretive greed, apathy, and ignorance in human nature.

When the final fra froze, when the two words "The End" floated coldly on the screen, all the audiences guarding in front of the television felt an extre shudder... and emptiness, as if completely hollowed out.

Because they were all terrified.

Because these three episodes were inherently a terrorization of human nature and human hearts; within urban legends, an analysis of human nature and a blow to human hearts!

Therefore, as long as any audience watched the three episodes on this final day, that brand new experience brought by urban legends.

That brand new terror brought by it.

Would completely crush the terror of previous ancient myths and legends.

Making them shudder from body and mind!

And then...

It was the emptiness of the final episode arriving, having nothing to watch in the future.

Anyone would involuntarily miss "Yamishibai Season 2", anyone would also take any opportunity to watch the rebroadcasts.

Just like how everyone watched the rebroadcasts of "Yamishibai Season 1".

Fascinated by it.

Involuntarily wanting to reminisce about it again!

...

Then, in the early morning of Sunday, when the first ray of sunlight of the new week illuminated this city like a divine revelation, a viewership rating report sufficient to be inscribed in the annals of TV Tokyo was delivered to the desks of every section in the Production Bureau.

"Late-night ani 'Yamishibai', final episode viewership rating: 8.12%!"

"Viewership rating level — Myth!"

Myth.

When this vocabulary appeared on that official report form with an attitude allowing no room for interference, the entire TV Tokyo was completely sensationalized.

This was no longer a simple victory.

This was an obscure intern leading a guerrilla unit regarded by everyone as "old, weak, and disabled soldiers", launching the most thorough and most resonant... subversion against the inherent rules, resources, and authority of the entire industry.

Inside the Suzuki Section, it fell into a peculiar atmosphere of silence.

No one cheered, no one shed tears.

Everyone rely looked foolishly at that number, like a group of mortals looking up at a monunt they built with their own hands yet exceeded their imagination, their hearts filled with awe and pride.

Nohara Hiroshi stood by the window, looking down at the constantly flowing city that remained as small as ants, his gaze calm and profound.

He knew, from today onwards, he was no longer that intern who needed to rely on Suzuki Kiyoto's na to be able to walk within this television station.

He, Nohara Hiroshi, had already used his own na to carve out his own, first profound brand on the power map of this city.

And this, was still rely a beginning.

...

The birth of a myth often isn't accompanied by an earth-shaking loud noise, but rather in countless ordinary early mornings, when sunlight sprinkles upon this gigantic steel forest nad Tokyo from an angle no different from yesterday, people only realize after the fact that the first profound crack has already appeared in certain indestructible orders.

TV Tokyo Production Bureau Headquarters Building.

In this building ordinarily wrapped in efficiency and rules like a precise instrunt, the air today was perated with a scorching anxiety and excitent unique to seemingly being pierced by high-voltage currents.

In the pantry, the monotonous operating sound of the coffee machine was lowered, replaced by whispers.

Those directors whose eyes were ordinarily above the top of their heads, discussing pri ti viewership ratings and tens of millions in production budgets, at this mont, were like a group of inland youths seeing the ocean for the first ti, surrounding a thin report with unbelievable light flashing in their eyes.

"8.12%... I repeatedly confird it three tis. The friends at the Statistics Section told , this number, is not wrong." A Level 2 Director renowned for strictness spoke with a trance-like voice of sleep-talking: "This is no longer the viewership rating for a late-night slot. This... this is declaring war on the pri ti slot."

"More than declaring war."

Another old man from the Planning Departnt pushed his glasses, the gaze behind the lenses profound: "I specially went to watch last night, that consecutive broadcast of the three episodes of the final chapter. Did you notice, it has completely departed from the category of traditional horror films. It is playing with human hearts, deconstructing the audience's psychological comfort zone. That young man nad Nohara Hiroshi, he isn't telling ghost stories, he is using the cheapest cost to give all of us television professionals a masterclass on 'what is creativity'."

These words plunged the surroundings into a deeper silence.

That was a complex emotion mixed with jealousy, awe, and a bit of powerlessness.

They were all elites of this industry. They were accustod to using resources, connections, and money to strictly construct the barriers of their works.

But now, an obscure young man, rely using a pen and a few pieces of paper, easily leaped over all their barriers, planting his own flag on the territory they took the most pride in.

The wind had indeed changed direction.