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Chapter 51: Winter's Dark Horse
Curiosity is a powerful force, and thanks to word-of-mouth buzz, the ratings for Episode Five of Tales of the Unusual climbed yet again. The average time-slot rating reached 9.09%, with peak viewership hitting an impressive 13.6%. But what truly stood out was its market share—a staggering 51.2%. This meant that at midnight, nearly half of all television viewers were tuned into Tales of the Unusual. It wasn’t just dominating; it was obliterating the competition.
In a 24-hour day, occupying half the audience during even one hour was no small feat. For a late-night drama, this achievement bordered on miraculous. Of course, part of the credit went to the lackluster programming in the graveyard slot. Most elite producers, renowned screenwriters, and acclaimed directors avoided these hours, leaving little serious competition.
The show’s position on the popularity charts also saw a modest bump, rising to 21st place out of 25—ranked by the neutral publication Japan Academy Newspaper, which refreshed daily. Though still near the bottom, the paper’s sudden attention signaled growing respect for the series. Known for its academic rigor (and modeled after the Oscars), the newspaper had long been considered authoritative within Japan's creative industries. With each episode delivering high-quality storytelling and minimal flaws, critics found few grounds for complaint. Overwhelmingly positive reviews dominated public discourse.
Morale soared among Murakami Iori’s team as they convened their weekly production meeting. Analyzing the latest ratings report revealed encouraging trends: over five weeks, Tales of the Unusual had cultivated a loyal fanbase. Evidence lay in the first five minutes of viewing data, where numbers remained consistently strong—clear proof that audiences eagerly awaited new episodes.
This was excellent news, affirming their path to success. Still, Murakami Iori’s cautious nature prevailed. She reiterated the importance of maintaining quality, especially to Chihara Rinto, who bore responsibility for the scripts. “Whatever resources you need,” she assured him, “just ask. If we can provide them, we will. If not, we’ll find a way.” Her reasoning was clear: while the first half-season dazzled, any significant drop-off later could spell disaster. Critics would tear them apart if expectations weren’t met.
Chihara Rinto remained unfazed. Drawing from twenty-six years’ worth of standout material condensed into a single season guaranteed consistent excellence. Nevertheless, he earnestly promised Murakami Iori his commitment to upholding standards, partly to ease her anxiety and partly to deflect another enticing offer—a stay at a hot spring inn staffed with traditional bath attendants. Despite the allure, he declined politely.
After the meeting adjourned, filming resumed per schedule. That afternoon called for exterior shots requiring travel to a remote location, followed by nighttime scenes. Fujii Arima opted for minimal gear, but Chihara Rinto chose instead to return to headquarters.
There, Shiraki Keima, the second-generation internet warrior, remained hunched over his keyboard, typing furiously. After two weeks of practice, he’d graduated from hunt-and-peck to touch-typing, now resembling a fledgling coder. So engrossed was he in his work that he failed to notice Chihara Rinto’s approach. His focus never wavered as he typed rapidly, clicked his mouse emphatically, and scrutinized the screen intently.
Curious, Chihara leaned in to observe. Shiraki was embroiled in a heated debate on a rudimentary forum thread—one of many forums Chihara now deemed visually unappealing. The argument spanned over 140 posts, though no expletives had surfaced yet. One user painstakingly dissected perceived inconsistencies in Tales of the Unusual, nitpicking every detail. Shiraki countered passionately, arguing that perfection eluded even documentaries, let alone dramas. Yet the critic refused to relent, instead fixating on semantic loopholes in Shiraki’s responses. By the look of things, Shiraki teetered on the brink of frustration.
Watching this exchange amused Chihara immensely. Every era seemed plagued by such individuals. He patted Shiraki lightly on the shoulder and chuckled, “Tell him to eat more fish!”
Startled, Shiraki finally noticed Chihara’s presence. Hesitating briefly, he typed the suggestion before standing respectfully. “Chihara-sensei, what does that mean?”
“He’s so good at finding faults—he must love seafood!” Chihara quipped, then dismissed the thread entirely. Turning back to business, he asked seriously, “How are online reactions looking?”
While newspapers reflected mainstream media opinions, the internet offered direct insight into audience sentiment. And ultimately, viewers mattered most. Critics could lavish praise or condemn endlessly—it made no difference without viewership. In television, catering to audience preferences reigned supreme.
Shiraki hesitated sheepishly. “I haven’t explored much beyond this… encounter.”
Chihara raised an eyebrow. You spent half the morning arguing? While admittedly idle, surely there were better uses of time. “Don’t waste energy on trolls,” he advised. “We can’t please everyone.”
“Yes, Chihara-sensei. I understand,” Shiraki replied obediently, stepping aside as Chihara began browsing forums himself.
On a popular discussion board, Chihara quickly located threads about Tales of the Unusual. Most posts stemmed from Shiraki’s various aliases, yet engagement levels appeared robust—evidence that users remained largely oblivious to astroturfing efforts. Clicking on the most active thread, Chihara scanned timestamps. Replies clustered between 1 AM and 3 AM, suggesting viewers rushed online immediately after finishing Episode Five. Enthusiasm ran high.
Skipping superficial comments like “Not lying, it’s great!” or “Good, but not THAT good,” Chihara focused on detailed feedback. One comment caught his eye:
> Loved this week’s episode, Future Class Reunion. Switching between high school flashbacks and present-day reunion scenes kept me on edge. Everyone looked middle-aged, hiding secrets—I thought the heroine might die! But the ending was heartwarming. When she spoke those lines and dropped the ring, I cried my eyes out.
>
> Wish I had a boyfriend like Kazushige—someone who’d honor a promise made thirty years ago, even holding a séance to fulfill their wedding vows.
>
> Where can I rent the first four episodes? I live in Setagaya.
Several others echoed similar sentiments, asking where previous episodes could be rented. Chihara nodded thoughtfully. Women formed the backbone of TV audiences, rarely tuning in for late-night shows. Attracting them expanded the viewer base significantly. Moreover, women tended to act collectively—they watched together, shopped together, even visited restrooms in groups. Winning one woman over often meant winning her entire social circle.
This realization sparked inspiration. Perhaps incorporating more heartwarming stories would appeal to female viewers. Continuing his search, Chihara stumbled upon a technical analysis post examining Mountain Ghost. Contrary to popular belief, the author argued, this wasn’t horror but a cleverly disguised mystery. Detailed breakdowns of each scene supported the claim, lauding the writer’s ingenuity in creating the illusion of a fifth person. Unfortunately, few readers appreciated the depth; most simply requested copies of Episode Four.
VHS tapes hadn’t hit the market yet—an oversight Chihara noted for future discussion with Murakami Iori. Accelerating tape releases could boost viewership retention, ensuring fans stayed engaged until midnight broadcasts.
Given TEB’s faltering winter lineup, the programming committee would likely prioritize Tales of the Unusual moving forward. Confidence grew alongside rising ratings.
By Week Six, the average time-slot rating reached 9.75%, peaking at 14.2%. Viewership steadily expanded despite stable market shares. Week Seven marked a milestone: averages breached 10%, reaching 10.39% with peaks nearing 15%. Overjoyed, Murakami Iori performed another ritual offering to Taema-hime, burning incense once more for good fortune.
Week Eight witnessed explosive growth. Averaging 12.98% with peaks at 17.99%, Tales of the Unusual surged eleven spots to eleventh place. While progress had been gradual, the leap astonished industry insiders. Top-tier slots typically housed big-budget productions or legacy hits. For a scrappy late-night drama to threaten displacing one? Unthinkable!
Audiences held their breath, anticipating whether Episode Nine might cement Tales of the Unusual as a record-breaking phenomenon. Regardless of outcome, however, one fact remained undeniable: this winter’s dark horse had galloped ahead of the pack.
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