Otaku Translation: Absolute Number One C86

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Chapter 86: The Cannon

was determined to win the hearts of his talented employees. Beyond offering sincerity and emotional bonds, had little else to entice top-tier professionals. Whatever perks they could provide, the "Big Five" networks could match—and surpass. He regretted not showing more care for and Murakami Iori earlier; losing them to or would be devastating. Fortunately, it wasn’t too late. With that in mind, he whisked the duo away from the studio and drove them to a nearby restaurant, eager to treat them well.

Chihara viewed the lunch as standard workplace networking. He also planned to share the draft of Hanzawa Naoki with Shiga, seeking feedback from the production bureau’s boss—a move likely to smooth future budget negotiations. However, as soon as he stepped out of the car, unease struck. His eyes fell on the wooden carving of a bloated fish with white undersides and upturned eyes hanging above the entrance. Glancing at the sign—""—he broke into a cold sweat. Pufferfish?

In Japan, —nicknamed "iron cannons"—carried a deadly reputation. The name referenced both their cannon-ball-like shape and the lethal risk they posed. A single misstep in preparation could prove fatal, much like taking a bullet in an era of inadequate medical care. While Chihara knew modern chefs underwent rigorous training and certification, making poisoning unlikely, the mere thought unsettled him. Why gamble with life over lunch?

He hesitated but noticed Shiga Ayumu and Murakami Iori walking in without concern. Not wanting to appear awkward, he followed silently. Sometimes, this nation’s penchant for reckless pursuits left him speechless.

Before long, something unexpected caught his attention. Just a few steps inside, Murakami Iori paused abruptly, causing Chihara to nearly collide with her. Peering past her shoulder, he spotted a familiar figure—. Barely a month had passed since their last encounter, yet Ishii looked ten years older. Gaunt and disheveled, his unshaven chin and rumpled suit spoke volumes about his current state. Even his crisp shirt collar lay untucked, exuding defeat.

Ishii, already tipsy by 11 a.m., froze upon spotting them. After a brief moment of hesitation, he lowered his head and hurried toward the exit, clearly unwilling to face potential smugness from Chihara and Murakami.

Shiga watched Ishii pass by with mild curiosity but thought nothing of it. Summoning a waiter, he requested the best private room. Meanwhile, Murakami gazed after Ishii with a complex expression. Chihara, indifferent, mused that Ishii must be drowning his sorrows amidst plummeting ratings. Good riddance—success and failure defined television production. Ishii’s trials were far from over.

Patting Murakami’s sturdy shoulder reassuringly, Chihara murmured, “Don’t dwell on it. It’s in the past.” Murakami smiled faintly, explaining, “I feel sorry for .”

“No need,” Chihara replied. “Our goals have shifted. Look ahead.”

Once seated in an elegant private room, Shiga demonstrated his familiarity with the establishment. Ordering confidently, he selected a wild pufferfish feast: sashimi, blanched skin, jelly, grilled pufferfish, fried pufferfish, hot pot, and rice porridge. For himself, he added raw liver slices—a dish so perilous that even trace toxins could prove fatal. Despite Chihara’s cautious objections, Shiga laughed heartily. “You don’t understand, Chihara-sensei. ‘Iron cannons’ embody masculinity. Taking risks for unparalleled taste is how we live!”

Recalling Murakami’s presence mid-sentence, he quickly rephrased, careful not to offend. Having witnessed her charm in securing Chihara’s loyalty, he respected her deeply.

Chihara chuckled, refraining from further protest. His understanding of Shiga deepened—the man possessed a gambler’s mindset. Perhaps one day, he’d wager Kanto United TV itself in pursuit of grand ambitions, losing everything. Yet, reflecting on his words, Chihara found truth in them. Television production thrived on high stakes and rich rewards.

Deciding to embrace the experience, Chihara sampled the delicacies. The pufferfish’s firm texture allowed its unique umami to linger on the tongue, explaining why many risked death for it. Though tempted, he avoided the liver—the ultimate gamble.

Conversation flowed alongside the meal. Shiga lavished praise on their show, expressing high hopes for its future. “Let’s stop using it as training fodder,” he urged. “Focus fully. Whatever resources you need, the bureau will support. Let’s aim for a 25% average viewership.”

Beyond camaraderie, Shiga’s intent became clear. Kanto United TV desperately needed hits. He hoped Murakami and Chihara would commit long-term, nurturing a prime-time variety show akin to those of or —one that would earn such a reputation in its timeslot that everyone would know it.

Murakami readily agreed, promising dedication even if it was a training program. Chihara, indifferent to Human Observation, seized the opportunity to present Hanzawa Naoki’s literary script draft. Shiga accepted it gravely, engrossed for nearly ten minutes before snapping back. “Chihara-sensei is truly diligent,” he remarked warmly. “This script… it’s impressive. I’ll review it thoroughly.”

Relieved, Chihara thanked him. “Feel free to suggest revisions, but I plan to start casting soon…”

“The station will back you fully!” Shiga assured. “If necessary, we’ll offer record-breaking salaries, disregarding industry norms.”

Chihara raised his glass, grateful for such decisive support. “Thank you, Director Shiga.”

“No, thank you. I never imagined you’d deliver results within a month.” Shiga drained his drink, eyes gleaming. “I’m eagerly anticipating Hanzawa Naoki. May summer arrive swiftly!”

The meal stretched two hours, blending work discussions with gossip about the Big Five’s scandals. Aware of Kanto United TV’s fledgling status, Shiga recounted these tales freely—but in five to eight years, such boasts could well ring hollow.

He outlined ambitious visions for the network, confident in ascending to sixth place among national broadcasters—and perhaps eventually surpassing the Big Five. Fearing talent loss, he detailed plans to enhance employee satisfaction and loyalty, pouring drinks enthusiastically throughout.

His message was clear: stay loyal, and Kanto United TV would reward them handsomely—far exceeding what the Big Five could offer. Should rival networks attempt poaching, resist firmly. Here alone lay true opportunity.

By meal’s end, all three were slightly tipsy. Shiga, bound for another meeting, departed via taxi, leaving his chauffeur-driven car behind. Murakami excused herself to oversee filming, advising Chihara to rest. Noticing his fatigue, she urged, “Sleep well tonight. You’ve been pushing too hard lately.”

Aware of his recent sleepless nights in the office, she worried for his health. Grateful for Shiga’s approval of Hanzawa Naoki, Chihara complied, resolving to rest. Before parting, he instructed her to grant leave if possible.

Tipsy, Chihara returned home, fumbling with his keys. Entering, he froze. A frail figure dusted his table, startling him. “You…” he began, then remembered hiring a part-time cleaner over a month ago—this was their first meeting. The figure turned, prompting further shock. “Yamagami-san?”

The girl stood, puzzled. “Sorry, I’m not Yamagami. My surname is …”

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