Otaku Translation: Absolute Number One C108

Please support the translation by reading the translation and commenting on otakutl official site.

Thank you.

Everyone from Otaku Translation

Chapter 108: Things Gradually Improve

The public service announcement was about self-reliance, reminding viewers not to ruin their lives with petty theft in moments of desperation. had led to rising crime rates, particularly shoplifting.

NHK spared no expense on such campaigns, and under normal circumstances, and her friends would have found it engaging. But now, they were exasperated by the timing—cutting away at a critical moment felt downright cruel.

Finally, the ad ended, and Sugano Makoto appeared on screen alongside a woman in her late twenties. Dressed in a formal suit, Sugano exuded maturity, while the woman wore a modest white dress, her delicate features framed by nervousness. Subtitles identified her as Komori Hinako, Sugano’s girlfriend.

The host greeted the new guests warmly. After brief pleasantries, the topic turned to Sugano’s recent scandal. “Sugano-san, as a key figure in this matter, what are your thoughts?”

Sugano faced the camera, paused briefly, then bowed deeply. “As a public figure, I apologize once again for the negative impact my actions caused. I’m truly sorry and ask for forgiveness.”

Instantly, Komori’s eyes welled up, and she gripped Sugano’s hand tightly. “Hirano-san,” she interjected, “may I say something?”

“Of course,” the host replied. “Chihara-sensei mentioned there’s more to this story. Are you here to explain on behalf of your boyfriend?”

Komori nodded fervently, tears brimming in her eyes. “This is my fault. At , we were both members of the theater club. Makoto loved acting but struggled when deciding between a corporate career and pursuing performance full-time. His parents were disappointed, refusing to support his decision.”

Sugano gently squeezed her hand, sighing softly. Yamagami Aiko gasped. “They graduated from Kyoto University?!” Japan’s second-ranked institution produced future elites. Abandoning such prospects for acting spoke volumes about their passion.

Futazeno Seiko and Nishino Sagiri remained silent, riveted to the screen as Komori continued. “After Makoto joined the agency, he received only a small stipend. We moved to Tokyo without any family support, so money was really tight. When he finally started acting, the pay was still barely anything, and our savings disappeared fast. I was desperate, so I took a job at a bar. On my very first night, some drunk customers started bothering me. Scared, I called Makoto to come get me. He rushed over… and of course, it turned into a fight.”

The host asked, “Did you report this to the police?”

“Yes,” Komori replied, tears clinging to her lashes. “Makoto also publicly apologized for losing control. Yet, the media refused to forgive him.”

Sugano added, “I acted impulsively, unable to bear seeing Hinako mistreated. I injured several people, setting a poor example. It’s understandable that I wasn’t forgiven immediately.”

chimed in supportively. “If Sugano weren’t a public figure, this would simply be a straightforward case of self-defense. Should he have stood by while Hinako was harassed? The police understood, issuing only fines and requiring medical compensation—all documented at .”

Komori affirmed, “That’s correct. You can verify it if you don’t believe me.”

The host probed further. “What happened afterward?”

“We faced a boycott,” Komori said, lowering her head as tears spilled. “For over six years, Makoto received no roles. I wanted to give up acting and find work, but missing graduation season made stable employment difficult. With the worsening economy, we moved to , where rent was cheaper.”

Her voice trembled, prompting Chihara to interject. “They endured great hardship. Sugano worked as a mover, convenience store clerk, even ran a small stall. I heard they often went hungry, pinning rice ball posters on walls to stave off hunger. True, Komori-san?”

Sugano hastened to clarify, “I joked about it.”

Komori nodded. “It’s true. He laughed, saying the rice balls were too salty—typical Kanto seasoning.”

Chihara smiled, asking, “Didn’t you gather dandelions for greens, Komori-san?”

“Yes, that’s also true.”

“Despite such hardships, Sugano never abandoned acting, continuing semi-professionally?”

“He worked tirelessly,” Komori affirmed.

Rising abruptly, she bowed deeply to the camera. “Makoto may have erred because of me, but he’s already paid dearly. Please forgive him! Blame me instead—I shouldn’t have worked at that bar, attracting trouble and harming Makoto…”

Sugano pulled her back down gently. “I’ve never blamed you. It was my mistake, and I take responsibility.”

“But your best six years were wasted!”

“They weren’t wasted. Those years shaped me profoundly.”

“Makoto!”

Overwhelmed, Komori collapsed into Sugano’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. What began as a serious current affairs program now teetered toward melodrama.

In other countries, this incident might seem trivial, but in Japan, where entertainers faced strict moral scrutiny, it carried significant weight.

Chihara Rinto’s strategy had been clear: Sugano needed to express sincere remorse, with a touch of inspiration. Komori’s role was to appear vulnerable, eliciting natural sympathy. Once the public softened, newspapers would follow suit, shifting narratives toward redemption—after all, everyone makes youthful mistakes; give him another chance.

If someone orchestrated this smear campaign, they likely hoped for inexperience or delayed response, allowing unified public opinion to derail . Chihara’s swift countermeasures likely thwarted further interference—those who relied on covert tactics rarely dared surface openly.

During filming, Chihara deemed the handling effective, especially Komori’s genuine emotion, far surpassing any scripted performance. Yamagami Aiko and her friends were equally moved.

Seiko’s eyes reddened, leaning toward sympathy. Aiko pondered silently—if this account held true, perhaps forgiveness was warranted. Though violence was unacceptable, defending one’s partner showed loyalty. Enduring such hardship seemed to balance the scales.

A promising elite sacrificed everything for acting, only to be condemned outright—it seemed a waste. Perhaps a second chance was justified.

Aiko’s transition from fan to critic lasted less than half an hour before reversing course. Such was her decisiveness.

Nishino Sagiri maintained neutrality, neither condemning nor praising, still munching her tenfold revenge bun. She scrutinized Chihara, sensing something off about his smile.

Onscreen, Chihara spoke earnestly. “It’s precisely Sugano’s passion for acting and his seven years of struggle that led me to cast him as Hanzawa Naoki. I believe he’s matured and will deliver more exceptional performances. Let us be compassionate.”

His sincerity resonated, prompting Aiko and her friends to nod approvingly.

The discussion deepened, exploring whether those who erred deserved societal reacceptance—a distinctly Japanese dilemma—and delved into the concept of “social death,” continuing until the program concluded.

Post-broadcast, Yamagami Aiko, Futazeno Seiko, and Nishino Sagiri launched into another round of debate, concluding Sugano seemed decent. His devotion to Komori was touching, and they resolved to support him moving forward.

As for those he assaulted—they hadn’t died, and based on accounts, they sounded like troublemakers unworthy of concern.

---

The next day, the program sparked widespread reaction, even gracing the entertainment sections of major newspapers. Reporters scrambled overnight to uncover the truth—previously focused solely on Sugano’s violent act, few cared about context.

Some contacted Sugano’s former classmates, discovering he’d excelled academically and athletically, holding a karate black belt in high school before shifting interests.

’s affiliated papers championed Sugano loudly, contrasting sharply with his isolation seven years prior. Public sentiment shifted noticeably. Additionally, , a veteran TEB screenwriter, voiced support in his column, praising Sugano’s talent and urging leniency to preserve a rare actor.

Reader letters expressed sympathy, signaling gradual improvement. Still cautious, Chihara monitored developments closely, withholding a final trump card—too ruthless and self-damaging for casual use. Meanwhile, he urged Kanto United TV to accelerate other interviews, sustaining the momentum of public sympathy.

Crisis management required speed and relentless reinforcement—a lesson Chihara knew well.

Amidst the commotion, Friday evening arrived. —the pivotal installment—aired.

The translation of the entire book is nearly complete, with roughly only 50 chapters remaining.

If you like this project, please rate or leave a review for this novel through the link below, thank you.

https://www.novelupdates.com/series/absolute-number-one/

Join our discord you will receive update notification

If you would like to support this translation, you may choose any one of the options below.

All the tiers provide an off-line reading experience

Tier 1: 20 Advance chapters

Access fee $3.00 Monthly