sinovels Chapter 267 A Variety Show That Destroys You at a Lower Dimension! The Koi's Physique and the D
Chapter 267 A Variety Show That Destroys You at a Lower Dimension! The Koi's Physique and the D
Chapter 267 A Variety Show That Destroys You at a Lower Dimension! The Koi's Physique and the Dance of the Queen (14/71)
The second season special of "Furuhata Ninzaburo" aired as scheduled on Fuji TV's prime time slot.
That night, countless mystery fans and Nobu Kitahara's admirers across Japan were glued to their television sets, witnessing this textbook-perfect high-IQ duel. On screen, Kitahara, playing a psychology professor, exuded a refined elegance and breathtaking composure. Even at the very last moment, when Koen Ninzaburo cornered him with his meticulous logic and handcuffed him, he maintained his haughty and dignified composure.
After watching this episode, viewers even had the illusion that the murderer hadn't lost. He was simply following the rules of an intellectual game, gracefully acknowledging his opponent's sharpness.
This departure from the traditional stereotypical portrayal of villains caused a sensation on Japanese online forums and in newspaper commentary sections. The special episode not only unsurprisingly broke the show's all-time viewership record but also set a new record for the highest single-episode viewership of the season.
At an internal meeting at Fuji TV, several executives and directors looked at the incredible viewership ratings and even began to discuss, half-jokingly and half-seriously, whether they should think of a way to "revive" the character Kitahara Shin. Even if it was just to have him sit in the prison visiting room as a strategist to provide some clues to Koen, or to make a cameo appearance in the main storyline for a few minutes later on.
After all, Kitahara Shin is now the absolute synonym for ratings and money. As long as this golden brand is displayed, a large number of sponsors will line up with checkbooks to send money.
A few days later, the crew of the movie "Shall We Dance?" booked a large professional dance studio for internal auditions of the main roles.
When Kitahara Shin pushed open the door to the dance studio, the auditioning actors, who had been whispering amongst themselves, instantly fell silent. Director Suo Masayuki, sitting behind the long table, visibly paused when he saw Kitahara Shin walk in.
Although he tried his best to maintain his professionalism and composure as a director, methodically asking Kitahara Shin to audition a scene depicting the male lead's clumsy attempts at dancing, a subtle chemical reaction had already occurred on set. It felt like a piece of boiling sodium had suddenly been thrown into plain water.
In the Japanese film and television industry today, directors share a common understanding: Kitahara Shin is an extremely rare "living lucky charm." As long as he's willing to join your production team, you don't need to worry about the risk of box office poison; not only is your investment guaranteed to be profitable, but the film's artistic value and reputation will also be elevated to an incredible level.
While outwardly nodding in approval at the monitor, Suo Masayuki was inwardly overjoyed. It's fortunate that smartphones aren't yet widespread; otherwise, he would have immediately taken a picture and posted it on social media, bragging about it to his old friends in the industry.
After Kitahara Shin successfully completed his audition, someone even more unexpected appeared—Nakamori Akina.
As a national-level pop diva, it was indeed surprising to many that Akina Nakamori auditioned for a film lead role that relied solely on her physical appearance and acting skills. Although she had previously acted in television dramas and achieved good ratings, industry insiders generally believed that it was due to the filter of her enormous fame, rather than her solid acting skills from a professional background.
However, when Akina changed into a fitted black practice outfit and walked into the venue with her hair in a neat bun, all the young actresses waiting for their auditions couldn't help but widen their eyes in astonishment.
"My God—how can Akina-senpai's skin be in such good condition?" A young actress in her early twenties couldn't help but whisper to her companion, "She doesn't have a single fine line on her face, she looks even more radiant and youthful than us!"
For female celebrities who rely on their looks, even the slightest sign of aging can be fatal. But Akina Nakamori stood there, her posture upright, her skin radiating a translucent glow from within, showing none of the fatigue one would expect from a thirty-year-old woman. Many actresses even secretly wondered: Could being with President Kitahara really keep one forever young?
Facing the astonished and inquisitive gazes of the crowd, Akina remained composed. Her audition was very straightforward: she had to perform a solo ballroom dance on the spot.
The music began. Akina instantly abandoned her usual gentle demeanor, her eyes becoming cold and melancholic. Relying on her solid ballet foundation from her early years, she twirled and glided lightly on the floor, each movement perfectly timed to the deepest beat, vividly portraying the protagonist's brokenness—"trapped in the shadows of the past, finding only breath in dance."
After the dance ended, the entire audience was silent, followed by enthusiastic applause.
This impeccable dance performance completely won over the actresses who were auditioning afterward, and dispelled the rumors that she had gotten the role by "climbing the social ladder" to Kitahara Shin. Akina proved with her absolute talent that she is not only a top-notch singer on stage, but also a top-tier dancer under the spotlight.
Following closely behind, Rie Miyazawa also successfully auditioned for the role of "the male lead's wife" in the film. Meanwhile, Takako Matsu and Nanako Matsushima, as if they had planned it together, each chose a minor role as a dance studio student with only a few scenes, purely to experience life on set.
After the audition, several professional dance instructors immediately surrounded Akina, excitedly discussing the power techniques she had just learned in her dance moves. Surrounded and recognized by these professionals, Akina's face lit up with a bright smile. To receive genuine recognition in a completely new field outside of her singing career was a long-awaited and incredibly fresh experience for her.
With the auditions concluded, the filming schedule for "Let's Dance" was quickly put on the agenda.
Kitahara Shin had just returned to the office when the phone on his desk rang. Jackie Chan, after returning to Hong Kong, acted swiftly, officially submitting the transnational police action film project they had previously discussed to the investors in Hong Kong. Next, the Hong Kong team would travel to Japan in an official capacity to finalize the contract with Kitahara's office.
Kitahara Shin immediately got to work. He took out his address book and began contacting Tokyo Metropolitan Assembly member Kobayakawa and his network of connections with high-ranking officials in the Metropolitan Police Department.
This film involved helicopter shooting near Tokyo Tower and even the closure of several busy streets in Shinjuku for car chase scenes. This was an absolutely massive and troublesome project in Japan, requiring approvals from numerous departments and coordination with neighborhood committees. The entire first half of 1996 was destined to be spent in this non-stop preparation and filming.
But sitting in his leather office chair, looking out at the Tokyo Tower, Kitahara Shin felt not fatigue, but rather a sense of enjoyment. He discovered that even at the absolute pinnacle of this entertainment empire, there were still countless things he could and wanted to do that were exhilarating.
Meanwhile, a large-scale reality show for cultivating an amateur boy group, spearheaded by Kitahara Agency, has quietly premiered in the late-night slot.
This show, featuring no big-name celebrities and entirely new faces, initially failed to attract the attention of traditional television professionals. However, within just a few weeks, it sparked an incredible buzz.
The core appeal of the show lies entirely with the boy named Takeru Satoh.
In the closed training camp, Takeru Satoh displayed a seriousness and tenacity far beyond his peers. He practiced dancing until his clothes were soaked with sweat, and memorized lyrics until his voice was hoarse. In contrast, the other amateur boys who were temporarily brought in seemed to be playing around, slacking off during training, sleeping in late, and even complaining about being too tired in front of the camera.
This stark contrast in personality inevitably led to intense conflicts and arguments during daily training.
"Since you've chosen to stay here, then do your moves correctly! If you don't want to practice, go back to your dressing room!" After a rehearsal mishap, Takeru Satoh yelled at a lazy teammate with red eyes, and the scene was captured on camera without reservation.
These details, full of tension, conflict, sweat, reconciliation, and growth, provided a constant stream of explosive material for the later editing.
This "idol-training" model, which strips celebrities of their glamour and presents their most authentic flaws and progress to the audience, instantly struck a chord with countless female viewers. Adult female fans who initially tuned in simply because "it's a program produced by Kitahara Shin's company" were quickly captivated by these young, vibrant, and energetic "fresh meat" (young, energetic male celebrities). Watching them grow from awkward to perfectly in sync, viewers experienced a strong sense of participation in the "training" process.
The show's ratings began to soar, from an unremarkable 12% at the start of the show to 15% and even approaching 16% in a sea of red!
For a late-night reality show with an all-amateur cast, this is a figure that is enough to shake the entire industry.
Executives at major television stations stared wide-eyed at the viewership report in their offices. They finally understood the massive commercial logic and fan loyalty behind the program.
The mastermind behind all of this, Shin Kitahara, simply sat in his office and, with a vision that transcended the times, struck a chord with the market once again, easily opening up a new battlefield capable of challenging the Johnny's idol empire.