sbdcsierra Chapter 257 The Light in the Mud! The two drew even closer.
Chapter 257 The Light in the Mud! The two drew even closer.
Chapter 257 The Light in the Mud! The two drew even closer.
The pungent smell of gunpowder mixed with the damp scent of earth went straight into my nostrils.
This is the exclusive special effects studio for "Ultraman Tiga".
Unlike the bright and clean modern apartment buildings with soft lighting in Tokyo's Fujidai, this place is a rough workshop built entirely of mud, plaster miniature buildings, and various explosive fuses.
Dozens of workers wearing hard hats moved around in the miniature city model, carefully adjusting the skyscrapers and miniature streetlights that were only knee-high to an average person.
Kitahara Shin, dressed in his thick, airtight red and white Victory Team uniform, stood in front of a huge green screen. The temperature inside the studio was frighteningly high, designed to work with the high-temperature lighting; his back was already soaked with sweat after only a short while.
Once the camera was set up, the director shouted "Ready!"
This scene is a close-up shot of Daigo transforming into his new form for the first time amidst thick smoke and dire circumstances after his Flying Swallow No. 1 crashes.
Behind the monitor, several veteran producers and directors from Tsuburaya Productions looked tense. They had never doubted Kitahara Shin's acting skills; after all, he was a top-tier executive who could carry a 5 billion yen box office and had won numerous awards.
What they are really worried about is "the special effects not adapting to the local environment".
Tokusatsu dramas target a large segment of their core audience, including children. The emotional expression and facial close-ups in these shows must be more outward and exaggerated than in typical urban dramas, even incorporating a touch of anime-style, stereotypical heroism. If they were acted with the extreme restraint and micro-expression of art films, children wouldn't be able to directly grasp the oppressive and resolute feeling of facing monsters; but if the acting is overdone, it would resemble a comical clown.
This balance is very difficult to strike. Many big-name actors in serious dramas often feel lost and awkward when they step into the tokusatsu studio, even becoming stiff and unable to let loose.
The script supervisor slammed down the clapperboard, making a crisp "snap" sound.
Kitahara Shin made a move.
He knelt on a soft mat covered with mud, breathing heavily, as if he had just survived a plane crash that nearly killed him.
He suddenly raised his head, his deep eyes showing neither the composure of a typical business tycoon nor the mildness of "Sena Hidetoshi".
He stared intently at a point in the void (the imaginary monster Golza), his eyes radiating an unreserved, straightforward anger and determination.
He pulled the magic wand from his chest, raised it high, and the muscles in his arm bulged slightly from the effort.
"Tiga—!"
A loud shout erupted from his chest, carrying a tearing, explosive force, without any hesitation or pretense.
The veteran Tsuburaya employees behind the monitor widened their eyes in surprise, their tense shoulders instantly relaxing. They looked at each other and let out a long sigh of relief.
Steady!
Kitahara Shin's judgment was spot on.
He perfectly captured the pure passion of an anime protagonist and the heroic spirit of gritting his teeth and stepping forward in the face of unknown fears.
What they didn't know was that for Kitahara Shin, this didn't require any painstaking deduction at all.
As a time traveler, he was also a child who grew up watching the giant of light on television in his previous life. When he truly held the Spark Lens in his hand, the excitement and passion deep within his childhood memories naturally reawakened.
He is not just completing a task, but fulfilling a dream that transcends time and space.
The morning's filming session concluded smoothly with excellent teamwork. The crew then enjoyed a lengthy period of set construction and adjustments.
Kitahara Shin and Matsushima Nanako returned to their private lounge and quickly took off their sweltering uniforms.
Instead of relaxing in the air-conditioned room, the two pulled out two unremarkable old clothes from the bottom of their suitcases.
A slightly faded gray sweatshirt, old-fashioned dark blue jeans, paired with a baseball cap pulled low and a thick medical mask.
After changing their clothes, the two quietly left through the back door of the TV station, took an ordinary taxi, and headed straight for the large temporary resettlement site they had passed a few days earlier.
The resettlement site remained a busy and noisy scene.
Trucks kept bringing in donated supplies, and volunteers in various vests moved back and forth in the open space, directing disaster-stricken people to line up and receive daily necessities.
Nobukazu Kitahara and Nanako Kitahara did not bring any assistants, nor did they notify any familiar media outlets to take any staged photos.
They went to the volunteer registration desk, received two red armbands, put them on, and plunged directly into the group of people working.
Relying on his years of training and the robust physical abilities honed by the system's equipment, Kitahara Shin walked towards the supply unloading area without saying a word.
"Young man, those cases of bottled water are heavy. You can carry just one case. Be careful not to twist your back!" A middle-aged man, covered in sweat, kindly reminded him.
Kitahara Shin nodded, but steadily supported the two cases of mineral water with both hands. With a exertion of his arm, he directly stacked the third case on top.
He strode steadily forward, carrying the heavy supplies one trip after another to the designated distribution tent.
The rough edges of the cardboard box left red marks on his forearm, and sweat quickly soaked through the back of his gray hoodie. He didn't even frown; he just silently did his manual labor.
On the other side, in the open-air dining area, several large iron pots were bubbling and steaming.
Nanako rolled up the sleeves of her hoodie, took a long-handled large soup ladle, and stood in front of the iron pot, helping to distribute the steaming miso soup.
The early autumn sun in Kansai is still scorching, and the high temperature near the stove makes people dizzy.
Nanako's forehead was covered with fine beads of sweat, and the edges of her mask were damp from her breath.
But when she faced each elderly person and child who came forward in line, she would bend down slightly, steadily hand over the paper bowl with both hands, and reveal a pair of smiling eyes that curved into crescent moons.
Kitahara Shin carried a box of bedding past the food service area and placed the supplies on the open ground next to it.
He stood up, dusted off his hands, and his gaze naturally fell on Nanako.
Nanako had just finished serving soup to a child when she straightened up and casually wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
The soot from the bottom of the pot that had accidentally gotten on the back of her hand was smeared directly next to her fair eye, leaving a comical black stain.
Kitahara Shin stepped forward and stopped beside her.
Nanako turned her head and blinked in confusion.
Kitahara Shin didn't speak, but simply raised his right hand and gently rubbed the corner of her eye with his slightly rough, dusty thumb, wiping away the black stain.
The movements were slow and gentle, with an indescribable naturalness and familiarity.
Nanako paused for a moment, feeling the rough touch and real warmth from his fingertips, and her tired eyes instantly brightened. Looking at the man before her, whose back was completely soaked and whose hair was disheveled, her eyes curved into a beautiful smile again, and she chuckled softly through her mask.
Kitahara Shinya smiled, withdrew his hand, and turned to continue walking towards the unloading area.
In this resettlement site filled with the smells of mud, sweat, disinfectant, and firewood, the two shed all their celebrity aura and financial burdens. They didn't utter a single eloquent line in front of the camera, nor did they deliberately create any romantic atmosphere.
But it was precisely this down-to-earth atmosphere of working side by side in the face of real hardship, covered in sweat, that brought the two of them closer than ever before.
On the set of "Long Vacation," they experienced the ambiguous hormonal pull between adult men and women; but here, they truly saw the purest essence of each other's souls. Kitahara Shin saw the tireless kindness and resilience beneath Nanako's gentle exterior; Nanako also felt that this man, who possessed immense wealth, was still willing to bend down and embrace the warmth of the mundane world.
This kind of understanding based on shared core values is far more profound than any romantic flirting.
As night deepened, the city, which had been bustling all day, finally fell into a brief silence.
At 1:30 a.m., the last Shinkansen train bound for Tokyo departed Osaka Station on time.
The first-class carriage was nearly empty, and the lights were dimmed to their lowest setting, with only the regular white noise of wheels rubbing against the rails echoing through the carriage.
Nanako Matsushima finally let down her guard and let down her guard.
For over half a month, she has been seamlessly switching between two high-intensity film sets, playing a boisterous model in Tokyo during the day and a top pilot in Kansai at night. Today, she spent half a day doing manual labor in the sweltering heat at the resettlement site. Her physical strength has long been pushed to its limit.
The train had barely left the city when she was so exhausted she didn't want to move a single finger. She slumped down onto Kitahara Shin's lap without a care, her cheek pressed against his warm abdomen, and fell into a deep sleep within seconds.
Her breathing gradually became even and long, and she would occasionally let out two faint moans. Even in her sleep, her brows were slightly furrowed, revealing a deep weariness that she could not hide.
Kitahara Shin took off his suit jacket, which he was wearing to keep warm, and gently draped it over her thin shoulders, wrapping her up completely.
He adjusted his posture to make Nanako more comfortable. Then, he turned on the dim reading lamp above his head.
The dim light shone on the small table, and Kitahara Shin opened the script for "Long Vacation," which was scheduled to start filming the next morning, and quietly read the lines by the light.
The carriage jolted slightly. Nanako stirred restlessly in her sleep, seemingly startled by the sudden feeling of weightlessness; her hand, resting on her abdomen, unconsciously tightened its grip on the edge of her suit jacket.
Kitahara Shin put down the script, stretched out his large palm, and gently patted her slender back, as if soothing a frightened child, patting her rhythmically.
After comforting her for a while, he moved down her arm, opened his large palm, and wrapped her slightly cool hand in his own palm. He forcefully and gently squeezed his five fingers between her fingers, and they intertwined tightly.
Feeling the warmth and strength from his hands, Nanako's furrowed brows finally relaxed, her breathing became steady again, and she rubbed her cheek against his leg, sleeping more soundly.
Kitahara Shin lowered his head, his gaze fixed intently on the sleeping woman on his lap.
During this non-stop, crazy schedule, he had the system's support, allowing him to operate tirelessly. But Nanako was just an ordinary woman. She never complained or uttered a word of hardship, gritting her teeth and bearing all the unimaginable pressure, just to keep up with his pace and stand firmly by his side.
This kind of mutual support, forged in the mud and exhaustion, has long surpassed the superficial infatuation between ordinary men and women, transforming into "comrades-in-arms in life" who can stand shoulder to shoulder to withstand the storms of life.
Kitahara Shin gripped her hand tightly, his mind flashing back to his ever-present system equipment—the [Ring of Life].
.
While this equipment can greatly restore physical and mental strength, its level is not high enough and it can only affect the user.
Although Nanako is usually optimistic and has a good constitution, the human body has its limits. If this extremely overworked lifestyle continues, her immune system will eventually collapse, making it difficult for her to avoid getting sick.
Kitahara Shin silently plotted his next move.
He must find more purple equipment as soon as possible to directly fuse this [Ring of Life] to the highest-level gold quality.
Only when the equipment reaches gold quality can its binding effect be triggered, allowing this endless regenerative power to be shared with the closest person in your life.
He absolutely refused to allow this silly girl, who was willing to travel the world with him and cook soup in front of a large pot in the disaster area, to collapse on set due to overwork.
The train tore through the deep night and sped toward Tokyo.
Kitahara Shin held the script in one hand and tightly gripped Nanako's hand with the other.
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