mchenry-crisis.org Chapter 75 Fishing Rod
Chapter 75 Fishing Rod
Chapter 77 Fishing Rod
A few rays of blinding sunlight pierced through the gaps in the blinds, along with the maddening noise from downstairs.
The sound of the shutter clicking was like a swarm of tireless cicadas chirping all night long outside the apartment building.
Kitahara Shin stood behind the curtains, holding a cup of coffee that had gone cold.
The moment he drew back the curtains, the paparazzi who had been staking out the area for three whole days erupted in excitement.
Since the hit TV series "Tokyo Love Story", this kind of life has become the norm.
Going to a convenience store to buy a pack of cigarettes will result in being surrounded; going out to throw away trash will result in being secretly photographed; even the office's trash cans have been turned upside down.
In Kitahara Shin's apartment.
The table was piled high with scripts that Da Tian had just delivered.
"Yokohama Love Story", "The Last Love", "Men and Women in the City" —
They're all pure romance dramas, and the male leads all have the same character traits: gentle, indecisive, and running in the rain wearing a trench coat.
-
Capital is always the most sensitive and lazy; they only want to squeeze the last bit of residual value out of "Kanji".
Kitahara Shin casually picked up a book, flipped through a couple of pages, and then threw it back into the mountain of waste paper.
The current hype is just a bubble.
He was very clear-headed.
In this year when the bubble has just burst and people are filled with anxiety, the character of Kanji Nagao is essentially a kind of mental analgesia for the masses.
Men lost everything in the stock market, and women watched the elites around them turn into homeless dogs. They desperately needed a "Kanji" who was always mild-mannered, always tolerant, and never betrayed, to provide some illusory emotional value to this cold early Heisei era.
What they loved wasn't Kitahara Shin, but the "sense of security" that allowed them to temporarily forget about their mortgage and layoffs.
But this gust of wind will eventually stop.
Overuse of painkillers can lead to drug resistance. Once people realize this, the stereotypical image of the "warm-hearted man" will become cheap and boring.
In the end, he, who keeps copying "Kanji's" smile in order to cater to the market, will become an expired canned food on the shelf.
This is different from when he was in a hurry to get rid of the "mad dog Sawada" label.
Back then, it was for survival, and to prove that I "could play a good person."
But now, it's for "immortality".
He didn't want to be the kind of shooting star abandoned by the times.
Having spent so many years in the entertainment industry in his previous life, he had seen many veteran artists who were typecast because of a hit drama and could only make a living by selling nostalgia twenty years later.
He knew all too well how terrible "labels" could be—they were both a shortcut to fame and fortune and a noose that strangled possibilities.
His ambitions don't stop there.
At a time when the Japanese entertainment industry is about to usher in its last golden decade, he wants more than just to be a "national boyfriend" popular with housewives.
What he wants is a wider range of roles, the kind of acting ability that can handle the complexities of human nature, silence film critics, and earn the standing ovation of discerning European film festivals.
What he wanted was not to be trapped in Tokyo in the early Heisei era as a heartthrob, but to obtain the ticket to the world stage and become a true actor like Toshiro Mifune and Ken Takakura, whose names would still be etched in film history even as time passed and their looks faded.
Therefore, "Tokyo Love Story" was just a perfect stepping stone, not a comfortable home.
"We need to find something new."
Kitahara Shin muttered to himself.
He was referring not only to the script, but also to the "equipment" that would allow him to evolve again.
After several attempts, he roughly figured out the patterns of rare equipment.
Those special items mostly appear in places that carry strong emotions or memories of a time.
The bustling, brand-new department stores only carry mass-produced goods, while the old shops on the verge of closing down and the forgotten corners often hold unexpected surprises.
The phone rang abruptly.
Kitahara Shin answered the phone, and Miyazawa Rie's deliberately lowered voice came through the receiver.
"Senior—help!"
"If your mother forces you to drink with others again, you should call the police or a lawyer."
"Not that one!"
Rie's voice sounded somewhat urgent, yet with a hint of coquetry, "I finally managed to sneak away from the film set, and I only have two hours of free time. I want to talk to someone—about acting, you're so amazing, could you teach me?"
Ever since visiting Kitahara Shin's home, Miyazawa Rie felt like she had opened a window, and naturally, she started calling him "senpai" (senpai).
But if we really want to calculate when someone has been in the industry, it's hard to say who should be called the senior.
"acting?"
"After watching 'Tokyo Love Story,' I also want to play the kind of role that people can remember, instead of just smiling like an idiot in GG."
Her tone became serious, "And I also want to know how to live like a human being in this industry, just like my seniors."
Kitahara Shin was silent for two seconds.
"I'm near Shimokitazawa, see you in half an hour."
An old shopping street in Shimokitazawa.
There's no hustle and bustle of Shibuya here, only general stores and vintage clothing shops filled with the atmosphere of the Showa era.
Rie, wearing oversized sunglasses and a mask, wrapped herself up tightly and followed behind Kitahara Shin.
-
"Senior, why did we come to a place like this?"
She carefully avoided the puddles on the ground, looking around at the shops with "Closing Down Sale" signs, a puzzled expression on her face. "This place looks...so run-down."
"Good things are often found in broken things."
Kitahara Shin stopped in front of a shop called "Matsumoto Fishing Tackle".
This is an old shop that looks like it could close down at any moment. The glass windows are covered with a layer of dust, and the paint on the signboard at the entrance is peeling off, revealing the wood grain underneath.
The shop was dimly lit, and the air was filled with the smell of stale bamboo and the fishy odor of fish bait.
"fishing?"
Rie took off her sunglasses, fanned her nose in disdain, and said, "Senior, you're only in your twenties, right? Why do you have the same tastes as those old men in the park?"
She glanced around at the messy fishing gear in the shop, and then thought of the old tape recorder and the dark kitchen knife in Kitahara Shin's apartment.
"Do you have some kind of nostalgia problem? You always like things that nobody wants."
Kitahara Shin ignored her complaints.
His gaze swept across the store.
The shelves were mostly stocked with outdated fiberglass fishing rods and some rusty fishing hooks.
"Just browsing, they're about to close. Take whatever you like for half price."
Behind the counter, an old man with gray hair was lying in a wicker chair listening to the radio, too lazy to even lift his eyelids.
The shop was dimly lit, and the air was filled with the smell of stale bamboo and the fishy odor of fish bait.
Kitahara Shin didn't rush to that corner. Instead, like a complete novice, he strolled slowly in front of the shelves, his fingertips seemingly casually gliding over the dusty fishing gear.
On the retina, a blue stream of data keeps jumping around, filtering out valuable information.
He first picked up a red fiberglass fishing rod that was hanging in the most conspicuous place and whose packaging had not yet been opened.
[Item: Unsold industrial mass-produced rod (white, rough)]
[Description: Product number 10248 on the assembly line, utterly devoid of any soul. Holding it in your hand, besides its weight, will only make you feel like you're swinging a clothesline pole when you swing.]
Special effects: None.
"How about this one?" Rie leaned closer, pointing to the red fishing rod. "It looks brand new, and the color is beautiful!"
"Looks good but is useless."
Kitahara Shin shook his head and put it back.
He then picked up a rather old-looking wooden fishing reel. It looked quite high-quality, with the handle worn smooth and shiny.
【Item: Counterfeit product below the passing grade (gray, damaged)】
[Description: A poor attempt to imitate the craftsmanship of a master. The internal gears are not meshing properly; if you don't want to get stuck at the crucial moment of catching a big fish, it's best to stay away from it.]
[Special effects: Even worse than that clothesline from before.]
I touched more than a dozen things, all of which were white or gray trash.
Occasionally, you might come across a "veteran angler's float" that's rated "green and excellent," but the special effect is just "slightly improving the accuracy of float reading," which is better than nothing to him.
"Senior, what exactly are you looking for?"
Rie kicked at the scraps of paper at her feet impatiently. "It smells awful here, all fishy. I think that red one is much better—"
"Didn't I tell you? I'm looking for something really good."
Kitahara Shin didn't explain, his gaze finally settling on the dusty wooden barrel in the corner.
There were a few unremarkable, even slightly bent, bamboo poles stuck there.
Unlike the smooth, straight surface of modern carbon fiber poles, these bamboo poles have natural bamboo nodes on their surface, and their color is a dark brown that has been mellowed by time, making them look like unwanted dry firewood at first glance.
Kitahara Shin walked over and reached out to grasp one of them.
The moment I held it, a warm, smooth sensation, completely different from the industrial plastics I had just encountered, flowed through my palm.
It wasn't just a tactile sensation; it was more like a faint but clear electric current that instantly pierced through the nerves.
On the retina, the originally dim blue light screen suddenly exploded, transforming into a noble purple glow.
Special item discovered: Showa Taisho's old fishing rod (purple, rare)
[Item Description: This was once the most beloved fishing rod of a behind-the-scenes political manipulator during the Showa era. He once sat by the moat of the Imperial Palace, using this rod, which had no hook, to fish out Japan's post-war economic boom amidst the chaos of the times. The rod exudes the composure of a leader and the powerful aura of "willing fish take the bait."]
[Special Effects: Jiang Ziya's Magnetic Field]
[Effect Description: After wearing the device, when the wearer is in a "static" and "mind-cultivating" social setting such as fishing, tea ceremony, or calligraphy, their temperament will undergo a qualitative change. It significantly increases the likelihood of being noticed and confided in by older, higher-ranking individuals (such as tycoon heads, political leaders, or top directors). It greatly increases the chances of being approached by influential people.]
It is it.
Kitahara Shin gently stroked the rough knots of the bamboo pole with his fingers, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.
Hidden within the room full of industrial waste is a key to high society.
"Boss, how much is this?"
He picked up the dusty bamboo pole; it was very light, but surprisingly solid.
The old man opened one eye and glanced at it: "Those are old goods I collected before, and they're bamboo fishing rods (traditional Japanese bamboo fishing rods)."
Nobody plays with this anymore; it's too delicate and requires maintenance. If you like it, you can take it for 5,000 yen.
Rie came closer, looking at the ordinary, even slightly bent bamboo pole with an incredulous expression: "Five thousand?"
Buy this broken stick? Seriously, you've definitely been ripped off!
She poked the pole with her finger. "Why not just cut one from the mountain? The red one was a bit ugly, but at least it looked like a legitimate product!"
"You don't understand, do you? It's called chemistry." Kitahara Shin smiled and didn't explain further.
To the uninformed, there really is only a fine line between antiques and junk.
He took out his wallet, counted out five thousand-yuan bills, and placed them on the counter.
With the transaction completed, he subtly added the fishing rod to his system inventory.
[Equipment activated: Showa Taisho's old fishing rod]
[Special Effects Activated: Jiang Ziya's Magnetic Field]
In an instant, a strange feeling enveloped him.
The anxiety and anger that had been building up in my heart from avoiding paparazzi these past few days suddenly settled like sediment in a glass of muddy water, becoming crystal clear.
The feeling was like—drinking a cup of cool tea on a hot day, and your whole body calmed down.
Rie's rambling in my ears and the faint sound of traffic outside the store seemed distant and unimportant.
"This is interesting—"
Kitahara Shin muttered to himself.
He originally bought it with the mindset of "it's not expensive anyway, I'll just give it a try," but he didn't expect the "calming" effect to be so immediate. As for the mysterious "attracting important people" effect, he didn't have high hopes for it, treating it as a bonus Easter egg, and whether it would be triggered depended entirely on luck.
"Senior, are you really going to use this to fish?"
Rie was still muttering to herself, looking at me with a "Are you running a fever?" expression, "If we don't catch anything, the elementary school kids next door will laugh at us."
"If I can't catch anything, I'll just treat it as sunbathing."
Kitahara Shin pushed open the shop door, and the afternoon sun shone on him. He squinted comfortably. "Anyway, I can't go shopping right now. It's better to sit in an empty puddle for an afternoon than to be cooped up in my apartment and get moldy."
"and----"
He turned his head and glanced at Rie, who was still feeling the pinch of the 5,000 yen. He couldn't help but reach out and rub her baseball cap, pulling the brim down even lower.
"Don't worry so much, kid. If this thing is really useless, I'll give it to you to use as a clothesline next time."
"No way!"
Rie protested, adjusting her hat and puffing out her cheeks. "I have a dryer!"
"Okay, okay, you have a dryer."
Kitahara Shin smiled and shook his head, pretending to carry the "air fishing rod" that had already been stored in the system space on his back, and walked towards the corner of the shopping street.
As he passed an old vending machine, he stopped, took out a few coins, and put them in.
"Clang!"
Two cans of orange soda rolled down.
Kitahara Shin bent down to pick it up, and without turning around, tossed it back with his other hand.
"Next, hush money."
"Wow!"
Rie frantically caught the can of ice-cold soda, almost dropping it on her foot.
She glanced at the jar in her hand, then at the price tag on the vending machine, and immediately frowned: "One hundred yen? And it's a no-name brand?"
She quickened her pace to catch up, waving the soda in front of Kitahara Shin: "Senior, you just bought that broken bamboo pole without batting an eye, spending five thousand! And you only offered a hundred as hush money?"
Be content.
Kitahara Shin pulled the tab with a "click," tilted his head back, and took a swig. The carbonated bubbles exploded in his throat. "That's an investment in art. This is living expenses. They're different."
"What art? It's just a waste of money!"
Rie muttered to herself, and although she complained, she still obediently pulled the tab.
"Sizzle—"
'
Bubbles rose up and got on my fingers.
She licked the sweetness off her fingers, watching the figure in the trench coat walking with a confident stride. Her cheeks, which had been puffed out because she only had one hundred yen, slowly deflated, and the corners of her mouth couldn't help but curl up.
"Hey, senior!"
She called out and took a step to follow him, deliberately stepping on Kitahara Shin's shadow that was dragging on the ground.
"what?"
"If I can't catch any fish next time, I'm going to tell a reporter from FRIDAY. I've already thought of a headline: 'The Nation's Warm-Hearted Man is Actually a Stingy Guy in Private!'"
"Then you have to return this hush money to me, plus interest."
"No way! I've already drunk it!"