Tokyo: My Best Actor Gear List

Chapter 45 is a single, continuous shot.

Inside an abandoned office building in Tokyo, the air is thick with dust and the musty smell of old carpets.

This is a narrow corridor forty meters long, with closed office doors on both sides. Half of the fluorescent light tubes overhead are broken, flickering on and off, dividing the entire corridor into sections of pale white and dark intermingling.

Photographer Katsumi Yanagishima was sweating profusely as he adjusted a huge Arri camera, the moving track beneath his feet stretching all the way to the end of the corridor.

"Listen up, everyone."

Takeshi Kitano, wearing a loose gray cardigan and holding a well-worn megaphone, spoke in a muffled voice that carried an undeniable air of authority: "I want this scene to be filmed in one take."

The staff at the scene gasped in shock.

In the Japanese film industry of the late 80s, long takes were a trick only masters like Akira Kurosawa dared to use. To have actors perform high-intensity chases and fights in such a narrow and complex environment, without any editing, was a hellish test of the actors' physical strength, precision of movement, and the cinematographer's ability to keep track of focus.

"Once it's turned on, no one is allowed to stop it until that guy crashes through the glass at the end and falls out."

Takeshi Kitano pointed to the rickety window at the end of the corridor, then turned to the stuntman playing the suspect. "Hey, listen up. I don't need any fancy camera tricks. When Kitahara charges at you, if you don't run fast, you'll really get killed."

The stuntman was a lean young man. Upon hearing this, his face paled, and he looked at Kitahara Shin, who was standing at the starting line.

Kitahara Shin was facing away from everyone, adjusting his cuffs. He was wearing a cheap dark blue jacket over a white shirt.

Instead of warming up like a typical action actor, he stood quietly in the shadows, like a stone blending into the darkness.

He closed his eyes slightly, his consciousness sinking into his mind. A pale blue light screen silently unfolded on his retina.

After some time of exploration, he has fully understood the mechanism of the system—items no longer need to be held in his hand like before to take effect.

Below that light screen, a row of semi-transparent squares floated; that was the [Equipment Slots].

Simply use your mind to "drag" the acquired items into these slots, and the items will transform into a conceptual power that empowers the host. The physical items can then be stored freely in pockets, bags, or even drawers at home, completely freeing up your hands.

Kitahara Shin's mind stirred slightly, locking onto that old icon.

[Item: A retired police detective's worn-out journal]

[Action: Equip to accessory slot (1/3)]

"Buzz—"

The item is instantly activated as soon as the icon is placed in the equipment slot.

Although his hands were empty, a chilling, weary, and blood-tinged feeling crept through his body from his nerve endings. It was as if he truly carried with him that notebook that recorded thirty years of crimes, the weight of every victim's name and every unsolved case etched into his soul.

[Status: Absolutely Calm (Loaded)]

[Special Effect: Boundary Exceeding Limits (Active)]

When he opened his eyes again, his vision had changed.

This corridor was no longer a film set, but one of countless crime scenes he had seen in the Metropolitan Police Department's files. The musty smell in the air had turned into the stench of blood, and the trembling actor ahead was the drug dealer who had just committed murder and was trying to escape.

"I am Kikuchi," he muttered to himself. "I'm a cop who only knows how to use his fists."

"On your marks—"

The script supervisor raised the board.

"Action!"

At the command, the stuntman let out a scream and took off running. His survival instincts gave him incredible speed, the sound of his shoes scraping the ground echoing in the empty corridor.

Almost at the same instant, a deep blue shadow shot out from the shadows.

That's not a person running. That's a cheetah hunting.

Because his hands were free of any burden, Kitahara Shin's arm swings were extremely powerful and explosive.

The photographer pushed the camera cart frantically backward along the track. In the lens, Kitahara Shin's face was expressionless, not even his breathing rhythm was out of place. His eyes were fixed on the prey ahead, each step heavy and powerful, making a dull "thump, thump" sound on the floor, like heavy hammer blows hitting the heart.

ten meters.

five meters.

three meters.

The distance was rapidly closing. This pure, straight-line chase, devoid of any fancy maneuvers, ironically created a suffocating sense of oppression.

"ah!!"

Hearing the wind approaching from behind, the suspect panicked and tried to turn around and crawl into the room next door.

It's too late.

Kitahara Shin suddenly reached out and grabbed the suspect by the back of his collar. The immense momentum lifted the suspect off the ground, throwing him around like a rag doll.

"Bang!"

A deafeningly loud bang.

The suspect was slammed heavily against the corridor wall. Several cracks instantly appeared in the plasterboard wall, and dust fell in a flurry.

It was a solid impact, without any protective gear to cushion it. The suspect let out a genuine cry of pain as he slid down the wall.

But Kitahara Shin didn't let him go. He stepped forward, grabbed the suspect's neck tightly with his left hand, and shoved him back against the wall.

At this point, the camera zooms in for a close-up.

According to the script, at this point all that's needed is to punch the suspect once to end the matter.

But in that state of extreme immersion, under the psychological suggestion of extreme disgust and numbness towards sin brought about by the [notebook], Kitahara Shin's body seemed to take over his brain.

He did not throw a punch immediately.

In that violent moment, he suddenly lowered his head and slowly tugged at the cuff of his left shirt with his right hand—the violent movement had left the cuff slightly wrinkled, which made him uncomfortable.

The movement was so elegant it was almost eerie.

It's like a gentleman who has just committed murder tidying up his appearance, or like an obsessive-compulsive person correcting some kind of mistake.

After straightening his cuffs, he looked up, his unwavering eyes fixed on the terrified suspect.

There was no warning whatsoever.

Pull your right elbow back sharply, and then—

"Bang!"

An extremely vicious elbow strike landed precisely on the suspect's cheek (a camera trick, but the visual effect is extremely realistic).

The suspect didn't even have time to scream before collapsing limply to the ground.

Kitahara Shin stood still, looking down at the "corpse" on the ground, then shook his hand with some disgust, as if he had just touched something dirty.

He turned to face the camera, his face still expressionless, straightened his collar, and strode towards the end of the corridor.

Until his figure disappeared around the corner.

The long take ends.

"...Cut!!"

Takeshi Kitano didn't call for a stop immediately, but waited a full five seconds before jumping up from behind the monitor.

The scene was deathly silent.

Everyone was stunned by the action of "adjusting the cuffs and then delivering an elbow strike." The stark contrast—elegance and brutality, calmness and madness—was perfectly blended together in an instant.

The stuntman covered his face and got up from the ground. He was a little dizzy, but thankfully he wasn't really injured. However, his eyes were really frightened.

"That gesture..."

Takeshi Kitano strode up to Shin Kitahara, a near-fanatical excitement spreading across his perpetually twitching face. He pointed at Kitahara's cuff. "Who told you to add that?"

Kitahara Shin, just snapping out of his bloodthirsty state, paused, stunned: "What?"

He didn't even realize he had just made that gesture. It was probably a muscle memory left over from playing the "elegant gangster" in "Yakuza Blood," which had been revived in this "violent detective."

"Adjust your cuffs! Right while you're pinning him against the wall!"

Takeshi Kitano slapped his thigh hard. "That's fucking amazing! A cop who only knows how to kill, yet he cares about whether his shirt is wrinkled. That's what's truly insane! A distortion of humanity!"

He turned around and yelled at the still-dazed photographer and crew:

"See that? This is over! Nobody's allowed to cut it! I'll fight anyone who does!"

Kitahara Shin looked at the excited Kitano Takeshi, then at his own slightly reddened knuckles, his consciousness sweeping over the quietly glowing [Journal] in his mental inventory.

In this long take, he not only completed the role of "Kikuchi", but also added a touch of scarlet to the "Kitano Blue" background, which belongs to Kitahara Shin.

"Art, huh..."

He chuckled softly, took a mint from his pocket, and popped it into his mouth to suppress the churning taste of blood in his throat.

In this narrow corridor, he was no longer the newcomer who needed the director to teach him how to act.