Lady Joker, Volume 1 by Kaoru Takamura (lightest ebook reader .txt) 📕

wearing a skirt.” “Oh, that’s a skirt?” And so the mindless chatter around him continued.

“Say, Shiroyama-san. That commercial for Lemon Sour, it’s weird, right?” President Ishizuka of Hinode Beverage suddenly addressed him, to which Shiroyama replied vaguely, “Oh, sure.” Meanwhile, a scan of the room confirmed that Takeo Sugihara was not present. Since Sugihara regularly attended this meeting, Shiroyama wondered if his absence today might mean that Kurata, his superior, had spoken to him about the issue with his daughter.

“Well, that ad is now a hit. It seems that young people today appreciate a fresh kind of ‘weirdness.’ That’s what the guys from Mainichi Advertising tell me,” President Ishizuka continued.

It was Seigo Kurata who responded, “If that’s the case, our ‘100 Years in the Making’ spot with its gold letters and Viennese waltz might be too orthodox. And that one’s also by Mainichi Advertising.”

Kurata was a big man—the exact opposite of Shiroyama and Shirai—and his taciturnity, in inverse proportion to his physicality, also made him stand out among the board members. His face was even less remarkable than Shiroyama’s and Shirai’s, yet he gave the impression that only actual results mattered, which had earned him the nickname “the whiz” within the corporate world, and no one would deny that his savvy was the backbone of the beer division. To wit, in the caricatures that appeared in last month’s in-house newsletter, this silent torpedo of a man was rendered as an ox with a nondescript face, while Shiroyama was depicted as a penguin and Shirai as a woodpecker.

Even now, after taking the position of vice president, Kurata never took his eyes off the various numbers coming in from their branch offices and stores and, with every inch of the company’s sales network in mind, he read the weekly stats and compared these figures with the marketing analysis reports. He would observe any variations silently for the first month, and if they continued for a second month then he would call the branch office or stores directly himself; in the mornings Kurata’s phone line was generally busy. He was never in the office in the afternoons—almost every day of the week he was off visiting a branch company or a factory or a distributor. Back when he was still deputy sales manager, one of the executives had remarked, “Kurata is a torpedo.” What he had meant was that one could not see Kurata’s face because it was always submerged beneath the numbers.

And for the past ten years, Kurata had neatly tucked away his relationship with the likes of the Okada Association somewhere within his businesslike persona. Owing to the incompetence of the director of general affairs and the executive in charge at the time—who knows what the actual details were—apparently one of the EVPs had simply asked Kurata to take care of the problem. It was a while before Shiroyama, his superior, even learned that Kurata was handling it, and when he asked him about it, Kurata maintained his tight-lipped nature. Before Shirai started poking around about it six years ago, it was considered taboo to mention Okada at board meetings, and whatever weariness or frustration Kurata may have felt in shouldering such a taboo on his own could only be glimpsed in his slight stoop.

The conversation around the table had not let up, and with Kurata’s comments added to the mix, Hinode Lager’s 100 Years in the Making commercial became fodder for all. “It’s true that Hinode Lager can come off as orthodox, but that Viennese waltz spot actually flips our brand image on its head and pushes it to the edge. Does everybody see that?” asked an executive in charge of advertising. Someone then replied, “You’re right. That commercial is an elegant spoof,” while another added, “We ought to try selling beer by embracing the weird,” which was followed by laughter.

Ishizuka continued, “I met with the managing director of Dentsu the other day. He heartily endorsed the new commercial. He said Hinode’s sense for advertising is really cutting edge.” Shiroyama agreed with this. Once Hinode stopped depending on the overwhelming dominance of the lager—and in order to strip away their imposing and traditional image in accordance with their diversification policy—their entire advertising strategy had been entrusted to their young employees. This was already starting to show results. After all, they were the ones who had turned Shiroyama into a penguin and Shirai into a woodpecker.

“That’s great to hear,” Shiroyama said, and a chorus of agreement and series of nods followed. Then someone else offered, “I hear the cultural awards this year were a great success,” and the conversation flowed into another direction.

“Where’s Sugihara?” Shiroyama asked Kurata, trying to be nonchalant.

“A business trip to the Osaka branch,” Kurata responded tersely, leaving it at that for the time being. Just then another executive quipped, “Speaking of which, I hear the Supreme is doing well in Osaka,” which was followed by “Not surprisingly, in the Kansai region they seem to prefer a higher alcohol content,” and then, “Even if we reduced the alcohol content for the Tokyo market, I think it would take a few years for the Kansai region to follow suit.” Finally, it was Kurata who said, “We need to start thinking about region-specific products.”

“By the way, Shiroyama-san. I hear there’ll be a CIA spy at today’s Japan-US Businessmen’s Conference,” another executive piped up.

“Surely they’re not getting money from some corporation,” Shiroyama shrugged it off with a bitter smile.

Shirai interjected, “We’ll just have to let the auto industry be their target for a while.” However, everyone was aware that the delicate, behind-the-scenes negotiations with Limelight were about to begin, and so the topic was swiftly dropped.

Just like that, his first-item-of-the-day breakfast meeting was finished in a quick half hour, and Shiroyama got up from his seat, leaving half of the Matsukado bento box that he usually polished off. Reminding himself that Ms. Nozaki would be waiting for him with his briefcase at the front entrance at nine-forty, he hesitated a moment