Tokyo: The Manga Begins with the Funeral of Frilian

Yuma Kamiya leaned back in his chair.

"The record company's investment is gone, so we can ignore it. The TV station has no timetable, so we can ignore that too. Dongyang needs to change directors..."

I saw the meeting minutes on the table.

"Get them out of here."

Ryota Onodera took the cigarette out of his mouth.

He stopped wiping the table after the cigarette ash fell on it.

"Are you serious? The record company gave 20 million, the TV station gave 30 million, Dongyang advanced 30 million, plus their discounted share... that's a shortfall of nearly 120 million. You're saying we can just leave it at that?"

"I didn't say 'don't care.' It means we should ignore them."

Yuma Kamiya is sitting upright.

"If they don't come, we'll do it ourselves. If the record company won't invest, we'll fund our own music production. If the TV station doesn't schedule a broadcast, we'll have to find our own airtime. If Dongyang doesn't advance the funds, we'll pay our own salaries. If they want to change directors, then we'll change production companies."

"Change the production company?"

Ryota Onodera raised his voice slightly.

"There are only a handful of companies in Japan capable of producing a single season of animation, and Toyo is among the top three. If you replace Toyo, who will take its place? Have you found a small workshop with only three workers?"

"Fujita has been in the industry for twenty years. The key animators, animators, color designers, and photographers he knows—those people came from the same generation as him and are now scattered in various companies. He doesn't hold the title of director, but those people are still there. His team isn't brought together by company structure."

Yuma Kamiya turned to Keisuke Fujita.

  

Fujita remained in the corner the whole time.

After the meeting minutes were laid out, Fujita has remained silent ever since.

He placed his hands on his knees, his ten fingers interlaced.

"Fujita-sensei, where are the people who worked with you on 'Winter Stardust' when you were growing cabbages in Saitama?"

Fujita raised his head.

There was a slight redness around his eyes.

However, his voice was very calm and steady.

"The head of the key animation team, Tamura, is now doing outsourcing work at Kyoto Animation. The art director, Yamazaki, went back to his hometown to inherit his father's printing factory. The head of the photography team, Nonaka, is shooting product catalogs for a GG company in Tokyo. The color designer, Kobayashi—Kobayashi, she—"

He paused.

"She works at a convenience store. I ran into her last week when I went to buy cigarettes. She said she still paints in her spare time, painting landscapes that nobody sees. She asked me when I would make another animation. I said, maybe that day will never come."

Fujita clenched his fists even tighter.

"These people worked with me on 'Winter Stardust,' and when it flopped at the box office, I couldn't afford to pay them severance. None of them blamed me. When Yamazaki left, he even gave me his favorite pencil, saying that if I wanted to make a comeback, I should call him and he would come back immediately. But I didn't dare to make that call. I didn't dare to drag them down again."

"Then you can fight now."

Kamiya Yuma picked up the telephone from the coffee table and placed it in front of Fujita.

"Tell them that there's a crazy comic artist who funds his own animation production. He has no record company, no TV station, and no big company backing him up. But there's someone who owes them severance pay, owed for three years, and now wants to pay it back."

Fujita's eyes were fixed on the telephone, and his hands began to tremble.

Shiori Shirakawa pushed her calculator toward Fujita's direction.

"The initial production team's salaries are 30 million. The record company's share is 20 million. The TV station's production committee participation fee is 30 million. Plus, the production budget that needs to be supplemented after Tungyang withdrew its investment is about 40 million. The total shortfall is 120 million, which sounds like a lot."

She turned to a new page in the folder.

"But if you calculate it carefully, the royalties from the first edition of Volume 10, which is one million copies, after deducting the operating costs already invested in the studio and the registered capital of the production committee, will leave a surplus of 12 million. Volume 11 will arrive next month, and based on the first print run of 1.5 million copies, the royalties will be approximately 50 million. Volume 12 will arrive three months later, and conservatively estimated, it will also be 30 million."

She gripped the red pen tightly in her hand.

He then quickly wrote down several lines of numbers on the paper.

"If produced in installments by episode, the pure production cost of one episode of animation is about ten million. The production cost of the first five episodes can be completely covered by the royalties from volume eleven. The royalties for the subsequent seven episodes will be paid in installments according to the broadcast schedule, and the royalties received every three months will be just in time. In other words, it is not a question of 'whether it is enough' at all."

She turned the folder around.

Then push the folder toward Ryota Onodera.

"This is a question of 'how to arrange'."

Ryota Onodera stared at the many numbers on the paper, remaining in a daze for a long time.

He then reached for the folder and picked it up.

I checked the contents of the folder once.

Then I put it down.

I picked it up and looked at it again.

"Miss Shiori."

"Um?"

"What kind of work do you do at the ward office?"

"Processing documents."

"That's not paperwork. That's managing the national treasury in the Ministry of Finance."

Shiori Shirakawa picked up her teacup and took a sip.

At this moment, the tips of her ears turned slightly red.

"The responsibilities of the finance and general affairs manager include managing money. Kamiya Studio's accounts are so empty that all that's left is cash. I approve whatever is needed."

Fujita stared intently at the telephone for a full ten seconds.

Then he reached out and picked up the receiver.

First, I made the first phone call.

This call was made to Tamura, the head of the original art team.

Fujita's fingers trembled as he dialed the number.

But once the call connected, his voice immediately became steady.

"Tamura. It's me. Fujita. Yes, the bastard who owes you three months' wages and ran back to his hometown to grow cabbages. I know you're doing outsourcing at Kyoto Animation. I won't make you quit. You can continue working there and help me in your spare time. I'll pay you per piece, 12,000 yen per keyframe. Not much, but 3,000 more than three years ago."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.

Immediately afterwards, a man's laughter rang out, and the laughter was incredibly loud.

Even Shirakawa Shiori, who was sitting at the low table, heard it.

"Fujita, you bastard! It's been three years and you're only calling now! I thought you really died in the cabbage field! What anime? Hmm? What genre? 'The Burial of Frilian'? Wait... is it 'The Burial of Frilian' from Jump? My daughter's following that manga! She's bought every single volume!"

Fujita moved the receiver away slightly.

After the shouting stopped, he brought the receiver closer to his ear.

So, are you coming or not?

"Come on. I'll come find you tomorrow."