Tokyo: The Manga Begins with the Funeral of Frilian

Joe Hisaishi abruptly turned his head, staring intently at Yuma Kamiya, his eyes red-rimmed, clearly agitated.

How did you come up with these ideas?

He asked.

"I wasn't thinking about music."

"That's what Yuma Kamiya replied."

"What comes to mind is Frilian. She has lived for far too long and experienced far too much. When she lost the hero, she did not cry because in the perception of the immortal species, death does not stop suddenly, but is a slow fading process, like a very long lullaby. As it is sung, the sound gradually becomes inaudible, but in reality, it never stops."

Joe Hisaishi stood up and said.

"Go back to Tokyo."

Just as Shiori Shirakawa was about to say something, Joe Hisaishi continued.

"Send the contract over."

After saying that, he walked towards the window.

With his back to them all, his voice was still trembling slightly.

"Tell that kid Fujita that three minutes of silence is far too short. I'm going to write a whole suite for him, not just the first one, but in every episode thereafter, whenever Frilian is walking, I'll play variations of these eight notes. When she's walking in the desert, I'll play it on the violin; when she's walking in the snow-capped mountains, on the cello; when she's at the seaside, on the harp; and when she finally stands before Simmel's grave..."

He took a deep breath, his shoulders under his gray sweater swaying slightly. "No instruments needed, just those eight notes, clean eight notes without any accompaniment. I want all the composers in Japan to know what music is. It's not about forcing something into the audience's ears, but about digging into their hearts to uncover their true emotions."

He turned around, his eyes still red, but there was a slight smile on his lips. "By the way, didn't that bastard Fujita's production company go bankrupt? Under what name are you making this animation now?"

Yuma Kamiya smiled and replied, "In the name of my studio."

Joe Hisaishi paused for a moment, then asked in confusion, "You draw manga, are you going to fund your own animation production?"

"It's not just about making animation."

Shiori Shirakawa loosened Yuuma Kamiya's sleeve and took out a folder from her bag. "We contributed most of the funds and took control. The remaining share was originally intended to be shared by the record company, the TV station, and the production company, but they were all scared off by Koichi Matsumoto's warnings about the business risks. So now, it's just us."

Joe Hisaishi walked back from the window, picked up the pile of storyboards on the piano bench, and turned to the last page. Fujita had written a note on it: "The enemy of this animation is not the remnants of the Demon King's army, nor the so-called capital winter, but those who do not believe that victory can be achieved by slowing down."

Joe Hisaishi closed the storyboard and said, "Wait a moment."

He came out of the music room and then went into the study next door. He took out an envelope from a drawer and said, "This is the property certificate for an apartment I own in Tokyo. It's not in a great location, it's in Ota Ward, and it's worth about 20 million yen. You can use it as collateral to get some cash to cover the shortfall in your production costs."

Shiori Shirakawa was stunned, and quickly said, "Mr. Hisaishi, we can't do this..."

  

"Who said I was going to give it to you?"

Joe Hisaishi stuffed the envelope into Shiori Shirakawa's hand, then turned to Yuuma Kamiya, "I'm just borrowing it. Once the anime airs, the merchandise sells, and the royalties arrive, you can pay me back. The interest will be calculated at the bank's fixed deposit rate, not a penny less."

Kamiya Yuuma took the envelope and said only one word: "Okay."

"besides,"

Joe Hisaishi sat down at the piano again, reopened the lid, and said, "I have indeed burned all the scrap scores I wrote in the past three years, but those melodies are still deeply etched in my mind."

He pointed to his temple, "I need to reorganize everything and rearrange all the tracks. There might be dozens of tracks by then."

He placed his hands on the piano keys, without playing any music, simply pressing them down gently.

When do you need it?

"Fujita's plan is to go into the recording studio next spring. Before the official recording, he needs to complete the composition and arrangement of all the music."

Joe Hisaishi closed his eyes, his fingers gliding lightly and silently across the piano keys. After a long while, he slowly opened his eyes and said, "Not enough time."

"That……"

Shiori Shirakawa spoke with some concern.

"But it's still possible."

He pressed the first note, which was not one of the eight notes mentioned earlier, but a completely new chord. This chord was deep and gentle, just like the snow falling on the cedar forest, quiet yet powerful.

"From today onwards, I will not answer any phone calls, see any visitors, or watch television. I will work from four in the morning until ten at night. Do not disturb me."

"Do you need food delivered?"

Baihe Shizhi asked.

"No need. There are frozen dumplings in the freezer."

Joe Hisaishi's nimble fingers glided across the piano keys.

A chord slowly unfolds.

It then transformed into an obscure and unfamiliar melody.

"I'll keep Fujita's storyboard. You can go back now. Once the contract arrives, just leave it with the gatekeeper."

Kamiya Yuma and Shirakawa Shiori exchanged glances.

Then she turned around and walked towards the door.

"Kamiya."

Joe Hisaishi's voice came from behind.

"Um?"

"What shade of blue did you use when you drew that crimson violet?"

"Cobalt blue plus ultramarine, plus the morning light outside the window."

Joe Hisaishi remained silent for a moment.

"I use the same formula for this chord."

He pressed the piano keys.

That one chord echoed in the music room.

It crossed the hallway and the living room.

We walked through the still-burning flames in the fireplace.

It then landed on the snow outside the Chitaki Villa.

Kamiya Yuma and Shirakawa Shiori walked out of the villa.

Shiori Shirakawa glanced in the direction behind her.

The light in the music room shone through the drawn curtains.

It presents a blurry and indistinct appearance.

An elderly man wearing a gray sweater is sitting in front of the piano.

His back was straight.

Immediately afterwards, she heard a violent coughing sound coming from the music room.

After the coughing stopped, Joe Hisaishi could be heard shouting into the phone.

"Hey? Is this the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra? Tell your conductor to answer the phone! What? He's rehearsing? Stop him! Tell him Joe Hisaishi has found a new piece! No need to rehearse other people's lousy scores anymore, come and record real music for me!"