Note: This Chapter is Re-Translated on 6 / 15 / 2025
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Chapter 17: It's Time He Settled Down And Found A Nice, Loaded Wife
Bandai Visual—the film distribution wing of Bandai.
Anyone with even the slightest interest in anime or tokusatsu knew the name. As the largest toy manufacturer in Japan—possibly all of East Asia—the Bandai empire was legendary.
To its customers, Bandai was a paradox.
They loved it.
They hated it.
They needed it.
As for Shinji, he didn't harbor any particular grudge against the company. Having lived two lives as a die-hard tokusatsu fan, he knew full well what Bandai had done for the genre.
Sure, he had his gripes. Their "sustainability-through-overexploitation" marketing approach rubbed him the wrong way. But Shinji couldn't deny how much Bandai had propped up tokusatsu over the decades.
Without their unwavering support, the genre would've likely faded into obscurity after the '90s boom fizzled out. Even if it was all about profit in the end, Bandai's money still kept the fire burning.
No one else had been willing to invest in the medium back then.
So ironically, the very fact that Bandai only cared about making money… might actually work in his favor.
It meant that if Fate/Stay Night looked profitable, they'd throw their full weight behind it—no questions asked.
That said, Shinji did have a few reservations. Bandai Visual, while a recognizable name in anime distribution, had little experience in live-action or FX-heavy films. Aside from the occasional Ultraman movie, their portfolio was almost entirely animation-focused.
Still, at least they showed interest.
Since the screening, Keigo Hata from Toho hadn't reached out once. But the young rep from Bandai? He'd called that same night, asking if the company could take a closer look at the film.
So the very next morning, Shinji and Kariya Matou made their way to Tsuburaya Productions to host a second, private screening for Bandai Visual staff.
This one was a lot more bare-bones than the previous day's.
They'd commandeered a simple meeting room at Tsuburaya HQ, transforming it into a makeshift theater. Heavy black curtains blocked out every bit of sunlight from the windows, plunging the room into near-total darkness.
At the front wall, a small silver screen had been pinned up. Shinji stood behind the old projector at the back, manning it himself as the film began.
In the seats ahead of him sat his uncle and the Bandai staff, watching the film in focused silence. Occasionally, whispers passed between them as Kariya dutifully sang his nephew's praises.
Of course, Fate/Stay Night was a visual effects showcase—something best appreciated on a full-size theater screen. Watching it like this, with shoddy acoustics and a subpar image? It didn't do the film justice.
But that couldn't be helped.
Most theaters had tight schedules, and getting even one screening like the previous day's had required weeks of advance booking. The manager had flatly refused Shinji's request for a second trial.
And all the other cinemas were too far from Tsuburaya HQ to be logistically convenient.
It was moments like this that made Shinji want to rant about the state of Japan's cinema infrastructure.
Less than 400 theaters in the whole country.
Still, as the movie rolled on, Shinji kept his eyes on the Bandai team's reactions.
And that's when something surprising happened.
The one leading the Bandai group today… was a woman. A well-dressed, elegant office lady with composed features.
Not that Shinji was about to get distracted by a pretty face—this wasn't his inner playboy talking.
It was recognition.
'Wait a minute… That's Udagawa Nao, isn't it?'
She's a future CEO of Bandai.
Shinji nearly dropped the projector remote.
He remembered her clearly. In the original timeline, she'd climbed the ranks through Bandai's game division, not film. So what the hell was she doing here, sitting in on a screening for Fate/Stay Night?
'Did something change because of me?'
That was entirely possible. He had thrown a wrench into history, after all.
Still, Shinji pushed the thought aside for now and focused on the task at hand.
The film was playing. Eyes were watching.
And if he played this right, the very company that built Japan's toy empire might be the key to Fate/Stay Night's salvation.
As the film neared its end, Bedivere bid farewell to Arturia. The moment the screen faded to black, Shinji didn't bother with the credits. He shut off the projector and immediately turned on the lights.
"Udagawa-san—"
Kariya had just opened his mouth to speak when Udagawa Nao raised her hand to stop him.
"Would you mind giving us a few minutes to discuss privately?"
"Of course not. Kariya-san, let's give them some space."
Shinji understood perfectly. These were business professionals—they needed time to compare notes and assess. Without hesitation, he pulled Kariya out of the room and shut the door behind them.
From what he'd seen during the screening, their reactions had been largely positive—certainly a step up from the disaster with the film critic yesterday. Still, that alone didn't mean Bandai would sign on.
It all depended on whether they believed the film had market potential.
After all, Bandai wasn't a charity or an art museum—it was a commercial juggernaut. Profit dictated everything.
Waiting outside in the hallway, the two Matous stood in silence. Kariya pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a flick of his thumb.
"That Udagawa woman brought a full team with her. Bandai's definitely interested."
Kariya wasn't one to fawn over business matters usually, but when it came to his nephew's film, he was surprisingly invested.
"Probably. At least this time, we didn't have some blowhard critic poisoning the air."
Shinji stared up at the ceiling tiles, voice light and unconcerned.
"Hey, now…"
Kariya shot him a look, half amused, half exasperated.
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Inside the meeting room, Udagawa Nao and the Bandai representatives sat in a circle, exchanging opinions.
"Udagawa-san, I told you, didn't I? It's a fantastic piece of work!"
The first to speak was the young man from the screening yesterday—the same one who had flagged Shinji down after the credits rolled.
He hadn't even meant to attend. Originally, he'd been visiting Tsuburaya to discuss toy design. Then, seeing Toho staff arrive, he'd simply tagged along on a whim.
At first, he'd only done it to kill time. Who wanted to go back to the office early?
But the moment Fate/Stay Night began, he'd been pulled in—drawn into a world unlike anything he'd expected.
He couldn't explain exactly why, but something about the film resonated with him. Deeply.
It felt… like a perfect fit for their company.
Another representative nodded in agreement. "Same here. The effects are simply top-notch. 'Realistic' doesn't even begin to cover it."
None of them were familiar with the idea of "VFX films." In their minds, this was a tokusatsu movie—something aimed at young audiences.
And they were impressed.
"This film definitely has value."
That voice came from the back of the room—a bespectacled man seated with arms crossed, his tone calm and thoughtful.
"That director—Shinji Matou—he's done an excellent job. The cinematography, the lighting, the color palette… all beyond what you see in most productions. But most impressive are the effects. Honestly, even Tsuburaya's got nothing on this. Just from that alone, it's in line with current tokusatsu market demands."
He paused, adjusting his glasses.
"But…"
Here it comes, Shinji thought from the hallway.
"The story's a bit dense. Yes, it does a solid job explaining the backstories of each Heroic Spirit, but for children? It's too complicated. And on top of that, there's romance. Let's not forget what happened with Ultraman Tiga: The Final Odyssey."
That earned a murmur of agreement from the others.
A few years ago, Tsuburaya had released a Tiga movie that was darker, deeper, and included a romantic subplot. The idea was that the kids who had watched the show originally were now teens or adults.
So the writers tailored the film for an older audience.
It backfired.
Parents expecting a typical family-friendly Ultraman experience left confused. Kids didn't get the story. And the box office took a hit.
Now, those ghosts haunted every decision the industry made.
When the Tiga movie finally hit theaters, the primary audience still turned out to be kids. Love? Romance? White album-style emotional subtext? These little brats had no idea what any of that meant.
The Final Odyssey couldn't be called a failure—but it definitely didn't meet expectations, either commercially or critically.
"I'm aware," said Udagawa Nao, calmly closing her notebook.
She looked up at the other three representatives around the table. "In any case, I think we're all in agreement."
"There is one last condition," the bespectacled man added. "All merchandise rights for this tokusatsu film must go through Bandai."
"But of course."
Udagawa's smile was serene, confident.
She'd already considered multiple merchandising options during the screening itself. Saber's sword, Excalibur, was a no-brainer. There could be a "True Name Release Ver." (standard version), a "Invisible Air Ver." (transparent version), and a glowing "Noble Phantasm Release Ver." (deluxe light-up model).
They would sell like hotcakes.
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A few minutes later, Shinji and Kariya returned to the conference room.
The Bandai team had lined up neatly along the left side of the long table. Shinji and his uncle took seats on the right.
Udagawa's gaze went right past Kariya—landing squarely on Shinji.
She hadn't paid him much attention earlier, but now that she got a proper look, she was stunned.
He's just a kid.
No way he was over twenty. Probably not even eighteen.
With her years of corporate experience, Udagawa's instincts kicked in immediately.
Talented or not, kids like this lacked real-world experience. They tended to be idealistic. Naive. Dreamers.
Easy to manipulate. All you had to do was dangle a little talk about "creative freedom" and "your bright future" in front of them, and they'd practically sign themselves over.
But her attention didn't stay on Shinji for long. She quickly turned to assess Kariya Matou.
This one's the tricky part.
An actor who'd been crawling through the entertainment industry for years—he wouldn't be as easy to fool.
Still… Udagawa wasn't too worried.
Kariya might have some fame, sure, but at the end of the day, he was just an actor. He had no experience selling a film. No clue how distribution worked. No sense of what a movie should actually be worth.
And she had leverage.
After all, she was representing Bandai, a titan of the Japanese entertainment industry. Facing a greenhorn director and a second-tier actor, she held all the cards.
Who knows? Maybe she can convince them to bring their whole production team under Bandai. That would be a huge win.
She looked Shinji over from head to toe. The technical quality of his film had impressed her. If she could lure his entire crew in-house, the Bandai Visual department could make a serious leap forward.
On Shinji's end, he stayed quiet, his expression unreadable.
But while Udagawa was observing him, he was analyzing her just as intently.
From the seating arrangement alone, it was clear Udagawa was the one in charge.
Shinji wasn't about to underestimate her just because she was a woman. In fact, the opposite—he knew all too well how hostile Japan's corporate world was to women in power.
For her to rise through that environment and eventually become Bandai's president?
She had to be dangerous.
'I wonder if she's married?' Shinji mused.
After all, she was a wealthy and influential woman.
Maybe he should get his uncle involved?
He's not young anymore. Maybe it's time he settled down and found a nice, loaded wife.
Shinji threw a quick sideways glance at Kariya, weighing the possibilities.
'…Huh? Why's it suddenly so cold?'
Kariya shivered involuntarily, rubbing his arms.