Chapter 365: Anti–Shinji Matou Alliance
The announcement of Fate/Apocrypha's release date marked the Fate series' return to the big screen after a two-year absence—a piece of undeniably good news for movie fans across Europe and America.
UBW and HF were both excellent stories, and Super 8 boasted truly stunning visual effects. These works were also quite popular in the West.
However, the former was still just television, unable to replace the immersive impact of a theatrical release. As for the latter, when all was said and done, it was still a Japanese-style tokusatsu film. For Western audiences lacking that deep-rooted Ultraman nostalgia, it was ultimately just another standard popcorn flick.
The Fate story, however, was an entirely different beast.
Although the films were set in Japan, and both FSN and FZ featured Japanese protagonists, the Heroic Spirits summoned within the story were mostly legendary figures Western audiences had grown up hearing about. These were heroes from myths and legends etched into their childhoods, giving viewers an instinctive sense of familiarity and affection toward the Servants.
And this time, the Holy Grail War of Fate/Apocrypha actually took place in Europe.
That alone made Western fans feel even closer to the story.
When people truly love a work, they naturally want to share it with those around them. The development of the internet had vastly expanded the scope of communication. Add to that the Fate/Apocrypha cast constantly boosting their presence in public through various appearances—even without revealing any substantial plot details—and fans were already delighted just seeing their faces on screen.
For fans, the overwhelming, all-encompassing promotion of Fate/Apocrypha was nothing short of a grand carnival.
And the man behind the series, Shinji Matou, had long ceased to be "just a film director" in the eyes of certain particularly fervent fans.
He was the god of cinema.
The savior of commercial films.
He was light, he was electricity, he was myth.
He was love, warmth, and hope.
He was April on earth, and Venus shining in the heavens.
Such near-religious fanaticism not only failed to provoke backlash, but was instead widely accepted among moviegoers as perfectly reasonable.
After all, who could blame them? Shinji Matou had practically become synonymous with commercial cinema itself—a bona fide box office printing machine.
At present, Shinji wasn't just good at making movies. He also possessed an arsenal of cutting-edge technologies, making him almost a carbon copy of James Cameron from his previous life.
But even James Cameron, as legendary as he was, forged masterpieces over a decade at a time—each film measured in ten-year cycles.
Shinji, on the other hand? His films weren't just high quality, packed with new technologies one after another—his output speed was downright absurd.
It used to be one movie per year. Now it was two movies a year, plus supervising a television series on the side.
This level of productivity would make even the relatively streamlined art-house film scene bow in submission, let alone the commercial film industry.
As the saying goes: a tall tree catches the wind; a famous man invites resentment.
Within the entertainment industry, opinions of Shinji Matou were steadily souring.
Especially when others watched Shinji and his films dominate the media spotlight, while their own movies couldn't even secure an interview without making an appointment in advance—because the reporters had to rush off to cover Shinji first.
That kind of frustration was enough to make anyone crack.
After all, Shinji's films only accounted for a small portion of the total box office numbers—looking at totals without considering variance was meaningless.
Yet Shinji absorbed an overwhelming amount of attention, causing overall box office performance for other studios to decline. Worse still, he monopolized the prime summer release window.
What Shinji was doing felt like building a towering, multi-dozen-story five-star hotel right in the middle of a cluster of small guesthouses in a scenic tourist town.
Not only did it overshadow everyone else, it also ruined the beautiful views those inns once relied on.
Erect a high-rise next to pristine scenery, and aside from the people living inside it, everyone else can only see it as an eyesore.
"Damn you, Shinji Matou!"
Staring at the entertainment sections of every major newspaper, all plastered wall-to-wall with Fate/Apocrypha coverage, Robert Iger let out a helpless sigh. He had only just taken over as Chairman of Disney's Board, and this was already giving him a headache.
When it came to Shinji Matou, Iger's opinion was the same as that of most North American studio executives—a mixture of love and hate.
They loved him because his films shattered the long-held myth that only artsy European films could achieve critical acclaim and massive box office success. He proved that there were other ways to make money besides endlessly flattering European critics.
They hated him because, year after year, Shinji Matou harvested North America like a field of ripe leeks—taking profits that should have belonged to them.
In the eyes of these Hollywood moguls, the ideal scenario would have been simple:
Shinji comes to North America, makes a fortune, broadens everyone's horizons and then promptly crashes and burns, never to rise again, leaving the market open for North American studios to reclaim.
North American money should be earned by North Americans. What kind of joke was it to let a Japanese guy come in and reap it all?
Unfortunately, ideals are not reality.
Not only was Shinji not rejected by North American audiences, his popularity was skyrocketing. So much so that every studio except Time Group—the one collaborating with him—was reaching the limits of its patience.
"If we don't stop this guy now," Iger said, tapping the table with his finger, his gaze sweeping across the long conference table, "there will soon be no place left for us in the North American entertainment market."
"Exactly. Shinji Matou is the single greatest scourge Hollywood has ever faced!"
The speaker was an elderly woman in professional attire, her expression rigid and severe.
Her name was Sherry Lansing, and despite the name, she had absolutely nothing to do with Haibara Ai or Gin's migraines. She was the CEO of Paramount Pictures.
Starting out as an actress and eventually rising to lead a major Hollywood studio, Sherry Lansing was, without question, one of the most successful women in Hollywood.
That said, professional success aside, her business tactics left much to be desired.
Last year's clash between Super 8 and Godzilla, where Paramount had aggressively spread negative press about Shinji, was entirely her doing.
Pressing her lips together, Sherry Lansing declared, "We must completely eradicate him from the North American market! That brat will drag our entire film industry into damnation!"
Despite being well past sixty and long finished with menopause, her temper was as explosive as ever.
Not only that—she was petty to an impressive degree.
Even though she had started last year's media war, after losing, she firmly believed it was the other party's fault. Paramount's defeat with Godzilla was, in her mind, entirely due to that blue-haired man.
"Please calm down, Ms. Lansing," said the middle-aged Asian man seated to her left, trying to placate her. "That's precisely why we're all here—to deal with Shinji Matou."
His name was Kevin Tsujihara, CEO of Warner Bros.—and, in Shinji's previous life, a Class-A war criminal in the eyes of DC fans.
Because Time Group in this world had been founded by magi, it never merged with Warner Bros. As a result, both Shinji Matou and Time Group were direct competitors to Warner.
Though Tsujihara was Japanese-American, as a "proper professional executive" (at least in his own estimation), he naturally regarded Shinji as a sworn enemy.
And it wasn't just these three.
Everyone seated around the massive conference table was either a CEO or senior executive from a major North American studio.
Their purpose in gathering was straightforward—
To deal with Shinji Matou and his greatest North American backer: Time Group.
From Fate/Stay Night to the present, Shinji had taken the most lucrative core of the North American entertainment market for himself.
The others weren't reduced to scraps—but their profits over the past few years had undeniably shrunk.
The market had grown larger under Shinji's influence, yet they hadn't received any of the dividends. No entertainment company on Earth would accept that quietly.
And so, to rebel against Shinji's dominance, they finally gathered together, sounding the horn of counterattack against the Great Demon King himself.
Their strategy was simple.
Use their own films to crush his release windows.
Force his movies into direct competition.
Lower his box office numbers.
Suppress his momentum.
In short, they planned to overwhelm Shinji with sheer scale—burning themselves slightly if necessary, so long as they could drag him down with them.
It wasn't that they couldn't think of smarter, more sophisticated methods.
But with so many companies involved, unity was fragile. Overly complex schemes risked collapsing from the inside.
This kind of brute-force competition was simple—and as long as no one backed out, it would absolutely suppress Shinji, or at least drastically cut into his profits.
"Shinji Matou has already announced the release dates for Fate/Apocrypha and Garden of Sinners," Iger said, flashing his signature Mickey Mouse smile. "Now it's our turn to snipe."
"I assure you," Sherry Lansing said with a cold smile, "our film will finish post-production by March at the latest. It will release in the same window as Fate/Apocrypha."
"I believe you," Iger replied. "Otherwise, I wouldn't let your film collide with Fate/Apocrypha head-on."
If the film quality wasn't high enough, releasing at the same time would mean nothing. A box-office ambush only worked if you could actually reach your opponent.
You couldn't talk about competing if you couldn't even touch their heels.
Paramount's chosen champion against Fate/Apocrypha was the live-action adaptation of the globally beloved classic animation:
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Super 8 had shown Hollywood the enduring power of late-20th-century children's IPs.
The kids who grew up watching those cartoons were adults now—with real purchasing power.
Targeting that demographic with high-budget live-action adaptations of their childhood memories was practically guaranteed to succeed.
Another reason Paramount chose TMNT was simple:
If they wanted to fight Fate, they needed something with comparable pull.
Looking through their IP catalog, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was the only one that could go toe-to-toe.
Paramount would have preferred to make Transformers, which had even higher commercial value—but unfortunately, Type-Moon's VFX team was weak in mechanical design.
Realistic Autobots and Decepticons were simply too difficult.
In comparison, TMNT was easy.
Just find four actors and put them in special Type-Moon material suits—slime-based props, to be precise.
Yes.
Although Paramount funded the movie.
Although the film existed to attack Shinji Matou.
The most crucial special effects technology was still provided by Type-Moon.
That was how powerful Shinji was—he controlled the core technology.
And being forced to pay money to their enemy just to make a movie? That suffocating humiliation was yet another reason Sherry Lansing wanted Shinji Matou dead.
In truth, it wasn't just Paramount.
The fact that Shinji Matou had an iron grip on a vast array of cutting-edge VFX technologies was something that left every major Hollywood studio with a lump stuck firmly in their throats.
That said, when it came to dealing with Shinji Matou, these Hollywood tycoons were taking the matter seriously—very seriously.
Setting aside the films they had specially prepared to go head-to-head with Fate/Apocrypha and The Garden of Sinners, they had also released countless smokescreens. The goal was simple: make sure that before Shinji announced his own release dates, he would know absolutely nothing about their true main lineup.
"Then the box office interception for the second week after Fate/Apocrypha releases will be handled by Disney."
After confirming that Paramount had no objections, Robert Iger calmly took responsibility for week two.
Everyone present had studied the box office trends of Shinji's previous films. They knew perfectly well that the first two weeks accounted for the overwhelming majority of a movie's total revenue.
That meant those two weeks were critical.
Under conditions of brutal internal competition, even a small loss of momentum could severely damage a film's overall earnings.
The opening week had been entrusted to Paramount, a studio with a deep and personal grudge against Shinji Matou. Naturally, the second week would fall to Disney—the leader of the pack.
After all, Disney was the initiator of this "Operation: Eliminate Shinji Matou." If they didn't take the lead, why would anyone else follow?
Good thing the board's already been briefed, Iger thought. Even if the film doesn't turn a profit, we'll have an excuse.
With that settled, he spoke aloud.
"Disney will release the live-action Cinderella in the second week, as our challenger to Fate/Apocrypha's box office run."
Suddenly, Howard Stringer, Sony's CEO, raised a question.
"Is Disney only preparing to deal with Fate/Apocrypha? What about The Garden of Sinners that comes after?"
Ever since Shinji had announced the release date for The Garden of Sinners, no one had been more miserable than Sony—whose film Shin Gamera was originally scheduled for the exact same week.
Sony Columbia's box office performance in recent years has been, frankly, terrible. Worse still, without Spider-Man—their greatest money-printing machine—they didn't even have a fig leaf left to cover their embarrassment.
"Sir Stringer, please calm down."
Robert Iger understood Sony's predicament well and explained patiently.
"The opening week of The Garden of Sinners will be intercepted by Disney. Sony should push its release date back."
"That would be perfect," Stringer said, finally letting out a huge sigh of relief.
However, Kevin Tsujihara from Warner Bros. frowned deeply.
"Do you even have another card to play?" he asked. "I haven't heard anything about it."
Cinderella was one of Disney's classic animated features. The name alone was enough to attract a massive audience. There were very few titles in the market that could match it in terms of recognition.
"It's not a well-known IP," Iger replied calmly. "It's an adaptation of one of the attractions from a Disney theme park. Since The Garden of Sinners is also a new IP, it's a fair match."
Tsujihara warned him, "But Shinji Matou is still Shinji Matou. Can some random movie really beat him?"
Iger shot him an annoyed look—but this seasoned master of the Mouse kept his composure and continued.
"Even if it's a new IP, Disney invested one hundred million dollars into this film. It's a major production."
Tsujihara's frown only deepened, but he said nothing more.
After all, last year's Godzilla had also been a big-budget production—and it still got utterly crushed by Super 8.
At the very least, Disney had proven its sincerity through sheer production budget. Continuing to argue any further would only make Warner look petty.
Besides, theater chains were never going to pour resources into The Garden of Sinners the way they did for the already-proven Fate series.
After all, this was still an untested franchise. No one could guarantee that Shinji Matou wouldn't stumble.
With Disney stepping in to apply pressure, no matter how strong Shinji was, theater companies would be unwilling to put all their chips on him alone.
After a long moment of deliberation, Kevin Tsujihara finally gave up pressing Iger and accepted the plan.
"Then Warner will release our film during the third week of Fate/Apocrypha, and the second week of The Garden of Sinners," he said. "We'll make sure not to drag everyone else down."
"I hope your film succeeds," Robert Iger replied—without the slightest sincerity.
Though everyone here claimed their common goal was to drive Shinji Matou out of Hollywood, in the end, each of them still represented their own company.
Warner might be targeting The Garden of Sinners in its second week—but wasn't it also taking a swing at Disney's own film?
In truth, as the initiator of this so-called "Anti–Shinji Matou Alliance," Robert Iger had his own calculations.
Over the past two years, Time Group's profits in the film industry had been carried almost entirely by Shinji Matou.
If Shinji's films failed to meet revenue expectations, the rest of Time Group's steadily hemorrhaging projects would inevitably drag the entire company down.
And once Time Group declined, Shinji Matou and his Type-Moon company would lose their North American marketing channels along with it.
At that point, Disney could step in—and sweep both Shinji and Type-Moon up in one clean move.
A man who had personally built the Disney empire in another world, Robert Iger placed immense value on IP—especially valuable IP.
And from Shinji's past words and actions, Iger had already deduced one thing:
If Time Group ran into trouble, Shinji wouldn't go down with the ship.
He would simply find another partner.
And when that happened, Disney's chance would arrive.
That's right—driving Shinji Matou out of Hollywood was nothing more than a convenient excuse.
Disney—no, Robert Iger's true objective—was singular and crystal clear:
Crush Time Group, and make Disney Type-Moon's North American agent.
As for Sony, Paramount, Warner, and the rest?
They were merely cost-sharing tools Disney had recruited to help grind Time Group down.
Of course, Iger was well aware that every studio present had its own schemes. It wasn't impossible that some of them harbored goals identical to his.
In the end, the outcome would depend on whose methods proved superior.
This so-called "Anti–Shinji Matou Alliance" couldn't exactly be described as harmonious.
◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆
"What the hell are these people doing?"
Inside the studio, Shinji had just finished editing a segment of The Garden of Sinners when news broke that Hollywood studios were collectively targeting his films.
"These guys really know how to stir things up," he muttered. "What is this—Infernal Affairs on steroids?"
Staring at the newly delivered summer release schedule his secretary had just handed him, Shinji nearly spat blood.
It wasn't just that several studios had kept their plans so tightly under wraps that he'd received no accurate intel beforehand.
It was also the sheer extravagance of the lineup they'd assembled specifically to deal with him.
The once-perfect situation—where everyone had carefully avoided Fate/Apocrypha and The Garden of Sinners—had vanished without a trace.
In its place was a densely packed battlefield, filled with powerful opponents of every conceivable genre.
From the newly released schedule alone, Shinji could clearly feel their resolve.
They were willing to lose money if that's what it took to drag him down.
"Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Cinderella, Pirates of the Caribbean, 300…"
"They really think highly of me, don't they?"
Shinji rubbed his temples and let out a long sigh.
Every one of these films occupied a place in his memories, which meant one thing—their box office performance was almost guaranteed to be strong.
Compared to the world he came from, this world had different directors and creative teams attached to these projects. But that didn't mean they'd necessarily be worse than the originals.
Especially after Shinji watched the trailers that had already been released—some of the shots were surprisingly well done.
It seemed that filmmakers in this world weren't stuck on "NPC difficulty" after all. After Shinji's success, they'd clearly started learning from him.
"Boss…"
Seeing the look on his face, his secretary Ophelia asked worriedly,
"Should we change our release dates? Avoid these guys?"
"It wouldn't mean anything. If I move, they'll move with me," Shinji replied, shaking his head with a wry smile.
"That's why they waited for me to announce my dates first."
"So we might as well be straightforward about it."
"I understand. I'll respond to Miss Flora that way," Ophelia said, rolling her eyes before leaving the studio.
After she left, Shinji picked up the stack of film briefs she'd placed on the desk and began reading carefully.
The two movies he was most concerned about were the ones directly colliding with his schedule—
May: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
June: Pirates of the Caribbean
The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles IP had lost some of its momentum after entering the 21st century, but back in the previous century, it had been an undeniable mega-IP.
Just how big was it?
Big enough that Broadway had once staged a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles–themed musical.
As for the quality… well.
You couldn't exactly say it stood shoulder to shoulder with Cats the musical—but if you put it next to the movie version of Cats, they'd at least qualify as twin legends of disaster.
To be fair, that musical was practically unknown domestically. If it had ever made it onto sites like Douban or Mtime, it would've struggled to score above 0.5.
A pure, unfiltered cash grab.
And yet—even garbage of that caliber had sold out shows and raked in money.
That alone spoke volumes about the place Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles once held in people's hearts.
More importantly, this world didn't have Michael "Explosion-Maniac" Bay.
Without his bizarre aesthetic—an aesthetic practically dedicated to ruining childhoods—the live-action turtles in this version actually looked… decent.
Back in Shinji's previous life, the most heavily criticized part of the live-action Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was the turtle designs themselves. They were just plain ugly.
Granted, without Bay—the commercial genius behind the spectacle—this version might lose some of its sheer entertainment value.
But with the significant boost in visual design, it was hard to say how the final product would turn out.
At the very least, judging by the trailers alone, Shinji felt that this version of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles looked slightly better than the live-action adaptation from his previous life.
Compared to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, he actually found The Garden of Sinners facing off against Pirates of the Caribbean to be a bit less daunting.
The reason was simple.
The core appeal—the true selling point—of Pirates of the Caribbean was Jack Sparrow, as portrayed by Johnny Depp.
And in this world, there was no actor named Johnny Depp.
Whether the new actor could capture the essence of Captain Jack was something Shinji was deeply skeptical about.
That said, as long as the story outline of Pirates of the Caribbean hadn't changed too drastically, even if this version of Jack Sparrow was somewhat inferior, it would still be an engaging adventure.
Which meant The Garden of Sinners would hardly have an easy time.
In fact, ever since the other film studios had announced their collective move to strangle Shinji Matou, industry opinion had already turned overwhelmingly pessimistic toward him.
After all, an individual's strength was limited. How could one man possibly contend with so many companies at once?
If not for his past achievements staring everyone in the face, the media would probably have written exactly what they were thinking—without restraint.
But Shinji's previous successes were simply too dazzling. Even if reporters wanted to doompost, they'd rather wait until his films actually underperformed before unleashing their mockery.
Mocking him too early risked landing on Shinji Matou's blacklist—cut off from interviews, locked out of exclusives, and missing out on real headlines.
And that was a risk no journalist wanted to take.
Shinji couldn't be bothered with what those fair-weather reporters thought. His focus right now was firmly on the marketing campaign for Fate/Apocrypha and the post-production of The Garden of Sinners.
Steel must be strong at the source.
He couldn't control how good—or bad—his opponents' films would be, but he could make his own as good as possible.
As long as the quality was there, Shinji believed that with his box office pull and the influence of the Fate franchise, his films' performance would never be poor.
And when April arrived, Fate/Apocrypha held three consecutive test screenings.
The reactions, however… were not quite the same across all three.
<+>
If you want to see more chapter of this story and don't mind paying $5 each month to read till the latest posted chapter, please go to my Patreon[1]
Current Chapter In Patreon: Chapter 396: This Is the Gap in Strength[2]
Link to the latest chapter: https://www.patreon.com/posts/151274457?collection=31097[3]
https://www.patreon.com/collection/31097?view=expanded[4]
[1] https://www.patreon.com/collection/31097?view=expanded
[2] https://www.patreon.com/posts/151274457?collection=31097
[3] https://www.patreon.com/posts/151274457?collection=31097
[4] https://www.patreon.com/collection/31097?view=expanded