Next day, at Echo Shroud.
Shinji, the head of the editorial planning department, was already bracing himself for the heated discussions bound to erupt over Fullmetal Alchemist. He'd read the latest chapter earlier, like he did with nearly every series they published. At first, the shock and excitement had hit him just as hard as the readers. But after years in this role, that surprise had dulled.
As a kid, Shinji dreamed of working in the manga industry. He didn't have the talent to be a mangaka, nor the social skills to become an editior, so he found his place behind the scenes. Now, as head of publicity and editorial planning, he didn't have to read everything—his team handled most of the review work—but he still made a habit of following most series himself, always on the lookout for opportunities to spark a strong publicity campaign.
These days, nothing really shocked him anymore. The twists and turns that floored readers rarely caught him off guard. Sometimes, part of him wished he could feel that thrill again.
Yesterday's engagement numbers for Shroud Line had been high, and expectations for the new Fullmetal chapter were already strong. But the results far exceeded even Shinji's hopes. He'd prepared a publicity plan in advance, yet seeing the overwhelming engagement now, he realized this series could be pushed into the same tier as top publishing titles.
Gathering the latest data, he headed straight to Editor-in-Chief Amane's office to request a bigger budget.
Amane skimmed the report Shinji placed on her desk. Fullmetal Alchemist dominated the engagement charts, exactly as he'd predicted. She knew the tragic scene in the latest chapter would pull in new readers, and as long as the story kept its quality, they would stay. Without hesitation, she approved the budget increase, finally allowing herself to relax.
Mizushiro had delivered beyond expectations. He wasn't just living up to his promise of writing stronger works than Initial D and Natsume's Book of Friends—he was surpassing them. For doubting him before, Amane felt she owed him an apology. At last, she began to believe: Mizushiro was no one-hit wonder.
Meanwhile, Haruki had blocked Airi's number. He knew that if he picked up, she'd chew his brain out. As usual, Kenta, Naoya, and Hayato dropped by. The moment Kenta saw him, he grinned.
"Haruki, today's a nice day to take a stroll, don't you think?"
Haruki shot him a flat look. "Haha, funny."
Kenta leaned in, teasing. "Haruki, if you're already this scared of your own fans, why even write in the first place? Don't think this is going to die down anytime soon. Echo Shroud's going to ride this engagement wave hard. So, are you still planning on going to the JoJo Part 1 signing event?"
Haruki froze. Deep down, he knew Kenta was right. Echo Shroud wouldn't waste this chance—they'd push marketing to the limit. At first, he thought the noise would fade in a week, but now… he wasn't so sure. The one silver lining was a solid excuse to take leave from classes. Surely his professors would understand, right?
Besides, this gave him time to focus on pre-production for Code Geass. After talking it through with friends, he decided to take two weeks off officially. That should be enough time for things to cool down, or so he hoped. He immediately called Kazuya to arrange an official production meeting.
While Kenta, Naoya, and Hayato settled into project work, Haruki drove to the animation studio. Thank god he'd finally gotten his driver's license. He'd lost count of how many times he'd failed the test, and even when he passed, it was by the slimmest margin. Still, he bought a mid-range car—nothing fancy, just reliable. With his face becoming more recognizable, public transport felt like too much of a risk.
The studio buzzed when he arrived. Some staff were already sketching teaser ideas for Code Geass. Haruki called the meeting, and as everyone gathered, Kazuya noticed his outfit.
"Why are you hiding behind that mask?" Kazuya asked with a knowing grin.
Haruki just stared blankly. The room erupted in laughter.
Once the jokes died down, they got to business. Everyone had already read the story, and the consensus was unanimous: it was brilliant.
Standing at the front, Haruki spoke with conviction:
"I want this anime to leave an impression that lasts at least thirty years. Decades from now, I don't want people to say, 'The story was great, but the animation hasn't aged well.' No—I want every part of this anime to be perfect. If you think someone belongs on this project, bring them in. This anime is going down in history."
Kazuya leaned forward. "I was thinking about a budget of 700 million yen for 25 episodes, plus another 200 million for publicity."
The Animation Director raised his hand. "700 million is fine—about 28 million per episode. But if we want the kind of legacy Haruki is talking about, we need to raise that to 50 million per episode. Not counting promotion."
The room fell silent.
Fifty million yen per episode. That meant a staggering 1.25 billion yen for the series. A few shows had one or two episodes containing that kind of budget, but across a full 25-episode run? That was unheard of. Especially when most modern anime barely hit 12 episodes. Still, everyone had read the story and knew it would succeed. Not one person objected.
The producers and finance staff immediately began crunching numbers.
Shiori spoke first:
"With Madoka Magica, we invested 300 million, plus 70 million for marketing. Another 30 million is allocated for promotion after episode 9 airs. That leaves just 10 million yen in reserve. Revenue from Madoka will come in January, but we've already contracted with a toy company for figures, and sales are strong. Factoring in anime, DVDs, and merchandise, total revenue should reach about 1.2 billion yen in January. But until then, we'll be short."
Haruki asked quickly, "How much are we talking?"
Shiori glanced at the numbers. "At least 500 million yen, or we risk hitting a wall mid-production."
Haruki exhaled, relieved. Thanks to royalties from Initial D and Natsume's Book of Friends, plus pending sales of their final volumes, he'd accumulated around 800 million yen.
"That's manageable. We can start production—budget won't be a problem. Tell me where to transfer the funds, and I'll handle it. with that out of the way, I have one more request."
He looked around the table.
"This anime is going to be 50+ episodes. I don't want production to drag on for years. What do you think about releasing two episodes per week?"
Shout out to xXiamfalloutXx, for joining my p-atreon! your support means everything to me.
(TL:- if you want even more content, check out p-a-t-r-e-o-n.com/Alioth23 for 60+ advanced chapters)