Kamiyā Yuu believed that the degree to which an audience mentally filled in the details of a character, scene, or plot depended on two things: identification and the amount of information provided.
What was identification?
It was the audience's recognition and acceptance of a character's actions and beliefs. In novels, this was roughly equivalent to the so-called [sense of immersion].
The protagonists of Chinese web novels rarely possessed extremely radical personalities. The fundamental reason was that readers were all "ordinary people." They were neither utterly wicked villains nor self-sacrificing saints. Either kind of protagonist archetype would subconsciously repel readers and prevent them from placing themselves in the protagonist's perspective.
The same principle applied to Japanese light novels.
Simply comparing the differences between protagonists in light novels and Chinese web novels was enough to reveal the cultural differences between the two regions.
However, despite differences in cultural aesthetics, the stance taken by protagonists in Chinese web novels happened to align quite well with Western readers. When many Western readers first encountered Chinese web novels, they exclaimed that they had finally found protagonists who were neither the useless types common in Japanese anime nor the excessively righteous heroic archetypes of Western fiction.
During the commercialization of Japanese light novels, quite a few novels also appeared with protagonists whose attitudes resembled those found in Chinese web novels. However, those were already formulas Chinese web novels had thoroughly exhausted, which could broadly be summarized as the "reincarnation, other world, and overpowered protagonist" types.
'Overlord', 'That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime', 'Sword Art Online', 'Problem Children Are Coming from Another World, Aren't They?' and similar works were representative examples.
Thus, light-novel and manga readers often jokingly said, "Chinese web novels are five hundred years ahead of Japanese light novels."
As an aside, protagonists in Korean novels and manhwa also tended to resemble those in Chinese web novels. Herbivorous protagonists of the kind commonly seen in Japan appeared far less often.
For visual works such as anime and movies, however, the term "sense of immersion" could not really be used.
The information presented through animation was far more concrete and complete. Many details were already filled in directly, leaving no need for the audience to imagine them for themselves.
What replaced "sense of immersion" was the so-called sense of identification—the audience's acceptance of an animated character's actions and words.
This was extremely important to animation.
The emotional impact and dramatic tension of a story depended heavily on how strongly the audience identified with its characters.
A classic example was Luffy from 'One Piece'.
What viewer would actually project themselves onto that idiot who only knew how to eat?
Yet once viewers accepted Luffy as the protagonist and recognized him as the core of the entire story, a sense of identification would emerge.
They would understand that fictional world through Luffy's own perceptions.
They would feel happy when he was happy.
Sad when he was sad.
Angry when he was angry.
One of the most iconic story arcs in 'One Piece' was the [Summit War], when Luffy's older brother Ace was sentenced to execution.
The scene where Ace sacrificed his life to save Luffy had brought countless viewers to tears.
The audience was neither related to Ace nor personally acquainted with him.
So why would they cry over the death of an animated character?
The reason was that they had identified with Luffy, the protagonist, and therefore emotionally experienced everything that happened to him.
This kind of identification did not mean inserting oneself directly into the story.
Instead, it existed in the subtle position of an observer.
The contradiction between being an observer and simultaneously empathizing deeply with the character was the most difficult aspect of audience identification to master.
Many directors of film and television works had never fully grasped it themselves.
Anyone who truly mastered it would certainly not remain unknown.
Having finished discussing the influence of identification, the next factor was the amount of information.
Using Ace's death from 'One Piece' as the example again, suppose [the audience being moved] was the riverbank.
Identification would be the bridge leading to that riverbank.
The amount of information would be the opposite shore supporting the other end of the bridge.
Without that opposite shore to support it, the bridge of audience identification would have no reason to exist.
Information was the foundation of everything.
It was the most important factor affecting both audience identification and the process of mentally filling in the gaps.
What exactly counted as information?
The numerous flashbacks before Ace's death were information.
Luffy's reactions and behavior toward Ace's execution were information.
Broadly speaking, even the background music could be considered part of that information.
Imagine if any one of those elements were missing when Ace was executed.
Would viewers still feel the same sense of tragedy while watching that scene?
Even if the feeling still existed, how would removing that one factor alter the tragic impression?
If the tragic emotion produced by Ace's death was treated as the result, then adding information was like a multiplication formula.
The more factors added into that formula, the larger the final result might become.
That was why flashbacks had become such a classic device in Japanese hot-blooded shōnen anime and manga.
The entire multiplication formula had already matured.
It had been used for so long that nearly every avenue for innovation had already been explored by predecessors, making it increasingly difficult to add anything new to the informational equation.
Mental filling-in was the product created on top of identification and information.
It was the fundamental reason behind the saying that a thousand readers would have a thousand Hamlets in their hearts—the subjective perspective belonging solely to the audience beyond objective information.
A viewer who only watched the episodes covering the [Summit War] could never have the same experience as someone who had followed 'One Piece' continuously from Episode One.
Returning to the main point, when Saber released the True Name of Excalibur in the original 'Fate/zero' anime, it was like watching the [Summit War] without having seen anything that came before.
Irisviel von Einzbern's narration merely provided the most basic supplementary information.
But in the remade version of 'Fate/zero', when Saber used Excalibur, anyone who had read the novel 'Twilight of the Knights' or watched the upcoming anime adaptation of 'Twilight of the Knights' would already understand and identify with the ideals Saber upheld.
They would know her past.
They would know what she had endured.
They would know what she had continued to believe in.
When the True Name [Excalibur] was released, would it then be given an entirely different meaning?
And beneath that dazzling golden radiance, what transformation would Saber's path of kingship reveal?
That belonged to the realm of the audience's own imagination.
In truth, the existence of the original 'Fate/stay night' was one reason parts of the original 'Fate/zero' story had not seemed so awkward.
Kamiyā Yuu had created the character side-story light novels precisely to compensate for the inconvenience caused by this world lacking 'Fate/stay night' as a foundational work.
...
Knock, knock.
A soft knock sounded at the door, only twice, almost as though the person knocking could not be bothered to do more.
Kamiyā Yuu immediately recognized the distinctive knocking style and answered, already prepared.
"Come in."
Kamiyā Sora, dressed in a professional black suit, entered at his reply.
Looking at Kamiyā Yuu, who was completely absorbed in the computer before him, she sighed softly.
"Yuu, did you forget something?"
Kamiyā Yuu immediately understood.
"What time is it?"
"Nine."
He nodded, then shifted his gaze toward Kamiyā Sora standing by the office door and smiled.
"Chiyo Bookstore?"
Kamiyā Sora calmly nodded.
"Chief Editor Akiyama is already waiting outside."
"Thanks. I'll head out now. Since I can't continue working after I get home during this period, I want to finish as much of this work as possible during office hours."
Kamiyā Sora hugged the documents in her arms and pouted.
"So it's entirely my fault that Yuu is so busy he doesn't even have time to prepare."
Kamiyā Yuu stood up and straightened his suit.
As he left the office, he pinched Kamiyā Sora's cheek and chuckled.
"No one said anything like that. You don't need to overthink it."
"Work is work, and rest time is for resting. I won't compromise on that."
Kamiyā Sora followed him out of the office and gave a dissatisfied snort.
"Yes, yes. Then I'm heading out first."