On Natsuyume, the threads about Voices of a Distant Star swelled overnight like an avalanche.
Endless debates about the story. Fans pouring out their bitterness- and sharp, sarcastic jabs- at the scriptwriter, Sora Kamakawa. Breathless praise for the battle storyboards. And above all, the fact that the title had closed out the winter season as the highest-rated anime of the quarter. Taken together, it gave Voices of a Distant Star a level of visibility that was impossible to ignore in Japan's anime scene.
In Tokyo- the industry's beating heart- studios and professionals were watching closely. The curiosity was straightforward: in three weeks, when the Blu-ray released, they'd finally get to see for themselves what kind of quality a short could possibly have to outscore a seasonal juggernaut. And alongside the work itself came an even louder question: what, exactly, made that eighteen-year-old director special? The very name fans were hoisting up as a genius was also getting torn apart for "showing no mercy" in the script. In the end, who was Sora Kamakawa really?
But attention and traffic didn't turn into revenue by magic. Getting people to move from curiosity to opening their wallets… that was a different game entirely.
Sora wasn't naïve about it. Even in his previous world, massive franchises famous enough to dominate conventions still failed to appeal to plenty of people- some would take one look at the art style and lose interest instantly. Japan wasn't any different. A 9.2 rating and a wave of passionate praise from Shikoku didn't guarantee a mountain of nationwide preorders overnight.
Even so… he didn't need a miracle.
He wasn't expecting anything obscene, but he did hope for something solid: a strong- maybe moderate- volume of orders from outside the region. After all, for anyone living on a tight budget, dropping tens of thousands of yen on collectibles was a calculated decision. Most would prioritize big-network titles with monstrous budgets and polished production. But there was another kind of fan, too… the collectors who bought with their hearts, the ones who didn't flinch at the price tag as long as the box looked good on the shelf. If that crowd latched onto a work, it could change an entire studio's fate.
And starting April 1st- the first day of the spring season- Sora received an update from their partner company handling distribution and merchandise.
Orders for the Voices of a Distant Star Blu-ray from across the country were, surprisingly, well above what anyone expected for a regional studio production. Normally, an anime aired on a local station sold strongly within the broadcast range, while out-of-region orders trickled in at best. But Voices of a Distant Star was different: demand outside Shikoku was strong, too.
That was the Natsuyume effect in action.
Promotion didn't begin and end with television. Forums, comment sections, word of mouth- the way collective emotion fermented online- mattered just as much as any time slot on a schedule.
April brought a steady stream of spring premieres to the airwaves, while winter-season merchandise began landing in stores. And that was how the machine worked: the TV broadcast fee barely scratched the surface of an anime's production costs, which could easily climb into the tens of millions of yen. The real money came after- Blu-rays, merchandise, overseas licensing, advertising, collaboration deals.
…
At Yume Animation, there wasn't a new project in production yet. Instead, the staff were busy negotiating and signing broadcast agreements with overseas networks.
After a full day of meetings, emails, and paperwork, Sora lifted his head in his office, his face worn with exhaustion.
"I still don't know how many copies we'll actually sell…" he muttered to himself.
He understood the market logic well. Blu-ray sales weren't just "extra income"- they were a thermometer. If you couldn't sell discs, no one would believe fans would buy merchandise, pay for collaborations, or spend on licensed games and skins. And even if Blu-rays alone didn't cover a production budget, the numbers told the industry how large a work really was.
Sora took a slow breath and, almost without thinking, glanced into the system space.
The total emotion points had already surpassed two million.
It was the direct result of viewers moved by Voices of a Distant Star- pouring out feelings of pain, anger, longing, admiration, like a tide.
He was itching to pull the gacha and see what new work he might draw… but he held himself back. In a little over two weeks, the Blu-ray and the novel of the same name would release nationwide, and that would almost certainly bring another surge of emotions. It was smarter to let the points pile up and do a larger draw all at once.
Besides, even if he pulled something incredible right now, it wouldn't mean much without the money to put it into production.
His next move depended on real returns: Blu-rays, the book, merchandise, and overseas licensing fees. Only then would he know how much he could afford to gamble.
That was when the office door opened.
April had arrived for real. Trees were budding, the sun rode higher, and the snowbound cityscape of the previous month was already a memory. In its place, a warm spring breeze wandered through the streets, carrying the scent of beginnings.
Sumire stepped inside.
Her long hair fell loose to her waist, and a faint flush colored her pale face in the softer weather. She'd traded her heavy winter coat for a black pleated skirt, and as she walked, her straight, slender legs drew Sora's attention before he even realized he was looking.
With that look, she could stroll past a school gate and no one would stop her. At most, they'd assume she was a student.
"Time to go," she said.
Her voice was as calm as ever, but something had changed. It was gentler- less distant than when Sora had first arrived in this life.
In five years in the industry, Sumire had never worked on a production that drew such a powerful response after broadcast- strong enough to surpass, on Natsuyume, an extravagantly funded anime from a major national network.
Fans might hold a grudge against Sora for the ending… but Sumire, deep down, was grateful. Having her name attached to a work praised so widely filled her with a sense of accomplishment she hadn't felt in a long time.
Sora glanced at the sun tilting toward the horizon behind the buildings and let out a sigh, as if shaking off the knot of thoughts in his head.
"Yeah… time to head out."
Sumire hesitated for the briefest moment, then asked:
"Do you… want to get dinner with me?"
Sora blinked, caught off guard.
Her- making that kind of invitation?
"You want to talk about something?"
"I do." Sumire nodded, not looking away.
…
Outside Shikoku Institute of Technology, near the bustling strip of eateries and food stalls, the two parked and walked to the same ramen shop they'd visited countless times.
Sumire ordered her usual: a simple, clear-broth tonkotsu ramen. Sora went for his without mercy- extra spicy, topped with shrimp, the kind that made your tongue burn just thinking about it.
She lifted a few thin strands of noodles with her chopsticks and chewed slowly, but her eyes stayed on him- serious, unwavering.
"Sora… have you decided what direction you want to take for the next project?"
The question landed like a stone in his stomach.
In that instant, he understood.
That was why Sumire had asked him out tonight.
50 power stones = 1 chapter