There was something cruelly ironic about that kind of comment.
In Japan, plenty of animation directors had reached the top through crooked, unglamorous routes - people who never graduated from any "animation program," who learned on the floor, inside studios, getting chewed out and pulling all-nighters until their bodies stopped complaining. So when Maki, with that lazy, self-satisfied air, called someone "a nobody who came out of nowhere," he wasn't just aiming at Sora Kamakawa. By extension, he was spitting on half the industry.
The thing was, Sora didn't even see it.
He was buried up to his neck in work. The storyboards for the first two episodes of Natsume Yuujinchou had to be locked in on time, and there were days he barely remembered to unlock his phone - let alone log into his own Natsuyume account. While the internet burned, all he could see were sheets of paper, panels, timing, the breath of a scene.
Yumi, on the other hand, saw everything.
Between one visit to a department and another - as if she were simply "killing time" inside the studio - she found a gap in her schedule and dropped the post in front of him, like someone handing over a dirty object and waiting to see whether you'd touch it.
"'Unknown director… shady background… no name.'" Sora read it out loud, unhurried, then let out a small laugh through his nose, almost amused.
Yumi frowned, expecting an outburst, outrage - anything.
"Those two parts… he's not wrong," Sora said, with a calm that was somehow infuriating. "I am unknown. And I didn't come up through a clean, pretty path."
"You're… not mad?"
Sora lowered his gaze back to the paper, but the tip of his pencil froze for a heartbeat.
"I am. A little," he admitted, the humor draining from his voice until it was just a thin thread. "Maybe I'm not a technical genius. Maybe I still have a lot to learn. But what I put out isn't 'low-grade.' Saying that… is disrespecting Voices of a Distant Star."
That was what hurt.
Attacking his name, calling him an amateur, a "homebrew director" - fine. He'd heard worse. But reducing his work to "low-grade" was different. It wasn't just pride. It was like someone looked at a directorial choice, an entire piece of staging built with rhythm and intention, and spat: trash.
Sora remembered what he'd studied, what he'd absorbed as reference, what he'd rebuilt with his own hands. The Itano Circus hadn't survived decades of mecha and action staging for someone like Maki to dismiss it as "low-grade" as if his opinion were law.
Yumi crossed her arms, eyes sharp.
"So you're going to answer him, right? You're going to hit back."
"And do what? Fight online?" Sora shook his head, almost pitying. "That's… childish."
He went back to the page, graphite scratching with steady force.
"If I've got spare time, I'd rather draw another cut, polish another transition, learn something useful. And besides… the best comeback isn't turning it into an online brawl, like some delinquent screaming in the street."
Yumi leaned in, curious despite herself.
"Then what's the best comeback?"
Sora didn't even look up.
"Making him shut up with results," he said simply, like stating a fact. "Letting Natsume Yuujinchou speak for me."
Results.
Something lit in Yumi's eyes. Sora was calm - almost gentle most of the time - but when that stubborn edge surfaced, it was clean and straight, with a weight she couldn't help but respect. Maybe because she was the opposite: a little hedgehog, always ready to raise her spines.
On Natsuyume, she'd spent years stirring arguments, defending takes, picking fights to expand her reach and pull fans onto her side. Japanese fandom could look polite on the outside, but on the inside it was daily warfare - fans of shows, fans of directors, fans of seiyuu… everyone smiling while they held a blade.
You don't like playing that game? Fine. She did.
And in her case, there was a line no one crossed for free.
Badmouthing someone she'd poured that much money into… was basically volunteering to wake up a problem.
By the time Sora finished a panel and finally lifted his head, Yumi was gone - without even a goodbye.
He didn't care. Yumi was an investor, not an operator. She drifted through the studio like she was strolling through an aquarium: watching, commenting, wandering, observing. As long as she didn't slow production down, she could go wherever she pleased.
"Director… what do you think of this storyboard staging style?" Sumire's voice came from nearby.
In the office, Sumire had set up shop beside him. It made sense. A director and an assistant director handling different episodes had to align constantly to keep the visual and emotional language consistent; running back and forth between rooms would be a waste. So she simply moved into his space.
Sora took the sheets she offered and, for a moment, just admired them.
Beautiful.
Even as "just storyboards," Sumire's panels carried more detail, more elegance, more life than his. It wasn't only linework - it was composition. Sora could feel, instantly, the foundation of someone trained properly in the arts.
"It's great," he said honestly. "Just… try to make the staging softer."
Sumire raised an eyebrow.
"Softer?"
"Yeah. Less aggressive." Sora tapped one of the panels with his pencil. "Here, for example. The protagonist's expression doesn't need to scream at the audience. He can be in danger and still look calm - steadier, more restrained. The emotion should sit underneath, not on top."
Sumire paused, as if reorganizing her instincts.
Sora added, like he was setting the final piece into place, "Like you. You're not the type to raise your voice or pull exaggerated faces, right? He's the same. Even when things close in, he stays… gentle."
It was a necessary caution. Storyboards with too much facial detail could become a trap - the key animators might take it as strict instruction and get "locked" into the wrong intent. Sora needed the tone to be clear, not just the drawing.
Sumire looked a little awkward at that, her face tightening slightly, as if she wasn't sure what to do with her hands.
Sora didn't notice. He kept explaining, generous and precise, describing the storyboard rhythm he wanted for Natsume Yuujinchou - when to cut, when to hold, when to let silence do the heavy lifting - then returned to his own notebook and sank back into creation.
Meanwhile, across the rest of the studio, Natsume Yuujinchou was taking shape in layers. Sora and Sumire tightened storyboards; the designers refined the cast; and one character, in particular, kept returning to the drawing board: a huge orange cat - round, expressive, and oddly hilarious even when standing still.
At least inside the team, his name had already become inevitable.
Nyanko-sensei.
And outside those walls, Yumi worked the way she did best.
With videos, posts, and written updates, she fed her audience. Her followers - millions of them, used to tracking her every breath - already knew she'd invested heavily in Yume Animation and was the company's second-largest shareholder. So when Maki started dripping sarcasm, calling Sora an unknown, talentless, "backyard director," the internet didn't stay quiet.
Outsiders might have ignored it. But Yumi's followers weren't outsiders.
And Japanese fandom wasn't a place where you spoke and nothing happened.
Fights sparked on every corner: show versus show, director versus director, seiyuu fandom versus seiyuu fandom. Every day. All the time. With screenshots, "subtle" digs, and poison wrapped in polite language.
Before long, Maki's comments section was buried under replies - and Yumi's own comment section turned into a battlefield.
"I've never been able to stand that Maki. Season one of Chronicles of the Sea of Clouds was led by Takagi, and it was gorgeous - delicate art, consistent direction. Then Maki took over season two and suddenly changed the look for no reason, the heroine's face got noticeably 'heavier.' And he thinks season two doing well is his credit? He's just living off season one's goodwill."
"And he has the nerve to talk about Sora? Voices of a Distant Star struggled with budget, the frame rate dipped, some cuts weren't as polished… but where is it 'low-grade'? So we're 'low-grade' fans too?"
"He's always been like that. Petty. He went on a TV program once and kept making snide remarks at a handsome guest the whole time, just because the guy years ago said he looked 'average.' But… wasn't that true?"
"I didn't even care whether Natsume Yuujinchou beats The Dragon King Next Door in Kansai and Shikoku affiliate ratings… but now I'm rooting like my life depends on it."
"Sora, go get 'em."
"I'm jealous of you people around Tokushima. You can watch it on TV. Here on the coast, I can only get it two months later on Blu-ray… it hurts."
"So what? When it's your region's local animation, we have to buy the Blu-ray too. It's the same for everyone."
"But I want to see Sora's new work!"
It was an avalanche of chatter, provocation, and support. It looked trivial - until you felt the pressure underneath, like the whole community was holding its breath, waiting for the next spark.
And then it came.
At ten p.m., Yumi posted a new text update.
The tone was the same as always: her "investor diary" inside the studio - everyday scenes, casual observations dressed up as harmless. She mentioned, vaguely, what the director had been doing, noted that he'd been chewing through days and nights on storyboards, brought up a conversation with the design team - and then, as if it were just a cute detail, she mentioned a large orange cat character that had been causing revisions at the final tuning stage.
She didn't reveal too much. No breed, no full visual description. But the name… she gave that away with pleasure.
Nyanko-sensei.
And then came the heart of the post, disguised as a throwaway remark.
She wrote that she'd talked with Sora about the recent online noise, and that he - lightly, almost casually - had said he'd use Natsume Yuujinchou's performance to make "some guy who thinks I'm a low-grade director" shut "his filthy mouth." She ended by stressing, clearly, that Sora held the same conviction as ever: in the autumn season, across Kansai affiliates and the wider Chūgoku–Shikoku block, the series had the power to fight for the number one rating spot - and his confidence hadn't wavered by a single millimeter.
That was all it took.
The comments detonated.
It was exactly what her followers had expected. Yumi wasn't the type to watch someone attack the director she'd invested a fortune into and pretend nothing happened. They'd waited a few days… and in the end, she opened the hunt in her own way.
Only one doubt trembled beneath the euphoria:
Did Sora really say that - without embellishment? Without exaggeration?
Because if it was true…
It was perfect. Cruel in the right measure. And far too good not to become a promise.
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