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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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Chapter 35: Why don’t you try making a movie?
“Yamaguchi-san, you’re here?”
Akita, the animation director, greeted producer Yamaguchi as he rolled his stiff shoulders, returning to the office on a Sunday evening.
“Yeah… went out last night and came back this evening… not home, but to the office.”
Yamaguchi let out a sigh, and Akita smiled brightly.
“Haha. What day was yesterday again? Tuesday?”
“…Sorry, standing here in front of someone who hasn’t been home for a whole week, what am I even saying.”
“It’s fine, I get it.”
Akita kept talking with a smile, but his face was frozen like a statue—no expression willing to budge.
Yamaguchi, caught off guard by Akita’s deadpan look, shifted the topic.
“Is Director Daito not causing trouble anymore?”
“Yeah. When he suddenly freaked out saying he’d go see Author Wakayama, I wasn’t sure what to do. But it turned out he made a perfect punching bag for the animation team’s stress relief.”
Akita’s smile stayed put as he casually dropped that chilling comment.
The mismatch between his face and words created a weird vibe. If anyone sane was here, they’d be screaming and running for the hills. Sadly, no sane people were around.
“That’s a relief! Can I take a light swing at him too?”
“Not today. There’s a waiting list over there—write your name and wait your turn.”
The list was packed with names, all pressed down hard by the animation team. You could clearly feel their deep resentment toward Director Daito just from the handwriting.
But this was proof everyone was working hard. A good sign.
Yamaguchi, whose brain had been partially fried a long time ago, smiled brightly and wrote his name on the “Director Daito’s Loving Beatings Waiting List.”
Just as he raised his phone to get back to work—
“Oh, Yamaguchi-kun. Long time no see!”
Speak of the devil. Director Daito came down the stairs and greeted Yamaguchi.
“Looks like Akita’s here too. Here—additional cuts for episodes 1, 3, and 5. It’s not much, so take good care of them.”
Daito passed over the stack of papers and started to walk away—until a hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder.
“Wait. Hold up.”
A cold voice whispered right in his ear.
“Where do you think you’re sneaking off to? Say again what you just told them.”
“Akita? Did you eat yet? I ordered sushi for the staff earlier—”
“Hey.”
The grip on Daito’s shoulder tightened.
“Additional cuts? Additional cuts, you say?”
Akita dropped the papers and spun around, voice loud and sharp—
“Everyone! Director Daito just told us to draw extra cuts! For episodes we already finished!!”
The room fell silent. For a good five seconds.
Akita shouted toward the animation room, where the company’s animators gathered.
The normally silent animation room door creaked open.
No loud noises. Just the steady, rhythmic sound of footsteps echoing.
Soon, the animators poured out of the drawing room, swarming around Director Daito in a tight circle.
“Director Daito… is what you said true?”
“There’s no way the director would do that! Right, director?!”
“Please say it’s not true. Otherwise, I…”
Teeth clenched, everyone begged Daito to tell them it was a lie.
But the world is cruel. Betraying all hopes, Daito could only speak the truth with a solemn expression.
“…Everyone, it’s true.”
“Is that so…”
Someone muttered. Then, chaos broke loose.
“Take back what you said!”
“It’s the director’s fault. He’s the one to blame! Hahaha!”
“If you don’t say it’s not true, I… I’ll have to hurt you!”
And so began the “loving beatdown” for Director Daito.
“Alright, let’s keep order. Those on the list first. This time, there are a lot of background animation cuts, so priority goes to the background animators.”
Even amidst the madness, the animators lined up, patiently waiting their turn.
A workplace where retaliation against unfair orders from the boss is immediate and accepted—such an advanced company culture made Producer Yamaguchi and Animation Director Akita watch the beating scene with warm eyes.
“Guys, eat up! The sushi Director Daito ordered has arrived~”
At the mention of sushi, everyone dropped their sticks and flocked to the delivered trays.
In that brief moment of freedom, Daito quietly put down a few paper envelopes from his coat pocket.
The animators, momentarily distracted, suddenly snapped to attention, eyes wide.
“Heh Heh…”
Director Daito chuckled.
“When did I ever say those were the only additional cuts?”
Daito took off running.
“Catch that bastard!”
And so, on a Sunday night at ND House, the flat-hierarchy company’s evening ended warmly—with adults playing tag and reconnecting with their roots.
＊ ＊ ＊
At ND House, the hellish game of tag was still raging on.
Maybe the shout of “Who the hell fed the director those bogus extra cuts?!” had reached him, because Jung Junhyuk shivered uncontrollably.
“What’s wrong? Catch a cold or something?”
Matsuda asked.
Junhyuk shook his head.
“Maybe the studio’s a bit cold?”
“Nah, it’s not that. Just a weird chill...”
“Take care not to get sick. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now. If it’s hard to say no to the animation project, I can do it for you.”
“No, I’m good. Working on the animation storyboard with the director is teaching me a lot, and it’s actually fun.”
“Is that so? Still, if it gets too tough, just say the word.”
More than being tough, Junhyuk couldn’t shake the unsettling look in Director Daito’s eyes when he asked if the current production schedule was okay. Probably just his imagination.
Junhyuk didn’t know about Daito’s problem with the baton yet.
“Here’s the script.”
“That was quick. Didn’t they decide on the movie back in September?”
“Not that quick. Unless the flow differs from the original, both the movie and the animation follow the original storyline. So the script comes out fast.”
Junhyuk remembered from his editor days that most film media mixes rewrote the manga content entirely, so it took a while to get the original author’s script approval.
So that’s why it’s faster when following the original closely.
He tried to recall a manga he handled as an editor that got a movie adaptation, but then thought—“Better not.”
He stopped the thought immediately.
“Sorry for bothering you on what should’ve been a rare day off. I’ll review the script thoroughly.”
“No worries. I was just passing by anyway.”
Since it was late at night, Matsuda went straight home.
Glancing through the script, Junhyuk once again vividly realized that manga and animation are different, and animation and film are similar yet distinct.
“Obviously, but surprisingly, there are lots of similarities too. It’s interesting.”
Thinking back to his work with Director Daito just hours ago, Junhyuk scribbled a small note beside the script.
＊ ＊ ＊
“Hm, this is the movie script?”
Director Daito flipped through the pages with a curious look in his eyes.
A weekday evening.
Jung Junhyuk had come to the editing room of ND House, now familiar with the space through his ongoing storyboard collaboration with Director Daito.
After coming and going for a few days, he’d even gotten skilled at avoiding the numerous “Daito’s booby traps” scattered throughout the building.
It was a bit suspicious how their number seemed to grow every day, but he didn’t bother asking.
“The more I look at it, the more I see that while there are definitely similarities with animation, there are also a lot of differences. It’s quite interesting.”
“That’s right. When you try to use the flashy effects and visualized psychological battles from animation in a movie, it can actually hurt the viewer’s immersion.”
Daito replied.
As a true expert in visuals, he nailed a point Junhyuk had only vaguely sensed before.
“Subtle facial expressions or tiny movements that are hard to bring out in animation can be realistically portrayed only in live-action films. Animation can be free and fantastic in its direction, but it struggles to match the delicate emotional scenes that live-action nails.”
Director Daito looked at Junhyuk and asked—
“What do you think is the unique characteristic of film that can really stir the viewer’s emotions?”
“…The sound that heightens the mood of the scene?”
“Exactly. Adding or even withholding sound is a powerful tool to control the audience’s feelings.”
Daito showed both the animation storyboard and the movie script, continuing his explanation.
Then naturally, they moved into the usual collaboration—helping structure scenes for the animation storyboard. Junhyuk took notes, sometimes drew, and added new cuts.
Learning from a visual expert while working side by side, Junhyuk gained deep, hands-on knowledge.
Without even realizing it, he built up such dense expertise that he reached a level where he could hold his own in conversations with professionals.
He could now review the movie script with a highly skilled eye.
And this perspective—It set the stage for the movie’s direction to take an unexpected turn.
＊ ＊ ＊
Tap. Tap.
Akagi, the film director working on the storyboard in the ‘D Note’, drummed his pen impatiently.
“Sigh… Having a well-crafted original work doesn’t always make things easier. The composition keeps getting dragged away.”
For films, how characters are arranged and from what camera angles scenes are shot is usually up to the director’s discretion.
Although these can change during meetings or on set before filming, the starting point is always the director’s storyboard and continuity.
Normally, the process moves from script review to storyboarding, but in this case, only a few minor parts were omitted or tweaked to fit the film’s runtime and realistic tone—so there wasn’t much to complain about during the script review.
That’s why Director Akagi was focusing on the storyboards for the key scenes to keep the schedule on track.
The problem was that since the film’s progression mostly followed the original story without many changes, he had to reference the original heavily.
Ironically, because the original was so polished, he kept getting pulled back to it.
“Haah…”
Akagi sighed quietly and tossed down his storyboard.
At that moment, the assistant director knocked and came in.
“Director, the reviewed script has arrived.”
“Ah, just leave it here.”
Now that the reviewed script was here, there was no need to wait any longer—they could officially start working on the shooting continuity.
But when Akagi opened the script—
“What the heck? Why is there so much?”
The pile of papers was about twice the size of the script he had sent for review.
Inside, there were notes and various sketches tucked between the pages.
“Tch. When the original creator meddles this much in the script, filming gets tough.”
It wasn’t rare for writers unhappy with a script to demand all kinds of difficult directions just because it was their work.
Though it was understandable they cared deeply about their own creations, from a director’s perspective—who had to consider budget and filmmaking limitations—it was honestly easier when the creator didn’t interfere much.
“Haah… Well, I’m just the ‘B’ party here. Can’t do much.”
Since Wakayama, the writer, had such a good reputation in the industry, Akagi thought it wouldn’t be a big deal. But seeing this mess, it was clear it wouldn’t be easy.
With that thought, Akagi stared at the script filled with notes and drawings.
Three hours later, after finishing the review, Akagi suddenly said—
“Tachibana! Get me Wakayama’s contact info—now!”
His thoughts about the script had completely changed from before he read it.
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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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