Rachel withdrew from Apple for two weeks. Everything was about to conclude. Now she went back and forth between Microsoft and Apple, handling administrative work that gave her a constant headache, yet she was returning to Japan—the place she had longed for so deeply. A place where pride was simply a particular way of living.
Buying a manga agency and opening another one in Korea was her next task. They already had the anime studios, and what they now needed was to develop projects before they even began. When scripts were the first step, they already had an idea that emerged in the offices of Lux Animation. Soon that would happen again, this time for comics: a narrow line of six to seven illustrators working under Billy's name.
-Anyone would feel dissatisfied. - Steve Parks replied.
The price was high, but for the Asian economy—so heavily battered—it allowed them to expand their reserves and inject money into the hands of illustrators who simply wanted to earn a living, in their own way.
-Well, I've begun to like the culture there very much. I work less and travel more, I eat wonderfully, and I have guides who accompany me throughout the journey. They show me places where I wish I could remain forever—places so calm and peaceful. - Rachel replied.
There was no doubt about it; she always spoke of it in that way.
For some time, he had been observing Rachel closely. Rachel was one of the best buyers and sellers he had ever known. She possessed a special talent for acquisitions. Her approach was clean—she hardly negotiated over prices. She was fair and decisive, yet she had a sharp eye for valuing things properly, and that was the most honest method when people had time to think.
Rachel wanted to expand every project. She wanted to finish what remained. It was an ambivalent yet responsible way of acting. When it came to purchasing Kodansha, Billy had played a major role, because he had taken many publications that eventually ended up under his control. He was aware that now it seemed as if history itself would begin to move.
Billy wanted to enter as a shareholder. He understood the sensitivity of the audience, and while he generated money, he gradually bought from different places—capitalizing and expanding at the same time. Each publishing house fortified itself in search of talented people. And there was also the precise moment when Rachel would begin negotiations now that Japan was emerging from the pain of recession and claiming the foreign market for itself.
-It may take me a month. - Rachel replied.
-Good work. We need to make some acquisitions soon. I've had a bit of a headache about it lately. For some time now Billy has wanted to buy part of the publishing market in Hispanic America. It's cheap—much cheaper—but I think the profits will double, as long as we keep in mind that we'll travel to Spain, Mexico, and Argentina. You'll have to practice your Spanish. - Steve Parks replied.
She nodded. The company never stopped growing.
August 30
Billy stepped forward then. Everything that remained was an answer. Just one day—but to everyone's surprise, everything was already known in detail.
-For some time now I've wanted to test you through my lens. So many people talk about you—about what a good actor you are. For a long time my camera has wanted to understand your profile and how you move on screen. James did a great job. It was a little difficult, but now that I have you and can shape the film, the lighter tones suit you wonderfully, and the darker shots work well as long as you maintain that very personal style of yours. - Tim Burton commented.
Your strangeness, it seemed, always needed work. Those were almost Tim's exact words. Billy's contradictory attitude—refined yet constantly argued—revealed that fragile and ambivalent way of being: a man irritated by trivial things yet hiding it. The way he walked carried a certain oddity, something held together by simplicity, which over time had become strangely unsettling.
-Whenever I see something, it bothers me. -
-And what would that be? - Billy asked.
-We need to change the costume. Your style doesn't suit fully Gothic colors. For some time now what you've been bringing me has always felt indifferent. Violet and silver are the colors I prefer. - Tim Burton replied.
A bottle-green tone had been suggested for some time, though he had grown completely dissatisfied with the wardrobe that had been used lately.
-Scene 1, Take 1. -
EXT. CITY STREETS — NIGHT
Empty cobblestone streets are lined with stately buildings. A bell ringing rapidly breaks the silence in the distance.
New York City, 1799
TWO CONSTABLES shout on a corner, lanterns raised, listening.
They disappear down an alley.
EXT. CITY WATERFRONT — NIGHT
Elsewhere, the docks line the Hudson. The bell sounds louder here. The two constables arrive, searching, pistols drawn.
CONSTABLE ONE
Where are they?!
MAN'S VOICE (V.O.)
Here...! Over here!
The constables hurry toward the riverbank...
Below an embankment, a MAN—another constable—stands with his back to us. He is waist-deep in dark water, having set aside his ALARM HORN,
struggling to pull something from the darkness...
MAN
I need your help with this.
Constable Two and Constable One approach cautiously.
CONSTABLE ONE
Constable Crane? Ichabod Crane... is that you?
The MAN turns. Allow me to introduce ICHABOD CRANE—handsome, sharp-eyed, yet nervous and restless.
ICHABOD
None other—and not only me...
(he lifts again)
I've found something...
Ichabod pulls a swollen MALE CORPSE from the water. He steps back,
shaken, and looks toward the constables...
ICHABOD (CONT.)
...something that, until recently, was a man.
INT. CITY WATCH, JAIL — NIGHT
In a dark, damp room, the distinguished HIGH CONSTABLE lifts a blanket from the corpse resting on a cart handled by another officer.
The HIGH CONSTABLE and Ichabod stand nearby, observing.
HIGH CONSTABLE
Burn it.
OFFICER
Yes, sir.
The HIGH CONSTABLE pushes the corpse up a RAMP toward another room.
ICHABOD
One moment, if you please... we still do not know the cause of death.
HIGH CONSTABLE
When they're found in the river, the cause of death is drowning.
ICHABOD
Possibly, if there is water in the lungs, but... through pathology we might determine whether he was dead before he entered the river.
HIGH CONSTABLE
Cut him to pieces? Are we pagans? Let him rest in peace, whole, according to God and the New York Department of Health.
Ichabod is about to protest, but he stops himself, frustrated.
Two THUG-LIKE OFFICERS drag in a BLOODIED, SEMI-CONSCIOUS MAN.
HIGH CONSTABLE (CONT.)
What happened to him?
THUG OFFICERS
Nothing, sir. Arrested for theft.
They slam him against the jail bars while one opens the cage door. With their leather batons, they beat the prisoner inside and lock the cage.
HIGH CONSTABLE
Good work...
Ichabod hurries after the two officers and the cart carrying the corpse.
-Cut. -
-The green color suits him quite well, and that way of moving—he almost looks as if he were drunk. No... it's that simple manner of his, evoking superficial emotion with complete depth. - Tim replied.
The wardrobe was changed. The sensitivity of Ichabod, as portrayed by Billy, showed a man somewhat effeminate—completely different from the person Billy himself was.
-You're quite good at doing that. You almost have Ichabod. We'll record it, but I think I'll end up repeating the scene two or three times. - Tim replied.
Now watching the entire scene, each movement Billy made was like a metronome, and Tim liked it. He was so good at following the rules. He was standing before a professional.
Something about it pleased him.
...