As soon as the filming of Phantom Blood came to an end, Alex left no room for drawn-out celebrations. To him, finishing an arc was merely closing a stage of work-not a destination in itself. The very next day, before exhaustion even had the chance to settle in, the cast and crew were already gathered again, pushed toward the next step with the same natural ease as turning a page in a script.
Their destination was the most American country on the American continent-New York-where preparations for Battle Tendency would begin.
Alex's urgency wasn't born from anxiety, but from calculation. Phantom Blood carried a more restrained rhythm, a slow and classical build that stayed true to the original spirit of JoJo, yet posed a risk for an audience accustomed to immediate impact. Even as a devoted fan of the series, Alex didn't fool himself: that arc was only the beginning. Comparing it to what came later was inherently unfair.
The issue was compounded by the fact that he had just wrapped up Bleach, a production that started at full throttle, with the Soul Society arc hitting viewers squarely from the very first episode. Once Phantom Blood aired, comparisons would be inevitable. If he didn't act quickly, JoJo risked a lukewarm reception right out of the gate.
The solution was simple and blunt.
Don't give the audience time to cool off.
Film Phantom Blood and Battle Tendency back-to-back, pushing the narrative forward to the point where JoJo truly began to bare its fangs.
…
New York.
The actors who had auditioned back at the studio headquarters had crossed the ocean and gathered here. Alex didn't mingle right away. He stood a few steps back, watching in silence. He studied posture and tone, who talked too much, who held back, who tried to assert themselves, and who simply listened. He made no comments. That silent assessment of the cast was part of his method.
For Melissa, who had played Erina in the first arc, the challenge had been manageable. The young, delicate version of the character was still within her range. But Erina in the second arc was a different woman altogether-mature, shaped by loss, with a firm presence and a quiet maternal warmth. That role demanded a different emotional density.
That was why Alex didn't hesitate to hand that version of the character to Sam, someone capable of carrying that weight without visible strain.
Before the formal introductions, there was a brief table read. Nothing complete-just selected passages. Alex interrupted from time to time, not to change lines, but to adjust rhythm, intention, and pauses. A longer gaze here, a restrained breath there. Small corrections that left the text untouched, yet completely transformed the feel of a scene.
"Alex!"
Fresh out of the taxi, Mark waved enthusiastically. Like the other main actors, he had followed Alex's physical requirements to the letter: more muscle, less fragility. No protagonists who looked out of place standing next to the rest of the cast.
Alex looked him up and down for a moment, then remarked with a half-smile:
"At least now, if we ever re-release Bleach, Byakuya and Ichigo will finally look like they belong in the same weight class."
Mark took a second to process it-then burst out laughing. It was classic Alex: dry, blunt, and impossible to argue with.
While the mood was still light, Bruce Walts stepped forward decisively and stopped in front of Alex. Thanks to Mark's near-obsessive insistence, he'd been given the chance to play Caesar. He had talent, presence, and experience, but a career filled with solid performances that never quite translated into true recognition.
"Thank you, Director Alex… thank you so much," Bruce said, gripping his hand tightly.
Alex pulled his hand back before things grew awkward.
"If your performance doesn't meet my standards, I'll replace you without hesitation," he said calmly. "Gratitude doesn't substitute for delivery."
The effect was immediate. Bruce straightened, the nervous smile vanishing from his face. Around them, a few actors exchanged tense glances and adjusted their posture almost instinctively. No one there doubted that Alex wasn't bluffing.
Alex then turned to Jack Creed.
"It's been a while, Jack. How have you been?"
"Better than I expected," Jack replied with a smile. "I thought I was easing into semi-retirement… didn't imagine I'd get another big chance."
He laughed at himself, shaking his head.
"I just didn't think that, this close to stopping, I'd end up playing a villain."
And not just any villain. Alex had cast him as Kars, the supreme antagonist of Battle Tendency. A role that demanded absolute presence, cold resolve, and an almost divine aura. Precisely because of that, it was the perfect challenge.
As they spoke, Alex briefly glanced at a tablet resting on a nearby table. Old materials from Bleach were still open on the screen. He closed the file without expression and returned his full attention to JoJo. That chapter was already behind him.
Not everyone, however, was pleased.
"Alex! Cut it out!"
He felt his ear being tugged and immediately raised his hands in surrender. Yasmim Banner glared at him, a perfect mix of outrage and disbelief.
"Have you lost your mind? Casting me as a fifty-year-old woman?!"
Alex sighed, having anticipated this from the start.
"Age isn't the point," he said, calmly holding her hand to steady her. "This role demands presence, authority, and beauty. Lisa Lisa can't look fragile. And there's no one better than you for it."
She opened her mouth to argue… then closed it again. It wasn't empty flattery. The character required an actress who was imposing, charismatic, and physically prepared. Actresses like that were rare.
Alex had thought it through countless times.
In the end, he always reached the same conclusion.
…
Later that night, with the hotel finally quiet, Alex sat alone in his room, reviewing the schedule on his laptop. Dates, travel, physical training, outdoor shoots. He adjusted a few time slots, saved the file, and shut the screen.
Before turning off the light, he made one last mental note: improvised training at dawn. Gym, parking lot, empty warehouse-it didn't matter.
He wouldn't tolerate anyone looking "too skinny" on screen.
With the city lights glowing beyond the window, Alex finally switched off the lamp.
The work had only just begun.
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