Making an animation was not an interesting thing.
After layer upon layer of procedures, even Kamiyā Yuu, the chief animation director, was ultimately only one part of the assembly line. As director, Kamiyā Yuu needed to personally handle every important non-technical item. Ordinary anime directors might indicate the overall direction, but they generally do not participate in detailed special effects processing, key animation direction, or art rendering. First, a director's time was limited, with too many matters requiring oversight. Second, every profession has its specialty. A director might understand animation as a whole, but that did not make them omnipotent.
In outsiders' eyes, Kamiyā Yuu was an "all-round director," but he had no intention of increasing his own workload. What he did was the same as what an ordinary chief animation director was responsible for.
Participating in animation direction, going to Shindō Tsukasa's music studio to select voice actors and record songs, endlessly reviewing and revising unfinished storyboard drafts—since he had agreed to become Kuroneko's key animation teacher, Kamiyā Yuu naturally would not treat it carelessly.
Just as Uehara Etsuki had once taught him, Kamiyā Yuu first assigned Kuroneko extra key animation exercises, training her skills and judgment as an animator while guiding her toward becoming a qualified key animator.
Kuroneko did not possess Kamiyā Yuu's extraordinary learning ability. Uehara Etsuki's loose teaching style was not entirely suited to her. So every time Kamiyā Yuu entered the consciousness space, he spent over an hour reviewing the key animation assignments Kuroneko submitted, giving comprehensive, specific, and professional evaluations.
Kamiyā Yuu pointed out the mistakes in her assignments and gave her appropriate hints, allowing her to freely develop her own abilities as an animator. Only then could she grow into a key animator with a style different from Kamiyā Yuu's. Otherwise, all he would be cultivating would be an inferior version of himself.
Kuroneko improved extremely quickly.
She had originally been an anime otaku and a severe chūnibyō patient. The fact that she had once written a thick setting collection while writing a novel showed how passionate she was about her interests.
Aside from sleeping, eating, and working, she spent all her time completing the key animation assignments Kamiyā Yuu gave her and absorbing his feedback on them. Whenever there was something she did not understand, she would only come to ask him during his free time.
······
Late at night, Yosuganosora Animation Studio was still brightly lit. However, in the spacious shared office, only a few employees remained buried in work. The quiet environment was filled only with the crisp clicking of mice and the soft scratching of brushes.
"Ruri, I'm heading off first."
In the animator department, the last female animator packed up her personal belongings and waved to Kuroneko with a smile.
Kuroneko, who had been staring at her screen, turned her head and smiled back.
"Mm. See you tomorrow."
She glanced at the clock on the nearby wall. It was already past eight in the evening, more than two hours past quitting time, yet she still had not left her workstation.
Kuroneko was reviewing the animation direction for Episode Seven of 'Puella Magi Madoka Magica'.
This was a crucial episode. She wanted to use it to convey to Kamiyā Yuu the results of her efforts during this period. In addition, the more she learned from Kamiyā Yuu, the longer it actually took her to review animation direction.
She was now the assistant director of the animator department. In other words, she could be called an animation director—not one at Kamiyā Yuu's level, but a supervising animator among animators.
This position was usually held by a veteran key animator. However, Kuroneko, who was young and lacked seniority, had become the only animator supervisor in the animation department, yet it had not attracted much gossip. Her performance on 'Puella Magi Madoka Magica' was better than that of every other animator, and her hardworking attitude had earned the animators' approval.
After key animators finished drawing their work, the drawings would be placed together to create a rough key animation sequence. Usually, these sequences only contained discontinuous characters and background lines.
The process responsible for reviewing this stage and finding drawing flaws was the key animation direction. This task could be handled by Kamiyā Yuu as chief director or by Uehara Etsuki as key animation director.
Animation direction involved taking the animation produced after processing the key animation and playing it back in advance. This kind of animation usually had no sound, no rendering, and no special effects. Compared to key animation direction, it had color, specific detailing, and smoother frame continuity, making it a great test of the animation director's personal eye.
Generally speaking, whether animation direction or key animation direction, the purpose was only to find places where the drawings had collapsed.
Kamiyā Yuu's requirements for Kuroneko were stricter. Aside from finding drawing errors, she also needed to consider whether the composition of the original drawings themselves was appropriate.
Kuroneko stretched. Sitting in an office chair all day made her feel like her body was about to fall apart. She stood, pushed the chair aside, and moved around in place.
Then she saw herself reflected in the mirror on her desk.
It was a girl with black hair and red eyes. Her cute face was not mature; even if she wore a high school uniform, it would not feel particularly out of place. Her mysterious red pupils, paired with the beauty mark near her eye, always gave off an oddly alluring and uncanny impression.
"Oh, right. My eyes need to rest, too."
Kuroneko blinked, gently removed her colored contacts, and placed them into a small bottle filled with an unknown liquid. The moment she took them off, she felt the entire world change, becoming clearer and more beautiful.
That was what colored contacts were like. Aside from changing one's appearance, they offered no benefit to the body. Low-quality colored contacts could even cause eye fatigue, dizziness, and other side effects after long wear.
Kuroneko's red colored contacts had cost her an entire month's salary. As a high-end product, the side effects were much smaller and did not burden her eyes too much.
After letting her eyes rest properly, Kuroneko looked at herself in the mirror again.
Wearing a black-and-white gothic dress, she seemed to have returned to her high school days. But here, she did not feel the loneliness of lacking friends. While working, she felt a sense of fulfillment and purpose she had never had before.
The corners of Kuroneko's mouth lifted, and she could not help smiling. Then she curled both hands into cat-paw shapes and made a cute pose toward herself in the mirror.
"Meow~!"
After working until ten at night, Kuroneko finally completed the animation direction report for Episode Seven.
By this time, Yosuganosora Animation Studio was completely devoid of human voices. The silent atmosphere made one involuntarily think of horror movies.
Kuroneko yawned and mumbled drowsily,
"There's still the assignment Teacher Kamiyā gave me... Mm~ I'll do it tomorrow morning. Taking the late bus back to the apartment now would be troublesome... I'll have to bother Chinatsu."
After shutting down her computer, Kuroneko made her way familiarly to another floor.
Passing through the gloomy, dark shared office, she soon arrived before an office door with light spilling out from inside.
Knock knock.
"Come in yourself. The door isn't locked."
Yūki Chinatsu's clear voice came from inside.
After Kuroneko entered, she unsurprisingly saw Yūki Chinatsu, dressed in pink rabbit pajamas, playing an unknown FPS game on the professional-grade computer the company had provided her.
The computers at Yosuganosora Animation Studio far surpassed the high-end computers commonly available on the market. Their components were all professionally customized, with each set costing over five million yen.
"Kuroneko, were you busy with the key animation assignments Yuu gave you again? If the workload is too heavy, you could just refuse that part."
As Yūki Chinatsu rapidly controlled her mouse to kill enemies on screen, she spoke casually. Her petite body in pink rabbit pajamas made her look no different from an ordinary little girl.
"I don't want to hold Teacher Kamiyā back. Besides, this level is nothing to me."
Kuroneko lifted her chin proudly as she answered.
After becoming familiar with Yūki Chinatsu, and because Yūki Chinatsu also had a young-looking appearance, Kuroneko had unknowingly begun treating her as a friend of the same age.
She skillfully picked up another futon from the corner and spread it on the floor. After unzipping the back of her gothic dress, the dress slid down. She folded it neatly, removed her dark stockings, placed them on top, then slipped under the covers and softly said,
"Chinatsu, good night."
"Good night."
Yūki Chinatsu plugged her headphones into the computer case and replied.
······
The moment Kamiyā Yuu stepped into Shindō Tsukasa's music studio, several female voice actors who recognized him hurriedly came over, bowed, and greeted him.
"Good morning, Mr. Kamiyā."
"Morning. I'll be troubling you again today."
Kamiyā Yuu smiled and nodded.
Although Shindō Tsukasa's music studio belonged to Yosuganosora Animation Studio, voice actors existed independently. They had their own specialized agencies. Only when they received assignments would they come to the music studio to record lines.
To use a comparison, voice actors were like "idols," with their own managers and agencies. The anime produced by Kamiyā Yuu was the program they needed to perform in.
There was also a very interesting meme regarding voice actors: "getting paid."
Anime fans often saw comments like "XXXX is getting paid again" while watching anime. This usually appeared when characters with very few lines appeared.
The origin of this meme came from how voice actors were paid. Their salary was not calculated by time worked or the number of lines spoken, but by the number of episodes they participated in.
If two voice actors of equal status appeared in the same episode, and one only said "Oh" while the other spoke from beginning to end, their pay would still be the same.
So when a minor supporting character with very few lines appeared, even saying a single word counted as the voice actor's pay for participating in one episode.
Japanese voice actors might appear glamorous, but in reality, the profession also follows a pyramid structure.
Lower-tier voice actors often could not make ends meet and needed part-time jobs to sustain themselves. Because they lacked fame, they also had to "show their faces" at agencies for free.
Famous voice actors, however, received treatment no worse than certain popular idols. There were even cases where the cost of hiring voice actors matched the total cost of producing an anime.
In the voice acting world, aside from becoming popular through their voices, voice actors could also build popularity through their appearances. This was the idolization of voice actors.
Voice actors could release photobooks, hold autograph events, and attend various activities by invitation. Since this could bring substantial profits, many voice actor agencies supported such things. As a result, the voice acting industry also developed the same low-quality unspoken rules found in Japan's idol industry: voice actors were not allowed to date, much less marry, without permission from their agencies.
If a voice actor's private life became messy, things would be even worse. Hirano Aya, the voice actress of 'The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya', and Nitta Emi, the voice actress of 'Kōsaka Honoka', were typical examples.
"This is the revised dialogue portion for Episode Five of 'Puella Magi Madoka Magica'."
After entering the recording room, Kamiyā Yuu handed the dubbing script in his hand to Shindō Tsukasa.
Shindō glanced through it and nodded to Kamiyā Yuu. Once most of the voice actors had arrived in the recording booth on the other side, he spoke into the transmission microphone.
"Everyone, sorry to interrupt. The following lines need to be revised."
"Scene Four: 'There's nothing to be afraid of anymore' should be changed to 'There's nothing to be afraid of now.'"
"Scene Eight: 'I understand' should be changed to 'Yes, I understand.'"
"Scene Eleven: 'Homura-chan' should be changed into a questioning tone."
"Scene Twelve: 'This is probably the fate of us magical girls' should be changed to 'In the end, we still can't break free from our fate.'"
On the other side of the recording room, the voice actors all took out their scripts and made revisions according to Shindō Tsukasa's instructions.
The voice acting studio was arranged very simply. In the front were three high-precision recording microphones and three configured LCD playback screens. The voice actors needed to take turns standing before the three microphones, watching the silent animation on the screens while dubbing. If too many characters appeared, they would have to line up and take turns.
The left, right, and back sides of the recording room were filled with resting chairs for the voice actors.
There were also rules about seating. Usually, the rear seats facing the LCD screens could only be occupied by experienced voice actors, as they allowed a better view of the animation. New or unknown voice actors sat quietly on both sides of the recording room, waiting and silently memorizing their lines.
The animation recording process was extremely dull.
Listening to voice actors repeat the same line again and again would make ordinary people tired of it long ago, leading to vocal aesthetic fatigue. Even a highly experienced sound director like Shindō Tsukasa sometimes made mistakes in judgment.
Therefore, when recording voices, there were usually several professionals present to discuss whether the voice work was acceptable.
"There's nothing to be afraid of anymore~!"
The female voice actor smiled lightly and delivered the line into the microphone, only to be stopped immediately. Her expression was extremely similar to Mami Tomoe's expression in the animation on the screen. To outsiders, this might look rather embarrassing, but "getting into character" was also a skill voice actors had to master.
Shindō Tsukasa pondered for a moment before saying,
"Stop. Mm~~~ Try putting more emotion into it. Make it lighter."
The female voice actor stared at the silent animation on screen, inhaled, then exhaled.
"There's nothing to be afraid of anymore~!"
"Good. Next."
······
"Senior Mami!"
"Too stiff. Again."
······
"In the end, we still can't break free from our fate."
"Take a break. Miha, please demonstrate this line for her."
Shindō Tsukasa quickly instructed another veteran voice actor to demonstrate the line.
The other female voice actor came before the microphone, gathered her emotions, and slowly said,
"In the end, we still can't break free from our fate."
Shindō Tsukasa nodded in satisfaction.
"That's about the right feeling."
"Yes. Thank you for your guidance!"
The female voice actor whose dubbing had failed earlier bowed solemnly.
······
"I still can't get used to being in the recording room, no matter how many times I go."
At around three in the afternoon, after Kamiyā Yuu left the music studio, he felt as though his ears were blocked by something. Whether it was car horns or human voices, everything sounded muffled and difficult to distinguish.
He patted his ears, but the feeling did not improve. Helplessly, he could only shake his head and wait for his ears to readjust to the outside world.