JK-san

Snakehead Animation Studio, 1:00 a.m.

The storyboards and episode direction for Episode 6 of <Ore-sama's Right Leg Lost a Big Toe, but That Wasn't a Toe—It Was the Holy Sword> had returned to Misawa Hiroshi's desk. He collapsed into his chair, looking half dead.

In animation production, storyboarding was easy enough to understand: based on the script and the animation director's requirements, you drew out each shot as rough sketches, panel by panel. The director's initial task, meanwhile, was to hold a key animation meeting, distribute the hundreds of storyboard cuts among the key animators, and explain details such as the characters' clothing and emotional states, conveying the desired effect to the key animators.

The first stage of key animation checking was also handled by the episode director. Their main job was to see whether the acting in the key animation matched expectations. For example, if a character was meant to look angry, did the animation convey that anger well? Did it need to be redrawn, or could the animation director fix it? If it was truly unacceptable, it would be sent back for revisions or rejected outright for a complete redo. Basically, they determined the "acting."

The episode director was involved in virtually every stage of post-production as well.

Put in more understandable terms, the episode director was the director of an individual episode.

So, was it fun being an episode director on an animation production with a brutal schedule and barely any budget?

Misawa Hiroshi felt like he was having the time of his life. As the storyboard artist as well, the instant he received the script and saw its title, he had wanted to quit on the spot.

What kind of insane project was this?

Still, "Screw this job! I quit!" always ended up becoming "Making money comes first, making money comes first."

No matter how dissatisfied he was with this animation project, he still had to keep going. And there were many problems—far too many.

The schedule was impossibly tight, there was nowhere near enough time to work, and it was impossible to find good key animators. The inexperienced ones produced work that looked like shit.

Misawa Hiroshi had been constrained from the moment he started drawing the storyboards. He did not even dare consider difficult shots, because there simply were no good key animators.

Even so, the problems were still piling up explosively. As the deadline drew ever closer, Misawa Hiroshi's mindset changed. He no longer had time to check whether the key animation matched his expectations. As long as it was not complete nonsense, looked passable, and was more or less acceptable, he would sign off with his eyes closed and hand it to the animation director.

Tonight, it was once again time to choose between "Fix this garbage key animation properly!" and "Forget it."

Misawa Hiroshi picked up a cut of key animation from the side of his desk and began reviewing it.

Because of the schedule, he had chosen to lower his standards and sign off on anything passable with his eyes closed. But even lowered standards had standards. Anything too outrageous definitely could not pass.

After checking three cuts in one go, Misawa Hiroshi hesitated. They were all mediocre overall, and the acting effects were far from ideal. He wanted to send them back, but he did not have much time left.

As mentioned before, animation production generally worked like an assembly line, with everything progressing simultaneously. For instance, when Episode 1 aired, Episode 3 should have been nearly complete, while the storyboards for Episode 8 had already been drawn.

Of course, that was the ideal state.

For this Ore-sama anime, Episode 4 had already aired, while Episode 6 was still in the animation stage. The production was severely behind schedule.

If they delayed any longer, compositing would have to start cutting into production time.

So after wrestling with it for a while, Misawa Hiroshi approved those three cuts anyway. The acting was terrible, but at least they had been made. There was no major collapse in quality, was there...?

Then he continued checking.

Soon, he reached the two cuts of key animation handled by Gu Xue.

When Misawa Hiroshi picked up one of them and saw the name, he froze for a moment.

He remembered these two cuts clearly. They were for the protagonist showing off, requiring intense movement. No one inside the company had been willing to take them—or rather, no one could draw them. The people capable of doing so were all working on another project, a major manga adaptation that the whole company was focused on.

They could only find outside key animators.

Misawa Hiroshi had checked the first key animation. To be honest, it had many problems: a perfunctory attitude, ordinary action design and acting effects, heavy reliance on teleporting cuts, and slight distortions in some of the drawings.

But what could he do? He was desperate too. The budget was so low, and they had finally found a key animator willing to draw it. As long as there were no major issues, it was good enough. With the schedule so tight, where would they find time for retakes?

It was trashy light novel adaptation anyway. Even if they demanded perfection from one or two cuts, the overall stench of garbage would not disappear.

So Misawa Hiroshi had approved it without hesitation.

He remembered that the second key animation had been sent out for cleanup the day before yesterday, but it had only come back today. Wasn't that way too slow?

But when he saw the name of the second key animator, he understood.

So it was that JK-san...

She seemed to have gotten in through connections, and apparently had some backing. After just half a year as an animator, she had been promoted to key animator. Whoever handled the promotion exam must have gone easy on her. When Misawa Hiroshi had been episode director for another anime last year, he had assigned cuts to Gu Xue as well. But she had no experience and lacked proficiency. She had drawn so slowly and badly that none of her work had passed, and in the end someone else had completed it for her.

This year, Misawa Hiroshi had not assigned her any cuts. At the animation meeting, the sight of her sitting in the corner with her head lowered after receiving no work had been rather pitiful.

The main reason he had given her the second key animation for Cuts 221 and 222 this time was that there was no one else. Cleanup was rather troublesome, but it did not require much technical skill, making it perfect for her.

"She's way too slow." Misawa Hiroshi sighed, spread out the Dope Sheet, took out the key animation, and began checking it.

"..."

The instant he saw the key animation, Misawa Hiroshi's breath caught. He shot to his feet and slammed it onto the desk.

"This hasn't been cleaned up at all!"

"What happened?" Kojima Taira, one of Episode 6's animation directors, happened to be coming over to Misawa Hiroshi's office to get some tea leaves. He had barely reached the door when he heard Misawa Hiroshi shouting, startling him.

Misawa Hiroshi turned to look at Kojima Taira, his face blank with disbelief. "JK-san went on strike. Maybe the production assistant ran off too."

Gu Xue was actually fairly well-known around the company because she was so young. A lot of people privately called her JK-san...

As for why he thought the production assistant had run off too, it was because Gu Xue had simply tossed the key animation directly onto the episode director's desk...

"Huh?"

Misawa Hiroshi waved the two cuts in his hand and showed them to Kojima Taira.

"Holy shit." Kojima Taira was stunned too. "Is there still time? Can we find someone to redo the cleanup?"

"Whether there's time or not, that's our only option." Misawa Hiroshi slumped back into his chair, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Of course he was angry, but this kind of thing was not exactly rare. Animation production was so stressful that one or two key animators suddenly quitting, or the production falling behind schedule, was perfectly normal.

Perfectly normal...

The animation stage was where problems were most likely to arise. Misawa Hiroshi had experienced every kind of issue, big and small.

"If she didn't have the energy, why take on a project like this?" Misawa Hiroshi tossed the two cuts of completely uncleaned key animation aside, rubbed his brow, and could not help complaining.

"That doesn't sound like something you'd say. You've been doing this for so many years—don't you know the state of animation production these days?" Kojima Taira smiled, picked up the tea leaves from Misawa Hiroshi's desk, poured some into his own cup, and teased him.

"Ah, the industry's doomed." Misawa Hiroshi scratched his head and sighed, then... continued checking the next cut.

Forget the industry being doomed. Even if the world ended, he would finish his work first, then see whether the production assistant had really run off.

But the moment he saw the first drawing of the next cut, he froze. It felt familiar, yet somehow unfamiliar too...

He flipped to the next drawing. Hmm...

After flipping through the whole thing for a quick look, Misawa Hiroshi's eyes lit up, and he immediately picked up the next cut.

Once again, he reviewed the whole thing, then looked at the key animator's name.

On the other side, Kojima Taira had finished pouring his tea. Seeing Misawa Hiroshi holding the key animation with a serious expression, he smiled and shook his head. Not wanting to disturb him, he prepared to slip away quietly.

But just as he reached the door—

"Holy shit!!" Misawa Hiroshi suddenly leaped up from his chair again and shouted.

Kojima Taira's shoulders twitched as he turned around and asked, "What now? Did someone else run off?"

"No." Holding a cut of key animation, Misawa Hiroshi said blankly, "JK-san came back."