More than a week had already passed since the meeting in which Sora announced, in front of everyone, that he would personally take charge of producing Voices of a Distant Star. In that short span of time, the daily rhythm of Dream Animation had changed in ways that were subtle, yet decisive.
For Ren, now responsible for overseeing the production schedule, the week had been exhausting-and, unexpectedly, fulfilling. Between contacts, confirmations, and endless adjustments, he still managed to put together the complete production timeline for the animation. It was more than a plan; it felt like a quiet warning that there would be no room for mistakes.
According to the schedule, starting on December twentieth, Sora had exactly three weeks to complete the storyboards. The deadline was non-negotiable. If the storyboards were delayed, everything else would be pushed back with them-layouts, key animation, backgrounds, environment modeling, effects, voice auditions, cast selection. A single failure at that first link could compromise the entire chain.
Sora was a rookie director. No one harbored illusions about that. It was only natural to assume he would take longer than ideal to finish the storyboards. But under these circumstances, there was no elegant solution. If he couldn't finish within regular hours, the answer was simple and brutal: sleepless nights, cut rest, work until he hit his limits. The schedule would not bend for him.
It was against this backdrop that Ren stepped into Sora's office that morning to deliver his report. A quick glance at the desk was enough to make his eyes widen.
"Wait… you've already finished Part A of the storyboards?" he asked, unable to hide his shock.
The reaction wasn't exaggerated. Ren remembered all too well what Hiroshi had been like back when he served as director. The former president had possessed a peculiar talent for procrastination. He only ever produced under extreme pressure, usually when the entire studio was on the verge of grinding to a halt. More often than not, the storyboards wouldn't appear until every other department was already waiting on the brink of paralysis.
Ren was a man in his thirties, calm-spoken and polite, someone whose serenity naturally inspired trust. Even so, faced with what he was seeing, he couldn't suppress a hint of unease.
"Can I take a look at what you've done?" he asked.
"Sure. They're right here," Sora replied, sliding a thick stack of storyboard notebooks across the desk.
While Ren flipped through the pages, Sora leaned over the production schedule Ren had prepared. The dates were arranged with suffocating precision. Storyboards completed by January twenty-second. Three days for review. Three more days for internal meetings with each department. As soon as Part A was finished, layout production would begin, alongside voice actor selection meetings. After that came background art discussions, animation meetings, color palette adjustments.
Step by step, everything moved in parallel, compressed to the limit, running straight through to March thirtieth-the scheduled broadcast date.
There were no weekends. No breaks. Only deadlines carved with surgical exactness.
And at the center of it all stood Sora.
If he fell behind at any point-at even a single point-every other gear would be affected. There was no safety margin.
Sora set the schedule down and let out a long breath, feeling the weight of that responsibility settle onto his shoulders. That was when he noticed Ren's expression. The man had stopped turning pages and was now staring at the storyboards with an unmistakable mix of surprise and excitement.
"Well?" Sora asked, trying to hide his tension. "Are they… acceptable?"
"Acceptable?" Ren looked up, almost laughing nervously. "No. They're more than that. They're good-much better than I expected, to be honest."
He admitted without hesitation that he had expected something rushed, poorly structured, with clumsy camera language. But as he read on, that impression faded away. The actions were clear, the framing made sense, there were no pointless movements or ambiguous expressions. Even without animation, the visual flow was so natural that his mind filled in the motion on its own.
"To be frank," Ren added, "they're not inferior to what President Hiroshi used to draw. You're learning fast."
The comment stirred a distant memory in Sora. His father's storyboards had indeed been rough-thick lines, careless sketches. But Hiroshi had always compensated with direct communication. When something wasn't clear on paper, he explained it in person. That was why, despite the crude drawings, productions rarely stalled because of the storyboards.
"Oh, before I forget," Ren said, shifting back into a professional tone. "How's the character design coming along with the general animation supervisor?"
"The main characters are basically done," Sora replied after a brief pause. "Mechanical designs, backgrounds, and the rest are still under discussion."
In truth, there wasn't much to complicate. Voices of a Distant Star had only two central characters: the male lead and the female lead. Precisely because of that, Sora refused to settle for anything mediocre.
Compared to the original version of the work, this adaptation demanded a complete redesign from head to toe. The original animation belonged to a very early stage of its creator's career, and it showed in the simple, almost dated character designs. They weren't ugly-but they weren't refined either.
In his previous life, Sora had always regretted that this story hadn't been produced with the visual level of later, more mature works. If it had received that kind of aesthetic care, the experience would have been immeasurably stronger.
Now, this was his chance.
With the team understaffed, there was no one available solely for character design. The task had fallen to Haruto, the general animation supervisor. Under Sora's guidance, the protagonists were designed to lean toward a more modern style-clean lines, expressive features-aligned with contemporary Japanese productions.
Another delicate issue was the design of the massive mecha that appeared in the story.
In this country, animations centered on giant robot combat were practically nonexistent. Haruto struggled to grasp the exact kind of visual impact required, which led to long discussions and repeated adjustments. In the original work, the mecha had been created in 3D, clashing with the rest of the animation.
This time, Sora chose to follow his own taste. The combat scenes would be hand-drawn. He believed that, in this context, the raw impact and expressiveness of traditional animation would surpass any digital solution.
And references were plentiful.
That thought sparked something in his mind. The absence of works in this genre within the local market might not be a weakness-it might be a selling point. Even if the core of the story revolved around distance, time, and emotion, the mechanical element could become an unexpected draw.
Sora was just about to return to the storyboards to review those scenes specifically when Ren's voice pulled him back to reality.
"If Part A is already finished, Part B shouldn't be a problem," Ren said. "You can wrap it up within a week. I'll make copies and distribute them so the departments can start preparing. I'll also schedule auditions with local voice actors soon."
"Alright," Sora replied after a moment. The ideas that had just begun to take shape were swallowed by the urgency of the schedule.
He handed the storyboards over to Ren without hesitation.
With only three months available, delays were inevitable. By the time recording sessions arrived, much of the animation would still be unfinished. Many lines would have to be recorded using the storyboards alone as reference.
Starting the casting process early was the right call. Experienced voice actors were usually overloaded during the winter season, and fitting schedules together would be a challenge of its own.
The conversation ended cleanly, almost curtly. From then on, exchanges like that would become a daily routine.
After Ren left, Sora checked the time.
His expression changed instantly.
He hurriedly threw on his thick coat and nearly ran out of the office, cutting through the studio toward the outdoor parking lot.
Outside, beneath the gray sky, a lone female figure was already waiting.
Sumire stood between the cars, dressed in white. The cold had tinted her delicate face red, and every breath she took formed pale clouds in the air. Snowflakes clung to her long, loose hair. In her arms, she held a stack of documents tightly against her chest, protecting them from the damp.
Sora stopped for a moment.
He was late.
And judging by her condition, it hadn't been just a few minutes.
________________________________________________________________________________________
Each 50 Power Stones collected unlocks a new chapter! Your support not only helps the story continue but also allows us to create extra content for dedicated readers.
Additionally, exclusive content and bonus chapters are available on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/ImmortalEmperor
Join now and help shape the future of the story while enjoying special rewards!