On NatsuYume, a whole crowd of anime diehards was still basking in the glow of Akane no Sora's first episode. With every new thread, the same feeling returned: that premiere had been too good to let anyone's mind settle.
But in Tokushima, as the clock crept closer to ten, a lot of people finally reined themselves in and did the obvious - grabbed the remote and switched over to Tokushima TV.
Akane no Sora was strong, sure. But for local fans, nothing had hit as hard as Voices of a Distant Star, which had aired half a year earlier. And on top of that, there was one detail heavier than any internet argument about "quality":
Sora Kamakawa was one of their own.
Clapping for Akane no Sora alongside people from other regions on the site could wait until tomorrow. Right now…
Right now was the time to turn on Tokushima TV and give Natsume Yuujinchou's premiere at least a few precious points of ratings.
Especially because that Maki guy in Tokyo had given an interview with that smug, high-handed air - talking like Sora Kamakawa was "lucky," "too young," "not capable." Among Tokushima's anime crowd, it had turned into a kind of shared grudge. The sort that doesn't disappear with time; it just changes shape.
On NatsuYume itself, in the official account for Natsume Yuujinchou, the comment section was on fire.
"Great. Ten more minutes and we get to watch this thing sink without a trace. First place across the four prefectures of Shikoku? Please. I'm laughing."
"Oh, shut up. Maki's dog-fans still have the nerve? Akane no Sora aired tonight and already took the top trending spot on NatsuYume. Tomorrow, when the ratings drop, it'll be huge - and The Dragon King Next Door is going to be down at the bottom among the big networks' pushed shows."
"Out of the four, The Dragon King Next Door had the biggest budget… and it's still going to be dead last. And you people still think you've got the right to mock Natsume Yuujinchou?"
"What does one or two weeks of rankings prove? Besides, even if The Dragon King Next Door ends up below Card, below Reincarnation of the Maou, below Akane no Sora… that still doesn't mean this Natsume thing gets to compare itself."
"Every quarter it's the same - one show wins here, another loses there. If The Dragon King Next Door starts a bit low, that's competition between networks. The funniest part is Sora Kamakawa's fans talking like Natsume Yuujinchou has already passed The Dragon King Next Door."
…
[Don't celebrate too early, you dogs of Maki's. If Natsume Yuujinchou really beats The Dragon King Next Door in ratings across Shikoku's four prefectures, I'll leave a message for each and every one of you. And I better not see anyone playing dead.]
Aimi drove her finger into her phone and sent it.
She was a diehard Yumi Noriko fan, and over the past few months she'd gotten into more online shouting matches than she cared to admit - against Natsuyuki Shirasawa's fans, against Maki's fans, against anyone who showed up with that slightly sadistic delight of can't wait to watch you eat your words.
But internet bravado was one thing. Reality was another.
"Natsume… take it slow, but go strong," she murmured, staring at the TV like she could influence what was about to happen. "Don't premiere and turn into a joke, for the love of God… If this goes badly, we're going to get pummeled on NatsuYume for months and won't even be able to clap back."
On screen, Tokushima TV was running some generic "vitality supplement" commercial - the kind that always seems to exist when you're nervous and just want the program to start already. Aimi bit at the tip of her finger, her pretty face marked by a small, stubborn fear.
She'd watched episode one of Akane no Sora. It really was top-tier - one of those premieres that, if the quality holds, becomes the season's undisputed powerhouse without breaking a sweat.
And Maki's anime, The Dragon King Next Door? It had opened to lukewarm reactions. If word of mouth slid even lower, it was entirely possible that, across Shikoku's four prefectures, the ratings would drop under four percent.
Which left a crack. Small, but real.
If Natsume Yuujinchou was good enough to bring Voices of a Distant Star to mind - good in the way that has a soul, the kind of warmth that grows inside the audience as days pass - then its premiere might not explode…
But it could ferment. And once it fermented, it really could catch up, even overtake the other one.
It only needed to beat The Dragon King Next Door in Tokushima. Just that would be enough to shut up the loudest mouths.
Time slid on. Ten o'clock arrived.
The moment the top-right corner displayed the time watermark, the picture stuttered - a tiny, familiar hitch at the transition. Then, in the very next instant, a gentle, crisp animated scene appeared, carrying a breezy freshness that didn't need explosions or shock to feel striking.
It was Natsume Yuujinchou's opening.
Aimi went still, eyes tracking the letters that flickered in and out in sync with the images.
Director: Sora Kamakawa
Assistant Director: Sumire
Series Composition / Script: Sora Kamakawa
Music Production: Sora Kamakawa
Animation Director: Haruto
Art Director: Liang Long
…
In under a minute, the key staff credits passed like a calling card - and right in the middle of them, Sora Kamakawa's name showed up again and again, unapologetic, as if the anime itself was declaring: It's him.
Even though she'd already known from the official site, seeing it on TV hit differently. It was concrete. Official. And for a second, Aimi felt a chill that had nothing to do with cheering.
How does someone even do that?
One person holding that many roles at once…
At the end of the opening came the production line - the names of the people funding it - and there, side by side, appeared: Yumi Noriko, Sora Kamakawa, and Sumire.
Aimi finally let out her breath, like her body had only just remembered it was supposed to breathe.
"Yeah…" she whispered, a small smile tugging at her mouth. "That's all I wanted. I just wanted to see Yumi Noriko's name in the credits."
The pride came easily. Warmly.
On screen, the episode title appeared:
Episode One: The Cat and the Book of Friends
Ten at night was already past the "prime" slot. The natural trend was for ratings to start drifting downward. But a premiere was still a premiere - plenty of viewers, even without meaning to, would give it a few minutes out of curiosity. And that curiosity, when the work was good, became something else.
The first lines came out heavy, bitter, almost spat through clenched teeth:
"That guy… that woman…"
"Where are you? Where did you run off to…?"
The image showed a boy with light chestnut hair sprinting through the woods, panic stamped across his face. His body moved fast, but there was something fractured in the way he kept looking back over his shoulder - as if he knew he wasn't fleeing a thing, but a someone that truly intended to catch him.
Behind him, a warped presence slid through the shadows, too weighty to feel human.
In the next cut, he burst out past the tree line and stumbled onto the road. There, he ran into classmates. And the monster chasing him - like it had sensed too many people - pulled back… at least for the moment.
He exchanged a couple of quick sentences - short, nearly swallowed - and then he left.
Left too fast.
Not because he disliked them. But because staying there was danger. Because that presence wouldn't hide forever. And if it surfaced, someone who understood nothing would get hurt.
That was when the narration came in - a voice that didn't explain like a manual, but like someone who understood the weight of saying certain things.
The protagonist was named Natsume. Since childhood, he'd been able to see what ordinary people couldn't: spirits, youkai, shadows with wills of their own. And because of that, he was hunted. As if the invisible world, once it noticed him, refused to let him go.
Usually, all he had to do was make it into a temple and the things would retreat. There were barriers, seals, old boundaries - things from outside couldn't cross so easily.
But that night, the escape wasn't so simple.
A sharp cut. An impact.
A massive hand appeared from nowhere and seized Natsume violently, slamming him against a tree trunk as if he were too light to resist. The air tore from his chest. His face flushed, then drained pale, his eyes blown wide in silent terror.
"Finally caught you… Rei."
The creature was enormous. A one-eyed youkai with a face carved by harsh lines, ugly in a way that felt ancient - like a horror mask built out of resentment. And in its gaze was fixation. Not hunger. Obsession.
"Come on… hurry… give it back… give it back to me…"
That opening was a chase, yes. But it was also a doorway.
The name "Rei" tugged at a thread that hadn't been shown yet: Natsume wasn't Rei. Rei was his grandmother - Natsume Rei, a woman who, in the past, had confronted youkai and beaten so many that her name became a kind of curse and legend.
And it was in that desperate sprint that Natsume, without meaning to, touched what he shouldn't. When he reached the temple, the confusion and shock of the moment led him to damage the seal of the barrier. And with that seal broken, something that had been bound there for a very long time slipped free.
Madara.
Or, as he would introduce himself - with a shameless calm that was almost irritating:
Nyanko-sensei.
Midway through, the story opened space to show what hurt beneath the panic.
With his parents gone, Natsume had grown up drifting from house to house, staying with relatives. And in every place, the same pattern repeated: he saw what no one else saw… and, when he was too young to grasp consequences, he spoke too freely.
Even if the adults thought it was "just playing," imagine hearing a child insist there's a long-haired man staring at the family from the corner of the room - or a woman with an unnaturally long tongue smiling from the hallway, watching everyone like she owns the place.
Fear, when it has no name, turns into disgust. Into irritation. Into rejection.
At some point as he grew, Natsume understood.
He understood they didn't hate him, exactly - they hated what came with him. The unease. The strange. The impossible.
From then on, he stopped telling people. He learned to swallow words. Learned to smile at the right time. And even so, he carried a persistent fear: that classmates, friends, anyone… would realize he wasn't "normal."
With the soft, mournful background track - a music that didn't beg for emotion, but drew the ache out with care - Aimi's focus tightened on the screen before she even noticed.
Five minutes. Just five. And the story had already hooked her.
Because good work doesn't need to shout. It just fits its hands around your heart and squeezes at exactly the right pressure.
Aimi felt something sour rise inside her, an almost familiar discomfort.
That's why…
That's why he left his classmates so fast.
He wasn't only running from a youkai. He was running from the chance of being seen - of being singled out, isolated, discarded - like he had been as a child.
Natsume was gentle. Careful with the people around him. And precisely because of that, he'd rather take the hits alone than drag someone else into that world.
When Madara appeared and - mistaking Natsume for his grandmother - stepped in, driving away the youkai chasing him, the story opened onto what truly mattered.
Rei was dead.
And what she'd left behind… was dangerous.
The Book of Friends.
A notebook filled with the names of countless powerful youkai that Natsume Rei had defeated in the past. A record made of victory and humiliation. And for youkai, a name wasn't "just a name": it was a bond. An obligation. A command.
Whoever held that book could demand obedience from the youkai whose names were written inside.
Aimi blinked, trying to follow the logic like someone fitting new pieces into a puzzle.
"Oh… so that's the setup," she murmured, finally grasping the weight of it.
And for the first time since she'd turned on the TV, the fear of "becoming a joke" eased back a little - replaced by something else.
Something dangerous for someone who'd spent months fighting in comment sections:
Hope.
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