Six Deals
Just as the design by Kyung-ho was solidifying, Yamada, who had been quietly listening, cautiously raised his hand.
"…But."
All eyes turned to him. Yamada scratched at the paper as he continued.
"Won't the sponsors object to this?"
In that instant, the conference room air froze.
"…Ah."
Someone muttered lowly. Director Tomizawa pressed a hand to his forehead.
"Damn it."
Animation wasn't an industry made by animation alone. Especially for robot shows.
Robot or mecha series, from the '70s right up to the present, almost always had toy company sponsors attached. And those sponsors typically had three demands: appealing animation production, attractive mecha designs, and mass-producible mecha designs.
Kyung-ho's current design was highly likely to hit a wall with the sponsors on that third condition.
Remembering that no plan could even stand without the sponsors' approval in the first place, Director Tomizawa picked up the phone.
"Connect me to Glover."
He waited a moment, receiver in hand. Then,
"Yes, Director. This is Tomizawa from Moonrise."
A brief exchange followed.
"We'll send the designs via fax."
After faxing over the design drafts, everyone waited anxiously for the verdict.
The phone rang soon after. Director Tomizawa snatched up the receiver.
"Yes."
The director's face gradually hardened as he listened.
"No helping it, then…."
"Ha… Of course…."
As the staff sighed or resigned themselves upon seeing the director's stiff expression, the call ended.
"Understood."
Click. He set down the receiver.
Director Tomizawa pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The lighter flame flickered.
Chik— He exhaled a long plume of smoke.
"No go."
Director Tomizawa added, blowing out more smoke.
"They want it simplified."
Yasuhiro suggested an alternative.
"Then, like I said earlier, how about blurring the joint details a bit?"
"Won't work. Too thin for injection molding, apparently. We'd have to tear it all apart and redo it."
With the conversation flowing, everyone chimed in one by one.
"How are we supposed to do that now?"
"Just thicken the frame a little?"
"That throws off the overall balance! If we're doing that, might as well go back to a classic style…."
As the chatter devolved into chaos, one voice cut through.
"Give me ten days, and I might be able to solve it."
All eyes snapped to one person. Kyung-ho.
Director Tomizawa narrowed his eyes.
"This isn't a drawing issue."
"I know."
Kyung-ho replied calmly.
"That's why I'll show you Plan B."
With that, Kyung-ho began sketching swiftly on a sheet of paper with his pencil.
A few minutes later, the revealed drawing was a modified design from the First Gundam he'd seen in his previous life. Reborn with modern aesthetics and balance, the late '70s machine—once simple and clunky—now took on a fresh form.
Finishing the sketch, Kyung-ho slid the paper to the center of the table. The staff examined it, lost in thought.
"Joints are simplified."
"Design's appealing."
"This seems workable."
"The futuristic soldier vibe gives it a unique edge."
Director Tomizawa nodded in agreement and spoke.
"This works too. How about we go with it?"
As everyone nodded, Kyung-ho alone closed his eyes and shook his head sideways.
"What now."
"This could make a great work, but…."
Kyung-ho slammed his hand down on the central drawing, eyes open.
"…not a perfect one."
He lifted the paper with his original design and showed it to everyone.
"Doesn't this one look better?"
He compared the robot on the paper in his hand to the one on the table.
Director Tomizawa clicked his tongue.
"So what're you gonna do about it."
"I'll prove it's mass-producible within ten days."
"Mass-producible?"
"The issue right now is the sponsor judging it un-toyable, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then I'll bring a prototype within ten days."
"What?"
"A physical model in ten days."
"That's ridiculous…."
Glover was a pro. If they said it was tough, it really was.
Production issues required on-site knowledge and process expertise—no mere talent or genius could fake that.
"…Ridiculous…."
But this Korean high schooler with paralyzed legs had exceeded expectations time and again. What about now?
Director Tomizawa stared at Kyung-ho, conflicted for a long moment.
Finally, he nodded.
"…One week. Ten days is too long."
"Yes."
"Fail in a week, we go with Plan B."
"Understood."
The meeting ended, and people dispersed one by one.
Director Tomizawa spoke last.
"One week."
"Yes."
Hearing that, the director opened the office door and stepped out.
As Kyung-ho wheeled toward his assigned desk, Yasuhiro approached.
"But… is it really possible?"
"Yes. I've done it a few times."
"I see."
Yasuhiro nodded, deciding not to doubt Kyung-ho further.
Yamada, overhearing, tilted his head.
"We make 'em sometimes too, right?"
"There's some clay left."
Someone pointed to the storeroom.
"Want me to grab some?"
Kyung-ho thought briefly and shook his head.
"Thanks, but I'm heading to a workshop myself, so it's fine."
"Workshop?"
"Need to do resin work. Does Moonrise use any specific ones?"
The office fell quiet for a moment.
Yasuhiro pondered, then spoke.
"Daito Modeling Lab in Asakusa?"
"That place went bust recently."
Someone else chimed in after thinking.
"Dongdo Modeling Workshop?"
"Yeah, there's one in Asakusabashi."
A few nodded.
"Plenty of workshops if you go there."
"Yeah, but the distance…."
"Not easy."
Yamada scratched his head worriedly.
"How long does it take?"
"Hmm… Train's about an hour? With the wheelchair, over two."
Longer than expected. Two hours one way—four round trip. No time left for work.
"Taxi?"
"Maybe 40 minutes? But at least 3,000 yen. Too pricey."
About 7,500 won at current rates. He'd pay without hesitation in Korea, but '70s foreign exchange restrictions meant limited cash, and no spare for that daily over a week.
No one to give me a ride either…!
Pondering, Kyung-ho suddenly remembered. There was someone.
"You're really shameless."
A light beige trench coat over a deep navy two-piece suit. Hair tucked behind her ear, revealing small pearl earrings glinting softly. It was Tokita Mari, heiress of Toei Animation.
If you want to scout me that bad, you'll do this much. Spot on.
"Calling out of the blue for a ride—what do you take me for, Kyung-ho?!"
The rich girl who occasionally scouted him?
"Haha… Thanks anyway."
"No haha! I'm not a taxi driver!"
"Neither am I."
As Mari scolded, her driver, Miyazawa, added calmly from the wheel.
Since he was taking advantage, Kyung-ho bowed his head politely.
"My apologies, miss!"
"Don't call me miss!"
"Doesn't everyone?"
"When you do it, it rubs me wrong!"
Fussy lady.
"So, why Asakusabashi?"
"Need to hit a workshop."
Mari raised an eyebrow at his answer.
"Workshop? Why there all of a sudden?"
"That's… Moonrise internal secret…."
The car's air turned oddly heavy.
Miyazawa glanced at Kyung-ho in the rearview, frowning uncomfortably with a cough. Mari let out a disbelieving scoff.
"Secret?"
She turned to face him directly. Beneath the pretty rich-girl facade, her businesswoman's eyes bored into him.
"Kyung-ho-ssi, you don't get it? I'm from Toei. Moonrise's rival, where you're working. And you ask Toei's heiress for a ride to help with Moonrise secrets?"
Truly angry, she even used his Japanese name, which she'd avoided.
"……."
"Shamelessness has limits."
Nothing to say. She was dead right.
Embarrassed, Kyung-ho bit his lip and looked down. But wheelchair to Asakusabashi daily by train or taxi? Impossible. One week. Had to deliver results.
Kyung-ho sighed and met Mari's eyes again.
"Then… could you give me rides in this car for just one week?"
"What?"
"In exchange, I'll work on Toei material for a week whenever you want later."
Mari's lips tightened coldly. She crossed her arms, scanning him.
"Forgot our key animation's secret too? Do you have authority for that? And even if, the math doesn't add up. Right, Miyazawa-san?"
"Indeed, miss. Kyung-ho-san's proposal carries too much risk for Toei."
Miyazawa's cool response sealed it. Kyung-ho grew anxious. Rejection here meant no convincing Glover.
"Then… a wish later? One favor?"
"Wish?"
Mari's eyes wavered. The unexpected word tilted her head. Pearl earrings swayed, catching light.
A wish… still so irreverent.
Silence fell. Mari gazed at Tokyo's passing scenery. Amid the low engine hum, she spoke decisively.
"Fine. Here's the deal."
She held up one finger.
"Six days from now, excluding today. I'll give you rides."
"Mari-san!"
Kyung-ho's face lit up instantly. Gratitude bubbled in his voice, but Mari cut him off firmly.
"In exchange."
Her gaze locked on his eyes.
"Six times. When I call, come—no questions. Anytime, anywhere."
Kyung-ho's eyes paused briefly.
Six summons. Unknown demands, but she wanted to scout him. Probably just good terms to headhunt. Couldn't wheel there himself daily anyway.
No choice.
"…Understood. Deal."
With his firm agreement, Mari smiled faintly, satisfied, and leaned back deeply.
No one—not even Mari—noticed her cheeks flush as she turned to the window.