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I just want to quietly draw manga Chapter 186
🕑 Added 2025-06-18 18:34:37 +0000 UTCJanuary 3rd – The Animation Studio
The day after the broadcast of Cherry Blossom, the first episode of 5 Centimeters per Second hit 1.14 million views.
When Haruki, Kazuya, and the production team saw the data, they all let out a collective sigh of relief. It was clear now—the project was on solid ground.
But alongside that relief, a quiet excitement began to stir in the room.
On MangaSteam, the country’s biggest anime streaming platform, nearly 100,000 users had already rated the episode. A score of 9.3.
No one had expected that.
“If this keeps up, we might average over three million views.”
“The first episode alone hit over 1.1 million on day one. If the next two episodes land just as well, it could go even higher!”
“I honestly didn’t think it’d do this well,” one staffer said. “When Kazuya joined half a year ago and suggested we try two short films, I thought it was just a test run... but to see this kind of result from a team we pulled together in such a rush—it’s incredible.”
In the office, voices buzzed with enthusiasm. But in a smaller room nearby, Kazuya sat with Haruki, scrolling through viewer reactions online, his excitement hard to contain.
“Hey, Haruki,” Kazuya grinned. “You’re awfully quiet.”
Haruki shrugged. “Not much to say.”
“What do you mean? The first episode crushed it! Aren’t you even a little happy?”
Good results?
Haruki wanted to answer, but held it in.
Among the January releases, Frozen Witch had pulled over two million views on its first day. City of Echoes came in second at 1.6 million. 5 Centimeters per Second, with its 1.14 million, was technically in third place.
But there were still more shows premiering later today—I Got Summoned by a Demon Queen from the Sewer and Now I’m Her Househusband and A Merchant from Another World, both with strong pre-release buzz. Factoring those in, 5 Centimeters per Second could easily end up fifth overall.
Haruki knew these early numbers weren’t the full picture. The true momentum of a series like this often didn’t build until the third episode. If it followed the same trajectory as Voices of a Distant Star, which gained traction late, the trend could shift sharply upward.
But right now? It wasn’t enough to move him.
“I get it,” Kazuya said, shaking his head. “You’ve always been like this. Hard to read, even when things go well.”
From his perspective, though, these numbers were a success. Their 5-million-yen budget might be recouped entirely from streaming revenue alone.
Add regional licensing, Blu-ray sales, and maybe a few merch tie-ins—figures, apparel, or a limited-edition soundtrack—and they’d be turning a tidy profit.
Kazuya, despite years in the industry and a decent reputation, didn’t have significant personal wealth. As a producer, he was just another senior staff member at studio, earning modest dividends. Co-producing these two projects with Haruki had been a long-held dream—something he’d never had the freedom to do until now.
The fact that Haruki covered the bulk of the production costs, while also having the creative instincts to write two solid scripts, had made the collaboration even more appealing. Kazuya had only met him once before pitching the idea.
He hadn’t gone into this expecting profit—just the chance to make something meaningful.
Yet now, with praise flooding in online and the potential for real success, he was practically giddy. He’d almost gone out to buy wine and celebrate with Haruki on the spot.
“Let’s wait a couple more weeks,” Haruki said flatly. “This isn’t the time to celebrate.”
“Wait… until it finishes airing?” Kazuya blinked. “Why?”
Then it hit him. He remembered what happened with Anohana. The viewership had exploded once the finale aired.
“You think this could follow the same path?” he asked.
Haruki nodded. “That’s the hope.”
“I never made these two projects just to break even,” he added. “Or to make a few million yen.”
“Then what would satisfy you?” Kazuya asked.
Haruki looked up. “Being the most talked-about anime of spring.”
Because for him, the real reward wasn’t just financial—it was tied to something else. Something only he could see.
“…You really aim high, don’t you?” Kazuya chuckled.
“Maybe too high,” he continued. “There’ll be over 30 new series this month alone, and another 30 by March. That’s more than 60 anime airing this season. Honestly, I’d be happy just landing in the top ten.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Haruki said. “These two projects exceeded even my expectations. With your production skills and my scripts, we have a real shot. Frozen Witch and City of Echoes might be strong contenders, sure—but 5 Centimeters per Second and Voices of a Distant Star offer something different.”
Haruki coughed, catching himself before saying something he shouldn't—something about system-tested works from another world.
The kid was fired up. That was fine.
“No harm in hoping,” Kazuya said quietly.
