In the days that followed, Yume Animation slipped into a mode only people who've lived inside a studio really understand: all in, no way out. Nobody talked about hours anymore - only delivery. It wasn't unusual for the lights to still be on at two or three in the morning, staff huddled around monitors, arguing over compositing tweaks, effect timing, and tiny details that would make all the difference on screen in Voices of a Distant Star.
In the end, in the early hours of March 30th, the whole team gathered to watch the finished episode together. When the screening ended and no one found a single issue, the relief was almost physical. Later that same morning, Sora Kamakawa and Sumire got in the car and personally delivered the master disc to the local station, making sure it arrived safely without trusting it to anyone else.
At the same time, the PV the station ran once a day - always on schedule - started doing its job. Within the broadcast area - four prefectures around Shikoku - the anime's name began spreading in that quiet way that turns, without warning, into something unavoidable. The first time the PV aired, on March 23rd, it mainly caught the attention of fans already tuned to that kind of work, the mecha crowd especially. But the internet doesn't move at human speed. It moves at sharing speed.
All it took was a few animation diehards filming the PV straight off their TVs on their phones and posting it to "Natsuyume," the country's biggest gathering place for otaku and film-and-TV nerds, for the topic to detonate.
The footage was bad, obviously - moiré patterns everywhere, blown-out highlights, shaky framing, reflections washing over the screen, the kind of quality that wrecks the experience. And yet any veteran with a trained eye could feel the value packed into those 27 seconds. It wasn't just "pretty." There were choices - camera language, weight in the movement, timing… intent.
In the Shikoku animation subforum, the post became a magnet. Fans from other prefectures poured into the thread, commenting nonstop - asking, pressing, basically begging for info.
"Whoa, Voices of a Distant Star? What anime is this? A Shikoku-local production?"
"That girl piloting a flying robot is insanely cool. Someone from there explain what's going on? I'm in another prefecture, I can't get the station's signal… if it's actually good, I'm pre-ordering the BD and catching up later."
"I'm losing it. That fight on Mars - the cuts were way too good. But why can't I find anything about it online? Who's even making this?"
"Don't ask us, I live in Shikoku and I don't know either! I only heard because a friend told me the station's airing it on March 30th, said the PV looked amazing, and invited me to watch with him next week."
"I heard it's a short. Only one episode."
"Forget everything else - if the whole thing stays at the PV's quality from start to finish, it's a must-watch. Who cares about plot? Watching giant robots throwing hands with alien machines alone would be worth it."
"I've never seen space combat drawn like this. We've had space battle anime here before, sure, but it's always ships firing lasers at each other, back and forth - boring as hell. Who came up with 'giant mecha in the vacuum of space'? That's genius."
"And the battle direction is crazy expressive too. It's just a shame it only airs on Shikoku TV. If this ran nationwide and every episode looked like this… even as a one-off short, the BD would sell like water."
"Man, I'm jealous of people in those four prefectures. They get to watch it on TV for free. Us? If we want to see it, we'll have to buy the BD… and BDs are expensive."
"Okay, but animation isn't just pretty drawings. Story is the soul. If the script's bad, the rest is just fancy wrapping."
"Exactly. What if it's PV bait? I'll watch it tonight and report back. If the actual episode sucks, I'll tell everyone on the forum. You'll save money on the BD… and you'll save time too."
…
Shota Nakama posted his last message and logged off "Natsuyume." He checked the time - eight p.m. He should've left work ages ago. Working Saturdays with not a single extra yen in overtime always left a bitter taste in his mouth.
At nine-thirty, when he stepped off the subway and walked into his apartment, the world changed. Walls plastered with anime posters. Shelves packed with figures bought over years of saving. Limited-edition BD box sets lined up like trophies. The moment he saw it all, his shoulders unclenched. Outside, he was just another adult swallowing routine and pretending it didn't hurt. At home, this place was his two-dimensional ocean - the only harbor his mind truly trusted.
Voices of a Distant Star, huh…
As he made dinner - rice topped with egg and homemade curry, his "secret recipe," the way he swore was perfect - Shota kept thinking about the anime that would start in twenty minutes. He had to admit it: the PV had hit him hard. But years as an otaku had taught him a rule with brutal consistency - the higher the expectation, the harder the fall.
So he tuned himself down, reined in the excitement, and forced himself into a calm, neutral headspace.
"If the story's weak, whatever. If the battle scenes match the PV's quality, I'm buying the BD - and any merch they put out."
Eating as he went, he turned on the TV and switched to the Shikoku station. It was still commercials - one after another - but the seconds kept marching, dragging the clock closer to ten.
And then it arrived.
In that moment, across the four prefectures covered by the broadcast, countless fans who'd been hooked by last week's PV gathered in front of their TVs like it was an event. The screen froze for a split second, as if taking a breath before it began - and the sound of a train in motion filled the room.
The image showed a girl sitting with a phone in her hand. Outside the window, city lights slid past in ribbons, cutting shadows through the carriage. Shota recognized her instantly: the short-haired student in a school uniform was the same girl from the PV - the fearless heroine who'd piloted that black mecha with almost aggressive courage.
A nearly empty car. Tracks that felt like they led nowhere. Silence with weight.
She closed her eyes, and the narration began - low, intimate.
"There is a word called… world."
"Until I entered junior high, I believed the world couldn't receive electromagnetic signals from the outside."
"But then… what is this? Why can't my phone reach anyone…?"
She tried to call, but the line wouldn't connect. Everything about it felt strange, like a dream you're trying to understand while you're still inside it. Without noticing, Shota's brow tightened.
When the girl murmured - like she was speaking to someone too far away to answer -
"I'm so sad, Ashen… let's go home…"
He went blank.
What kind of opening was this? It wasn't exactly bad… it just demanded patience, like the anime was asking the viewer to match its rhythm instead of explaining itself right away.
"Hey… where am I, exactly?" the girl asked the emptiness.
She closed her eyes. Opened them again.
The cut came fast and clean. Now she was floating in space, surrounded by holographic projections from the cockpit, as if the world around her had turned into an interface. In front of her, enormous and silent, a blue sphere filled everything - a planet so alive it looked like it was breathing.
"…Yeah. I'm already… not in that world anymore."
The narration returned, heavy with loneliness.
And Shota stopped chewing. Without meaning to, he held his breath.
That frame - the planet turning slowly in deep space, set against the black mecha's cold, elegant silhouette - was too beautiful. Not "pretty." Beautiful in the way that forces you to stare, because looking away for even a second feels like losing something.
"What art… what a scene…"
The opening theme began - Sorrow of Farewell - and in that instant, the story of Voices of a Distant Star finally opened for real, like a door that had been locked and suddenly gave way.
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