Kobayashi Tetsu barely spent any effort at all getting the show onto TV Tokyo.
Just as he expected—TV Tokyo was starving for programming. Now a show had come knocking on their door, guaranteed at least one cour's worth of episodes, already bringing along its own "dry rations," and even delivering a completed first episode…
And the most important part: the quality was genuinely good.
What else was there to think about? Of course they would broadcast it.
Unfortunately, TV Tokyo had very little money. They couldn't possibly offer the kind of lavish licensing fees a big station might, like TBS back in the day commissioning dramas with production budgets surpassing ten million yen per episode.
Even in 1984, with the yen rising, TV Tokyo simply didn't have that kind of cash. After discussion, they offered six million yen per episode.
A full cour meant a total purchase of seventy-eight million yen.
As they walked out of TV Tokyo's building, Anno Hideaki still felt light-headed.
He didn't expect… that this was it?
"Yeah," Kobayashi Tetsu said, stretching lazily, relaxed as ever. "That's it. Oh, and according to the contract Atlas previously signed with Daicon Film, the broadcast revenue is split fifty–fifty. That means Daicon Film gets thirty-nine million yen. Since Bandai will be covering production costs, this thirty-nine million is effectively pure profit for Daicon Film."
Anno's head snapped up.
Right!
After scraping by on shoestring budgets for so long, Daicon Film had actually achieved profitability this year—thirty-nine million yen! And more potential revenue from related anime rights down the line.
"Kobayashi-kun…" the young—very young—Anno Hideaki was at a loss for words. He grabbed Kobayashi Tetsu's hands tightly.
"Kobayashi-kun, you're incredible! To accomplish so much, so quickly… you're practically Daicon Film's savior!"
Tetsu just hummed casually, telling Anno to sit properly.
All in a day's standard operations!
The car cruised smoothly toward the Daicon Film studio.
Driver Koizumi glanced at them through the rear-view mirror.
He'd come from Sega, served as a dedicated driver for Kentarō, and after years of osmosis, he spotted something immediately:
This kid Kobayashi Tetsu kept bragging about Daicon earning thirty-nine million, but carefully avoided mentioning that he himself also earned thirty-nine million!
But contempt aside, Koizumi still felt the money was well-deserved.
Daicon Film couldn't contact Bandai, couldn't secure the project, couldn't find a broadcast partner—without Kobayashi's involvement, none of this money would exist.
Daicon earned the hard-labor money; Kobayashi earned the information-advantage money.
Only Kobayashi himself sat there looking oddly troubled.
He had originally wanted to spend the money burning a hole in his pocket, which was why he sought out Anno.
He managed to spend ten million… and somehow ended up making thirty-nine million back.
Why was the money multiplying instead of shrinking?
For a brief moment, he could almost see Yuji Naka dancing before him, waving a chicken drumstick in each hand.
Ten billion yen! Ten billion! A lifetime's worth of spending! You'll never use it up!
…
…
February 12th, Sunday.
That evening, TV Tokyo aired a new anime.
Although the broadcast came somewhat abruptly, the first episode still arrived right on time.
7 p.m.—prime time in Japan.
Jörmungandr premiered quietly.
It caused almost no splash at first, which was natural. TV Tokyo lacked the power for large-scale promotion, but as the smallest among the five major private networks, it still had its share of viewers.
Iwasaki Isao had just returned home. The seventeen-year-old industrial high school student, who had zero interest in further education and planned to join his family's auto-repair shop after graduation, immediately turned on the TV.
TV Tokyo. A title appeared, mixing katakana and English.
"Jörmungandr… huh? Never heard of it. Looks like it might be cool!"
He didn't know what a Jörmungandr was, but a title mixing English and katakana had to be stylish!
He grabbed two bottles of soda from the fridge, plopped down at the kotatsu, and began watching.
The hand-drawn animation began to play. A young narrator's voice rose.
"Jörmungandr—the terrifying serpent of Norse myth, said to be able to swallow the world."
"They say its body is so vast it can coil around all of Midgard."
"Humanity has long believed that our power can overcome any giant."
"In 2024, humanity's greatest technological achievement, the largest interstellar battleship ever built—the Atlas—embarked on its maiden voyage."
As the narration continued, the launch gantries withdrew, personnel evacuated, and the colossal battleship rose toward the heavens. Against the endless darkness of space, even such a massive vessel appeared like a speck of dust.
Then suddenly, the screen shifted.
In the depths of space, two dark-red points of light appeared, each seemingly as large as a planet.
The narrator's tone hardened.
"Until the day Jörmungandr appeared before us."
The colossal serpent swallowed the steel battleship whole. No matter what weapons the ship fired, no matter how bright the explosions, nothing worked.
With a single bite, what once seemed enormous became food.
"We named it after the world-devouring serpent of Norse myth—Jörmungandr."
"And now, it approaches Earth. Estimated time of arrival: ninety days!"
The prologue ended, and the opening theme began.
Iwasaki Isao sat frozen, wide-eyed, even forgetting to drink his soda.
His mind held only a single, uncultured thought—he wasn't in the literature club, after all:
Strong!! Too strong!! Absolutely unbelievably strong!!
How is this so good?!
He didn't know who this studio was, but this quality was outrageous!
And the story—!
He wiped the corner of his mouth.
If even a battleship of that size got swallowed in one gulp, didn't that mean Earth itself was doomed?!
The episode progressed: humanity, facing annihilation, built two special-type fighters to counter the serpent—Slormanders. They required two pilots with 100% synchronization. Only then could they break through the defenses, penetrate the serpent's body, and defeat it from within.
Thus the male and female leads began their urgent synchronization training.
By the time the episode ended, Iwasaki Isao was still in a daze.
Amazing. Absolutely amazing.
As the broadcast faded out, an unexpected name appeared.
"Atlas? Wait… is that the Atlas I'm thinking of?"
He rubbed his eyes.
It was.
Atlas Game Studio.
And at the very end—GG.
A vast, fleshy battlefield; the fighter weaving as though inside a living organism.
Tiny text appeared at the bottom of the screen:
Jörmungandr — Presented by Atlas Studio.
Coming soon.
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