In truth, this place was anything but ordinary.
Series like Dragon Ball, Digimon, One Piece, Detective Conan, Shakugan no Shana, City Hunter—from beloved short titles to iconic long-runners—had all once come to life here.
But what truly stunned Yin Ze was—
"You worked on Tamura Ryuken's team? And you helped develop the original PlayStation console?!"
He was so shocked that the water in his glass sloshed over the rim.
"I got transferred to the game division by chance. At the time, the FC was blowing up, so Sorny wanted in too. After a lot of twists and turns, we finally made it happen. We knew it might succeed, but didn't expect it to define an era." The slightly plump, balding sound director spoke of his legendary resume with an easy chuckle.
"Why are you so worked up about the PlayStation, Takizawa-kun? You're a voice actor—wrong field to be fangirling over." Ippei Kashiwai gave him a flat look.
"Come on! Even if I never got to protect Uncle's smile, any game developer would pay their respects to that achievement." Yin Ze grabbed a napkin and wiped up the spilled water.
"Still a voice actor..."
They were at a boutique Japanese restaurant tucked away in Shinjuku. The place was cozy, intimate, and upscale—less about crowds, more about experience. The menu was heavy on seafood: fresh scallops, steamed alfonsino, lavish sashimi platters that built from light to rich—shellfish, shrimp, squid, tuna, salmon, and more. Under the warm lighting, the food sparkled like gemstones.
Traditional shamisen music played softly in the background.
The price per head was definitely steep, but after hearing Director Nagasaki's past, Yin Ze no longer felt the pinch. In fact, he was honored to treat someone so accomplished.
"My childhood dream was to be a manga artist, but I sucked at drawing so I gave it up. Back then, it was Tezuka's era. When I was in junior high, I was lucky enough to get his autograph—still have it to this day."
Nagasaki lifted his sake cup. Yin Ze rushed to refill it with the expensive sake.
"That's a treasure! I'd love to see it someday if there's a chance."
"Sure, come over sometime. I'll show you."
"Ahhh... bliss! Director Nagasaki, I raise my soda to you!"
"In ninth grade, I watched West Side Story, and suddenly I wanted to be a film director. When I worked at Horipro, I got to help with the music for two films starring Yamaguchi Chie and Hayashi Masako—Kyoto and Marriage."
"Wow, true icons of the Showa era." Yin Ze smiled.
"I was young back then. I'll admit I fantasized about dating a celebrity through work." Nagasaki burst out laughing.
"You're still a refined gentleman today! Surely still many people's rock. Come, another drink!"
"Haha, I've aged and gained weight—I can't keep up with the youngsters." The sound director clinked glasses again.
"Nonsense. You've still got that burning Showa-era passion. Time may pass, but it can't erase the fire of a true man! Let me refill your glass—"
Yin Ze turned and complained to the agent.
"Kashiwai-san, why are you so quiet? If I were of drinking age, I'd be knocking back drinks with Nagasaki-san. Don't mind him—he may look polished, but he's not built for fiery drinking sessions. Please be patient!"
Kashiwai's face darkened.
Wait a minute—who's the agent here again?
"Server, two more bottles!" Yin Ze called out.
"No, no, that's enough." Nagasaki waved his hands.
"Worried about the bill? No need! Sharing a meal with someone like you is an honor. Those two bottles were just warm-ups!"
"My wife'll give me an earful if I come home reeking of booze. Might not even let me in the bedroom. Really, that's enough." Nagasaki tucked his cup out of reach.
"Fair enough. But since we already ordered it, Kashiwai-san can drink. You, sir, enjoy some tea. Try this piece of sashimi—it's the perfect bite size. Melts in your mouth!" Yin Ze handed off the alcohol.
Kashiwai stared at the two high-proof bottles like they were ticking time bombs.
"So, Director Nagasaki, tell us more about working on the PS console!" Yin Ze leaned forward.
"Well, let's see…" The old man's eyes grew distant.
"Can we please talk about voice acting?" Kashiwai deadpanned, slapping the table.
"Good point. Takizawa-kun, during your audition, you only read three lines, but your delivery showed a lot of variation," Nagasaki said thoughtfully.
"The first C-line—you sounded a bit nervous but kept it technically clean. No slip-ups. The second A-line, you were more in tune emotionally. Then I asked you to adjust, and on your third try, you intentionally muddied your tone, emphasizing obsession and conviction. Why go with a more monotone, restrained approach? Wouldn't it make sense to outperform your last read?"
"Which take did you prefer, Director?" Yin Ze asked.
"The second one." Nagasaki nodded.
"So, the more templated performance was more successful?" Kashiwai echoed, puzzled.
"I'm just a side character," Yin Ze shrugged. "He only gets a few lines to help set up the main character's entrance. If I go too flashy or emotional, it actually makes things harder for the protagonist. Keeping it simple lets the lead shine with less effort."
"That's backwards! You should milk those few lines for all they're worth if you're a side character!" Kashiwai protested.
"Kashiwai-san, have you ever worked as a graphic designer for a demanding client?"
Yin Ze gestured with his chopsticks.
"Most clients don't understand materials, composition, line variation, contrast—they just want something that feels right. If you hit their sweet spot, they suddenly become a lot less picky."
"Like how adding strings to any piece of music makes it sound grander—and audiences usually love it," Nagasaki added.
"It's like renters—they care about rent and formaldehyde. If the price and location are great, they're not going to nitpick if the landlord's kid doodled an elephant on the wall. You'll never satisfy every need, so prioritize the most important one. If you nail that, the rest matters less."
"You were the only one who made that reverse choice—to step back and think about the team. That awareness was part of why we chose you. Lots of rookies are diligent, but they're used to monologuing—no sense of ensemble work. If the lead is going all out and no one else keeps up, the whole scene collapses."
Nagasaki paused.
"Voice actors are actors, but unlike stage actors who rehearse for months, anime recordings are done in hours. In that short time, knowing when to simplify is a skill. As long as it hits the acceptable line, the audience buys it."
But then, his tone shifted.
"Still, I warned you that cleverness only goes so far. If you rely on tricks too long, you'll be replaced. Cheap talent floods in every year. Your freshness wears off."
He pointed at Kashiwai, now serious.
"The idol-type voice actors IM promotes burn their youth as fuel. That's fine if you want short-term thrill. But if not, you need to seriously reflect."
"Too many rookies spend all their energy pleasing managers and producers, then fumble in the booth. They start hating recordings. That's a death spiral."
Nagasaki locked eyes with Yin Ze.
"Your vocal cords are resilient—wide range, durable. That's rare. You've got a brilliant tone, but you're also willing to throw it away when playing minor roles. You're like a chameleon. I really think you've got a future."
"Then please continue to guide this uncut gem, Director Nagasaki." Kashiwai said with rare warmth.
"I only recommend. The animation director makes the calls. If IM truly sees his potential, invest in him. Don't leave it all to me, a lone wolf." Nagasaki smiled. "If even fish and shrimp can ride the waves, surely a hawk like him will soar if you just raise the sky."
Their glasses clinked with a crisp chime.
Dinner stretched on in cheerful conversation for a while longer.
After seeing Director Nagasaki off in a taxi, Kashiwai stared at the darkening sky and let out a long breath.
"Why do you look like you just got a clean bill of health from a men's clinic?" Yin Ze asked, confused.
"We're tied together professionally. Your near-perfect debut makes me look good too." Kashiwai said, arms akimbo.
"All this work for a raise, huh. I'm heading to the convenience store for a meat bun. That food was amazing, but way too little. You want one?"
"Yeah, get me one."
A few minutes later, Yin Ze handed one over.
"How is it?"
"Eh... it's convenience store food. Edible."
"Come on, you're supposed to say it's delicious. I splurged on dinner—I can't afford buns like this all the time!"
"Takizawa-kun, you're really optimistic."
"You kind of have to be to survive in this city."
"Heh... you're not wrong about that."