Grimgal of Ashes and Illusion - Volume 8 - Chapter Aft

Afterword

I think I’ll write about anime. I’d like to have this written down somewhere, so I’ll write it here. 

I’ve lived over ten years as a novelist, and taking a quick count, I’ve put out over 80 volumes, but Grimgar of Fantasy and Ash is my first series to be turned into an anime. It might be my first and my last. Honestly, I was half-convinced it was something I wouldn’t experience in my lifetime as a novelist. I figured if I could live and die as a novelist, that wouldn’t matter to me one bit. 

That said, I had imagined it before, if it did happen for me, how I would feel, and what I would think. I was sure I’d be happy and, as it’s common to say, I was sure I might think it was a tasty proposition. I might feel gratified that, after XX hard years of struggle, I was finally being recognized, so take that. I haven’t exactly walked a flat road to get here, so I figured it might be a moving experience for me, too. 

But, really, I was sure it would be a complicated feeling. Novels are, at least in my case, something where I create the main text myself from the ground up. Now that’s going out of my hands. Others will be involved. 

They’ll have their interpretations, and it will be expressed in a different way. 

It’s going to become something different. 

I might, for instance, have feelings like these about some parts. 

Like, What were you thinking? 

Or like, No, not like that, it’s like this. 

Or like, What? You just don’t get it. Ugh, you’re making me mad now. 

Well, there’s no helping it, I guess. I mean, I am an adult, after all. I’m writing novels, but I’m still a member of society. It’s fine. Yes, yes. Even if I’m not satisfied, I can pretend I am. Well, what does it matter? You’re all doing your best. Things are different for everyone, after all. I’m sure this is just how it is. I’ll digest it, and accept it. 

While I can’t claim not to have a strong ego, everyone, it’s impossible not to have one, at least to some degree. Even if I do have one, I won’t let it show, and I’ll handle things cleverly. I’m an adult, after all. 

Well, once the production of the anime Grimgar of Fantasy and Ash began, I was surprised. I didn’t fall into that complicated emotional state at all. 

In fact, the more I met with Director Ryosuke Nakamura, character designer Mieko Hosoi, the producers, and all the other staff, and the more I saw the scripts, design drawings, setting drawings, and storyboards, the more purely I found myself just looking forward to the anime. I could barely contain myself. 

In the first meeting, I recall saying that they were free to change anything, in any way, for the sake of the anime adaptation. The most important thing was for it to be interesting as an anime, so I wanted them to not hesitate and to do all the things that needed to be done for that. 

Director Nakamura immediately rejected this. I recall him saying that, even in the anime, they intended to depict the story of Haruhiro and the others in a way that followed the novel. Rude as this is for me to say, I really got the sense that he had read the novel Grimgar of Fantasy and Ash.  The structure, the images, seeing various bits and pieces... I thought I could trust him completely, presumptuous as that is of me to say. 

However, in fact, it was more than that. 

Every time the production moved forward, I found myself captured by a strange feeling. Why did these people know so much about Grimgar? I mean, it was a novel I’d written, you know? I, obviously, understood it entirely. 

Well, there were some bits that hadn’t even been written down, so I understood 120% of it. 

What’s this? These people understand as much as I do? That’s strange. 

Do things like this happen? 

While sitting in on the first recording session, I felt that feeling expand even more. In front of these voice actors who would portray the characters, there was Director Nakamura, who could perfectly put what Grimgar was into clear words better than I could, and who could describe it richly. 

I had my chance to greet them, and though I’m an adult, a member of society, I was embarrassed that I could only say silly things. Then, finally, the voice actors performed. 

Performed? Acted? No, no, this was Haruhiro. Haruhiro was there. 

Manato was there. Yume, Shihoru, Moguzo, Britney, Barbara-sensei, and Renji were all talking. 

There were goblins! 

When I heard Nobunaga Shimazaki who plays Manato, Mikako Komatsu who plays Yume, Haruka Terui who plays Shihoru, and Chika Anzai who plays Merry on internet radio and Niconama speaking about it, sometimes with passion, other times with cheer, and other times with tears, I would fall out of my chair laughing, or sometimes cry a little. Especially when it came to Manato, considering that he leaves the story early, I, in my amateur estimation, felt it must have been a difficult role. 

But Nobunaga really was Manato. Nobunaga even looks the part of Manato. Having written novels for a reasonably long time, this was my first time feeling this way, but I wished Manato could have lived longer. Seeing Nobunaga’s Manato, hearing him, I couldn’t help myself but think that. 

Novelists are isolated. In isolation, there is freedom. In order to truly take hold of that ability to gain freedom, a novelist must be isolated. That’s what I think, and that isn’t going to change. However, just for the time that I am touching the anime Grimgar of Fantasy and Ash,  I feel I may not be alone. It gives me the courage to be alone and write novels again. 

I’ve run out of pages. 

To Yusuke Kimura, who can fairly be said to have given birth to Grimgar of Fantasy and Ash,  to Eiri Shirai, to the designers of KOMEWORKS among others, to everyone involved in production and sales of this book, and finally to all of you people now holding this book, I offer my heartfelt appreciation and all of my love. Now, I lay down my pen for today. 

I hope we will meet again. 

Ao Jyumonji