Translated: Sei, MTL-sensei-tachi
Edited: Sei, Grammarly no Danna

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Chapter 1 | The Continuation of the Dream | Remake our Life!


Part 1

In April 2009, all of us became fourth-year students, the most senior students at Daigeidai.

At an ordinary university, fourth-year students have usually finished almost all of their credits, their job hunting has settled down, and it is generally a time to enjoy their final break. However, at Daigeidai, the biggest event for the most senior students awaits them, so there are many students who cannot relax.

"Now then, I’ll begin the explanation."

The hall where we had held various screenings until then. In front of the fourth-year students who had gathered there for the first time in a while, Kanou-sensei opened his mouth.

"As you all know, in one year, the fourth-year students will graduate. However..."

She paused there and gave a sly grin, as she always did.

"Of course, the university isn’t so lenient as to let you graduate just by sleeping and playing around. That’s right, while at a regular university you would write a thesis, here, there is something else you need to do."

With that preface, the teacher wrote large characters on the blackboard.

[Graduation Project]

Once you enter university, you hear those words countless times from your seniors. Sometimes as something to be moved by, and sometimes as a symbol of resentment and suffering. And now, it had finally appeared before our eyes.

"Since you came to an arts university, many of you probably already know this, but with this graduation project, we generally let most things pass as long as you make something. Of course, if you submit some carefree home video without editing it at all, we’ll reject it, but as long as it is at least some kind of finished work, we will accept it for the time being."

Laughter broke out among the students.

"But there have been seniors who won awards for the works they created as their graduation projects and then went on to make their mark in the film industry. There are even some who sent works showcasing their 3DCG skills to major companies and ultimately managed to secure job offers from several famous companies. In other words——you understand, right?"

The students fell instantly silent.

"That’s right. Depending on how you act here, your future will be decided. It’s not an exaggeration to say that’s what the graduation project is all about."

I thought I could hear the sound of someone swallowing nervously.

Indeed, the graduation projects from the Department of Visual Media were, without a doubt, a mixed bag of good and bad, and that was clear even from looking through the archives of past years.

Would you show the results of four years of study here, then confidently use it to get a job? Or would you be too embarrassed to submit it?

Considering the difference between the two, what sensei had said did seem to be true.

(But...)

There was probably an exception to this.

As if seeing right through my thoughts, sensei continued.

"Well, for those of you who have already found where you’re headed at this point, there’s probably no need to panic over your graduation project now."

While repeating that those kinds of students would be the exception,

"If you’re one of those students, you can devote yourself without hesitation to what you’re doing now and what you’ll be doing from here on. The fact that we generally let most things pass as long as you make something is also a form of support for students like that."

I thought, “I see,” but at the same time, I felt that it was a very harsh reality.

It was something that Kanou-sensei herself had told us plainly when we first entered the university. Just because you graduated from the Department of Visual Media did not mean you could get the job you wanted. That harsh reality had become clearer with each passing year, and by the time we became fourth-year students, it had become a reality.

A graduation qualification has little meaning.

If you haven't decided what you want to do here, you'll be thrown out into the world without becoming anyone.

That was the warning sensei was giving us now.

(Tsurayuki, Nanako, and Shinoaki are precisely the exceptions.)


The three members of Team Kitayama, the Platinum Generation trio, were doing something truly remarkable.

"As for the other courses, unlike the people in the Film Course who spend two years making a work, you may still be unsure about what to do. Until June, I’ll allow you to submit and make changes to the details of your work, so take your time, think it over carefully, and then make your decision. If you have any questions, come to the lab. That’s all."

As usual, she ended with words that were short and sharp, then left the classroom.

As I watched her walk away, suddenly, someone lightly tapped me on the head from behind.

"Ow, what... Ah, Hikawa?

When I turned around, a friend who had remained a ninja for the full three years was looking at me with a smile.

"Hashiba, have you already decided?"

"Decided what?"

"The project. Our final graduation project. We’re going to do something as Team Kitayama again, right?"

I see. Of course, but we had to talk about that too.

(My head had been completely filled with work and Shinoaki.)

Even though I had thought about it so seriously when I was a second-year student, it was almost strange to see how different things felt now that the time and my position had changed, as if it were someone else’s concern.

"Areh? But Hikawa, weren’t you on a different team in your third year?

Right. After finishing the practical training in our second year, Hikawa had said there was something else he wanted to do and left Team Kitayama.

"If I remember correctly, you were making an action movie in the Film Course, right?"

When I confirmed that, Hikawa scratched his head and said,

"Yeah, about that... Well, you know."

With a wry smile, Kawasegawa, who was beside him, shrugged and said,

"Apparently, it was a little different from the kind of action he had in mind. So it looks like he decided to leave the Film Course."

"Eh, is that so...?"

I had fully expected him to keep making movies just like before, so it was surprising.

"Well, if I stubbornly insisted on it, it would only delay the production. So I decided that I’d be the only one to leave and let the others handle the rest."

With so many strong-willed people gathered together, it was only natural that they would sometimes argue over differences in direction. Hikawa’s case may actually have been one of the more peaceful outcomes.

A team of friends that had stayed together since their first year could fall apart over the direction of a movie. That was the kind of thing that could happen in this department.

"Hashiba, do you have anything in mind?"

At Kawasegawa’s question, I gave a slight nod, more restrained than usual.

"I do. But I don’t know if it’s really the best thing for everyone."

"If you think about it under such suffocating conditions, you’ll end up making it another major source of worry and suffer over it. Be careful."

Indeed, she was right. Kawasegawa always sees right through this side of me.

"For now, why don’t we go somewhere else and talk it over? I want to hear Tsurayuki and the others’ opinions too."

Kawasegawa also said, “Sure,” and stood up. I called out to Tsurayuki and the others beside me, and we decided to move to the cafeteria.

Just as I was about to leave the classroom, I suddenly looked back.

Thinking about it, I had learned all sorts of things in this large lecture hall, and there had also been times when I was deeply shocked. As the people disappeared and the classroom grew quiet, a sudden sense of loneliness welled up inside me.

So this really was the end.

——— read on seireitranslations.blogspot.com ———

Part 2

As soon as we, the members of Team Kitayama, gathered in the second cafeteria, we began discussing our graduation project.

That said, unlike before, when we had been overflowing with motivation and eagerly devoted ourselves to creating something, trying to come up with a project while making sure it didn’t interfere with everyone’s other activities felt like the gate was already half-closed before we had even entered, so there was no way for the discussion to become very lively.

"Hmm, I guess my thoughts naturally tend toward making a drama or something, but what do you guys think?"

Tsurayuki asked while folding his arms.

"I’m worried it’ll end up looking cheap since we won’t have much time to spend on it. The guys in the Film Course spend a whole year just preparing for that!"

Having actually been involved with the Film Course until recently, Hikawa’s words carried some weight.

"Then how about making an MV like we did when we were second-year students? I’ll write another song, after all."

Perhaps because Nanako had started editing videos herself, she seemed quite motivated.

"But even if we make it an anime, or even if we make a video, I feel like we won’t be able to keep up... and Minori-chan seems pretty busy too."

"Y-Yeah, you're right... We can't just display a single illustration and call it a day, after all."

At the troubled look on Shinoaki’s face, Nanako seemed to lose all her motivation at once.

Indeed, if we were going to make an MV, we would have to prepare a large amount of animation and illustration material. That might have been possible before, but with Shinoaki now taking on more and more professional work, it would be difficult to make her devote that much effort to this.

"Then how about this? What if Nanako appears in it herself, in live action? That way, we wouldn’t have to make any materials, and we wouldn’t need to bring in any actors!"

At Tsurayuki’s idea, Nanako now made a reluctant face and said,

"That would be even harder~. A live-action MV will end up looking like a cheap imitation of a karaoke video unless you make it really well, you know."

"If you put it that way, wouldn’t a drama be the same? Ah, I see what you mean..."

Tsurayuki seemed to realize the contradiction as well. With an MV, the shorter running time meant that the burden of each cut and each scene was greater. It seemed to be not all that different from how difficult it was to produce a drama.

"Hmm~~~~~~ ......"

Everyone fell into deep thought.

To begin with, this graduation project was not something meant to be made with the goal of seriously accomplishing something. To put it bluntly, all we needed to do was make something presentable.

But for everyone who had seriously devoted themselves to creating works during their first and second years, the bar for creating something had naturally become higher. At the same time, they didn’t have the time or energy to put that much effort into it, and more than anything, after a one-year gap, it seemed that their feel for producing visual works had grown rusty.

(If this was how things were going to turn out, maybe I should have put more effort into our third year.)

For our practical training in our third year, we, Team Kitayama, had made the safe choice.

That video we had made in our second year. Since I had filmed the production process with my camera, we used that footage to re-edit it as a documentary and submitted it.

It had been a desperate measure because the entire staff had become incredibly busy, but looking back, perhaps we could have incorporated more of everyone’s ideas and given them a chance to participate in the production.

(It’s no use thinking about it now, though...)

No one else seemed inclined to raise their hand, and just as I was about to offer a proposal,

"Then, I have an idea too."

Suddenly, Kawasekawa's hand was raised first.

"Why not just drop out without submitting the graduation project?"

And the opinion she gave without missing a beat was astonishing.

"D-Drop out!?"

Everyone there cried out in surprise.

"Is it really that surprising? I mean, they say that among Daigeidai graduates, the people who dropped out have actually gone on to become the big names."

The person in question remained completely unfazed.

"Yeah, but even so, deciding to drop out at this point is going a little too far..."

"If we’re going to decide, shouldn’t we do it sooner rather than later? That way, we can actually concentrate on what we’re doing now. Don’t you think that would be better?"

Kawasegawa bluntly cut off Tsurayuki, who had a confused look on his face.

"A light novel writer, a singer, and an illustrator. You’ve all started seriously working toward making a living in those fields, and you’re already starting to see results. I think all that’s left is for you to make up your minds."

She looked at Tsurayuki, Nanako, and Shinoaki in turn.

And she continued.

"If this were an ordinary university, I could understand how graduating versus dropping out could make a difference when it came to job hunting. But at an art university, I think skills matter more than a graduation certificate."

Everyone fell silent.

It was because they all understood that Kawasegawa was right.

I had heard that many graduates of Daigeidai were good at surviving in the industry. In other words, many of them had learned how to make a living on their own.

Unless there is an obvious academic network to rely on, what’s useful above all else is skill. Being able to draw illustrations, write scenarios, make videos, compose music—those skills can sometimes be a more powerful weapon than a single diploma.

That’s why everyone had honed those weapons. So there was no choice but to agree with what Kawasegawa had said, and yet, being suddenly told to drop out made it difficult to make that decision.

"Th-that’s quite a bold idea..."

When Nanako reacted as though she had never expected this at all,

"Kawasegawa, you’re incredible! You’ve got the decisiveness to cut down a huge tree in one swing!"

Even the boisterous Hikawa seemed surprised by how readily she had made such a bold idea.

After all, everyone had smoothly graduated from elementary school, middle school, and high school up to this point. Suddenly, upon reaching university, deciding on their own to “quit” was quite a high hurdle to overcome.

"Well, that might be true too... Hmm."

Tsurayuki seemed to have quite a strong resistance to the idea, and he folded his arms and fell into thought.

After all, he had even taken a leave of absence and then returned to university. Giving up the qualification everyone had worked so hard to maintain at this point seemed like it would require a considerable amount of resolve.

But from my perspective, it sounded like something to envy.

(That is, assuming you actually have a skill.)

Those of us who had mainly focused on production didn’t have any concrete skills.

In other words, it all boils down to this,

"Kyoya, what are you planning to do?"

That question from Tsurayuki, asked out of the blue, summed it all up.

Someone without a clear, easily identifiable skill has no real options to begin with. And on top of that, this is an art university. Simply graduating from here doesn’t guarantee you anything.

"I’ll be fine, one way or another."

I laughed and brushed it off, but then,

"Yeah, Kyoya doesn’t seem to have anything to worry about when it comes to the future."

"Kyoya seems like the kind of person who could make it at any company."

Tsurayuki nodded, and Nanako agreed with him.

Of course, I knew that their reactions came from the way they viewed me. I knew very well that there was no ill will behind them.

(But that’s exactly the point.)

For those of us who lived in a world far removed from the word “employment,” reactions like Tsurayuki’s and Nanako’s could sometimes create a sense of disconnect between us and the world.

"For now, we still have until June, so let’s get together regularly and keep talking about it. Including what Kawasegawa suggested as one of our options, okay?"

I felt like I was starting to dwell on things too much, so I decided to put an end to the discussion for the time being.

(What am I going to do with my future?)

Now that everyone was already on the verge of becoming someone, where was I going to go?

The time to make that clear was already just around the corner.

——— read on seireitranslations.blogspot.com ———

Part 3

"Talk about self-sabotage, seriously."

Tracing the rim of her highball mug with her finger, Kawasegawa, her face bright red from the alcohol, began grumbling under her breath.

Right after the gathering with everyone ended, I received a short message on my phone.

[Meet at Torimoto in an hour]

Torimoto was the name of a drinking establishment in front of Kishi Station. The owner was a former Geidai student, and for students without much money, he was an ally who served them cheap yakitori and let them drink highballs and beer as much as they wanted... but putting that aside.

This was an order. I immediately knew who the email was from.

And now, I was sitting in front of the person who had sent that email, listening to all sorts of things she had to say.

"No, Kawasegawa has thought things through properly. Since you said it after thinking it over, I think calling it self-sabotage is a little off."

"Mou! Why are you so... why are you always saying such kind things!"

And then she started picking a fight with me in a dissatisfied tone. When Kawasegawa starts getting this argumentative, it is proof that she is getting drunk. She was even saying things she normally would never say.

(I hope I can take her home without any trouble today.)

Sometimes, she complains and refuses to move even an inch, so that is what worries me.

"All my skills are half-baked, and my knowledge is, at best, on a student’s level. When it comes to what I can actually do, all I’m capable of is a little coordination and administrative work. These are things I could learn without even being at Geidai, so it’s not like they’re my unique skills."

Kawasegawa analyzed herself more coldly than anyone else.

It wasn’t self-deprecation or anything like that. As someone in a similar position, I understood what she was saying all too well. Considering that, the fact that she had said that if someone had skills, they should drop out could certainly be taken as irony, or as something she had said about herself.

That people without skills could do nothing but graduate properly.

"That's not... true."

"You don’t have to force yourself. Hashiba, of all people, you should understand. Coordinating things, working behind the scenes, in the end, those are roles that can be replaced. I’m aware of that."

There was no doubt that working behind the scenes was important, but compared to the members who formed the core of the creative work, it was clear that this position was replaceable.

That is why people working behind the scenes always run the risk of being treated as disposable. I think the reason people in charge of coordination tend to learn other specialized skills while working and move toward doing both is a way of protecting themselves against that.

Kawasegawa realized that before anyone else. And she was probably aware that she herself was in that position now.

"I guess I’m jealous of everyone."

She let out a long sigh. Kawasegawa looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then slowly continued speaking.

"Shinoaki, Tsurayuki, Nanako, and Hikawa too. Everyone is straightforward about what they want to do, and they’re trying to find their own path. But as for me, I kept doing this and that half-heartedly, and as a result, I haven’t found anything."

There was no sign of Kawasegawa looking troubled or suffering. If anything, she looked somewhat refreshed and calm.

In other words, it showed that she was approaching something close to resignation. As long as someone is still suffering, they are still trying to do something about their situation, so you can still push them forward. But the moment they stop resisting, there is nothing other people can do for them anymore.

(Tsurayuki was like that too, wasn’t he?)

It was a past I didn’t want to remember, but must never forget. I would probably never forget the look on Tsurayuki’s face when he told me that we should part ways.

"Come to think of it, in today’s planning meeting, I never did get to hear Hashiba’s opinion."

As if she had suddenly remembered, Kawasegawa turned toward me.

"You’re thinking about something again, aren’t you? Come on, tell me."

She was being a little more persistent than usual, but I figured she was genuinely curious too.

"My opinion was... well, it wasn’t something I should have said there, so I just didn’t say it."

By coincidence, my opinion was similar to Kawasegawa’s.

At this stage, there was no longer any need for us to take any special action regarding our graduation project. Since that was what I thought, I intended to prepare a safe, extremely safe project proposal.

When I explained that to her,

"I see. In that case, there really wasn’t any need to say it."

She seemed to understand and took another sip of her drink. I could see her already flushed cheeks growing even redder.

"Hashiba, you look like you’ll be able to find your path forward."

"Mm, well... I guess so."

My part-time job at Succeed Soft was going well. Putting aside the matter with Matsuhira-san, there were no particular delays or problems with the work itself. I could see a path ahead where I would continue working hard toward becoming a producer.

It was still true that I didn’t have any outstanding skills and was nothing more than someone who could be replaced, but even so, compared to Kawasegawa as she was now, I could say that I was still in a more fortunate position.

"My part-time job isn’t going so well either. Things really don’t work out, do they."

The company where she worked part-time mainly handled video production, and I had just heard that she had finally gone from being an assistant director to being entrusted with directing a small-scale project.

There were problems too, but knowing her, I thought she must be handling things well.

"Is it because you... and the people above you have different opinions?"

"That’s part of it, and there are all sorts of other things too. If I start listing them down to the smallest details, there’ll be no end to it."

Kawasegawa said with a wry smile,

"It’s ironic, but I find the Miss Daigeidai job more fulfilling. The plan is much more solid than I expected, and I’ve been fortunate with my coworkers and the people I work with."

"Well, at least it’s better than both of them being difficult, right?"

"That’s true, but it’s cruel."

As she said that, she let out another sigh.

"Maybe that’s just how work is. I mean, what you’re suited for and what you want to do are two different things. I guess everyone has their own dilemma."

It was a story you often heard.

That was why some people chose not to make what they wanted to do into a job, keeping it as a hobby instead, and made a living doing something they were suited for. That was a smart way to live, in its own way.

"Fourth year, huh? I wonder what will happen to everyone."

"Mm, I wonder what will happen..."

The two of us looked up at the sky together.

Come to think of it, when I entered university after traveling through time, I was the only middle-aged man, while everyone around me was young. I struggled with that gap, found it interesting at times, and was even able to use it to my advantage.

But now that we had become the most senior students and had experienced working in the field, I realized that our perspectives had drawn closer and closer together. Along with the alcohol we once couldn’t drink together.

Seeing similar things and thinking the same things.

Perhaps my time travel would end when those things completely came together.

——— read on seireitranslations.blogspot.com ———

Part 4

As expected, Kawasegawa got thoroughly drunk that day as well.

I took her home while she was being fussy, and as usual, I ended up being the one in charge of watching over her until she safely locked the door.

The next day was a day for my part-time job. I woke up just before it was time to leave, forced my body to get ready, and took a bus and train from the share house to work in Osaka City.

In the morning, while shaking my head, which was still a little foggy from the alcohol, I continued debugging work, then glanced toward a certain desk.

(...He doesn't seem to be doing very well today either.)

After entering 2009, there had been some changes in Succeed Soft's development department.

That said, it wasn't as if there had been any major changes to the organization. At least, not as far as we had been told.

Still, there were things that made me think something must have happened behind closed doors, especially among the higher-ups.

"Uhm, Paisen, Paisen."

In a low voice, Takenaka-san quietly spoke into my ear.

"Do you think it would be okay to talk to Matsuhira-san now...?"

I quietly shook my head, signaling NO.

"I think it’d be better to wait a little longer. It looks like he just got called in by one of the higher-ups."

"Is that so... Hmm."

Takenaka-san also nodded dejectedly. Since she was always so full of energy and motivation that she practically broke the meter, seeing her like this made me sad.

In the direction of our gaze was our senior, Matsuhira-san. He was the son of the company’s founder and president, and despite being capable and mild-mannered, he was someone we all looked up to.

Since the beginning of this year, he had continued to have days when he didn’t look well. Of course, whenever we spoke to him, he would immediately become the same cheerful senpai as always, but outside of those moments, we had increasingly seen him looking gloomy and withdrawn, or sighing.

It was obvious enough to make us think that something had happened.

"Anyway, we shouldn’t be whispering here, so let’s talk about it during our lunch break."

"Yeah. See you later..."

Takenaka-san slipped away without making a sound. Her movements were somehow comical, making her a nice breath of fresh air in this somewhat gloomy atmosphere.

(I wonder what happened...)

In contrast, seeing our senpai still wrapped in that heavy aura only made me more worried.