Chapter 95: The Economics of Anime Adaptation

In her previous life, Bunny Drop had both a movie and a TV anime adaptation, so Seiko wasn’t surprised that a television station was interested in producing an anime for the manga.

“Does Seiko-chan approve of the anime adaptation?”

“Of course I approve. Why do you ask?”

Seiko looked at Miyazaki Yū strangely and asked back.

“Generally speaking, manga is adapted into anime first before considering a movie, right? But you seemed to go straight for the movie, so I was worried you didn’t want an anime adaptation,” Miyazaki Yū explained.

The authors of Bunny Drop were both Seiko and Miyazaki Yū.

Although Seiko hadn’t requested it at all, Miyazaki Yū insisted on putting Seiko’s name in the author column.

Therefore, if Seiko didn’t agree, Miyazaki Yū would have no choice but to write back and decline.

In her previous life, Seiko felt both adaptations of Bunny Drop were quite good; in terms of story fidelity, the longer TV anime was even superior.

But the reason she chose to film a movie instead of producing an anime was actually quite simple…

“It’s not that I don’t want an anime adaptation, but that an anime adaptation of the work won’t make money,” Seiko answered, waving her chopsticks.

“Won’t make money? Why won’t it make money?”

Miyazaki Yū also looked at Seiko, her face showing confusion.

“To be precise, the money we can earn as original authors is very little.”

“The TV anime industry in our country uses a production committee system. The production committee is the producer, the broadcaster, the operator, and also the beneficiary of the vast majority of the profits from the anime.”

“The members of the production committee usually include television stations, publishing houses, advertising agencies, animation production companies, and merchandise manufacturers like toy and game companies.”

“But…”

“No original manga author!”

“Exactly,” Seiko nodded.

“So, the TV broadcast revenue, DVD sales revenue, advertising revenue, and the streaming licensing revenue that will exist in the future obtained from the TV anime broadcast have nothing to do with the original author.”

“The revenue that the original author can obtain from a TV anime is mostly limited to a small percentage of the sales from licensed merchandise derivatives. For a newcomer starting out, this percentage is generally only 0.5%.”

“Only 0.5%?”

“So unless one has their own publishing house or animation company, the profits from making an anime have almost nothing to do with the author?”

“You could say that.”

Seiko nodded.

“Ah…” Miyazaki Yū’s excitement instantly diminished by more than half. “Since we can’t make money, should we decline Fuji TV?”

“When I said we can’t make money, I meant for the Yamagami-gumi,” Seiko said with a smile. “A 0.5% merchandise share is too little for the Yamagami-gumi, but for you, it’s a large sum of money.”

“Even if you only get tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of yen a month, that’s still millions a year. Why would you refuse money being sent to you?”

“Besides, an anime adaptation will bring a lot of fame to a newcomer manga artist like you. With fame, you can sign better contracts for your next work…”

Miyazaki Yū didn’t even finish listening to the rest of Seiko’s words; upon hearing “millions a year,” this money-grubbing girl was already wavering again.

However, after some struggle, she barely managed to resist the sinful temptation of money!

“Bunny Drop is a work by both of us; the merchandise share should also be split halfway with you.”

“Forget about that,” Seiko shook her head without thinking and joked, “0.5% is too little for the Yamagami-gumi, and for me, it’s not big money either. I am a rich young lady, after all.”

“Moreover, TV anime merchandise mainly uses the manga images you drew. As the script writer, my share of that portion would be at most thirty percent.”

“Thirty percent of 0.5% is practically nothing. You should just keep that little bit of money for yourself.”

Miyazaki Yū bit her lip, feeling a sourness in her heart.

Miyazaki Yū needed money, lots of money, but she didn’t want to be overly dependent on others, especially Saori and Seiko.

Because Seiko and Saori were her close friends, Miyazaki Yū cared about this point exceptionally.

Miyazaki Yū naturally knew Seiko had money and Saori wasn’t lacking either, but she always felt that if she relied on Seiko and Saori for her livelihood, she would no longer be on equal footing with them as friends.

Miyazaki Yū felt that Seiko and Saori seemed to have seen through her little thoughts long ago.

Oh, to be precise, it was always hard for her to hide her thoughts in front of those two.

So Seiko and Saori wouldn’t proactively ask if she needed any help, but they would, under “reasonable and logical” circumstances, give her “reasonable and logical” opportunities to earn labor remuneration.

“Also, Bubble Witch is filming the movie, so they should also pay us a copyright fee,” Seiko said. “The copyright fee is about four million yen. Let’s split it half and half between the two of us.”

According to the regulations of the Japan Writers’ Association, the statutory upper limit for the original work usage fee for a movie was 10 million yen.

Ten million yen was the price that the biggest manga artists and the hottest works could get; ordinary newcomer authors couldn’t get that much at all.

To give an example, when the first Demon Slayer anime movie was released in the future, the box office broke 40 billion yen, yet the author of the original work, Gotouge Koyoharu, only received a remuneration of 2 million yen.

It wasn’t until the subsequent movies succeeded one after another that Gotouge Koyoharu’s remuneration finally rose to 10 million yen.

Compared to the Demon Slayer series’ total box office of over 50 billion yen, this 10 million yen was still too shabby.

Although 4 million yen sounded like very little, and in reality wasn’t much, it was already the top-tier income a newcomer manga artist like Miyazaki Yū could get.

However, Miyazaki Yū didn’t mind it being small; even splitting it in half and deducting income tax, the remaining money was enough to pay off all the debts owed from her mother’s last hospitalization.

Moreover, this was completely reasonable remuneration she deserved to receive…

“You are so annoying.”

Miyazaki Yū sniffled, her chopsticks seemingly casually flipping through her bento box, finally picking up a piece of tonkatsu coated in sauce, trying forcefully to place it into Seiko’s bento box.

“Here!”

Seiko was stunned for a moment, then quickly covered her bento box, opening her mouth with a smile: “Ah…”

Miyazaki Yū puffed up her cheeks, but in the end, she still personally fed the tonkatsu into Seiko’s mouth.

“I didn’t do anything, did I?” Seiko chewed on the tonkatsu, asking knowingly with a smile. “Why did you suddenly say I’m annoying?”

Miyazaki Yū rolled her eyes, kept a straight face, and asked, “Is it delicious?”

“Mm, the taste is good.”

Seiko praised sincerely; Miyazaki Yū must have specially learned this at the restaurant where she worked part-time. The sauce was rich and tasted very similar to that restaurant they had visited.

“If you like it, you and Saori can come to my house tonight, and I’ll make it for you again…”

Miyazaki Yū lowered her head, mumbling vaguely.

“What did you say?” Seiko seemed not to have heard clearly.

“I said you are annoying to death!” Miyazaki Yū concluded that someone was pretending not to hear. “Anyway, I don’t like cooking for you!”