Parallel World Light Novelist

Chapter 96: Chapter 96: The Anime Finale and Nationwide Tears

The surge in the anime’s popularity directly translated into a massive spike in demand for the physical light novel volumes. Crimson Maple Literature was immediately inundated with a flood of orders for the Anohana volumes. This time, the demand wasn’t just coming from the Minamijo region but from over a dozen other prefectures across Japan.

Since the short story had concluded months ago, there were very few copies left in circulation. Faced with the sudden hunger of the anime audience, the supply was woefully inadequate. While many fans were desperate to know what happened next, they were met with a frustrating reality: every bookstore they visited was completely out of stock.

The rising fame of the Anohana anime also provided a much-needed boost to the reader support for To the Moon. Since both works shared the same creator, fans who had fallen in love with the anime found it easy to transfer their loyalty to the new serialization. Furthermore, the plot of the two most recent Chapters of To the Moon was becoming genuinely fascinating.

Chapter six followed Neil and Eva as they reached a point where they believed they had secured all the vital memory nodes of Johnny’s life, from his student days to his old age. Their plan to fulfill his wish to go to the moon seemed simple: they would alter the deep-seated motivations within his subconscious.

By using the memory machine, they planned to plant the seeds of a dream in his childhood. They wanted to instill in the young Johnny the idea that becoming an astronaut was his ultimate life goal. They even altered his memories of the movies he watched as a child, turning them into epic sci-fi blockbusters about lunar exploration. These changes to his core motivations were designed to ripple through every major period of his life.

Once the data was imported, the machine was supposed to restructure Johnny’s life into a new, artificial reality, one where he studied tirelessly, became a brilliant astronaut, and eventually boarded a rocket to the moon. Even though the memories would be fake, letting a dying man pass away with the smile of a perfect life was, in their eyes, a noble task.

However, things were far from simple. When Neil and Eva confidently activated the machine, they discovered that Johnny’s life hadn’t changed at all. Despite the heavy-handed memory implants and the tampering with his childhood dreams, his path remained identical to his original life. This meant only one thing: they hadn’t done enough. The root of Johnny’s desire for the moon lay even deeper, in a part of his childhood they hadn’t yet reached. If they couldn’t find and fix that specific node, all their efforts would be for nothing.

Chapter seven followed the doctors as they investigated the strange, rotting smell at the edge of Johnny’s memory gap. They realized that smell could be a vital clue. By using the scent of the dead squirrel they had hit at the beginning of the story as a catalyst, Neil and Eva managed to bypass the mental block and finally witness Johnny’s early childhood.

They discovered that Johnny had once had a twin brother named Joey. However, their mother had accidentally hit Joey with her car, killing him.

For reasons that were both tragic and complex, the mother had given the young Johnny beta-blockers, forcing him to forget the traumatic loss of his brother and every memory before that day. For a long time, the mother had treated Johnny as a replacement for the deceased Joey, even calling him by his brother’s name.

This explained the gap in Johnny’s mind. It was a memory physically and chemically sealed away, one that required the scent of death to unlock. After the release of Chapter seven, the tone of the story became incredibly heavy.

On the official Ascent of New Gods forums, the mockery and boredom that had characterized the early discussions vanished, replaced by deep debates about the characters’ fates.

”So Johnny has lived his whole life without his real childhood memories? His mother drugged him to make him forget his twin and then raised him as a ghost of his dead brother?”

”I’m not going to lie, that hit me hard. The atmosphere in Chapter seven is just so oppressive.”

”The part that stuck with me was the dialogue between young Johnny and Joey in the sealed memory. Joey’s dream was to be a writer, and his favorite show was Morphing Rangers. Back in Chapter three, River asked Johnny what his favorite show was, and he said Morphing Rangers, even though he couldn’t remember anything about the plot. He just ’felt’ like it was his favorite. He’s been carrying his brother’s identity in his subconscious this whole time.”

”His mother practically erased his soul to replace it with Joey’s. That’s just too cruel.”

”Maybe Johnny couldn’t accept Joey’s death either, so he subconsciously went along with it. He turned himself into Joey. He didn’t even like pickled olives at first, but he started eating them because Joey loved them. Everything from his tastes to his hobbies was influenced by his brother’s ghost.”

”It’s a tragedy. Pure tragedy. I’ve read seven Chapters of this man’s life, and I just feel so sorry for him.”

”But I still don’t get the moon thing. Why is he so obsessed with it? It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with Joey’s death.”

”True. Even seven Chapters in, we still don’t know why River was acting so strangely toward the end of her life either.”

”I’m completely hooked now. I thought this was going to be a total dud at the start, but looking at the forty other stories in the magazine, there isn’t a single one that has left such a deep impression on me.”

”That’s because the author spent seven whole Chapters focusing on just two people. You can’t help but be invested in Johnny and River now.”

”It’s not just To the Moon. I’ve been watching the Anohana anime, and I’ve realized Shiori is a specialist in this slow-burn-to-emotional-explosion style. Anohana became amazing starting from episode five, and now I tune in every week. If the bookstores weren’t sold out, I’d have bought the novels already.”

”Same here. The anime is getting really good. If anyone hasn’t seen it, keep an eye out for the Blu-ray release after the finale. It’s an absolute must-buy.”

”Speaking of Shiori Takahashi, I found a Panda Music account with her name. She uploaded a piano track called For River, the same title as the song Johnny gives River in the book. I’m pretty sure it’s the actual theme released by the author herself.”

Both the Anohana anime and the To the Moon novel entered a massive growth phase in early March. As the creator, Haruto monitored the forums daily and saw the shift in public perception firsthand. However, as a faceless author from Minamijo, he had no real power to influence the market directly. He had to sit back and let the work speak for itself.

It was a frustrating feeling. Sometimes he wished he were more than just a creator, that he had the capital to guide the narrative and promotion from the start. If he did, the slow-burning early stages of his works wouldn’t have been such a struggle to overcome.

Finally, the day arrived. March 20th. It was the premiere of the final episode of Anohana.

The trajectory of the anime’s popularity in Japan mirrored the original serialization in Minamijo. Ever since Yukiatsu’s breakdown in episode five, the show had become more compelling with every broadcast, and the ratings climbed steadily. By the time episode ten aired, the show had reached an average rating of 2.21%, placing it fifth among over seventy new spring releases.

This success caught both KyoAni Studios and Crimson Maple Literature off guard. They knew the source material was excellent, but this level of performance was beyond their expectations.

At the KyoAni Studios headquarters in Tokyo, the entire production team for Anohana gathered together. While the general public who hadn’t read the book didn’t know what was coming, the staff certainly did. The heart of the series wasn’t the fireworks display in episode ten that everyone was talking about; it was episode eleven, airing tonight.

”I can’t believe we just went to Minamijo, bought the rights to a local novel, and ended up with the fourth-highest-rated anime of the spring. We hit the jackpot,” one staff member remarked while watching the commercials on Tokyo TV7.

”That author, Shiori Takahashi, is going to be a legend. Honestly, if we had spent a fortune on a big-name author from Tokyo, we might not have seen these kinds of results. He’s only under the radar because he’s still in Minamijo. Once he moves to Tokyo or Osaka, the world is his stage.”

”By the way, have you guys read his new one, To the Moon? I think it has potential too. If the timing is right, maybe we could...”

As the staff chatted, the screen flickered, and the final episode of Anohana began. Thanks to the momentum of the past two months, the ratings for episode eleven broke the 2% barrier immediately upon starting. This was a different era; without streaming sites and with strict piracy controls in Japan, viewers had to be in front of the TV at the exact right time. If they missed it, they had to wait for a late-night rerun or the home video release months later.

The finale of Anohana defied all expectations from the industry. It started at 2%, but within five minutes, the rating jumped to 2.5%. The station staff knew something special was happening.

By the ten-minute mark, the scene played out where Menma, realizing she was fading away, tried to comfort the members of the Super Peace Busters by telling them they were just playing hide-and-seek. Millions of viewers across Japan had expected a standard, peaceful conclusion to a high-quality show. Very few, aside from the small group of novel readers, were prepared for the emotional onslaught of the final act.

From Jintan and his friends searching the mountain for the disappearing Menma, to the moment they found the notes she had written for each of them with her final strength.

”I love you, Jintan. The kind of love where I want to be your bride.”

When that line was delivered with the raw emotion of the voice actress, it shattered the hearts of every teenager and adult watching. It was a simple, unadorned goodbye that struck directly at the soul. Then came the legendary scene where everyone cried out in unison, ”We love you too, Menma!”

The visuals transitioned from the pre-dawn darkness to the brilliant radiance of the rising sun. Even though the budget hadn’t been astronomical, the production team had clearly saved their best work for this moment. The art was flawless.

And then, a light, melodic tune began to play. A gentle female voice started to sing a melancholic, haunting melody. Within just a few notes, the song seized the hearts of the audience, giving them a channel to release all the grief they had been holding back. The tears wouldn’t stop.

Secret Base: What You Gave Me.

This classic theme appeared for the first and only time in the anime.

Because it hadn’t been overplayed in previous episodes, its sudden appearance was overwhelmingly powerful. The song might be beautiful on its own, but when combined with the climax of Anohana, it created a perfect chemical reaction. The emotional defenses of the fans were obliterated instantly. Across Japan, people were crying in front of their television sets, cursing the show even as they sobbed.

What kind of show is this? Why can’t I see the screen? Why won’t my eyes stop watering? I’m an adult, crying over an anime... this is so embarrassing.

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