I placed a new order with Amazon Japan and also another order with Mandarake because Mandarake offered an exceptionally scarce manga key issue that I couldn’t resist purchasing.

I’m back again to share another selection of unique and novel anime items delivered from Japan. Highlights in this batch including the cameo first appearance of Piccolo and the first full appearance of Super Saiyajin Son Goku, both from Akira Toriyama’s Dragon Ball manga.

Apologies for me looking a bit trashy. I’m a lazy, aging hermit. It’s the anime stuff that ought to be the focus of the video rather than me, however.

On my adjunct professor salary, I don’t get to buy anime collectables as often as I’d like to. So these days I have to prioritize interesting and unusual stuff over more commonplace items. I just acquired a couple of manga first appearances at prices I could afford.

The March 1990 issue of Model Graphix Magazine contains the first chapter of Hayao Miyazaki’s “Hikotei Jidai” manga, the first appearance of Porco Rosso.

The prototype first chapter of Yoshifumi Tozuka’s manga series Undead Unluck premiered in this September 2019 issue of Shuukan Shounen Jump. The prototype chapter was titled “Undead+Unluck.” The regular ongoing series launched four months later under the revised name “Undead Unluck” (without the “plus”).

I was able to purchase two copies of the first appearance of the manga adaptation of Katarina’s web novel series Shangri-La Frontier, the July 2020 issue of Shuukan Shounen Magazine. The anime television series adaptation of the story will premiere in October.

The December 2018 issue of Shuukan Shounen Sunday contains the first appearance of Kenjiro Hata’s romantic comedy Tonikaku Kawaii.

The autumn 2012 issue of Fellows Q! is the first cover appearance of Takuto Kashiki’s Hakumei to Mikochi and contains the manga serial’s second and third chapters. I haven’t yet been able to acquire the Fellows magazine containing the first chapter.

The September 2015 issue of Shuukan Shounen Magazine contains the first appearance of Atsushi Ohkubo’s En En no Shouboutai (“Fire Force”).

In an ironic way, I’m somewhat grateful that his review video reminded me that this anime exists. I watched it back in June 2016. This is what I thought of it at the time:

The first episode of the 1990 OVA Kentoushi may be one of the singular worst anime I’ve ever seen. The story isn’t especially bad; it’s merely mundane. A Japanese street fighter immigrates to New York City hoping to transition into a professional boxer. In many respects the OVA looks and feels like a more conventional prototype to the exceedingly similar anime film Heavy that was released only three months later. Some details of the first Kentoushi OVA are a bit silly. Protagonist Kenji rescuing a girl being chased by a gang of thugs is a narrative cliché. But him doing so twice in the same 45 minute OVA pushes credibility into incredulity. Scenery shots of New York are typically either sepia-filtered photographs or laughable hand-drawn backgrounds that depict 1980’s New York City as a virtual apocalyptic ruin. Despite Kenji finally finding a gym that will accept him, he never seems to have a trainer. He just spends interminable amounts of time working the bag, exemplifying the OVA’s biggest weakness. This OVA isn’t a motion comic, but it would be more excusable if it was. The animation quality rivals vintage Knack productions. It makes 60’s anime like Tiger Mask seem well-animated by comparison. I estimate that more than half of the episode consists of recycled frames of animation. Frame rates are appalling low and occasionally frames are simply missing, causing body parts to just vanish. Continuity is inconsistent. In one shot Kenji is wearing boxing gloves. Then in the next shot he’s not. Then in the following shot the gloves are back. In one scene a character simply materializes because the OVA doesn’t bother to animate him entering the room. The fight referee seems to count to 12 or more instead of doing a ten-count because his arm motions are just arbitrarily repeated frames. Periodically through the episode even sound effects are mistimed. Particularly during the climactic sparring match, some of Kenji’s punches seem to be magical delayed-reaction punches because the sound effects are late. What should be an involving and exciting OVA is rendered laughable and tremendously boring because viewers get real tired of seeing the same shots repeated ad nauseam.

Apart from the obvious parallels including police spinners, neon umbrella rods, and replicants with red reflections in their pupils, the Blade Runner: Black Lotus anime appears to contain several other subtle visual parallels to the feature films.

But the show also expects viewers to believe that this:

becomes this 17 years later:

Kizuna Ai premiered on YouTube as the first virtual idol in November 2016, setting the stage for future virtual idol television programs and anime including Choukan x Algorhythm, Virtual-san wa Miteiru, Watanuki-san Chi to, 22/7 Keisanchuu, and Gariben Girl V. In 2018 Production I.G launched its “Anime Beans” series of vertical anime shorts for cell phone broadcast, but despite a strong effort, the production method hasn’t broken through. No other production studios followed I.G’s lead, and even I.G itself has ceased producing vertical anime shorts.

WWWave Corporation’s ComicFesta website began broadcasting a new iteration of anime in March 2017 with Souryo to Majiwaru Shikiyoku no Yoru ni… Four-minute censored episodes were broadcast on terrestrial television while uncut pornographic six-minute episodes were streamed exclusively on the ComicFesta site. To my knowledge, no studio had ever before produced alternate edits of a weekly broadcast anime for simultaneous television and web release. Perhaps the closest parallel could be the 2008 Soul Eater series broadcast in an all-ages friendly version and a virtually identical “late show” edit. However, after 14 series and more than three years, no other studio followed in ComicFesta’s footsteps, suggesting that the new procedure in anime distribution would remain a singular experiment rather than a new development in the industry. However, this season publisher Eternity Books and producer Kanade Creative have seemingly stepped forward to also attempt a similar groundbreaking anime distribution method. Unlike ComicFesta’s six-minute episodes, the first episode of the Eternity: Shinya no Nurekoi Channel television anime is 14 minutes edited down to 11:30 for television broadcast. The broadcast version replaces one sex scene with an alternate placeholder shot and simply skips the second sex scene entirely.

While the shorter ComicFesta episodes benefit from more fluid animation quality and more vivid, stylish art design, the longer Eternity Channel productions sacrifice some animation quality and production design for greater episode length. However, the very fact that more than one company has now tried this simultaneous alternate release strategy suggests to me that this practice is now a valid new production and release method within Japan’s anime industry rather than just a one-off experiment.

The first episode of the Uzaki-chan wa Asobitai! anime television series, adapted from the popular manga by Take, demonstrates that even within the era of anime produced for international release, Japanese studios continue to produce anime specifically addressed to Japanese viewers. Typical American viewers perceive Uzaki as “clingy and annoying,” “incredibly loud and doesn’t actually listen to what people tell her,” and, “pushy, honestly kind of creepy.” But I think that these observations are mired in American perspective and don’t recognize that Uzaki may be perceived entirely differently by Japanese viewers. My own suspicion is that particularly Japanese manga readers and anime otaku likely perceive Uzaki-chan with a mix of affection and respect. Uzaki is not a foreigner. She’s a fully Japanese girl, yet she doesn’t behave at all like a typical Japanese girl. Contrary to the traditional, or cliché, idealization of the Japanese young adult as shy, quiet, introverted, introspective, Uzaki is what Japanese natives would call “aggressive.” She’s outgoing, uninhibited. She doesn’t hesitate to speak her mind, being bluntly honest with her opinions in a society that discourages such blunt honesty. Her personality is the outgoing, energetic, cheerful type that many Japanese youths would like to imagine themselves as.

Moreover, she’s the ideal otaku companion. Uzaki’s aggressiveness takes the lead. She initiates conversation. She’s the one that suggests doing things together. Her extroverted invitation eliminates the typical otaku’s anxiety over having to make decisions and initiate social discourse. Around her, the typical otaku doesn’t have to be outgoing. The standard otaku only needs to let her take charage. Moreover, despite being so “aggressive,” Uzaki isn’t intimidating. Despite being acerbic, she criticizes with a smile. Her criticisms come across more like chiding encouragement than harsh criticism. So she instinctively fulfills the otaku’s self-loathing desire for scolding without being discouraging or mean. Furthermore, Uzaki is petite in stature, which makes her cute. She also has ample sex appeal (Sugoi Dekai!) that she doesn’t flaunt or use to intimidate. So she’s attractive, again, without being intimidating. The show is cat-themed because Uzaki herself is like a comforting cat. She’s small, cute, and soft. Her demands for attention may be annoying, but they’re also cute and gratifying for someone who otherwise goes ignored. She cuddles up next to the shy otaku. Rather than claws, Uzaki has her sharp criticisms. She represents a virtually ideal “realistic” girlfriend or waifu who gives otaku what they need rather than what they think they want.

The series revolves around 18-year-old Monda Monnojo who seems on first impression to be a carefree, playful and silly adolescent with an affection for his souped-up Subaru 360 convertible.

However, circumstances reveal that he’s actually a near superhumanly tough street fighter with a strong sense of honor. Monda’s personality is an extreme version of characters like Ryo Saeba and Vash the Stampede. When he’s among his friends and especially with his girlfriend, Mari, he’s lighthearted and goofy. But he turns authoritative and pugilistic at a moment’s notice, barking out his name and affiliation before engaging in brutal fights involving bare knuckles, boken, knives, razor blades, and broken glass bottles.

Now, if I may be forgiven for making some “l33t” comparisons, the first episode feels like a more substantial and better produced sibling to Gainax’s Circuit no Okami II OVA. Members of the Black Zeppelin gang wreck Monda’s car, so Monda beats up the gangsters responsible. The Black Zeppelin’s leader, Ryuji Hanaoka, who happens to be the hot-headed heir to the Kanto Hanaoka Rengo yakuza clan, sets out to avenge the honor of his gang by defeating Monnojo, so he works his way through every Monnojo in the phone book (literally), and doesn’t even spare his wrath when facing girls. But when he faces off against Monda, he learns how a real man comports himself.

The second episode feels a bit more like a combination of Bari Bari Densetsu with Batsu & Terry. The series’ concentration begins to shift away from cars & street racing toward yakuza-style conflicts between gangs. Monda is formally designated the second generation leader of the Reppu-tai gang, and Ryuji becomes his kouhai. Monda gets stabbed in the gut. Meanwhile, in a moment of opportunity, Tetsu steals Monda’s Reppu-tai uniform. In an attempt to impress his girlfriend, Tetsu impersonates Monda until he runs into a rival gang that isn’t impressed by Monda’s reputation. The real Monda Monnojo then has to come out of hospitalization to rescue Tetsu, defend his gang’s honor, and finally personally beat some more sense into Tetsu.

Beginning in the third episode released in 1990, the tone of the series changes slightly to feel more like a hybrid of Shounen Bakusozoku with Batsu & Terry. Monda insists that his underling Ryuji take responsibility for having beat up Michi in the first episode. Meanwhile the Spider gang moves into town and tries to make a name for itself by attempting to kill Ryuji. Ryuji survives, so he and his senpai inflict their revenge on the Spiders gang members.

In the 1991 fourth episode Ryuji & Tetsu officially become members of the Reppu-tai. Meanwhile the hulking leader of the Spiders gang vows to get even with the leader of the Reppu-tai. The climactic throwdown results in the Spiders’ boss pledging his respect and loyalty to Monnojo.

The fifth & sixth episodes, released in 1994 & 1996, are a two-part story about an elder gang with an old grudge returning to extract its vengeance upon the current generation of the Reppu-tai. Unfortunately, the climactic ten minutes of episode 5 were missing in the episode I watched. Thankfully I was largely able to piece together what happened from flashbacks in episode 6. The primary character designs in these two episodes look very slightly more lanky, and Mari distinctly looks a little bit older in episode 6.

No one dies in the series (with one exception in the final episode), but occasionally the violence is surprisingly and shockingly intense. Apart from the 80’s art design, I can imagine two details about the series potentially bothering contemporary viewers. After the first episode Ryuji Hanaoka’s personality changes so drastically that he’s barely recognizable as the same character, even though subsequent episodes continue to deal with the consequences of his actions in the first episode. More importantly, I can easily imagine that overly sensitive contemporary viewers will take offense because Tetsu’s hair is trimmed in the shape of a swastika. The fashion is strictly based on visual appeal and reflects the “manji” character used to spell his name. In the anime, it doesn’t have any Nazi association.

A bit different from many other bosozoku & zokusha culture anime, including Badboys, Kyo Kara Ore Wa, Korogashi Ryota, Yokohama Meibutsu Otoko Katayama Gumi, Yankee Gurentai, and Taiman Blues,Yankee Reppu-tai sustains a much more effective balance of humor and action without being puerile. Monda sometimes acts silly, but the anime series itself never seems silly. It feels comparable to Hana no Asuka-gumi but with a sense of fun. Moreover, as a product of its era, the anime series is filled with lovely and creative shots, imagery, and editing, and occasional typical 80’s emphasis on realistic mechanical details.

In 2020, the OVA series is a refreshing, fun throwback to an era of wild boys and tough girls, violence that felt like it carried a message, and fan service that felt like it made the anime more realistic rather than more gratuitous.

I’ve typically never been highly enthused by any anime created by either of the Fujiko Fujio team. Typically their manga and subsequent anime adaptations have either felt redundant, for example Umeboshi Denka, Jungle Kurobe, and Biriken; particularly child-oriented, for example Doraemon, 21 Emon amd Mojako; or rather heavy-handed, like Warau Salesman and Pro Golfer Saru. So I began watching the 1992 Fujiko Fujio A. no Sasurai-kun series motivated only by intellectual curiosity, just to see first-hand what the show was like. After the ten-minute first episode, I was curious to see what direction the narrative would take in the second episode. After the second episode I committed myself to watching the entire short series. Unlike the most well-known anime titles from Fujiko A. Fujio & Fujiko F. Fujio, Sasurai-kun is a lighthearted, nostalgic anime for adults. The series’ narrative focus wanders a bit and struggles to find a consistent target, yet the show also does a commendable job of depicting the sepia romanticism of lonely souls encountering each other for fleeting moments, and capturing for posterity a nostalgic sentiment of Japanese life that’s probably now largely extinct.

The first of the series’ thirteen episodes introduces Sasurai, a hapless, overworked and existentially lonely salaryman with a crush on his attractive co-worker simply because she’s considerate of him and is the attractive woman he sees every day. One day, on his way to work in a packed commuter train, he bumps into the laughing salesman Fukuzou Moguro who recognizes that Sasurai-kun needs a mental break. So Moguro magically transports Sasurai-kun to a forced vacation in a rural Japanese hot-spring village. When Sasurai-kun finds all of the local inns booked, he ingratiates himself into a tour group of businessmen that have booked an onsen hotel for the evening, shrewdly securing lodging and dinner for the evening.

The series’ second episode begins with Sasurai waking from a nightmare about his office job. But the morning sunshine reminds him that he’s on vacation, so he tours the town and runs into a drunken elderly man who promises him a cushy job. Imagining potential good fortune, Sasurai-kun keeps the old man company, bar-hopping while paying the tab. The episode wraps up with a tragic revelation that dashes Sasurai-kun’s hopes, establishing the pattern to the series that as often as circumstances work in Sasurai-kun’s favor they also work against him.

From episode 3 onward Sasurai-kun somehow adopts the new life of an aimless, independently wealthy wanderer. The show never again refers to the office job Sasurai-kun abandoned, nor does the show ever suggest that he’s unable to continue funding his permanent vacation tour of rural Japan. Rather, the narrative emphasis of the show slightly changes. I don’t know whether the first two episodes represent the show finding its direction or if the story took a turn after the first two episodes, but episodes three, four, and five revolve around Sasurai-kun trying to pick up a girlfriend. Episode four is especially noteworthy because it depicts working-age adult Sasurai-kun pining after a high school girl that reminds him of a romantic interest from his youth, and him getting drunk on whiskey during a drinking party with a trio of high school boy ruffians.

In episode six, as if to purge women from his brain, Sasurai-kun makes a futile effort to become a Buddhist monk. In episode seven he encounters a fellow former salaryman who has forsaken society and resorted to a sort of Tarzan-esque wild lifestyle.

Episode eight prominently introduces the romantic sentimentality of the lonely old soul wandering solitary streets, drowning sorrows in neighborhood izakaya, and the sad irony of missed opportunities and ships passing in the night. Much of the visual imagery in this episode is striking and among the best of the series.

Episode nine again begins with Sasurai-kun waking from a nightmare, this one about Sasurai-kun finding himself alone and unmoored in a faceless, impersonal world of transitory relationships. In this episode he once again blends into a tour group for a night. This tour group is a collection of urbanites getting a taste of life and work on a farm, except the farmers clearly view the tourists as nothing more than exploitable temporary labor, resulting in some situational comedy.

Episode ten introduces a bit of automobile action in the form of Sasurai-kun getting a ride from a young woman unwisely learning to drive a stick-shift on narrow mountainous roads. Subsequently Sasurai-kun meets an amenable, attractive nature photographer who suggests that they visit a local hot spring together. Predictably, her goals are a bit different from his, however.

Episode eleven takes place on trains and introduces details that were doubtlessly contemporary at the time but feel nostalgically dated now, including public water fountains that dispense folding paper cups, and sleeper train cars.

Episode twelves heightens the sense of Japanese nostalgia. Sasurai-kun referees a neighborhood kids’ baseball game. At sunset, as the kids go home, one of them realizes that Sasurai has no home to return to so brings the wanderer in tow. Without any questions, the boy’s drunken father and suffering mother welcome the guest as if he was a family member. When the saké runs dry, the perturbed father storms out of the house angrily, dragging Sasurai along to a nearby izakaya bar. As the father drinks himself into a stupor, the son comes to fetch his old man, announcing that dinner is ready. The considerate Sasurai-kun carries the father back home and has a pleasant family dinner with the boy and mother. That evening, Sasurai-kun dreams of his own mother. Then he quietly departs in the dead of night so as not to further impose on the family.

The series ends with another episode infused with distinctly Japanese flavor. Disappointed to find that the view of Mount Fuji is obscured by civilization, Sasurai-kun encounters a local man who promises to provide a better view. The man then proceeds to lead Sasurai-kun to a nearby public bath with a wall mural of Mount Fuji. The man introduces himself as a novice aficionado of traditional sento public baths. The elder “master” of touring sento then arrives and proceeds to take the increasingly exhausted Sasurai-kun on an artistic tour of Japan by visiting various public baths with interior landscape murals. When Sasurai-kun finally arrives at a beautiful bath with a panoramic natural scenic view, he settles in to enjoy, but coincidentally the sento master arrives with his own idea of “scenic view” in mind.

Series’ episodes three to five feel a bit redundant with their central focus on trying to pick up women, and subsequently the goal of getting a girlfriend never entirely seems to leave Sasurai-kun, but the bulk of the back half of the series feels like a more expansive predecessor to Tetsuko no Tabi. The show is a good-natured, relaxing slice-of-life comedy that doesn’t star high school girls and isn’t moé. And like a version of Tamayura that isn’t about high school girls, Sasurai-kun gives viewers a perspective on rural, suburban, and traditional modern Japan apart from bustling Tokyo. The art design is simple yet detailed enough to be evocative and effective. As the show premiered in 1992, it’s still proximate enough to the golden age of anime that it occasionally includes some noticeably creative shots such as this view from a train window.

Sasurai-kun isn’t intended to be a show for everyone. It’s a sedate mixture of sitcom and drama delivered in succinct installments to put a wry smile on the faces of weary adult viewers. Especially in the contemporary era of anime designed either to sell discs & character merchandise or shows aiming to be provocative or bold, Sasurai-kun is a pleasant slice of retro entertainment that doesn’t feel especially dated. It’s a short, simple little overlooked gem that shines because of its gentleness and mild humor.

I’ve related my prominent recollections of AN Entertainment’s dabbling in licensing anime. But I forgot to include the anecdote about our aborted work on character merchandising.

I don’t even recollect exactly when – probably in late 2003 or sometime in 2004 – I was inspired by the idea of commissioning a Japanese illustrator to create original character designs for merchandise that AnimeNation could manufacture and sell, such as t-shirts, mugs, posters, and so forth. My goal was to seek an artist whose aesthetic style evoked stylish modernity, bold cuteness, and a distinctively “anime” visual. I was looking for something that would appeal to both hardcore otaku as well as mainstream consumers with a taste for trendy and alternative design. I ended up conducting an email correspondence with doujinshi artist “null500.”

At his own cost, Null500 mailed me copies of his (I presume “he.” Apologies if “Null500” is female.) two self-published art collection comics. I passed the books around the AnimeNation office seeking input and opinion on whether my artist pick seemed viable. Meanwhile I began to negotiate with Null500 regarding what sort of character and image I wanted, and what rights and royalty split we could agree upon. Null500 began sending me rough design sketches which I critiqued and asked for revisions of.

But then the greatest regret of my decade spent as a paid employee of AnimeNation occurred when the AnimeNation owners decided that they didn’t want to invest in either paying a Japanese artist or producing AnimeNation merchandise featuring original characters. After weeks of discussing and collaborating with Null500, I felt very guilty about having to back out of the commission negotiation that I’d initiated. But I didn’t at the time and have never since blamed the AnimeNation owners. I’m confident that they reluctantly made the decision that best served the company interests at the time.

These brief picks and comments from the AnimeNation staff are now over a dozen years old.

In the early 2000s we didn’t even realize that these images were Kizuato fan art.

For little reason in particular I thought to myself that perhaps some people may find interesting or curious my select and limited memories of AN Entertainment’s experiences with anime licensing in the early 2000s.

In a certain sense, it’s true that we “tried” to license the 1998 Berserk television series. At the time, we were merely entertaining the idea of possibly entering the licensing game. We made an inquiry about the cost of the series. When the answer returned, it was so far out of our means that we never spoke of the possibility again.

We contracted Coastal Carolina Sound Studios for the English dub of Miami Guns. Coastal founder Scott Houle encouraged us to partner with his studio to acquire the rights to Madhouse’s 2004 series Monster, based on the Naoki Urasawa manga. I don’t recollect exactly why a partnership never happened, probably cost. Eventually Viz acquired the TV series license but only released a dozen of the 74 TV episodes.

I repeatedly pestered Gene, the AnimeNation co-founder and CEO, to inquire about the availability of the Azumanga Daioh television series. Gene hesitated and delayed. By the time he finally asked, the answer came back that AD Vision had just signed a deal for the show.

I remember looking at the first publicly released character designs for Bakuretsu Tenshi published in the monochrome newsbriefs section of NewType magazine. I said to my co-workers, “Somebody’s going to make money off this.” FUNimation acquired the title.

Gonzo sent us, and presumably many other companies, a publicity packet for its tentative feature film Afro Samurai, based on self-published manga by Takashi Okazaki. The concept and early production designs seemed promising, but Gonzo was seeking a one-million dollar contribution in exchange for distribution rights and limited producer input. That amount was way out of our means. Note that at the time Afro Samurai was planned as a single motion picture. Eventually the production was divided into three OVAs, and both FUNimation and actor Samuel L. Jackson got prominently engaged with the production. Sadly, I’m uncertain of whatever happened to that two-page solicitation flyer.

I distinctly recollect receiving a similar color publicity release about Artland’s Yugo ~Koushoujin~. I looked at the single anime key art image, read the series summary, and immediately announced, “Nobody’s going to buy this!” AD Vision bought it. Then I bought the three AD Vision DVDs for my own collection when they nearly immediately went on clearance sale.

We received a VHS tape containing the first episode of the 2004 television series Yumeria. I didn’t think it was a strong, promising first episode and said so. We declined, but AD Vision bought it.

TBS sent us a licensing sample tape of the 1997 Ganbare! Goemon television series. I watched the tape in the AnimeNation break area and delivered my professional recommendation to Gene. “It’s way too Japanese,” I said. “Nobody’s going to buy this.” AD Vision bought it and to their credit even released all 23 episodes.

Evidently in the summer of 2003 I had a conversation regarding the possibility of licensing, or perhaps it was just promoting, Toho’s forthcoming full CG Appleseed motion picture. I don’t recollect this particular conversation at all, but I have the tape to prove it happened.

Production studio 4°C wanted assistance from an American distributor to get its web anime series Kimagure Robot into American circulation. In 2006 the studio sent me a disc copy of the mini-series, a disc which I still have. By that time licensing anime hadn’t made us rich, so Gene was very gun-shy about entering another licensing and production agreement. So despite my enthusiasm over the possibility of becoming a business partner to Kouji Morimoto’s animation studio, a deal never progressed.

When Animation began to seriously consider licensing anime, we quickly narrowed our targets to a pair of short series from Pony Canyon. Having no prior experience in translation, video mastering, replication, or distribution, we wanted to cut our teeth on something of manageable length: a single series of 13-minute episodes. I suggested Omishi Mahou Gekijou Risky Safety and D4 Princess because they were both short series, and I’d watched the entirety of both: Risky Safety via VHS Sachi’s fansubs and D4 Princess via untranslated VHS copies of Japanese TV broadcasts. The AnimeNation staff collectively and distinctly preferred Risky Safety. As of today, D4 Princess remains unlicensed for American release.

I received permission from “Sachi” to use her fan translation of the series’ dialogue as the basis for our official script. The original Japanese DVD release was six discs with unusual horizontal, rather than vertical, cover art printed on heavy stock paper rather than typical gloss paper. In order to stay as faithful as possible to the Japanese release, we printed double-sided covers for each of our three American DVDs using the same original Japanese cover illustrations and using the same heavy stock paper. We also had a limited number of covers autographed by members of the Bang Zoom! dub. AnimeNation customers that pre-ordered the DVDs or purchased the first disc immediately upon release received the DVD, a separate autographed cover, and a hand-signed letter of gratitude for the support from the AN Entertainment staff. The first 2500 copies of the first DVD were distributed with a free, hand-numbered chipboard box. At the time, no American distributor included the series box without an additional upcharge. Alden Thomas, AnimeNation’s co-art director, hand numbered each box in silver Sharpie.

My collection includes set 4, set 22, and a rare empty box without a serial number.

Some time following the release, Studio A.P.P.P. sent us an offer to purchase the entire pallet of original hand-drawn production art (“genga”) for the Risky Safety anime. We agreed. The shipping pallet covered with boxes sat in the AnimeNation warehouse for a long time. In my recollection, it seemed like at least a year. Multiple times I offered to personally reimburse the cost of the purchase in order to buy all of the art myself. Gene repeatedly rebuffed my offer. Eventually, when AnimeNation was running short of cash, Gene asked Jimmy, Sara, and I to sort the thousands of cuts. All of the pencil art for each shot was stored in a separate envelope. We made stacks of the art by letter grade: the “A” art was large, fully visible character shots; the “B” pile was less impressive yet still prominent character images; the “C” pile was small or obscured shots. Then we selectively withheld some of the nicest “A” cuts for ourselves, mixed the remaining lots of “A” to “C” quality images and sold five-pound lots of genga art to our customers. The lots sold out practically instantly. Years later all of the remaining “D” art that consisted of backgrounds and miscellaneous shots, and most of the withheld “A” art trickled back into my possession.

I’d watched all 12 episodes of Miami Guns via untranslated VHS recordings of the Japanese TV broadcast. I suggested it as AN Entertainment’s second release. In running length it was the same as Risky Safety, so it was an amount of footage that the small AN Entertainment staff could manage. Being a Florida-based distributor, we liked the serendipity of acquiring a show set in the mythical post-apocalyptic reconstructed nation of Miami. (Watch the show. It’s not set in the real-world Miami, Florida.) We loved the show’s extensive parodies of Initial D, Mr. Ajikko, Die Hard, Godzilla, The Matrix, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Yusaku Matsuda, Antonio Inoki. It was an irreverent, goofy series in the vein of the popular Excel Saga. The show met an initial American mixed response of largely, “Huh?” and, “No thanks,” in large part, I think, because it wasn’t a title that the American fan community was already familiar with. To this day we’re still proud of the release and still enjoy the show. While not a major hit in Japan, it was successful enough that manga creator Takeaki Momose got a second series adapted into anime, Magikano, which was subsequently licensed by AD Vision.

Leftover Risky Safety & Miami Guns DVD replicator check discs:

Jungle wa Itsumo Haré Nochi Guu wasn’t extensively fansubbed yet still managed to become quite popular in fan circles. My first encounter with the show was an untranslated capture of the first TV episode in RealMedia format. AN Entertainment was ready to immediately sign a licensing contract for the initial TV series. Bandai informed us that a single producer on the Japanese side personally wanted a bigger royalty check as a result of the license, but he was scheduled to retire in a year. So Bandai insisted that we wait a year before signing contracts so that the producer would retire and Bandai wouldn’t have to pay him a hefty royalty check. Naturally, we spent a year frustrated, but we were so emotionally committed to Guu that we didn’t want to abandon the licensing opportunity.

Our licensing agent in Tokyo suggested that we license an alternate series from Bandai during the interim year just to demonstrate our good faith intention to complete the licensing agreement for Guu. Bandai aggressively encouraged us to license the 2002 series Pita-Ten, based on the manga by Di-Gi-Charat creator Koge Donbo. If memory serves, the asking price was $25,000 per episode for distribution rights. The show had 26 episodes. It was a hard pass for us because at the price the series would never ever be profitable in America. To this date Pita-Ten has never been licensed for American release.

One of Alden’s technical doodles for the layout of the Haré+Guu DVD menu.

There are far more details and stories, but either I’ve forgotten most of them, or they’re details that I don’t feel inclined to expound just yet.

Surugaya’s prices are competitive with Mandarake’s, although Surugaya’s selection isn’t nearly as expansive. However, Surugaya does sometimes have obscure and rare items still available that Mandarake quickly sells out of. And Surugaya will sell adult oriented items to foreign customers without making buyers jump through the hoops that Mandarake requires. And yet, the Surugaya website is not nearly as robust as Mandarake’s. In fact, the English language Surugaya website is a bit broken, so extensive searching requires exhaustive effort and manually fiddling with search URLs to force the site to display all of its goods.

If you have a bit of time to spare, I invite you to share my experience of unboxing my first mail order purchase from the Surugaya second-hand anime goods shop.