Back up to Part 1

Day 5: Sunday, July 21

Holy Floorislava it’s hot here.

Today I’ll take a trip within a trip within a trip. I check out of the hotel before 10am, leave the luggage, and mobilize to catch a train for Hyogo. It’s about half an hour to the west and something special is waiting there.

As soon as I step outside, July slaps me hard across the face again. But after yesterday’s experience, I know to seek shelter in the underground mall and get all the way to Osaka station without taking a beating from above. Signage in Osaka station is full of English, but it’s not entirely clear which train I’m supposed to take. I initially pick the wrong one, and it takes a few stops to realize things don’t match the instructions I wrote for myself. But since the train route is posted with English station names, I can backtrack and course correct without too much delay. Thank Gob our grandfathers ordered the train system to be subtitled, or I don’t know where I would have ended up.

Once I get on the correct train, I figure out a combo move between rapid and local lines (earning myself a Train Fu merit badge) and make it to Nada station in Hyogo with plenty of time on the clock. Why am I going to Hyogo? Because the Hyogo Prefectural Art Museum is the home of an exhibition for one of my favorite artists: Yasuhiko Yoshikazu.

Longtime Yamato fans will grok. “Yas” was a journeyman storyboard artist on several of the Series 1 episodes, all of Farewell to Yamato, and a few other bits and pieces. But that’s just one facet of an enormous career; he was instrumental as a designer and director on Mobile Suit Gundam, many other anime film & TV classics of the 1980s, and one of the most respected manga artists on the planet. There’s an enormous Yas influence on my own storyboard and comics work. I want to be him when I grow up.

The art museum is less than a ten minute walk from the train station (you can see one from the other), and the route is lined with trees, so cicadas buzz at me the whole way. The sound of summer (hear it for yourself here).

As the museum looms up ahead, I get an unbelievable surprise. Maybe the best one of the entire trip. Not ONLY are they hosting the Yas show, they have a second one that I would gladly have come to see all by itself: the 40th Anniversary Fist of the North Star exhibition. It’s like they heard about all the trouble I had yesterday morning and whipped this up as an apology. ACCEPTED.

I came for Yas, so I go there first. My feet are on fire the whole time, but the AC is on full, so the pain stops at my ankles. There’s an English introduction at the start, but nothing more inside. But no matter. I’ve followed his career long enough to identify everything. And what a wealth of material! It starts with some of his very earliest manga (original handmade stuff from his teen years, already very accomplished) and presents everything pretty much in chrono order. There is an individual space devoted to each of his major projects, with Yamato close to the start.

I know at least one piece I would get to see with my own eyes, his original sketch for the ’78 Farewell movie poster (since it was published in a magazine). But what really knocks me out is something nobody announced: a deleted scene (in storyboard form) depicting Dessler talking his officers through a strategy for conquering the galaxy, standing in what looks like a 3D holo-room. Needless to say, we didn’t see this on TV.

Get a look at the whole storyboard here

After that, the hits keep coming. Storyboards, character designs, color paintings, and more. All the originals, pulled directly from his archives, that we’ve seen endlessly on posters, book covers, and more. Gundam. Zeta Gundam. Crusher Joe. Arion. Venus Wars. Proposals for projects that never got backing. Various manga projects that came and went.

My favorite part is the room devoted to Giant Gorg, which Yas created and animated practically by himself. It’s one of my all-time top ten favorites, and I love being in a room where I know everyone around me is thinking about Gorg along with me. (This almost never happens.)

The latter half covers his historical manga projects, and tons of original pages are there to soak up. So much texture and life and energy. Every brush stroke so perfectly placed it makes me awestruck and angry at the same time.

Well wishings from his fellow artists. The stylized sketch of Amuro is by Tetsuo Hara, artist of Fist of the North Star.

At one point, you can take a breather in a “message board” space and leave a post-it for the man himself. I thank him for showing me what I should be.

The final display piece is a gorgeous commemorative painting with a host of his characters, and a video showing him painting it.

As I hoped, the exhibit finishes in a Yas-themed gift shop where you can carry out both an exhibition catalog and all the Yas merch your wallet can handle. There’s lots of fluff nobody actually needs (including me), but I enjoy the fact that little Yas finger puppets will be here to commemorate the great one for as long as they last.

And now, a couple hours after arriving, I travel to the year 199X. The Fist exhibit is much more lurid and flashy with original manga pages mounted against floor-to-ceiling wall displays covered with massive versions of key panels. They didn’t put up every single page, but you get to see all the greatest moments from Chapter 1 through the final battle with Roah. (Nothing from the later stories, though.) Unlike the Yas exhibit, you’re encouraged to take photos from end to end, so you bet I did.

See a bunch of ’em here!

Adding to the experience is an occasional diorama display or life-size character statue. There are also photo ops where you can punch Heart in the stomach or sit on Sauzer’s throne. There’s an occasional nod to the anime and classic merch. I wish there was more of that, because the anime never seems to get its due in legacy media. But I sure can’t complain when Raoh himself is waiting at the exit, his fist in the air with no regrets.

Of course, right outside is a Fist of the North Store (hardy har har) with all the Fist merch you never wanted. From face towels to medallions to keychains and on up the line to hyper-expensive art prints. (The most expensive one, costing north of $10,000, was sold out. See it at lower left. I’m thinking it was one of a kind.) I like looking at all of it, but the only things I leave with are some clear files with a cool metallic backing that bring the paintings to life.

The plan after this was to follow Daniel George’s advice and get a genuine kobe beef lunch at a specific steakhouse on the way back to Osaka, but I’m leaving the museum at 2pm and they take last orders at 2:30. No way will I get there in time. But kobe beef will be around a while. Fist of the North Star only turns 40 once.

My luggage awaits retrieval at the Via Inn hotel, so I use my Train Fu to get back there in about half an hour, enjoy some conveyor belt sushi in the underground mall, take one more spin through Mandarake Umeda to make sure I didn’t miss anything (nope), then begin the multi-step process of getting back to Tokyo where the rest of the Yamatour awaits.

One more example of touch screens replacing people. But I can’t argue with an all-English option. And the results were good.
Full marks to the avacado salmon at upper right (after I got rid of those damn onions).

Along the way, I learn a little more about what they’re calling a “crowdstrike.” Apparently a bunch of Windows PCs didn’t update correctly and a mess of US-based airlines got knocked offline. Hopefully while on the ground. No idea what awaits me three days from now when I’m meant to fly home, but having to spend a little more time in Japan with a new Yamato movie in theaters isn’t the worst thing I can imagine.

Sayonara, Mammy-chan!

Taking this photo got me an angry wave-off from a train attendant. (I was 12 inches closer to the train than I should have been.)

Deadpool & Wolverine opened two days earlier here than at home. The Marvel ad buy in Tokyo this week is heavy.

Day 6: Monday, July 22

Great Googolplex it’s hot here.

Like the heat you feel on your skin when you’re standing too close to a campfire. But you can’t back away from it. I told myself back in August of 2007 (trip one) that I would never do it again in the height of summer. And then they had to go and announce REBEL 3199 Chapter 1 in July. What was I gonna do, NOT go?

I keep telling myself that as I trudge around in Shinjuku this morning, already feeling like I’ve done my half hour daily run in the first three minutes. But there’s no relief until I find two Book Off stores, investigate the local Kinokuniya, and get onto a train for a lunch date. I’ve given myself 90 minutes to do it all, and that turns out to be exactly enough.

Opening weekend definitely took a toll. 3199 merch at the Shinjuku Piccadilly is patchy.
Spiral bound notebooks and steel mugs were the misfit toys this time.

The Book Off stores are bereft of anything that catches my eye. They sure were treasure troves back in 2019 when I first thought of hunting them down, but that was then. It’s sort of been feeling like that at the Mandarake stores, too. Not because tourists are grabbing everything I’m looking for. In fact, my tastes are so eclectic these days I can’t imagine anyone else wanting the stuff I go after. Rather, I suspect there’s a simpler reason: these are second-hand shops, and these days it’s just easier to sell your castoffs through auction sites or whatever. So the supply chain that used to fill the shelves of these stores is probably a lot thinner. That’s my theory, anyway.

Still a camera magnet. She would be displayed for the first two weeks, then back to drydock.

After I’m done dragging my boiling carcass through Shinjuku, I jump on a train to Ogikubo station, a place I haven’t been before. Waiting there is my lunch date.

A couple days after I landed and started posting updates on Facebook, I got a message from my friend Rina Lee saying we needed to get together. She did this on an earlier trip, too. We first met back in spring 2012, when I was in the good graces of the Yamato head office and they set up a series of interviews for me. Rina was brought on board as my translator, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. We both got on particularly well with Noboyushi Habara, who at the time was directing two episodes of Yamato 2199. Later, of course, he would be promoted to supervise Yamato 2202. (Revisit Yamatour 2012 for that adventure here.)

I was no longer connected to the head office after that trip, but Habara-san and Rina and I got together just about every time I went back and it became kind of a tradition. She was game to keep it going this time, and before I knew it she looped in Habara-san as well. He invited us to lunch in Ogikubo, just a few minutes walk from his office at Bandai Namco. And here we all are again! Three friends brought together and reunited by Yamato.

Click here for our hello message.

The location of our lunch date was a big surprise; Rina only told me that Habara thought I would like it, and he was right. Inazuma Cafe is kinda cramped and has some rough edges. But it also has something that sets it apart from every other cafe on Earth; it’s a favored hangout of manga artists great and small, and they’ve decorated it over the years with original art. The food is okay, but the art gallery experience is unmatched.
The best part for me was that out of pure dumb luck, I sat right next to an original Armored Trooper Votoms piece by manga artist Minoru Nonaka. THAT sure wasn’t on my dart board for this trip!!!

Click here to see all my photos from Inazuma Cafe.

Our previous meetups produced interviews for Cosmo DNA which can still be read elsewhere in the Yamatour section. Since then, we’ve just been catching up as friends do. Habara-san and I are in the same business (directing cartoons) and he’s only two years older than I am. Even though we grew up on opposite sides of the planet, Yamato unites us. Rina isn’t nearly as versed in it, but she wants to be a voice actor so she stays in touch with industry folk like him.

They’re both pleased to hear that (A) I’m getting married in a couple months and (B) a grandson was added to my family since we last saw each other in 2019. Said grandson is already a Yamato fan (thanks to me) and has already taught himself to sing the Japanese theme song phonetically. As luck would have it, I’ve got some photos and video clips of him on my phone playing with Yamato toys and of course Habara recognizes them right away.

In June a retirement party was thrown for him (he’s 61), but I’ve learned since then that he’s still actually working. So the first question I have for him is, “whaddupwidat”? He clarifies that he just retired from being the CEO of his studio. Formerly Xebec, now Sunrise Beyond. He is still active as a director, but now it’s on a freelance basis. He has a desk at Bandai Namco where he sort of fell into directing another TV series.

I know exactly what he means by “fell into,” because the same thing happened to me at this start of this year. I was hired to draw storyboards for a series going to SHOWMAX and the needs were so great at the director level that they quickly promoted me to a position where I could oversee production of the entire season. That’s exactly how I became a director in the first place back in 1997; animated TV shows are extremely complex trains that want to go off the rails if you don’t put the right conductors on board. Habara and I are two such conductors.

Most of our conversation is about how we’re coping with various worldly challenges, and I fill them on my battles against hotel yokai. At one point, though, I think to ask a question that just pops into my head: has anyone ever discovered the site of the original Academy Studio, where Yamato Series 1 was made? All I know for sure is what district it was in (Sakuradai). It would be cool to actually go there, even if it looks nothing like it used to.

Habara tells me the one person who might know is his co-director on 2202, Makoto Kobayashi. I ask him if they’re still communicating, and he sort of sighs and says, “not for a long time.” I sense there’s something behind that sigh, but don’t want to push on it. In fact, I would get an explanation the next day, so stay tuned.

He needs to get back to work, so we walk him there and I get to stand inside the lobby of Bandai Namco for a few minutes. This is probably as close as I’ll ever get to the dream factory where so much incredible stuff comes from. But it’s closer than I got yesterday.

It’s about 2pm when we part, and now I can get my teeth into things. It will be the last day of the trip I get to run in any direction for as long as I want. I haven’t been down to Shibuya yet, where my favorite Mandarake store is, so that’s where I start. If I were to equate the major neighborhoods of Tokyo to American landmarks, Shibuya would be Times Square; an enormous number of people (highest percentage of tourists, easily) and outdoor electronics vying for your attention wherever you look. Don’t go there in search of tranquility.

The store is still there, several flights down into the Earth. Of course, I’m hoping to strike something from my vintage magazine shopping list, but no dice. Instead, I find something I didn’t expect, which is also fun: a large collection of Model Information, a monthly 100-yen-per-issue hobby magazine from Bandai. They run from 1985-1987 and cover all the high-end robot anime of those days with very cool cover art, and they’re dirt cheap. About $30 American for 13 issues. There’s no time to open these things up and look through them before I fly home, so the fun part is always deferred. But anticipation is our favorite emotion, so I’ll take it.

Before leaving, I remember that there’s a classic manga I’d like to look for while I’m here. It wasn’t available in Osaka, but stock is deeper in Tokyo. Sure, I could just buy it online from Amazon, but where’s the fun in that? I’d rather hunt it down and carry it home than just wait for it to show up in the mail. The manga is titled Pilot Ace. I have a photo of the 3 volumes on ArtValt, so I pull that up and show it to someone. “Kore manga, arimas’ka?” She calls the expert over (who looks like a grizzled but loveable manga prospector) and I show him the photo.

“Pilot Ace. Ohhhh, cool manga!” Delighted to have validation, I follow him over to a shelf where it might be, but it isn’t. I say to him, “Tabun (maybe). . . Nakano Broadway?” And he nods enthusiastically. So I know where I’m going next.

Side quest: there’s a sad moment on my way out of Shibuya; two trips ago, I discovered a killer record store (Recofan) in the same building as the Mandarake. It was a treasure trove of unexpected releases. But now it’s gone. Replaced by some teeny-bopper hangout club. Thanks a lot, internet. Sometimes you suck.

(UPDATE: I investigated this after getting home and discovered that, while Recofan was forced by Covid to close, it re-opened later at a different location in Shibuya. Next time…!)

SHIBUYA SKURANBURU!!!

Occasionally, locals will express amazement when I tell them how many things I’ve done in a single day here, zooming around from one neighborhood to another. Pretty simple, really; I store all the energy up for months or years and then expend it in a single week. If you live here, however, there’s no deadline or urgency. All the things I want to see and do before sundown are easily accessible and I’m on vacation. Spontaneity is the whole point.

But as an L.A. resident, I do understand the viewpoint of the locals. When you’re surrounded by attractions all the time, there’s no particular urgency to take in any of them. It’s been years since I visited the beach, for example. Besides, it’s more than an hour to get there by car, which is more time than I can usually spare. So I totally get how you could live in Tokyo and only go to Mandarake stores once in a while. When I’m in go-go-go mode here, I do more in a day than I’d usually do in a month. It’s all a matter of where you live.

I soon reach Nakano Broadway and head right for the manga specialty branch of Mandarake. I ask the cashier for Pilot Ace and he calls over a non-cashier who looks it up in their database. Unlike previous attempts, he doesn’t immediately cross his fingers in front of me (the international symbol for “nope”). This looks promising. It takes a little searching around, but the shelf is located and there they are; all three volumes, no waiting.

I take them back to the cashier and say “jackpot!” Evidently that word is known here, because he giggles. Always fun to make a Japanese person giggle.

What’s so cool and special about Pilot Ace? It was published in the early 60s, and if you’re an otaku of a certain age, it will look very familiar. It was created by Tatsuo Yoshoda, who went on to invent Mach GoGoGo (Speed Racer). In fact, Pilot Ace was the prototype for the first anime many of us loyally watched on American TV. Yoshida threw a new coat of paint on it and gave us a classic. (Read more about it here.)

The Marvel ad buy in Tokyo this week is HEAVY.

The afternoon is wearing on at this point, and I have one more stop to make now that I’ve done my first sweep of every store on my target list. It’s time for the second sweep where I pick up the “maybe” items I left behind. This begins with a return trip to Jimbocho, the used bookstore district. Braving the heat again (it’s a 10-minute walk from the closest JR station), I return to Vintage, the magazine specialty shop where I found back issues of SCREEN from 1980. Looking through them and doing some quick research showed me that I should get a couple more, and they happen to be in stock. Lucky me.

Fuji Record Co., an actual record store, still selling actual vinyl. Treasure these places, friends.

Next, I step back into my favorite record store there. I realize that it’s become even more special now after losing the one in Shibuya. I previously came by on Thursday and identified some candidates for ownership; now I will own them. The first item is something I didn’t know existed before Thursday. It’s a 3-LP “drama record” set for Photon Space Sailor Odin, Yoshinobu Nishizaki’s notorious followup to Yamato. It’s so notorious I’m collecting all the stuff that comes to my attention. After all, the Vintage Report series will get to 1985 eventually.

Then I do a hail mary pass. I’ve been watching a fair amount of late 70s/early 80s super robot over the last year to fill in some gaps in my knowledge. I’ve found them mostly terrible, but holding out hope that I’ll find a good one. Dangard A, Voltes V, Goshogun, and Braiger all flunked out. Next on my list is Godmars. It was unusually popular in its time and had a long run of episodes followed by a movie, so there must be something to it. With that in mind, I take a chance and pick up all the Godmars soundtrack albums in one go. Even if the show turns out to be mediocre, I won’t get a chance like this again, especially with the yen this cheap. So they’re coming home with me. Fingers crossed.

Now it’s the dinner hour and since there’s no specific agenda or meetup (what a relief), I’m thinking this is where I get in my third viewing of REBEL 3199 Chapter 1. I trudge through the frying pan of Kabukicho, drop the bags onto the growing mountain in my hotel room, and trudge back to the Shinjuku Piccadilly. When I get there, I realized I got the showtimes wrong, mixing AM with PM. Not gonna happen tonight.

I check out the level of remaining 3199 merch, and it is even more picked over than it was this morning. It’s only been four days, but they’re down to less than half. They may restock for the coming weekend, but I’ll be long gone by then. One of the items I got on day 1 was the PC case. As promised, it’s a perfect fit for my laptop, but the Yamato label on the front turns out to be kind of a cheap applique that starts peeling off as soon as something brushes it. Eventually, it will look like hell and I’ll regret not having a fresh one to replace it. The last time I checked, they were down to three. Now it’s just one. So I take this as a sign and snap it up. I will soon be back.

Left: In some places here, it’s still the 90s. Right: I was just saying that the other day…

I’ve got three of these goofy handouts now, and still no idea what it means.

Day 7: Tuesday, July 23

Dave, Mary, and Buddha it’s hot here.

I’m back. The first REBEL 3199 screening of the day happens at 8:35am, and I’m there for it. I was originally going to do something else this morning, but plans shifted. And now my day will start with my best viewing so far of the movie.

Viewing 1 was too full of surprises to catch everything. Viewing 2 was from a bad angle and I was exhausted. But now I’m at prime intake capacity, and my attention is rewarded with a lot of background detail I didn’t see the first time.

For example, there’s a recovery operation still happening in the Saturn zone. The planet is still a big discorporated gas cloud after the Gatlantis war, and efforts to restore it are underway. After presumably salvaging Gatlantis wrecks, Earth now has “telecasting” technology like the Medalusa. Wave-Motion Guns can be fired and their energy transported over distance. We see it happen later, and this is likely how they got there.

Because I know some lines from the trailer, I can pinpoint them in the film this time, and specific editing choices give them context I missed before. When Dezarium attacks, for example, Commander Todo reminds Yuki that they are facing more than one enemy. I originally assumed that was the Bolar faction, but now it’s clear to me that it’s a whole separate Earth faction that’s actually collaborating with Dezarium. When I hear them described (by Nanbu) as “raguri-mono” (traitors), a giant subplot clicks into place.

There are lots of other bits and pieces that add up to an incredibly complex tapestry that’s only just beginning to unwind. The action of Yamato’s scattered crew members coming together and supporting each other in clever ways creates a very strong sense of unity and family. Everyone gets their chance to shine, especially Yuki. We were told that she would seem like the main character in Chapter 1, and she definitely does.

I won’t get any more granular with the details here, but subsequent discussions over the course of the day heightened the promise of things to come. Now I’m looking forward to the next chapter even more. Meanwhile, the blu-ray is already in the mountain back in my hotel room.

3199 video promo inside Akihabara station. If you want to catch anime fans, this is where you cast your net.

Next up, a rendezvous in Akihabara. While I was tooling around yesterday, I got some unexpected news from Anton. We knew that a brand new Yamato CD would come out on Wednesday, and I was planning on it being my last big score of the trip (pun in ten did). Part of my time on Monday was spent confirming the existence of Tower Records in Shibuya so we could look for it there. Instead, Anton learned that it would come out a day earlier in Tokyo stores. In other words, today! (Another reason my morning plans shifted.)

Right after the screening, the hunt begins. I join Anton in Akihabara and get to meet a true Yamato superfan, who will act as our scoutmaster: Fumi Fukakou, the webmaster of Yamato Music Kaigi (Catalog). It’s the closest anyone in Japan has come to a home-grown version of Cosmo DNA, but Fumi focuses entirely on music, and he has associations with the anime production staff. I’ve corresponded with him on Twitter, and now we get to meet in person.

At right: Anton in black, Fumi in white. He asked me not to reveal his face here.

My first surprise is that he’s about half the age I expected him to be, somewhere in his upper twenties. Most of the “deep cut” fans I’ve met are closer to my age, but Fumi is proof that you don’t need to have the vintage “real time” experience in your bloodstream to be obsessively devoted. He knows more than anyone I’ve met about Yamato music history, has a huge collection of rarities, and is extraordinarily generous with his time and energy. It’s clear that neither of us gets to expound on Yamato topics as much as we’d like, because the conversation begins on the way to the first store and won’t let up until after dinner.

With Fumi taking the lead, we move through the day with a sense of ease I’ve never felt here before. Unlike me, he can actually call ahead and ask stores if they have something. Just imagine! It turns out to be a necessary skill when our first store (Yodobashi) comes up empty. We shoot over to another store called Recofan, but it turns out to be a second-hand shop. I suggest Tower Records in Shibuya, and Fumi calls them to find out it’s in stock there. We’re in business. But now it’s lunchtime and there’s other business to take care of first.

Fumi guides us to a bookstore where Anton can pick up a complete set of Yamato 2199 manga by Michio Murakawa. Because guess what; Fumi has invited Michio Murakawa to join us for lunch! And he’s happy to hear that I’m tagging along. We first met for an interview in 2012. I’m sure he didn’t expect back then that he would still be drawing 2199 manga today, but he probably also didn’t expect to be repeatedly called into service on the anime remakes. He’s done loads of illustration work, and he also has a real knack for creating screen graphics. When someone in the show punches up a video display, odds are they’re looking at a Murakawa design.

After a brief subway ride to somewhere (I have no clue, but I’m not the scoutmaster), we are greeted by a smiling Murakawa and walk a few paces over to a katsudon restaurant. This is the kind of place I’d never go on my own, since there’s no English anywhere. The best I could do is pick out whatever is written in kana on the menu. But I’m with locals today, so there’s no limit.

Anton and I are loaded with questions on all things Yamato. We’ve both listened to the Radio Suites for years; Fumi, Murakawa, and a broadcaster friend of theirs with the radio name “Androw Umeda” are the producers and deejays of Radio Suite Yamato. I learn that the person who reads the ad copy as “Bemlayze” is none other than Murakawa putting on a voice. Now I want to hear him as Bemlayze in 3199, but that will almost certainly not happen.

I mostly want to thank them for airing super-rare tracks (usually cover songs) every year, since they give me new things to hunt for. It’s always nice to find out there’s more toothpaste in the tube.

Remembering my conversation with Habara the day before, I ask if any of them know the details behind Makoto Kobayashi’s exit from production after 2202. Murakawa has the full story and gives me permission to share it publicly, since it’s industry-wide knowledge now.

Kobayashi’s involvement with Yamato goes all the way back to mecha design on 2520. After that, he served the same task on Resurrection and co-directed the Resurrection Director’s Cut along with Habara. They worked well together and made a great team. They were then both absorbed into 2199 under Yutaka Izubuchi. Habara directed two episodes and Kobayashi thrived on mecha design.

However, when 2202 got going, staff positions changed and the wheels started to come off the wagon. Habara was the series director and Kobayashi was his right hand. Apparently, this new power went to his head. He became very difficult and combative with staff members. Habara is a kind soul by nature, and gave his friend as much latitude as he could, but Kobayashi only got worse as time went on. He picked fights with just about everyone (sometimes even getting physical), and when he started blocking them on social media it was a step too far. (For what it’s worth, he blocked me too without warning after several years.) Knowing it would reflect badly on Yamato production in general, he was shown the door after 2202 ended.

Word of his antics quickly spread across the industry and he became essentially blacklisted. He hasn’t worked in anime since then, and probably never will again. This explains the regret I heard in Habara’s voice yesterday when he said they weren’t talking these days. A broken partnership always means a broken heart for at least one partner.

On the topic of Murakawa’s screen graphics work, he laments it whenever they realize too late that some incorrect English grammar or spelling slipped through (I saw a couple on screen in 3199). I offer my services as an English checker, and he appreciates it, but says there is literally no time for it. They need to process his material as quickly as possible. They couldn’t put anything on hold even for the few hours it might take me to respond with notes. I’m in the cartoon biz too, so I get it. But I sure wish I could make that tiny contribution.

They didn’t want their faces revealed. I warned them I was going to do this. They agreed.

Lunch concludes and we jump back into action. CDs must be found and bought. What’s the CD, exactly? In 2023, after three years of Covid-related delay, a concert series finally launched under the name Yamato Meets Classics. Led by Akira Miyagawa, it was a revival of both Hiroshi Miyagawa’s 4-part Yamato Suite and Kentaro Haneda’s 1984 Grand Symphony. Both were performed live back to back (just imagine it) along with an encore or two. Now, they were finally being released in two editions; standard (CD only) and limited edition (CD with books). I knew which one I wanted as soon as I heard the word “limited.”

Fumi confirmed (by phone, bless him) that Tower Records in Shibuya had copies. We were back in the game. Tower has always held a place in my heart. When I moved to Los Angeles back in 1992, it was a legend; one of the first media superstores with music, video, books, comics, magazines, etc. all under one roof. L.A. was its birthplace, which made it especially troubling when the three flagship stores dropped away one by one, killed by the internet. We who spent hours combing racks and flipping through bins for surprises are poorer for it.

Not so in Japan. After learning that the Akihabara Tower vanished in the pandemic, the Shibuya branch seemed to be the only one remaining. And it gladdens my heart to see it buzzing as loudly as ever when we get there. It’s thriving thanks to all the increased tourism, and I’m happy to do my small part to keep it that way.

Fumi led us to the soundtrack floor; no dice. What was up? Did they sell out while I was having my first katsdon? No, we were just looking in the wrong place. The sales clerk said it was in the Classics department. Of course. Yamato Meets Classics. That’s perfect.

And there it was. Three copies, one for Anton and one for me, and…none for Fumi? Nope, he preordered his online. My appreciation of him doubled in that moment. All this time and effort he was putting in as our scoutmaster was purely in support of US getting the goods. It took some sting out of the fact that this was just the standard version. I was really hoping for the other one. But after all this, I sure wasn’t going to leave empty-handed. And just for good measure, I threw in a John Williams disc and a Joe Hisaishi disc to keep Yamato company. Mission accomplished.

It was now my second-to-last day in Tokyo, and I had to do a handoff with my longtime friend and buying agent Sonchori (A.K.A. “Cat hands”). On past occasions, we’d meet up for a dinner or two, but this week he was slammed with work. The best he could manage was a five minute meetup in Nakano to take stuff off my hands for shipping. It required a trip back to my hotel for pickup (again, a long trek over boiling asphalt), then a return to Nakano Broadway for the rendezvous.

In the five years since I last saw him, Sonchori has lost all his hair, so now we match. I remembered that it’s been 18 years since I became a client, and in that time he’s funneled hundreds if not thousands of treasures my way. Hardly a week goes by when I don’t send him a request. Every couple months, a largish box lands on my doorstep. There have been slow periods, but they don’t last long. I’m incredibly lucky to have his services. (And you can, too.)

Anton hasn’t dug into the Mandarake stores at Nakano Broadway yet, so I grant him half an hour before dinner (which turns into an hour) and lead him to an armload of purchases. He’s still carrying everything he bought that day, looking every bit like the Tokyo scrounger he’d become. I, on the other hand, am utterly shopped out. The last thing on my mind is spending more money and carrying more bags around. In fact, when Anton asks me to hold his bag for a minute, I don’t even realize I’m still carrying it until 15 minutes later. It’s become that ingrained.

The final stop of the night is the one I most looked forward to as the day wore on; Devil Craft, a genuine Chicago-style pizzeria with two locations in Tokyo. I’d been to them a few times before after my pal Daniel George made the discovery, and am overjoyed to see that they survived the pandemic. We go to the Kanda branch and continue non-stop Yamato trivia talk with Fumi. His energy and enthusiasm are as high at the end of the day as they were when we met up almost twelve hours earlier. He goes out of his way to make sure I understand how much he enjoyed it. It must have been a rare treat. Even more rare than the Abe Froman (sausage, mushrooms, and pepperoni).

I don’t get back to my hotel until almost 11pm, but there’s no way around what still has to be done that night. That mountain of merch ain’t gonna pack itself.

A memo in everyone’s hotel room here says we are required to take photos of the CG cat on the
forced-perspective video billboard in Shijuku. Now that this requirement is met, I am allowed to leave the country.

Day 8: Wednesday, July 24

Extreem Flamin’ Cheetos it’s hot here.

The final day. The final opportunity to strike one of the most important items from my wish list. I was going to see the Scopedog.

Those of you who know me are aware that Yamato has a close runner-up in my favorite anime list. Right behind it is the most hardcore of all hardcore SF mecha series, Armored Trooper Votoms. I like it so much, I’m building a Votoms edition of Cosmo DNA over at my other website, ArtValt. I’ve loved it since I first saw it exactly 40 years ago, and today I will have an encounter I’ve been dreaming of ever since.

In 2022, the Tokyo suburb of Inagi built their own 1/1 scale Scopedog. Why? Were they just superfans? Sort of. It was done to commemorate their most famous resident, Mecha Designer Kunio Okawara. He got his start on various super robot shows of the 70s and practically created the real robot genre single-handedly with one hit after another in the 80s. Mobile Suit Gundam and Armored Trooper Votoms are just two entries on a very long resume. When investigating the art of modern anime mecha design, all roads lead back to Okawara.

When the city of Inagi imagined how best to honor Okawara and boost their tourism numbers, the Scopedog was the obvious choice, since it’s one of the few anime robots that can be built at 1/1 scale. It’s 4 meters tall (around 13 feet) and thus easy to capture without the industrial-level infrastructure we later saw with the 1/1 moving Gundam. It’s an immobile statue, but it was never intended to be fancy. Just irrefutably brilliant.

Inagi is about a 40-minute train ride out of Shinjuku with one transfer. I miss the transfer at first when I’m distracted by the sudden realization that I forgot to check out of my hotel after putting my luggage in storage. The connection is easy to remedy (just hop on the reverse line for one stop) but it adds another ten minutes. However, I stop berating myself the second that gorgeous hunk of robot streams into view below the train tracks. It’s real. And I’m here with it.

The 1/1 Scopedog stands in Pear Terrace, basically an empty lot just off the station. I’ve seen video clips where people are dancing around it in festivals (sometimes to the Votoms theme song), but today I’m pretty much the only one willing to stand there in the scorching heat. As I approach it on foot, a whole new wave of reverence comes over me.

I’ve drawn it in comics. I’ve built it as models. I’ve held it as toys. But until now, I never truly appreciated its presence. When it’s bigger than you are, when you come face to face with what was truly inside Okawara’s head, it becomes larger than the sum. It’s an icon of strength. It’s like an ambassador from another world. It doesn’t have to say a word. It commands respect.

Click here to see what I had to say about it in the moment.

On the other side of Pear Terrace, right under the train tracks, is a little café/souvenir shop with loads of Votoms paraphernalia. A few new products and a display of older ones nestled together. Normal people are sitting nearby having conversations about normal things, surrounded by Votoms stuff and other artifacts from the Okawara universe. There’s a 12 foot Gundam and Zaku right outside the window. (They’re both cool, but don’t have nearly the impact on me.)

I’ve never been alone in my dedication to Votoms, but this is a whole different scenario; a community in which it’s become so commonplace that you can just wander in off the street for a sitdown and a tongue wag as if Votoms is part of your everyday landscape. It’s the kind of acceptance we never imagined could be possible back when we were struggling to assemble sketchy collections on VHS. It’s a world where we all get to be together.

Click here for a photo gallery of the Scopedog and the cafe

Back on the train bound for Shinjuku, a final spontaneous mission is already decided. After I posted about finding the CD at Facebook, proclaiming Tower Records in Shibuya to be the last one on Earth, a few friends generously leapt in to correct my mistake. There are several in Tokyo and more still across the country. Good news indeed. And it put an idea in my head; there was a location in Ikebukuro, an area slightly north of Shinjuku.

On the first train ride, I passed this information over to Anton and asked him to contact Fumi about it. If Fumi could use his magic phone to…you know…magically call them up, he could magically find out if they had the deluxe edition of the new CD. As it turns out, this is unnecessary. Anton confirms the fact online. Ikebukuro has it. So that’s where we’re going next.

Connecting at the station, we find it just around the corner and ask a clerk to investigate stock. The store has been open a little over an hour, so if there were other fans on the hunt, there are no guarantees. Except that Anton also asked them to hold two copies. In a few moments, they loom into view in the loving hands of our clerk. I praise her up and down and she blushes. It’s a good day for all of us. And now I’m all done buying things. An agenda-free afternoon rises up to meet me.

Then there’s a flash of light and a peal of thunder. We look out a window to see rain bucketing down outside. First time since I got here. The sky was getting moody during our short walk to Tower, and now it’s in a tantrum. Of course, I didn’t think I needed my umbrella today, so it’s not in my satchel. And with no idea how long this will last, our next move is clear. I’m not all done buying things quite yet.

We do the most basic Tokyo tourist thing possible; run over to a convenience store (Family Mart, in this case) and get one for 700 yen. (About 4 bucks American.) The rain has flooded out my lunch plan, which was going to be a second round of Divine Tonkatsu at Maru Go in Akihabara. They were already open, which meant there would be a line outside waiting to get in. Standing in that line in the rain on the day of a flight was a non-starter. So instead we stayed in Ikebukuro for my next choice of final lunch: Happy Pancake.

It was my third time this trip and Anton’s first. Again, words fail. Imagine a marshmallow big enough to fill the palm of your hand. Now put three of them on your plate and add syrup. Or fruit. I will say no more.

Anton and I spent the meal discussing theories of where 3199 might go. He’s got some wild ideas, and some of my new observations from yesterday’s viewing feed into them alarmingly well. I don’t think it will turn out precisely as he’s imagining, but I’ll be surprised if it’s not a close parallel. A certain amount of inevitability hangs over it. And Harutoshi Fukui loves complexity as much as we do. I very much appreciate when the writer of a thing puts more work into it than I do as a viewer. It would be a lot less interesting if I could have come up with all of it myself. This, above all, is what continues to make Yamato my favorite.

When we emerge from Happy Pancake (full of happy), there’s barely any sign that it rained at all. 4 buck American PISSED AWAY.

I can’t get lunch at Maru Go (they close at 2pm, reopen at 5), but there’s just enough time left before departure to get dinner there like I did on Friday. We make it to Akihabara by 3:15, at which point Anton has to go his own way and we say our goodbyes.

This happens in the presence of another friend, Matt Alt, who was originally going to see the Scopedog with me but had medical issues to grapple with. After Anton vanishes, we sit and gab for over an hour, a respite I desperately need after seven days of high-speed shopping blitzes, endless train rides, sweaty marathon walks, uncooperative hotels, and all the rest. I listen to Pure Tokyscope every week (Matt’s podcast with Patrick Macias), so it feels like a piece of a continuing dialogue that I get to be part of for a little while.

Matt and I have been friends for a couple decades at least, starting with fan activities and shifting to face-on when I started coming to Tokyo in 2007. We have a lot in common, but his path brought him here to become a citizen and comment on it from within. The podcast is just one outlet; he’s also written books (get your copy of Pure Invention right now if you don’t have it already), been on TV and radio, and publishes a weekly e-newsletter. It’s always a pleasure and an education to brush feathers with him, and I can’t think of a better way to relax on my last afternoon.

I join the line at Maru Go just before opening time, worry for a few minutes that I might not have enough time after all, then take my seat less that ten minutes later, and that heavenly taste works its wonder one last time. I’ll be back for the final chapter of 3199, but that’s likely to be over two years away. This is going to have to hold me until then. It’s another of the many moments where I tell myself to be fully aware of where I am and what I’m doing, because distraction is everywhere. And joy is fleeting.

Epilogue: rough exit

My exit from Japan was even harder than my entry. The culprit wasn’t a hotel yokai this time, it was an airport yokai. Read on if you enjoy hearing about White Pepo Problems and maybe avoid a big one the next time you’re here.

I get a cab ride from my hotel, which my gift to myself when I’ve got huge heavy suitcases to deal with. On previous trips, the cab would take me to Shinjuku station where I’d catch my train out to Narita Airport; a relaxing ride, but it requires a mid-afternoon start. Haneda Airport is much closer, so my start time is 7pm. I actually get out at 6:30, which tells me I’m doing well.

I have some leftover cash to get rid of (talk about White Pepo Problems), so I have the driver take me to a different station; Shinagawa. That’s where I can get the direct train to the airport. It’s rush hour at Shinjuku station, and there’s no way I’m going to horse my giant luggage through that stampede, especially in this heat. (I learn later that the big suitcase tips the scales at 60 lbs!) The ride takes longer than I thought (45 minutes) but the tradeoff is that I get to Shinagawa without a sweat. This will not last.

I’m drenched again by the time I get onto the train to Haneda, but I planned for this. There’s a strategic change of clothes in my suitcase. When I get to the airport, I duck into a bathroom and swap out wet for dry. This plan works, though the bathroom is so humid I hardly feel a difference afterward. But now at least it’s just one layer of sweat.

Right before a flight? What could go wrong?

I’d flown into terminal 3 (international), so I took the train back to terminal 3. Terminals 1 and 2 are the next stop down the line. Remember that. I find the check-in for my airline (ANA) and enter my info. Error. Your flight leaves from terminal 2.

So…I used up all my prep time, changed into my flying clothes, and now I have to get back on that boiling train and to the next stop and begin all over again. I’m well inside the two-hour window. This could end very, very badly.

When I reach terminal 2, I feel like I just got out of a sauna. Check-in is absurdly far away. Every escalator leads to another escalator. I get there in no condition to fly, but the attendant tells me I’m not late yet. I beg for five minutes and disappear into the closest bathroom. There are just enough dry backup clothes to give me another chance to humanize. This bathroom is just as humid, so I end up with only scant improvement, but it’s not nothing.

The bags get checked okay, though the 60-pounder is over the weight limit, so I have to pay extra. I don’t have a third suitcase and I’ve already distributed the weight as effectively as I can. I’ve never been happier to see luggage taken away. Hauling them around caused at least 75% of the sweat. See you bastards in Hawaii.

Now there’s about 20 minutes left before boarding starts, and it’s all spent in AC. There’s a moment when I realize the sweat has all dried up, and I can handle this. Until I get to Hawaii, anyway.

Seven hours of almost-sleep in freezing AC later, we land in Honolulu. I’ve never been here before, but I have about 3 hours of layover. There should be time to do something fun, right? HELL NO. This is the re-enter-the-US phase, which takes every single minute. And Hawaii is exactly as hot and humid as Tokyo. Just when I thought the nightmare was over.

Retrieve luggage. Haul it to check-in. Go through immigration and customs. Find gate. All this in clothing that may as well be glued on. There’s no alternative this time but to buy new clothing. Which I do. I type these words in my new clothes on the way back to L.A. I reflect on the fact that, despite everything that went well or better than planned, this has been the most physically punishing trip of my middle-age life. If I hadn’t resumed my daily run six weeks before launch, I could not have done it.

Please, Yamato production committee, for the love of humanity…PLEASE don’t release chapter 7 in the summer. The globe is not getting cooler.

The End

Maybe my next trip to Hawaii will be happier.