With Bleach finally over, who was the happiest?
The answer was obvious. The actors, producers, and distributors behind the films scheduled for the major October holiday window were practically ready to set off fireworks.
Even Simon Tate, one of the biggest names in the domestic comedy scene, had backed away from the overwhelming momentum of Bleach. His new movie had originally been planned for the summer season, but he had pushed it back to October specifically to avoid being crushed by the series' cultural storm. For weeks, he had lived with a quiet anxiety, afraid that Bleach might still be airing by the time his film was released.
What if Bleach still had not ended by the October holiday?
Was he supposed to push the movie all the way to New Year?
Even if the investors agreed, he did not want that.
It would be far too humiliating.
Fortunately, Bleach had ended. For the first time in a long while, Simon could finally breathe.
Still, there was no denying that the October holiday lineup was packed with major releases. Among them, the one that worried Simon the most was Monster Hunt, the new film from veteran director Victor Crane. It was true that Victor had not delivered a film widely recognized by the public in years, but one masterpiece from more than two decades ago was enough to support a reputation for a lifetime.
Even if, behind the scenes, more and more people were whispering that perhaps that old classic had carried his father's influence more than his own.
What Simon could never have imagined was that the film he truly needed to guard against was also releasing in that same holiday window.
Wolf Warrior 2.
At the same time, Hunter Wolfe's now-iconic promotional line - provocative, exaggerated, almost absurdly confident - had already begun spreading online through short videos. It was the kind of line that became a joke, a meme, and a rallying cry all at once.
After all, Bleach had been over for more than half a month. No matter how monstrous a wave of popularity was, unless it was the World Cup, nothing could maintain that same level of heat forever.
And yet, even after the series ended, countless fans still missed the year they had spent with it.
Ichigo Kurosaki, Rukia Kuchiki, Byakuya Kuchiki, Ulquiorra... one by one, those sharply defined characters felt as if they had truly existed. They had left behind memories, lines, expressions, and small emotional wounds scattered across the collective imagination.
And above them all stood the man destined to leave a deep, unmistakable mark not only on domestic television, but perhaps on the entire global entertainment industry.
Sosuke Aizen.
Returning to the film world, up to this point, neither Simon Tate nor Victor Crane had taken Hunter Wolfe seriously.
The name that still made both of them glance sideways with caution was across the ocean.
Alex.
"That kid's movie definitely won't be released here, right?"
After giving his spoiled, mama's-boy son a ruthless scolding, Victor turned to his wife, Helena, who had once been considered one of the most beautiful women in the industry, and asked with an anxiety he tried to hide but could not quite suppress.
Alex was currently in the United States working on the second half of Death Note. News of it had already spread throughout entertainment circles like wildfire.
Seeing Victor like this, Helena almost laughed.
On ordinary days, he always acted as if Alex were nothing more than an arrogant young upstart. But now, the moment Alex's release schedule came anywhere near his own, he suddenly became this cautious.
"You've spent your whole life making movies, and you still need to ask?" Helena said with a faint smile. "With that script, do you really think the review board would let it pass?"
Victor coughed twice.
He also realized that fear had made his brain stop working properly. To cover his embarrassment, he straightened his posture and forced his mouth into a stubborn line, as if he would rather die than admit he had been scared.
"I was just asking casually. It's actually a pity that kid's movie can't be released here. Otherwise, he might still have had a chance to compete with me for the domestic box office record."
"Of course," Helena replied, giving him a dry look.
The first half of Death Note had already made more than five billion at the box office. Why did he not start by comparing himself with that?
If the movie had been released domestically, Helena had no doubt at all that it could have reached eight billion.
In the United States, inside an abandoned factory, the set of Death Note carried an entirely different atmosphere.
The metal structure groaned under the wind. Light cut through the tall, broken windows in cold, sharp beams, stretching long shadows across the concrete floor. Cables, reflectors, and cameras filled every corner, but no one spoke louder than necessary. There was an almost sacred tension in the air, as if everyone present understood that they were recording a decisive moment.
"Yes... I am Kira..."
At that moment, Alex's face was consumed by madness pushed to its absolute limit. His eyes no longer looked like those of a man trying to defend himself, but of someone who had stared into the abyss for too long and decided that the abyss was a throne.
He was recreating Light Yagami's most iconic final collapse: the breakdown, the confession, the instant when the mask finally shattered and, beneath it, there was no misunderstood genius, no savior, no judge chosen by any god.
Only a man rotted from within by his own arrogance.
Alex had thought for a long time about whether he should reproduce Light's famous pose, arms spread wide and legs apart. The image was powerful, no doubt, but it also danced dangerously close to the grotesque. Almost absurd. Almost ridiculous.
But when he considered the emotional logic of the scene, he accepted it.
By this point in the story, Light had already become completely twisted. There was no elegance left to preserve. No dignity left to save. Perhaps that exaggerated gesture, almost pathetic in its grandeur, was exactly the right way to expose his final madness.
Alex loved Death Note as a story.
But he did not like Light Yagami at all.
The more miserable his end, the better.
"It was you... so it really was... you..."
On the other side of the scene, the protagonist's father, played by Frankie, held a pistol in both trembling hands, aiming it at Alex. His hair, once slicked back with flawless control, now fell messily across his forehead. Even his words seemed to break in his throat before they could come out.
Kira, the murderer he had pursued with so much pain, exhaustion, and faith in justice, was his own son.
And now it fell to him to end that son's criminal life with his own hands.
To portray that kind of pain - a pain most people would not even dare to imagine - demanded more than technique. It required the actor to allow something inside him to fracture in front of the camera.
In the original narrative structure, the protagonist's father would already have died before this point. But Alex had removed much of the storyline that came after L's death, especially the arc many people considered drawn out and flawed. Because of that, the father remained alive until the end.
And there was another, even crueler change.
Originally, the person who shot Light would have been a rookie police officer. But after thinking it over again and again, Alex decided to give the final shot to the father himself: the police chief who had opposed Kira's methods with absolute conviction from the very beginning, yet had still believed in his son unconditionally until the last possible moment.
He would be the one to end everything.
He would be the one to fire the final bullet.
If executed properly, that choice could create an impact every bit as devastating as the original - perhaps even more intimate, more human, more unbearable.
That evening, as the dying light stained the broken factory windows, Alex, covered in fake blood, rose from the ground. The silence on set lasted only a few seconds, heavy and suspended, before he looked at the entire crew and announced:
"Thank you, everyone, for your hard work. I officially declare Death Note wrapped."
The shout came like a wave.
"UOOOHHH!"
The entire crew burst into celebration. Arms shot into the air. People hugged. Some laughed without strength. Others simply closed their eyes as if they had survived a battle.
It had been exhausting.
Frankie, already past sixty, simply dropped to the floor and sat there, no longer caring about elegance. Without question, this had been the most tiring film he had made in the last decade. Especially the final scene, where he had to shoot the character played by Alex - his own son within the story.
Even an old veteran like him had needed five or six takes before reaching the effect Alex wanted.
"Frankie, thank you for the hard work."
Alex walked over and handed him a bottle of water.
"It's nothing," Frankie replied with a smile, accepting it. Then he stood up with some effort, stretched his back, and let out a satisfied sigh. "In the end, I'm the one who got to ride your momentum. At least before I retire, I can say I made one more film worth showing."
Alex shrugged.
His expression clearly said that if Frankie stopped accepting those awful cash-grab projects from certain directors, his reputation would not have collapsed so quickly.
Sometimes, Alex truly found some filmmakers difficult to understand. How could the same person direct a solid crime drama and then turn around and make a string of casino comedies so bad they looked like contractual obligations? It was almost a metaphysical mystery.
"Alex," Frankie asked after taking a sip of water, "do you think our movie can make it into the October holiday season?"
Alex was speechless for a moment.
"Frankie, our movie isn't even getting a domestic theatrical release. Did you forget?"
"But it'll still release in some regional markets, won't it?" Frankie scratched his chin, still somewhat unwilling to let it go.
After so long, he had finally taken part in a good movie. Not being able to show it off to his own audience the way he wanted left a strange feeling behind, as if the final piece of satisfaction were missing.
Alex picked up the holiday release list and skimmed through it.
Among the titles, Wolf Warrior 2 stood out so sharply it was impossible to ignore.
To be honest, Alex maintained a neutral attitude toward Hunter Wolfe's film. He had no interest in going head-to-head with anyone purely out of pride. Whether he won or lost, a direct clash would inevitably affect his own box office.
So why not choose a window where he could dominate alone?
Those brainless protagonists who challenged heaven, earth, and everyone in between without thinking - or who, after tens of thousands of chapters, still kept falling for the same cheap provocations just to squeeze subscriptions out of readers - should have been eliminated from the industry long ago.
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