My Life in Hollywood C34 Planting the Seeds (Patreon)

Naming sucks... sucks... The words echoed in Minato's head, but he couldn't wrap his mind around how naming could tank a show's ratings. 'What does a name have to do with anything!?'

Tanaka had similar thoughts, though he'd already discussed this with Marcus in their first meeting. Marcus had mentioned the title was too long and hard to remember. But Tanaka doubted it was that simple. 'Can a name really make or break a series?'

"So... the naming is why our project's failing?" Minato asked, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Yes. The naming." Marcus nodded seriously. From his expression, he wasn't joking. "I mean, who's gonna remember a main character called 'Taiyōmaru' or a rival named 'Kagetsugu'? And you're calling the village 'Kinomura no Sato' (literally just 'Tree Village.') And don't even get me started on the technique names. 'Kage Bunshin no Shinobi Gijutsu'? Come on."

"And what's the deal with the title? Just saying it out loud is exhausting." Marcus shook his head. He remembered from his previous life how some Japanese anime and light novel titles were ridiculously long and impossible to remember.

The only one that stuck with him was something like Mushoku Tensei—and even that was pushing it.

"Uh... what do you suggest?" Minato already knew Marcus was about to completely overhaul the names he'd spent weeks agonizing over.

"We're doing a major overhaul on the names. And I'll help with it." Marcus's statement surprised both of them. He'd already written everything down yesterday—just copied the names straight from the Questclopedia. Easy.

"Here, check these notes. It's pretty rough since I scribbled them out yesterday in my downtime. But we'll go over the details later." Marcus pulled a small notebook from inside his suit jacket. "It's just a minor change. Shouldn't be too much trouble."

Minato took the notebook, crying internally. 'The names I spent sleepless nights thinking up are about to get replaced...' He wanted to complain, but he couldn't. This young CEO in front of him was the only reason their project wasn't dead in the water.

He flipped through the pages and his eyes widened. 'This... this is minor!?' He scanned the list. The main character was now named Naruto. The rival, Sasuke. And it went on from there.

Even the village was getting renamed to Konoha, and the tree symbol on the forehead protector was being replaced with a stylized leaf. The design was rough—just a sketch—but the leaf symbol had a spiral curve at the center with pointed edges fanning out. Simple, but distinctive.

Looking at it, Minato felt like the Leaf Symbol resonated with him more than his own Tree Symbol design ever had.

"Well, I guess I can work with this," Minato said, less reluctant now.

Tanaka also looked over the names and saw that the changes weren't actually problematic.

"The title should just be Naruto," Marcus said. "That's it. No fancy subtitle, no long-winded explanation. Just Naruto."

Tanaka raised an eyebrow. "Why Naruto?" He knew Marcus understood some Japanese. "It's kind of an unusual name. It doesn't really mean anything significant."

"Isn't that a food?" Minato chimed in. "Like the fish cake in ramen? Now that I think about ramen, I'm actually really hungry." He jolted, realizing he'd said that out loud. His face flushed. "Uh, sorry. I haven't eaten yet today. My stomach's got a mind of its own."

"It's fine. I like ramen too," Marcus said with a grin.

"Wait, so you chose the name Naruto because you like ramen? Especially naruto?" Tanaka sounded surprised.

"Yeah." Marcus nodded. There wasn't a better explanation than that. After all, he couldn't exactly say he had knowledge from a previous life and knew Naruto was a simple, unique name that would stick in people's heads. "I just thought of it while eating ramen. I figured, why not name the main character Naruto? It's catchy and memorable."

Minato's eyes lit up. "I get it now. That actually makes sense." He laughed. "I've been eating ramen my whole life. How did I not think of naming my character Naruto?"

Marcus just chuckled quietly to himself.

After talking through more details about the series with Minato, the artist left, leaving Marcus and Tanaka alone in the office.

"I heard the network was pretty eager to cancel the anime," Marcus said. "I thought I'd have to wait at least a week. So I haven't prepared the contract papers yet."

Tanaka waved it off. "It's fine. We can wait a few weeks for the contract."

Though he said that, inwardly he felt disappointed in the studio. They'd been way too eager to pull the plug. Originally, he'd hoped to negotiate with the executives—maybe leverage Marcus's interest to buy them more time. But he'd been naive. The executives canceled it early instead of giving it a fair shot at ten episodes.

He sighed internally. Even if he hadn't tried, the anime would've been canceled anyway. And now they had twenty-five episodes already produced that would've just gone to waste.

He could gamble on this kid who owned Netflicks. Take a chance on this series.

You either move forward or you starve. Standing still is the same as dying slowly. It's better to try and fail than to do nothing and rot.

At least if you fail, you go down swinging. You die knowing you gave it everything you had.

Tanaka remembered his old man's words and felt a wave of emotion hit him. His father was the one who'd built this studio from nothing. He wouldn't go down without a fight. Even with the financial problems they were dealing with, he'd keep pushing forward.

Marcus sat there quietly, watching Tanaka. He could relate to what the man was going through.

This was the silent battle people fought every day. In his previous life, he'd met people like this. There were no magic words to comfort them—you just had to keep moving forward and weather the storm.

"We'll continue the project as planned," Tanaka told Marcus. "And we'll implement the name changes soon." He paused. "I just hope you'll really follow through on taking our project."

Marcus was genuinely surprised. He didn't even have the contract yet, but they were already trusting that this deal would go through. That he wouldn't back out.

"Are you sure?" Marcus asked. "You're not gonna wait a few more weeks? Aren't you worried I'll change my mind?" After all, the deal wasn't finalized yet. Nothing was certain.

"I'm sure," Tanaka said. "I trust you." His eyes showed something deeper—determination mixed with desperation.

Seeing those eyes stirred something in Marcus. Those are the eyes of someone who's got nothing left to lose—and everything to fight for.

Those eyes reminded Marcus why he was building Netflicks in the first place. It wasn't just to get rich.

Hell, he could live comfortably off the profits from Paranormal Activity's gross profit share alone.

It wasn't even about being ultra-rich, though that was definitely a motivator.

It was about having a say. In this world—or in his previous one—it wasn't the rich who had real power. It was the people who had a stake in the system itself.

Billionaires weren't actually rich in terms of liquid cash. Some local tycoon in a small country probably had more cash sitting in a bank account than most billionaires who took out loans.

But billionaires were rich because they had influence. They were like kings with entire kingdoms—companies filled with employees, infrastructure, reach. They shaped markets. Changed industries.

That's what Marcus wanted to be. A king in this world. Not just some playboy spending money.

He wanted to influence people's lives. Change them.

"If you trust me that much," Marcus said, "then I guess it wouldn't hurt to visit from time to time and help with the project's development."

Surprise flashed across Tanaka's face.

"Don't worry," Marcus added. "Your failed anime's got a home now. Netflicks will take care of it."

Tanaka smiled. "I'm glad to hear that."

---▼⁠・⁠ᴥ⁠・⁠▼---

A few days passed, and Diana was quick with her work. She'd sent over the necessary contract documents with the terms laid out. Tanaka reviewed them with his lawyer and signed.

Marcus had also been meeting with Minato regularly—guiding him through name changes and introducing concepts like the "Will of Fire."

In the time Marcus spent with Minato, they'd actually become friends. Jefferson had been gone for a few days handling his own business, so Marcus had time to himself.

Besides occasional visits to Studio Shaft, Marcus had also been meeting with other studios about possible licensing deals. Unfortunately, they weren't as generous—or desperate—as Tanaka. They wouldn't hand over their content for cheap.

After wrapping up some work, Marcus and Minato hung out. Minato acted as his guide around Tokyo.

They even ended up eating ramen with naruto fish cakes at a small place called Ichiraku Ramen.

Marcus realized that Ichiraku Ramen was one of the few names from his previous life's Naruto that actually existed in this world's version of the story. Minato's favorite spot was this exact restaurant—he came here all the time after long shifts at the studio. So he'd taken the name and written it into the series as the main character's favorite ramen shop.

It made Marcus realize that while this parallel world had differences, some things never really changed.

While they talked, Marcus learned something interesting from Minato. "So you wanted to be a mangaka, but kept getting rejected?"

Minato nodded. "Yeah. I submitted a one-shot and they said it was too dark. So I lightened it up, and then they said it was too light."

That was common in the industry. Publishers wanted fresh voices but were terrified of taking risks. They wanted something new—but not too new. Something edgy—but not too edgy. It was a paradox that crushed a lot of talented artists before they ever got a real shot.

A faint smile crossed Marcus's face. A scheme forming. "You can still be a mangaka, Minato-san."

"Hm? What do you mean?" Minato asked.

Marcus leaned back. "Look, I've been thinking about this. Once Netflicks scales up and we've got steady revenue coming in, I want to branch out. Start a manga publishing division under the Netflicks umbrella." He paused. "Print distribution's expensive, but digital manga? That's scalable. We could publish serialized manga online, build an audience, and only print physical volumes once we know there's demand. It cuts risk and gives creators more freedom."

He continued, "I know the studio only planned two seasons for Naruto. After that, you could turn it into a manga. I'd back you as the publisher. You'd keep creative control, and we'd share the profits. The anime builds the fanbase, the manga extends the story. It's a win-win."

"Is that actually possible?" Minato looked surprised.

"Yeah. And since it's your series anyway, if you made a manga adaptation—or even an original sequel—you'd be getting backend royalties from both the anime and the manga. Plus, manga sales would drive more subscribers to Netflicks to watch the anime. It's a feedback loop. The more popular one gets, the more it boosts the other."

Minato's expression grew serious as he thought it over.

Marcus smiled to himself. 'Seeds planted. Now we wait and see what grows.'

---▼⁠・⁠ᴥ⁠・⁠▼---

Meanwhile, Jefferson had been having the time of his life in Japan while waiting for his "friend," who'd relocated to Tokyo a few years back.

From what Jefferson knew, the guy was on a business trip outside Japan. So while he waited, Jefferson hit up a few spots and—more importantly, as Netflicks' CCO—started building connections in the entertainment world. After all, he was handling drama licensing while Marcus focused on anime.

In this case, they were both doing the groundwork. Marcus was already growing his relationship with Studio Shaft—Netflicks' first animation studio partner.

These social connections weren't just important for networking. They were essential for success.

Jefferson hadn't forgotten that as an investor. In fact, he was the one who'd suggested Marcus get out there and build relationships. Which the kid was doing now.

While sitting at a bar, Jefferson's phone rang. He picked up, and a loud voice blasted through: "Hahaha, Jeff! How's it been? I heard from my caretaker you've been looking for me?"

Jefferson's forehead wrinkled. "It's been a while, Douglass."

This was his old friend from back in the States. They'd built a solid rapport over the years. Been on good terms.

Jefferson remembered the crazy shit he, Douglass, and Nathan—Marcus's dad—used to pull together. Those were the good old days of the early 2000s.

Then the friends got separated. Nathan lost his footing in the industry. Douglass relocated to Japan. And he didn't move here for no reason.

He relocated because Japan had looser regulations on foreign investment in emerging tech sectors—and because he saw the writing on the wall. Asia was about to explode.

He wanted a front-row seat before Silicon Valley caught on. By planting himself in Tokyo, he got first crack at Japanese and South Korean startups before American VCs even knew they existed.

From anyone's perspective, it was cunning as hell. Jefferson had been friends with him for years, but even as friends, he rarely talked business with this guy. Douglass played his cards too close to the chest.

But he was exactly the kind of person Marcus needed right now. Douglass was richer than Jefferson by miles.

He'd had shares in Macrosoft, Amazona, and Toyomoto, but he'd sold them all off. Because he was dissatisfied that his stake was only one or two percent.

Sure, in companies that size, one percent was still worth millions. But Douglass didn't want to be a passive shareholder collecting dividends. He wanted control. He wanted a seat at the table. He wanted to shape decisions, not just profit from them. Being a minor shareholder in a giant company meant nothing to him if he couldn't influence its direction.

And that was years ago. Those shares could've doubled by now.

"I heard you've been buying into that South Korean company?" Jefferson asked casually. "How'd that go?"

"Old news. I already sold it," Douglass replied.

Jefferson was a bit speechless. Yeah, that was Douglass for you. The guy had the patience of a daytrader with the capital of a hedge fund. He'd jump into a hot investment, ride the wave for six months, then flip it the second momentum shifted.

Brilliant, restless, and impossible to predict. Most investors played chess. Douglass played speed poker.