Note: This Chapter is Re-Translated on 6 / 15 / 2025
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Chapter 31: Shinji — I Just Love Watching People Rage in Futility
Sure, Shinji had declared a "war" on film critics—but he never intended to fight it with fists flying or insults slinging.
For one, going full-on with verbal abuse involving someone's mother wouldn't exactly be "polite."
And besides, Shinji had no interest in being seen as some arrogant, hot-headed rookie just because he stirred up a storm.
No—he knew exactly where to hit them where it hurt.
Critics weren't afraid of arguments.
What terrified them was being ignored.
To truly rattle those self-important know-it-alls, you didn't need to argue their points.
Just praise the movie they hated—and pretend their words never existed.
So, on the very evening that scathing "Tragedy for Japanese Cinema" review dropped, a carefully planned segment aired on Asahi TV's primetime news, orchestrated from the shadows by none other than Bandai.
The broadcast cut live to a local movie theater, where waves of theatergoers poured out of a screening—faces flushed, voices loud, hearts racing.
The reporter's mic darted from one excited fan to the next:
"Fate/Stay Night was AMAZING! Saber's story made me cry my eyes out!"
"I've never seen action scenes this intense—this crew is next level!"
"This movie was better than every other film I've ever seen COMBINED!"
"I LOVE Saber! A girl King Arthur?! That's just too cool!"
The crowd surged around the camera, all of them shouting their thoughts straight into the lens, eager to have their voices heard.
And watching from the comfort of home, Shinji Matou nodded in satisfaction.
"Mm. Excellent showmanship."
Behind him, a certain spearman raised an eyebrow.
"Master, did you… hire extras for this? Isn't that the theater in Fuyuki?"
Having hung around to help with marketing lately, Lancer had picked up on a few PR tricks.
Artoria, ever the knight, offered her own version of a moral compass.
"Master… deception is wrong."
Rider didn't bother saying anything.
She just pushed her glasses up and cast a cold glance of sheer contempt in his direction.
Feeling the heat from his servants' stares, Shinji waved a hand defensively.
"This isn't deception—it's marketing! And besides, come on. You really think interviews are rehearsed in advance?"
Of course, he wasn't about to admit he'd used a little suggestion magecraft to nudge the crowd's feedback in the right direction.
While sipping tea by the wall, Yan Qing let out a chuckle.
"All's fair in love and war. They're the ones who threw the first punch—it's only natural we respond in kind."
"Exactly, exactly! Master, if you ask me, the best counterattack is to make a movie so good they choke on their own words! And who better to star in the next one than me, the Servant with the greatest acting talent in all history?!"
Lancer struck a heroic pose, grinning bright enough to blind someone.
Everyone stared at him.
"You?"
"Yeah, no thanks."
"You did read that comedy manga, didn't you?"
"At best, you're comic relief."
"Mongrel. This king respects your courage, if not your judgment."
"Lancer… have you been eating dog food again?"
The poor dog—er, Lancer—was immediately buried under a mountain of verbal rejections.
"Wha—?! Why?!"
Lancer looked genuinely heartbroken.
"That's why you're still a step behind."
Shinji snarked, but inside his mind was already moving to the next phase.
'They've read my challenge, right? They must have realized it was directed at them.'
And sure enough, the very next day, the same critic who'd published the absurd "Tragedy for Japanese Cinema" rant came back swinging with another attack piece slamming Fate/Stay Night.
But Bandai wasn't backing down either.
They bought up ad space in the very same newspapers, filling them with cheerful "soft features" that painted Fate/Stay Night as a national sensation.
Interviews with average moviegoers filled the columns—each one singing Fate/Stay Night's praises.
And right beside them, updated daily:
"Fate/Stay Night's Climbing Box Office—Another 100 Million Yen Day!"
The war wasn't fought with insults.
It was fought with momentum.
And right now, Shinji's was building like a tidal wave.
Under Shinji-sama's brilliantly wicked direction, all the glowing praise for Fate/Stay Night was printed on the exact same newspaper pages as the vicious takedowns from critics.
The contrast?
Absolutely stunning.
And the result?
Predictably, the critics exploded.
"We've told everyone this movie is trash! Why are people still watching it?! What is wrong with this generation?! This must be corrected—immediately!!"
Thus began the deluge.
Critic after critic flooded Japan's entertainment columns with articles trashing Fate/Stay Night.
It was a sea of identical complaints:
Too loud. Too confusing. Too ridiculous.
Sakura flipped open one of those papers and read aloud the first line:
"Fate/Stay Night is nothing short of a cinematic disaster. That so-called director Shinji Matou? A sadist, plain and simple!"
The author of that venomous sentence was none other than Kawachi Ippei, who had dedicated his entire weekly column to denouncing Fate/Stay Night.
"I saw Fate/Stay Night weeks ago. Frankly, it's an assault on the senses. The chaotic plot and earsplitting noise go beyond what any human should be forced to endure!"
"As I've said in the headline—this movie is a pot of 'oden' gone wrong. A confused, unappetizing stew! Setting aside the nonsense of King Arthur being a girl, the sheer mess of characters from wildly different historical eras is enough to induce nausea!"
"No logic, no structure, just smoke and mirrors! I utterly detest this film!"
He capped it off with a resounding 1 out of 10.
Sakura sighed, then reached for the other papers Shinji had stacked on the table.
One by one, she flipped through them—each one a different flavor of hate.
"This hopeless film will destroy everything you love about cinema. It has no soul, no emotion—just two hours of pure regret."
(The Chiho Daily, rating: 2/10)
"This isn't adaptation. It's desecration. Not only is it boring, it's dripping with tastelessness. The entire crew owes the United Kingdom an apology."
(Yomiuri Shimbun, rating: 3.5/10)
The pages were stained with words like "noise," "stupidity," "chaos."
Every corner of print real estate had been seized by critics' fury.
Sakura turned to her brother.
"They really hate your movie, huh."
But Shinji… was smiling.
"You're not secretly a sadist, are you?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.
"Are you actually enjoying this?"
"Of course not," Shinji replied with a smirk, waving a finger like a smug tactician.
"I'm just laughing at how brainless they are."
Sakura tilted her head in confusion.
"But… in the past, didn't movies that got reviews like this always flop?"
Shinji chuckled darkly.
"That's because those were art films, not commercial ones. Nobody wants to watch a film they don't understand unless critics tell them it's good. But Fate/Stay Night isn't like that."
He leaned back in his chair, completely unbothered.
Even if the professional consensus on Fate/Stay Night was worse than radioactive waste, Shinji wasn't the least bit worried.
There were tons of movies in his previous life with horrible critic scores but huge box office returns.
The prime example?
Star Wars—a film that was mocked before release and later became a religion in the West.
After 2010, when the internet exploded, critics had to praise big-budget blockbusters they hated just to stay employed. Otherwise, the online mob would drown them in negative comments.
But this wasn't that world.
Here and now, the internet was still relatively tame.
Critics still held influence.
But Shinji, fully aware that these so-called critics were just paper tigers, didn't care in the slightest.
"Sakura," he said, gently ruffling her hair like a benevolent older brother passing down divine wisdom, "you have to understand something: Criticism isn't always a bad thing. In fact, controversy is exactly what we can use. A film that sparks debate will always outperform one no one talks about."
"Fate/Stay Night's main audience is teenagers," he continued, lifting a finger. "That age group? Totally rebellious. They don't trust authority figures. In fact, they go out of their way to oppose them—"
"Ow!"
Shinji yanked his hand back.
Sakura had just bitten him.
With a sweet, radiant smile that practically glowed with malice, she said:
"My dearest Onii-sama～～Are you calling me rebellious?"
'You literally left teeth marks! What do you think?'
Even someone as fearless as Shinji wouldn't dare provoke Angry Sakura Mode.
That was just as dangerous as trying to steal Saber's dinner.
Shinji coughed awkwardly.
"Ahem. Obviously I meant the critics are the so-called authority figures. Not you."
He quickly changed the subject:
"These guys don't even realize it. The more they rage and rant, the more our audience—especially teens—get curious. They'll start wondering: Is this movie really that bad? Or are these old farts just out of touch? Especially with the box office going up and up."
He glanced down at the pile of newspapers on the table again.
Nearly every review was overflowing with condescending jabs—not just at the film, but at the people who enjoyed it.
They didn't directly insult the fans, but their smug, elitist tone screamed "Your taste sucks."
Shinji smirked.
"They don't get it at all. The more out of touch these guys sound, the more they push young people to defend their own taste."
When criticism comes from family, teens might endure it.
But from total strangers with no connection to their world?
Get lost, Grandpa.
Thanks to Japan's print-heavy media culture, these reviews were everywhere—right in the faces of the very teens the critics were scolding.
And Shinji?
He could already see it:
Revenge-watching.
Out of pure spite, teens would buy tickets just to stick it to the critics.
"Contact Bandai. Tell them to ramp up marketing even more. Don't let up."
Just imagining Fate/Stay Night's box office soaring—while critics fumed in impotent rage—filled Shinji with delight.
"Picture it. A bunch of these guys jumping up and down in fury... but they can't stop the money from rolling in. That helpless, seething rage... tsk tsk."
"You really are scum, Shinji Matou," came a cold voice from the corner.
It was EMIYA, clearly unimpressed.
"Why thank you, heroic spirit... sir," Shinji replied with a cheerful grin.
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In truth, it wasn't the critics who were the most anxious about Fate/Stay Night's success.
It was Japan's magi.
After all, this wasn't just any film—it was a movie made by a magus, featuring detailed magical systems and complex arcane symbolism. The entire magecraft community had kept a close eye on it since day one.
At first, their focus was academic.
They wanted to analyze the mystical components.
But as time went on, aside from a few crusty old mystics obsessed with decoding symbols, most of the magi found their attention drifting... toward something far more earthly:
Box office numbers.
Why?
Because Shinji—ever the marketing mastermind—had made sure Bandai slapped updated earnings figures on every promotional flyer, poster, and website.
The magi didn't even want to care.
But now, they couldn't look away.
At first, they were nonchalant.
"Oh, how nice! One of us making money through film. Very enterprising."
But then the numbers started climbing...
In the second week, Fate/Stay Night topped the box office with a stunning 630 million yen.
And by week three?
It hit 1.37 billion yen, with cumulative earnings soaring past 2 billion.
Suddenly, the tone shifted from indifference to full-blown panic.
"This isn't making money—it's robbing a vault!!"
"Wait, you can make this kind of cash from a movie? Are you serious?!"
"TWO. BILLION. YEN?! Imagine investing that into mystic research—!!"
...
To summarize:
The mage community was officially seething with jealousy.