Daigo Umehara Comes to Tokyo
He strolled inside, his gaze sweeping over the rows of noisy machines, and headed straight for the most crowded area.
Sure enough, there were four brand-new King of Fighters of Fighters arcade machines lined up side by side.
To allow more people to watch, the owner deliberately spaced the four machines far apart, leaving a large empty space behind them, which is considered a luxury in Tokyo's game center where space is extremely valuable.
A young man who looked like a student was excitedly shaking the joystick. He had chosen Kyo Kusanagi, and on the screen, a ball of flame was knocking his opponent, Terry Bogard, into the air.
"Oh oh oh--!"
The crowd behind gasped in surprise.
"See that? This is the most basic three-stage super special move combo! Normal punch into 75th style modified, then land and follow up with 108th style Orochinagi!" A player who looked like a veteran was showing off his game knowledge to his companion with spittle flying everywhere.
"Really? Is it that complicated?"
"That's nothing! I've heard some characters have even more terrifying combos, capable of wiping out an entire health bar in one go! Besides, this game isn't about one person; it's about team composition!"
Nakayama Takuya stood on the outskirts of the crowd, listening to these naive yet excited discussions, and the corners of his mouth unconsciously curved upwards.
This is a departure from the era of games like Fatal Fury where one character could dominate the entire game. Instead, it marks a completely new era of fighting games that are more strategic, in-depth, and visually appealing.
He saw the player who had just lost, his face filled with resentment, but instead of cursing, he immediately took out another hundred-yuan coin and inserted it into the coin slot with a "click".
"One more round! This time I'll use the Fatal Fury Team!"
Nakayama Takuya's gaze swept over the faces flushed with excitement: students on summer vacation, office workers in suits with their ties undone, and even a few heavily made-up delinquents.
Everyone was captivated by the small screen, immersed in this brand-new fighting world.
Suddenly, he noticed that the innermost machine had the highest density of onlookers, and the atmosphere was somewhat strange.
Unlike the other stations, it was not noisy; instead, it had a kind of suppressed silence, only erupting into a thunderous roar of amazement at the end of each round.
He squeezed through out of curiosity.
This sight stunned him.
There are two players, one of whom is standing.
It wasn't that he liked playing standing up, but rather that he was still a kid around ten years old, and even when sitting in a chair, his height and arm length were simply not enough to reach the joystick and buttons.
The arcade owner was very thoughtful; he even placed a sturdy beer crate under his feet so he could stand steadily on it and operate the arcade.
Its small size contrasts sharply with the massive arcade cabinet.
But those hands that flew across the joystick and buttons were so fast that they were just afterimages—precise, calm, and without a single superfluous movement.
Nakayama Takuya stared intently at the screen.
The child was using Goro Daimon. The opponent's last character was down to the last sliver of health and was trapped in a corner, unable to move.
With a flick of his wrist, the child drew a precise circle on the joystick.
"Hell to Paradise Drop!"
On the screen, Goro Daimon grabs his opponent and slams him to the ground three times in a row, each time causing the entire screen to tremble.
K.0.!
The word "Victory" popped up on the screen.
"Whoosh--!"
The crowd, which had been holding back for so long, suddenly erupted into thunderous cheers and discussions.
One of their words clearly reached Nakayama Takuya's ears.
"That Daigo kid, he's won three straight games in a row for the eighth time now, hasn't he?"
"What's so strange about that?" A man who seemed to be a regular customer scoffed. "If he hadn't had to go home for lunch, he could have been playing with that one coin he put in this morning. Nobody here can beat him now."
"Really? This kid?" A newcomer asked, his face full of disbelief.
"Don't believe me? Go ahead and try it. You'll learn a lesson for 100 Japanese yen."
The man shrank back, not daring to utter a sound.
Daigo ----
Nakayama Takuya heard the name and looked at the kid's face, he seemed to recognize who it was.
Daigo Umehara!
That legendary player, known in his previous life as "The Beast," who single-handedly defined the pinnacle of fighting game competition!
He looked at the small, expressionless figure who was silently waiting for the next challenger to insert a coin, and a strange, indescribable feeling welled up inside him.
He is witnessing firsthand the beginning of a legend.
A thought flashed through his mind: Should they sign him now and groom him as Sega's future esports star?
But he immediately rejected the idea himself.
no.
Daigo Umehara's legend was not cultivated in a greenhouse.
His nickname "Beast" was earned through countless battles, wagered with coins in countless smoky, chaotic gaming centers across Japan.
Taking him away now is tantamount to turning a future tiger into a house cat.
That would be a sin for the entire history of gaming.
A relieved smile appeared on Nakayama Takuya's lips.
A genius will find his own path.
What I need to do is not to interfere with his growth, but to build, at the end of the road, a magnificent stage that will attract the world's attention, for him and for countless geniuses like him.
The Sega Esports Tournament at the end of August----
He glanced at the small figure who had already started the next round of the game, then turned and quietly left the crowd.
Back in his office, Nakayama Takuya took off his coat and tossed it onto the sofa.
The sweltering smell of tobacco, sweat, and metal from the arcade still seemed to linger in my nostrils.
He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the city illuminated by the night, but the image that lingered in his mind was that of the boy standing on a beer crate, his eyes focused like those of a lone wolf.
Daigo Umehara.
Nakayama Takuya returned to his desk and opened a project file.
Sega Esports Tournament
This year marks the sixth edition.
This file is less a historical record and more a record of Nakayama Takuya's military exploits over the past few years.
Behind every line of text lies a war fought without gunfire.
The rules of the convention are simple: in order to keep things fresh and promote new works, a game can only appear in a maximum of two consecutive conventions.
He quickly scanned the records from previous years.
The second edition was held in 1988.
That year, the entire board of directors thought he was crazy.
In order to promote a brand new music game, he actually took the initiative to extend a cooperation invitation to Sony.
<DanceDanceRevolution>.
Nakayama Takuya still remembers the jaw-dropping expressions on the faces of the reporters when he stood side by side with a Sony representative at the press conference and announced that the two giants were unprecedentedly joining forces to promote a game.