Three Rules

Seeing his wife regain her energy, Masao Umehara's tense face relaxed a little.

He straightened the championship certificate and, facing his still-stunned son, added a curt remark.

"Also, when is the national finals?"

"At the end of the month, at the Budokan," Daigo replied.

"Hmm," Masao Umehara snorted, as if he had made up his mind, "I'll ask your mother for leave and go see it."

After saying that, he stood up and walked back to his room, leaving the mother and son with a somewhat desolate, but no longer so dignified, back view.

Daigo watched his father's retreating figure, then glanced at the championship certificate placed in the center of the table. His tense face finally relaxed slightly.

The next day, the game center in Adachi Ward welcomed a pair of very unusual guests.

Masao Umehara changed out of his work clothes and put on the only decent suit he owned, his tie perfectly tied.

His wife followed behind, carrying an exquisitely wrapped gift box, looking around the noisy space filled with machines and a boy with a nervous expression.

The owner, Sato, was dangling a toothpick that hadn't been lit from his mouth, directing his employees to move new cans of Coke. When he looked up, he saw the couple standing out from the crowd at the door, and the small figure behind them.

He paused for a moment, then quickly went to greet them, "Uncle, Aunt, who are you—"

Masao Umehara didn't say anything, but stepped forward and bowed deeply to the young man who was almost twenty years younger than him.

"Thank you for taking care of my son all this time."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a pebble thrown into water, drawing curious glances from several students exchanging coins nearby.

The shop owner Sato, was startled, dropping his toothpick. He frantically tried to steady it, stammering, "No, no, no! Uncle, what are you doing! I—I didn't do anything!"

He was just a young man in his twenties; how could he possibly accept such a grand gesture from a middle-aged man?

"Of course." Masao Umehara straightened up, his expression still serious, but with a hint of sincerity in his eyes.

"My Daigo, you've caused me so much trouble." His mother also bowed, her eyes reddening again.

"No trouble at all, not at all!" Sato waved his hands repeatedly. He glanced at Daigo Umehara, who was standing silently beside him, scratched his head, and revealed a set of white teeth. "I just think Daigo is really good at video games, so I really wished I had such a good younger brother. I treat him like my own brother."

After a flurry of activity, Sato invited the family of three into his cramped office, which was filled with parts and game magazines.

"Uncle, Aunt, don't worry," Sato poured two cups of hot tea and got straight to the point, "Daigo is a sensible kid. He's not one of those bad boys who're addicted to games and never come home."

Masao Umehara picked up his teacup but didn't drink. He looked at the young boss and asked in a deep voice, "I want to know, does playing this game really have a future?"

This was his biggest concern. After the initial shock of the one million Japanese yen, he was thinking about things ten or twenty years from now.

Sato's expression turned serious. He pulled out a copy of Famitsu from under a pile of magazines and pointed to a feature article about the Sega Esports Tournament.

"Uncle, look, the first championship prize was 100,000, last year it was 500,000, and this year Daigo won the Tokyo championship with 1 million. The prize money is getting higher every year. Sega is determined to make this a sporting event like professional baseball and professional football."

He paused, then added, "Do you know Master Takahashi? He became an idol for all the kids in Japan back then by playing video games. Times have changed. Daigo now has a much higher starting point than Master Takahashi did back then. This is a path where you can make a living based on your own abilities."

A road where you can get food.

These six words made Masao Umehara's fingers pause slightly.

He was a pragmatic man; he knew what those six words meant to an ordinary family with no connections.

"But what the newspapers said—" the mother began worriedly, "that he was a delinquent, that arcades were places for bad kids—"

"That's all bullshit!" Sato nearly knocked over his teacup in his excitement. "What do those reporters know! They just want to create a big story. That's why I thought I needed to discuss this with you."

He looked at Daigo Umehara, then at his parents.

"Daigo's talent is the most amazing I've ever seen. Look at that runner-up in the newspaper; he's a regular champion in major tournaments, but now he's defeated by Daigo. But he's only eleven years old. Being praised too highly right now isn't a good thing. Too much external interference will ruin him."

Silence fell over the office.

After a long while, Masao Umehara put down his teacup, making a crisp sound.

He looked at his son, who kept his head down, as if none of this concerned him.

"Daigo."

"Um.

"Do you want to keep playing? To treat this as a lifelong commitment?"

Daigo Umehara raised his head, looked into his father's eyes, and nodded heavily without the slightest hesitation.

"Alright." Masao Umehara's voice held an undeniable decisiveness. "Then let's agree on three rules."

He held up one finger.

"First, your studies can't be neglected. No matter how many championships you win, you must finish junior high school. My son, Masao Umehara, can't be someone who can't even read a contract."

He then extended a second finger.

"Second, limit your gaming time. After school, a maximum of two hours a day, with an extra hour on weekends. This isn't play, it's training. If you want to make this your profession, you'll be like a professional gamer. Even professional gamers need rest and time to think. I don't want you to be exhausted so early."

Finally, he pointed to the envelope containing one million Japanese yen on the table.

"Third, all the prize money you win will be held by me until you come of age. I won't touch a single Japanese yen in it. This money is yours, but you don't know how to spend it now. When you grow up, whether you want to continue playing or do something else, this will be your capital."

The three rules are all clear and reasonable.

Sato listened in stunned silence, his heart filled with admiration for this stern-faced man.

This isn't hindering him; it's clearly paving the way for Daigo's future growth!

After finishing his sentence, Masao Umehara looked at his son and asked, "Can you do it?"

Daigo Umehara nodded again, this time with even more force than before.

"Okay." Masao Umehara stood up, his entire aura changing.

The suppressed anger and confusion had vanished, replaced by a sense of responsibility and decisiveness as the head of the household.

He turned to Sato and bowed slightly again.

"Before the national competition, I'd like to ask you to take good care of this child."

Sato quickly stood up and returned the greeting. "Don't worry! I've got it covered!"