A Brief Vacation
"Mom! I'm scared!"
Nakayama Takuya's hand froze in mid-air, as if he had been struck by a lightning-fast punch.
The kitchen door opened, and Eri, wearing an Eri, peeked out, with a little koala clinging to her arms, wiping tears and snot on her clothes.
She glanced at her husband, who was awkwardly squatting on the ground, and couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"It seems our Special Commissioner Nakayama has been in the United States for too long; he doesn't even recognize his own son anymore."
While coaxing the child in her arms, Eri teased, "Kazuki, that's your dad, the dad who bought you a big toy car last time."
Kazuki buried his face even deeper, leaving only the back of his head facing Takuya, a silent protest: Who is this weirdo? I don't know him.
Takuya and pulled out a special edition dinosaur plush toy that he had casually picked up at Los Angeles Airport and that hadn't been released yet.
This is a "special edition" given by Universal Pictures to Sega executives; those kids queuing outside can't even buy it.
"Really don't want it? This is a Tyrannosaurus Rex, the kind whose belly growls." Takuya pinched the dinosaur's belly and let out a cute, chibi-style roar.
Kazuki's little ears twitched, and he secretly turned half his face, his eyes glued to the green dinosaur.
Ten minutes later.
"Daddy! Dragon! Dragon!"
Looking at his son sitting on his lap, clinging to the dinosaur's tail, Takuya rubbed his sore nose.
During this week's holiday, I won't answer the phone no matter what happens at the company.
He can out there have tens of millions of United States wrapped around his little finger, but when he gets home, he has to bribe them with toys just to get a "Dad" from them.
This is probably what they call "karma."
In the following week, Nakayama Takuya completely switched from being a shrewd business tycoon to a full-time stay-at-home dad.
Changing his son's diapers, making him lie on the floor pretending to ride a horse, and even having to endure Eri holding a handheld camera and laughing as she filmed him falling asleep while telling his son stories.
There were no overseas calls, no harsh fax machine noises, only the warm, milky scent of the air in the house.
This feeling is really nice.
After his holiday, Nakayama Takuya stepped back into the Sega Headquarters building.
That week of family time felt like a dream. When I woke up, my desk was piled high with documents, but this time, the top pile wasn't a headache-inducing deficit report, but rather a flurry of good news from branch offices across continents.
The monster from Jurassic Park is still wreaking havoc around the world.
The long lines outside the movie theaters never stop, and as soon as the game store shelves are restocked, they're snatched up by eager gamers in the blink of an eye.
The numbers on the financial statements are jumping around so fast it's dizzying.
Takuya made himself a strong cup of tea and tossed aside the sales presentation that had given him such an impressive display of confidence.
The worst thing to do at this time is to rest on one's laurels and get complacent.
He flipped through the development progress sheets of each development team, his eyes scanning the densely packed project columns like a minesweeper.
As he turned to the last few pages, a line of text caught his attention. "Fourth Team of the Third Development Department: The new work <Super Professional Baseball> has been completed, the master disc has been pressed, and it is ready for release."
Current status: Idle.
Takuya raised an eyebrow; in his memory, this was probably a group of veterans who played casual sports games.
Although they didn't create any groundbreaking hits, their solid fundamentals and timely delivery made them the best tools—no, the best execution team.
He folded a corner of the page and pressed the intercom button on the table.
"Koike, could you help me find out where the current person in charge of the Fourth Team of the Third Development Department is?"
"If he's not too busy, have him bring his key members to my office at 10 a. m. tomorrow."
Koike's voice came from the other end of the phone. "Yes, Executive Director, I'll inform them right away."
The knocking sounded precisely at 10 a. m. the next day.
Ono Hiroshi, the leader of the Fourth Team of the Third Development Department, led two core planners in.
The group seemed a little reserved, after all, this executive director had been making waves lately, and any idea he came up with could cause a sensation in the North America market.
"Don't stand," Takuya gestured to the sofa, "Sit."
Ono Hiroshi's backside had barely touched the edge of the sofa, and before he could even organize his thoughts for his work report, Takuya spoke first, "I heard you guys at <Super Professional Baseball> just submitted the master copy? No assignments for now?"
"Uh, yes—everyone's brainstorming, looking for inspiration for the next project." Ono Hiroshi wiped non-existent sweat from his forehead; this usually meant they hadn't decided what to do yet.
"I have a suggestion," Takuya leaned forward, tapping his fingers lightly on the table, making a rhythmic tapping sound, "Soccer, are you interested?"
Ono Hiroshi paused for a moment. "Football? Executive Director... Although the J.League just had its opening match at the National Stadium last month, and the viewership for the Kawasaki Verdy vs. Yokohama Marinos game was indeed explosive, this level of popularity—"
"Popularity is only one aspect." Takuya interrupted him, taking a simple draft from his drawer and pushing it towards him. "What year is next year?"
"1994 - the U.S. World Cup?" Ono Hiroshi reacted quickly.
"Correct. The J.League ignites the flames, the World Cup fuels them, and for the next two years, the hormones of Japan and even the world will be unleashed on the football field." Takuya paused, a playful smile appearing on his face. "I approached Shimizu's third team a couple of days ago about this. But when that old guy heard it involved complex player positioning AI and physical collisions, and real-time calculations for 22 players, he said they weren't good at it and turned it down."
Ono Hiroshi and the two planners exchanged a glance, and immediately understood.
It turned out to be a tough nut to crack that others couldn't crack. But conversely, this also presents an opportunity.
Shimizu started out in combat sports, so his understanding of the logic behind ball sports is indeed not as professional as that of the fourth group.
"Executive, we can handle the AI logic. We can modify the defensive positioning algorithm in <Super Professional Baseball> and it'll work." Ono Hiroshi quickly got into the zone, his eyes gleaming with a professional fervor. "If we're going to do it, how far do we want to go? The exhilarating feel of an arcade game, or—"
"I want realism, but also a sense of exhilaration." Takuya held up two fingers. "Our goal is the U.S. World Cup next year. Although the final roster isn't fully finalized yet, you guys should first establish the basic framework of the strong teams. There will be 24 teams in total."
"What about the Japan Team?" a planner nearby couldn't help but interject. "Their situation in the qualifiers is good right now, but..."
Takuya gave that person a deep look.
As a time traveler, he knew all too well the tragedy that would unfold in Doha a few months later—the darkest "Doha Tragedy" in Japan football history, where Japan was held to a last-minute equalizer by Iraq, losing their chance to advance.