In late July, the midsummer heat was like melted asphalt, spreading thick and sticky over Tokyo.
At the start of summer vacation, outside a large Sega-affiliated arcade in Shinjuku, the clamor of the gathered crowd even drowned out the construction noise nearby.
The smell of sweat, smoke, and grilled squid mixed in the heat wave, forming a strange scent.
On the huge external television screen Sega had temporarily set up, the characters of Fatal Fury were locked in fierce combat, firmly snaring the eyes of passersby.
A dense black mass packed the front of the screen: boys standing on tiptoe with their necks craned, curious-faced girls encircled in their boyfriends' arms, and even a few office workers in shirts with briefcases tucked under their arms, looking as if they had just slipped away from work, all squeezed in among them.
"Click!" "Click!"
Flashbulbs lit up from time to time. Reporters from several media outlets carried their equipment, struggling to inch through the packed crowd, trying to record this unusual fervor.
A simple cordon had been pulled up at the arcade entrance. Several staff members in Sega vests had nearly shouted themselves hoarse, sweat soaking through their backs.
"Please line up to enter!"
"Contestants participating in the tournament, please register over here!"
Their voices were soon swallowed by the buzzing discussions all around.
Inside the shop, the cool air blowing from the air conditioner slightly eased the brutal heat outside, but the tension in the air was even stronger.
The tournament area had been temporarily sectioned off with red velvet ropes, and a dozen or so Fatal Fury arcade cabinets were lined up neatly.
Most of the contestants before the machines were young people, their faces carrying expressions that mixed nervousness, excitement, and extreme focus.
Every precise combo, every defense that