The short Naoki beside him let out a huge sneeze, then sniffed hard through his frost-reddened nose.
"Ah-choo! If I'd known, I would've worn another down jacket. This wind cuts like a knife," Naoki complained, his body trembling nonstop.
"Quit yapping. They're opening any second. Keep your eyes peeled!" Kenta stared fixedly at the lit-up sign of the video game shop, his eyes bloodshot. "I only have enough money to buy one launch copy. Don't buy one later. Just come straight to my place and watch me play."
"Why do you get to play while I can't? What am I supposed to be, just watching you play?" Naoki's eyes went wide.
"Because this money came from me eating discount bentos about to expire for half a month straight, and even saving on water by only daring to drink from the tap! You didn't put in a single yen, and you still want to touch the controller?" Kenta rolled his eyes hard and tucked his hands in even tighter.
No one in the line was maintaining order, yet it was strangely quiet.
There was no noise, no shoving.
Everyone was suppressing the emotions inside them, emotions on the verge of erupting like a volcano.
The sudden delay a few months earlier, combined with the overwhelming, frenzied praise from every major gaming magazine during this period, as well as Sega's mysterious marketing pushing the waves from behind, had long since whetted these players' appetites to the absolute limit.
Seven o'clock sharp.
With an ear-piercing scrape of metal, the rolling shutter was pulled all the way open.
The line was like a waking dragon, beginning to crawl forward slowly but firmly.
"One copy of Final Fantasy VII! Hurry!" Kenta finally squeezed his way to the register and slammed the crumpled, even sweat-dampened bills