Late January arrived.
In Tokyo's Akihabara, the cold wind was still biting, slicing across faces like knives.
Inside the "Video Game Sun" retail store, the manager hummed a little tune as he used a box cutter to open a shipment of newly arrived games, swiftly arranging them in the most prominent center spots on the shelves.
This time, displayed dead center, was neither the wildly popular Final Fantasy VII nor Nintendo's Mario Kart 64, brought in to save the day.
On the cover was a smoking-hot woman with a high ponytail, a tight teal tank top, brown shorts, and a large-caliber pistol in each hand.
Tomb Raider.
In fact, the game had already been released at the end of last November.
At the time, every major game company had been rushing out releases for the year-end commercial war, and the market had been flooded with blockbusters whose promotions shook the heavens.
Though Tomb Raider was an exceptionally polished game, its publisher, Eidos, was short on cash and simply could not afford to pour money into advertising.
The result was only to be expected. Its early sales had been lukewarm, and word of mouth spread through small circles as slowly as a snail.
Then, in mid-December, Square's Final Fantasy VII descended like a nuclear bomb, drowning out every other voice in the industry.
Nintendo's Mario Kart 64 followed right after, monopolizing gathering screens over the New Year holiday.
Poor Tomb Raider was squeezed all the way into the lowest corner of the shelves, silently gathering dust.
Until now, when the wind shifted.
Suzuki pushed open the store door and walked in, vigorously rubbing his frozen hands together as he breathed out a puff of white mist.
"Got any new arrivals?" Suzuki asked as he came to the counter and idly tapped