By late March, the cherry blossoms had yet to fully bloom, and the air still carried a lingering spring chill. Yet elementary and middle schools across Japan had already begun their spring break.
Akihabara's streets regained their usual clamor.
Red-and-white promotional banners hung everywhere outside video game retailers, snapping loudly in the wind.
Students clutching what remained of their New Year's gift money, along with young office workers who had just received their spring bonuses, packed the major Electric Town districts like migrating salmon.
Outside the glass doors of the "Video Game Sun" store, the manager stood on an aluminum A-frame ladder, laboriously hanging a massive banner in the most conspicuous spot. It read: "Spring Break Blowout! Blockbusters at cabbage prices! Miss it and wait another year!"
He jumped down from the ladder, dusted off his hands, and surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction.
When he turned around, more than a dozen customers had already squeezed into the store, and there was even a small queue at the checkout counter.
The college student who, two months ago, had looked deathly pale and hollow-eyed after staying up night after night to finish Final Fantasy VII, clamoring to buy "games for getting rid of stupidity," had returned today.
He had gotten his hair cut short, color had returned to his face, and even his stride carried an impatient energy.
Without so much as a glance at the casual game section in the corner, he headed straight for the center display shelf.
Several big-budget RPGs and hardcore action games from Capcom, Namco, and Hudson were displayed there.
They had all originally been intended to rake in a fortune during the New Year release window, only to be forced off the schedule by Square's "monster," then left gathering dust in warehouses.
The college student picked