By late April, Tokyo had noticeably warmed up, and the cherry trees outside the windows had sprouted fresh green leaves.
Monday morning, Sega Headquarters.
Nakayama Takuya pushed open the heavy wooden door to the Managing Director's Office.
Having just spent a relaxed and pleasant weekend with his family at his in-laws' home, he was in excellent spirits, and even his footsteps carried a lightness.
The newly transferred assistant was quick and efficient, having long since tidied the broad solid-wood desk until it was spotless.
A freshly brewed cup of black coffee sent wisps of steam curling upward, its rich, bitter fragrance permeating the air.
Beside the coffee cup lay a thick kraft-paper envelope in silence.
Printed in its upper-right corner was the logo now drawing the attention of all Silicon Valley—Silicon Valley Online's white lettering on a black background.
Nakayama Takuya took off his fitted suit jacket, casually hung it on the coat rack, then pulled out the high-backed leather chair and sat down.
He picked up the envelope, tore open the seal bearing an anti-counterfeiting strip, and pulled out a thick stack of statements and briefing papers.
This was Silicon Valley Online's financial report for the first quarter of 1997, along with a roundup of the latest reactions that Wall Street's leading investment banks had rushed out overnight over the weekend.
On opposite shores of the Pacific Ocean, the economic climates that spring had taken sharply contrasting paths, steeped in irony.
In Japan, after the government forcibly raised the consumption tax to 5%, retail and the real economy seemed to have entered winter overnight. Gloom hung heavy in the air, and ordinary people clutched their wallets tight, hesitating again and again over even going to an izakaya for a beer.
Across the ocean in the United States, however, the