Chapter 161: Arrogance
“Let’s check the sales figures for K-On! first.”
In Sistar’s executive office, Tetsu Fuyukawa puffed on a cigarette, speaking calmly.
Honda, the executive, and Ms. Mori could probably guess his intentions. After all, the more leverage you hold, the stronger your position in negotiations. But it was a double-edged sword.
If K-On!’s sales exploded, Tetsu would naturally gain the upper hand in future partnership talks. But if the sales tanked…
At that thought, Ms. Mori took a sip of her tea. Her aged, refined eyes glanced at Tetsu, a trace of amusement and admiration flickering in them. “Such strong confidence, yet none of the impulsiveness or arrogance typical of young people. Tsk, tsk, tsk. This man’s future is boundless!”
No doubt, Tetsu’s decision to delay partnership talks until after K-On!’s release was a calculated move to squeeze more benefits from Sistar in future negotiations!
This wasn’t great for Sistar!
But that didn’t matter!
Ms. Mori had been navigating the business world for fifty years, a titan in the music industry. Why had she, alongside Executive Honda, personally come to meet Tetsu today?
An executive and a veteran pillar of the company!
This duo was practically the highest show of sincerity Sistar could offer!
The president hadn’t shown up personally, leaving a buffer. If talks fell apart, the president could still step in to mediate.
Sistar was pulling out all the stops, showing this much sincerity, not just to collaborate on another game with Tetsu!
They genuinely saw him as a rising star to help them break into the gaming industry—or at least, to avoid being stuck in the slow-growing music market!
For long-term collaboration, these were small matters. In fact, Tetsu’s approach made Ms. Mori admire him more—or rather, trust him more!
After all, compared to a partner with no ambition or who hesitated in decision-making, someone like Tetsu, who seized opportunities with confidence, was far more trustworthy and aligned with Sistar’s restless, expansion-hungry ethos!
Still…
“It all hinges on ability. Let’s see if you can cap this year with a perfect finale.”
With that thought, Ms. Mori’s lips curled into a slight smile as she glanced at the clock on the wall.
Five minutes to ten. Only five minutes until K-On!’s release.
K-On! launched in early December. Normally, a mid-budget game with just over 300 million yen invested, focusing on a niche topic, wouldn’t draw much attention. But in this year’s gaming world, Tetsu Fuyukawa was a name impossible to ignore.
Three games, each selling over five million copies!
A multi-talented genius!
The king of low-budget hits!
After a year of dominating headlines, the gaming industry had crowned Tetsu a monstrous big boss. Though he only handled the script for K-On!, not the full production, the game’s story was its core draw!
As a result, not only were Sistar and NTsoft watching closely, but the entire Japanese gaming industry—and even many overseas developers—had their eyes on this game!
“Hey, Rita, time for morning tea. Want a fragrant cup of rose black tea?”
“Rose tea? Oh, thank you so much.”
In Redmond, Washington, at the SBOX headquarters in the Microsoft campus, inside the hardware development department, a blonde, blue-eyed American beauty with gold-rimmed glasses sat behind a desk, staring at her computer screen. At that moment, a cheerful Black woman knocked on the door, holding a teacup.
With permission, she walked in, handing over the tea with a smile. “Just joined the company—everything going okay?”
“It’s pretty nice, just still getting used to Washington’s subway system.”
Sipping her tea, Rita crossed her shapely legs, wrapped in sheer black stockings, and smiled back. Though Caucasian, her features were sweet, especially her ocean-blue eyes paired with fair skin. Her smile was captivating, drawing sneaky glances from male employees passing by the window.
Unaware of the attention outside, the Black woman, Anthony, sipped her tea and laughed. “Haha, normal. I felt the same when I first came to Washington. The government takes our tax money but doesn’t do squat—the subway’s a mess. But I guess it makes sense; those guys don’t ride it. They’re all in fancy cars.”
“Haha, there you go again, Anthony,” Rita said, used to her colleague’s rants about the government.
She shook her head with a smile, then, as if remembering something, sipped her tea and asked, “By the way, that new game NTsoft’s launching today—your department keeping an eye on it?”
“New game? You mean that Japanese guy’s K-On!?”
Anthony raised an eyebrow, then shrugged dismissively. “A two-million-dollar low-budget game? What’s there to care about? Plus, it’s about Japanese high school life—zero market here. But… I hear Asian guys are, like, small down there, huh? You ever tried, Rita?”
“…Don’t mess around!”
“Haha, just kidding. I’ll get back to work.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Watching Anthony leave with a grin, Rita shook her head with a wry smile. But soon, her expression faded, a hint of frustration in her eyes.
“No wonder Microsoft can’t beat PH with this work culture.”
Though she’d only been at Microsoft a short time, Rita had already pinpointed the issue in their gaming division.
Arrogance.
No other problem. Microsoft hired top talent, but the entire company was steeped in an air of arrogance.
Sure, SBOX couldn’t outdo PH in the console market, but backed by Microsoft, a tech giant with deep pockets, they were flush with cash. Especially since last year, when Microsoft’s HQ began heavily investing in gaming, snapping up several world-shocking acquisitions!
Billions of dollars in acquisitions!
Buying big IPs and storied studios was a solid path for a cash-rich giant like Microsoft. But Rita, who’d started at a small company, knew that while IPs and brands mattered in gaming, the industry’s core was content!
Even the most famous studios or IPs could crash and burn if their sequels flopped in quality.
But working at Microsoft lately gave Rita the sense that everyone thought their big IP and studio acquisitions would let them sweep the world and dominate the universe next year!
So much so that they barely paid attention to Tetsu Fuyukawa—a top-tier game developer in Japan and globally this year, despite not yet making a triple-A title!
“K-On!’s theme and style might not crack our market, but Tetsu’s going independent next year. If I’m right, based on his track record, he’ll likely seek a strong console platform to partner with early on, trading his skills for resources.
He probably won’t ditch PC entirely or go full console-exclusive, but between PH and SBOX, he’ll likely pick one. If we don’t reach out now and let him get cozy with PH, things could get tricky later!”
With that thought, Rita leaned back in her chair, frowning, her blue eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
As deputy head of marketing, she wasn’t promoting games but the SBOX console itself. Console marketing in this era…
With console performance barely differentiable, it came down to game lineups.
If the game lineup flopped, console sales would tank. And if SBOX’s new console bombed next year, the hardware division faced inevitable “cost-cutting measures.”
Whether out of professional duty to earn her paycheck or for her own career, Rita didn’t want SBOX sales to crash or Microsoft to deprioritize the console division. But…
“It’s too late.”
Rita glanced helplessly at the wall clock.
Game platform deals were locked in before release. For major IPs, platforms came knocking as soon as sequels were greenlit.
Reaching out to Tetsu now was pointless.
But unlike most marketing execs who barely played games and followed market trends, Rita came from hardware development. She cared about player experience and had a deeper understanding of game content, spending more time on games.
Having played Tetsu’s three games and studied his career, she knew how talented he was. She knew a man like him was holding something back!
“His second game, Binding of Isaac, was made in under two months! That speed suggests he had a plan in his head already. He just didn’t share it with NTsoft to keep the profits for himself without a big revenue split!
Dave the Diver was done in under three months, also because NTsoft offered a hefty revenue share! All signs point to this guy hiding something big! Next year, leaving NTsoft, that’s when he’ll unleash his full potential! We can’t let PH snag him! Otherwise, the new console launch will be an even tougher fight!”
With that, Rita stood abruptly, grabbed her laptop, and headed to the director’s office!
Walking briskly through SBOX’s office building, surrounded by employees chatting cheerfully about Microsoft’s massive IP and studio acquisitions and how they’d dominate with the new console, only Rita looked serious.
After navigating twists and turns to the elevator, she soon knocked on the director’s office door.
“So, you think this Tetsu Fuyukawa could be a key player in our camp?”
In the director’s office, a white man with neatly parted brown hair sat behind the desk, eyeing Rita with a playful smirk.
“Yes, Mr. Matry. I know K-On! is already on PH’s platform, but maybe we could send some friendly signals to this Asian game developer. After all, he’s about to go indepen—”
Standing before the desk, Rita rambled on, only to be cut off by SBOX’s second-in-command.
“Oh, Rita. I get your concern for the company, but…”
Matry shrugged casually, hands clasped on the desk, and smiled arrogantly. “You know, this is Microsoft. This is SBOX.”
His tone dripped with pride, but as a leader, he didn’t spell it out fully. Rita got the message.
A bit annoyed, she straightened up and tried again. “Mr. Matry, I know what kind of company Microsoft is, but gaming isn’t just about throwing money around for results. For a talented developer like Tetsu, who’s just starting out, showing a bit of goodwill costs us nothing.”
“Hm, fair point. But why isn’t he showing us goodwill?”
Matry’s lips curled into a proud, amused smile. “I know the guy—Japan’s hottest new star. Who doesn’t? I’ve looked at his resume. Three games, all over five million copies. Impressive, sure, but it doesn’t mean much to us. The combined profits of his three games don’t even match a fraction of what we spent acquiring Blackfish last year. Oh, I know, I know.”
Seeing Rita about to speak, Matry raised a hand flippantly, stopping her, then grinned. “I know what you’re going to say—he’s young, he’s got potential. Still not enough. Honestly, a couple of years ago, I might’ve sent someone to reach out. But things are different now.
He wants to leave NTsoft because they can’t satisfy his ambitions—he wants to make big games. But we’ve just bought a ton of IPs. Even if he doesn’t need funding, during our new console’s launch, we won’t have marketing space for him or resources to tilt his way. Without that, why would he join us? Besides…”
Matry shrugged with a laugh. “I appreciate you thinking about the company, and we’re thrilled to have talent like you at SBOX. But this is Microsoft. This is SBOX. We don’t do things like small companies. We’ve got tons of classic IPs and plenty of cash to develop them. So… what, you think this Asian guy could create some iconic IP?
Sure, maybe. But even if he does, so what? We’ve got too many classic IPs from acquisitions. No need to court some guy who hasn’t fully proven himself yet.”
Chapter 162: Breaking a Million on Day One!
“No need to show kindness to someone who hasn’t proven themselves. I don’t want to waste time on trivial matters like this.”
Mattri shrugged casually, organizing the papers on his desk with an air of “I’m very busy” before looking up at Rita. “So, Miss Rita, any other questions?”
Though she felt his approach was a bit off, Rita sighed inwardly and nodded. “…No, none.”
“Good. Get back to work.”
Watching Rita leave, Mattri didn’t look away until the door clicked shut. The arrogance in his eyes faded, replaced by cool, calculated thought.
“She left that easily? Looks like her goal wasn’t to probe my stance on Fuyukawa but to genuinely believe in his talent. Heh, she’s got a sharp nose for potential, but that impulsive streak needs some polishing.”
With that thought, Mattri tossed the neatly arranged papers to the corner of his desk, leaned back, and propped his legs up. He minimized the Excel spreadsheet on his screen, revealing OTTO’s sales heatmap.
There, prominently displayed, was the icon for K-On!.
Yes, despite telling Rita he didn’t think much of Fuyukawa Tetsu, Mattri was, in fact, closely monitoring K-On!.
No grand reason—just that Fuyukawa Tetsu had contacted him privately after deciding to work on Stardew Valley. Their conversation had been quite pleasant.
Joking aside, Fuyukawa Tetsu might be focusing on low-budget projects, which rarely become console-defining hits, but his track record was impeccable. Three games, each a different genre, each a success—and Sekiro was about to launch.
A $70 million AAA game, completed in just over a year, and performing exceptionally in NTsoft’s internal tests.
A AAA game, finished in a year, with top-notch quality.
Everything pointed to Fuyukawa Tetsu’s terrifying potential.
No one underestimated him—at least, no one sane would dismiss him without reason, not even someone like Mattri, a high-ranking executive at the trillion-dollar Giant Silver Group.
He’d already spoken with Fuyukawa Tetsu over the phone. While their collaboration wasn’t finalized, they’d outlined their mutual needs and had a great talk.
Honestly, they could complement each other perfectly.
Despite Giant Silver’s $3 trillion valuation and top-three global ranking, their SBOX console lagged behind PH due to a lack of standout titles. Sure, they’d acquired plenty of game studios and classic IPs in recent years, but those were mostly past-their-prime companies like Black Storm, riddled with internal issues.
No thriving, profitable studio with growth potential would sell itself off.
The same went for classic IPs. No one would sell a golden goose. The IPs Giant Silver held, aside from a few exceptions, were relics like NTsoft’s Demon Slayer Saga—classics, sure, but dormant for years.
With a less-than-stellar internal lineup and PH dominating the market, Mattri would have to be insane to shut Fuyukawa Tetsu out.
But this had to stay under wraps for now.
If Fuyukawa Tetsu chose not to partner with Giant Silver, leaking this could give him leverage in negotiations with other platforms. If he played dirty and leaked it himself, a simple “clarification” statement would smooth things over.
But if he did join Giant Silver, Mattri saw him as a potential game-changer in the console wars—not quite an ace, but a wildcard.
“No console exclusivity, will release on PC, but only one console platform. Tsk, what an ambitious guy… No wonder—oh, here it comes.”
Staring at OTTO’s heatmap and the K-On! icon, Mattri lit a cigarette. As he exhaled his first puff, the clock in the bottom right corner hit 10:00 a.m.
His expression grew serious. A line from his earlier call with Fuyukawa Tetsu echoed in his mind.
“Elden Ring? Pitching me a 20 million sales pie-in-the-sky for a game that hasn’t even been greenlit? Ha, better not crash and burn after talking big, or that’d be awkward.”
Muttering to himself, Mattri’s eyes weren’t too stern as they lingered on the K-On! icon.
No big reason—K-On! wasn’t on their SBOX platform, and it was a niche title.
In his view, selling a million copies would already prove Fuyukawa Tetsu’s ability.
And it did. As K-On! launched, Mattri checked the screen after ten minutes and a cigarette. The number 120,514 popped up. He didn’t linger on it, minimizing OTTO to focus on work.
Selling 120,000 copies right at launch!
The growth seemed wild, but 119,977 of those were pre-orders from fans of Fuyukawa Tetsu’s name. In the first ten minutes, the game only sold 537 copies.
For a low-budget, niche game, 537 copies in ten minutes was solid, but not enough to demand the attention of a high-ranking exec at a $3 trillion company like Mattri.
He got back to work.
He didn’t check on K-On! again, even chatting about other topics over lunch. But as the afternoon rolled in and the sun began to set, he sensed something was off.
“Why’s it so noisy out there?”
Pausing with his hands on the keyboard, Mattri looked up to see the office in a frenzy. People—Black, White, Asian—were whispering excitedly, a crowd huddled around a single computer, chattering away.
Puzzled, his mind still swimming with data from a day’s work, Mattri stood with his coffee cup, trying to process the commotion. Just then, a middle-aged White woman, a fellow exec who knew the company’s stance on Fuyukawa Tetsu, burst in, beaming.
“Oh! Mattri! My God, have you seen it?! That guy’s got another hit!”
Her words clicked instantly.
Could it be…?
Still holding his coffee, Mattri leaned over, clicked open OTTO’s interface, and his pupils shrank at the number on the screen.
371,247!
Three hundred seventy-one thousand copies!
K-On!, which was just over 120,000 that morning, had surged to 371,247 copies.
In half a day, it sold 250,000 copies, not counting pre-orders!
Not jaw-dropping, but this was a low-budget, niche game! With modest production and marketing costs, selling nearly 200,000 copies in half a day meant…
“The word-of-mouth’s exploded! This game’s a hit! My God, is this guy a monster?!”
The woman, sipping her coffee, shook her head in awe as Mattri’s eyes widened in shock.
As a Giant Silver exec specializing in gaming, she knew what this meant.
The word-of-mouth had exploded!
Without massive marketing funds, players who’d spent half a day with the game were now spreading the word themselves.
The snowball was rolling.
High player buzz meant high heat, and heat meant traffic.
Video platforms and gaming news outlets wouldn’t miss the chance to capitalize, churning out content that’d fuel more discussion.
The snowball would keep growing.
Astonished, both the woman and Mattri marveled at Fuyukawa Tetsu’s talent, though they didn’t overreact.
For one, the game wasn’t on their platform. And…
“With this momentum, hitting a million sales shouldn’t be an issue. But this buzz is still far from breaking out.”
Clicking through the heat-monitoring software, Mattri saw the curve—a steady rise, but not steep.
As a Giant Silver exec, he knew this wasn’t breakout-level growth. A true breakout would be a near-vertical spike, while this was maybe a 30-degree climb.
For a niche game like K-On!, without breaking into the mainstream and shattering its ceiling, sales would cap at around two million. A hit, sure, but not enough to impress them.
That was the logic, but neither Mattri nor the woman were avid gamers. And K-On! wasn’t just a live-action interactive movie.
Unlike The Binding of Isaac, Dave the Diver, or even the somewhat similar Surrounded by Beauties, K-On! was a slow-burn slice-of-life game. It didn’t grab you instantly, but as you sank into the story, its charm shone through. And K-On!’s story was phenomenal.
It wasn’t just the first anime to sell over half a million Blu-rays in Japan; it was dubbed the “source of moe” by fans, sparking the moe culture that shaped modern Japanese anime, leading to an influx of cute, lighthearted shows.
The story was just one part. Fuyukawa Tetsu added a gameplay hook.
A nurturing mode!
K-On!’s plot followed high school girls forming a band. Great for an anime, but as a game, it needed more interactivity. So Fuyukawa Tetsu sprinkled in mini-games.
Like Rhythm Master!
In the anime, viewers couldn’t join the characters’ growth, but in the game, players could control chibi characters in rhythm-based mini-games to boost stats. Those stats shaped the story.
Low singing stats? Your character might flop at a concert or get egged off a small gig. High stats? You could headline at Budokan.
The game had tons of branching paths.
Many songs only unlocked if you hit specific plot points with high enough composition stats.
This gameplay might sound simple, but with Fuyukawa Tetsu and Sistar’s music library, it was a game-changer.
Sistar, a mid-sized entertainment company with decades of history, had a solid song catalog. Fuyukawa Tetsu brought classics like Blue Bird, I Wanna Shout I Love You, Turn the Wheel of Fate, Moonlight Legend, Dango Daikazoku, and Dawn’s Chariot.
These weren’t handed to NTsoft—they were for Izumi Himawari’s next album, with copyrights still held by Fuyukawa Tetsu and Sistar.
Yes, K-On! wasn’t a big moneymaker for Fuyukawa Tetsu. The lion’s share went to Sistar and NTsoft. Since no one expected K-On! to blow up—let alone get a sequel—NTsoft and Sistar offered shared copyright terms to rope him in.
Even if Fuyukawa Tetsu left NTsoft or fell out with Sistar, he could make K-On! sequels or merch, and he owned the songs’ copyrights.
But that wasn’t the point now.
K-On! looked like a live-action interactive movie, but its gameplay and content outshone Surrounded by Beauties.
Better story!
More varied gameplay!
Far more branching paths, most with song unlocks as rewards!
Fuyukawa Tetsu was confident in K-On!’s quality. His only worry was whether players would embrace the format.
As time ticked by and word-of-mouth grew, the answer became clear.
Under Mattri’s stunned gaze, K-On!’s sales took off.
Not just Mattri.
At NTsoft, President Asai and Chairman Kotsume watched in shock and resignation. At Sistar, Executive Honda, popping heart pills, stared in disbelief. Ms. Mori shook her head in awe. In Sistar’s meeting room, Izumi Himawari and her girl group members went from thrilled to dumbfounded as K-On!’s sales exploded on launch night.
By 5 p.m., K-On! hit 370,000 copies—a 170,000-copy surge in seven hours, already a minor hit. But that was just the start.
By 7 p.m., it reached 700,000 copies.
Thirty-three thousand in two hours!
Everyone was floored, but it was still just the beginning.
K-On!’s slow-burn story and gameplay needed time to unfold. As side quests resolved and climactic moments hit with unlocked songs as BGM, players’ emotions soared, sealing the game’s success.
When players realized every branch had a solid story and a banger song, the heat curve shot up.
Plus, Izumi Himawari’s new album, featuring all the game’s songs, launched alongside it.
The game’s buzz fueled the music.
The music’s buzz fed back into the game.
Meanwhile, NTsoft and Sistar poured in marketing funds.
Gaming, music, and big marketing bucks—K-On!’s hype exploded.
At 11:53 p.m., K-On! broke a million copies.
A million in one day!
What did that mean?
Everyone was floored.
No doubt, Fuyukawa Tetsu had another hit.
Four games in a year, each selling over 5 million, totaling 20 million copies.
Was this guy human?!
A single AAA game hitting 20 million wouldn’t shock the industry, but four low-budget games? The difficulty was night and day.
What did this mean?
Fuyukawa Tetsu’s talent was overflowing.
To his own surprise, the title of “top game developer” was being slapped on him by players.
Top game developer!
But this was just the start.
Post-launch, games typically maintain high sales for the first week.
As K-On! became Fuyukawa Tetsu’s first game to break a million on day one, everyone wondered how far it could go.
And with K-On!’s explosive success, Sistar’s Honda and Mori, Giant Silver’s Mattri, and other execs began reassessing their relationship with Fuyukawa Tetsu.
Reassessing how to work with him after Sekiro’s launch.
A monster with four hit games—no one wanted to cross him. Everyone wanted to cozy up.
Chapter 163
K-On! is a massive hit!
Day-one sales smashed through a million copies, shocking not just everyone else but even Fuyukawa Tetsu himself!
Truth be told, he’d always known K-On! wouldn’t flop. The game’s story was top-notch, and he’d packed it with iconic ACG songs. Even if the slow-burn, slice-of-life pacing didn’t win over critics early on, once Sunflower’s band dropped their album, it’d boost the game’s rep. But he never imagined it’d sell a million copies on launch day—and that was just the start!
Yes, just the start!
K-On! didn’t just have a stellar story; its music was phenomenal, too. And music spreads faster and wider than games ever could.
Blue Bird, I Wanna Shout I Love You, Spinning the Wheel of Fate, Moonlight Legend, Dango Daikazoku, The Dawn Chariot—every single track was a classic!
Sure, ACG songs thrive on their connection to anime, fueled by fans’ nostalgia. Without that emotional tie, their impact might dip a bit—but only a bit. These songs, on their own, were still insanely high quality.
With Sistar going all-in on promotion and Sunflower’s band raising the flag high in Tokyo’s winter nights, K-On!’s hype shot to another level.
It was a perfect synergy!
Think of Fate—it started as a niche visual novel, dominating the galgame scene but barely known outside it. Long-term anime adaptations turned Fate into a global powerhouse, which then boosted the original game’s success. K-On! was following a similar path.
Plus, the game’s system requirements were super low, and the gameplay was simple.
No gaming skills needed—just click through story choices with your mouse. At most, there was a rhythm game mode that, while a bit hardcore, was intuitive enough for anyone to pick up.
Great content, low barrier to entry, and K-On!’s price was pegged to Surrounded by Beauties—just 2,499 yen in Japan.
That’s not expensive at all. Suddenly, tons of younger players who rarely touched games were jumping in!
The internet went wild!
Day one: over a million sold. Day two: another million!
It might look like sales didn’t grow, but day one included pre-orders and fans who’d been eagerly tracking Fuyukawa Tetsu’s next project. Those were mostly tapped out on launch day. Day two’s million came from word-of-mouth buzz and ramped-up marketing pulling in new players.
For a niche title to pull in a million new players on day two? K-On!’s reputation was explosive! And when the first week’s sales numbers dropped, the entire gaming industry—Fuyukawa Tetsu included—was floored.
Seven million five hundred thirty thousand copies!
Over seven million in a single week!
It hadn’t hit ten million yet, but this was just week one!
Sure, K-On!’s sales growth was visibly slowing—the pool of buyers was drying up—but it was a lock to break ten million eventually.
Fuyukawa Tetsu’s first ten-million-seller was about to be born!
The industry was shook.
And the kicker? Everyone in the know was aware that Fuyukawa Tetsu, soon to leave NTsoft, wouldn’t get much of the profits, but he held the game’s copyright. They also knew the key to K-On!’s success was his script and songwriting.
He hadn’t even started his own company yet, and he already had a massive IP in his pocket!
Suddenly, employees at Light Bird who’d been on the fence about jumping ship to join Fuyukawa Tetsu’s new venture were reassured.
But that was just the industry side.
In reality, as K-On! blew up, gaming media didn’t focus on Fuyukawa Tetsu. Instead, they spotlighted NTsoft’s Minister Koharu and Sistar’s Deputy Tanaka. His name was nowhere to be found in the headlines.
“Looks like Asai and Kozuru aren’t bothering to keep us around,” Miyano Mitei said.
December 15, Friday, just past 4 p.m., NTsoft’s Light Bird office.
On the couch, Miyano Mitei sat with her shapely legs crossed, scrolling through gaming news on her tablet, a faint, disdainful smile on her lips.
“Expected,” Fuyukawa Tetsu replied from behind the boss’s desk, eyes on Sekiro’s parameters as he typed. He shrugged casually. “They’re seasoned players. They only got outmaneuvered by me because I flew under their radar before and because circumstances forced their hand. Old pros like them can see we’re dead-set on leaving. No way they’d waste money hyping us up now.”
“True enough,” he continued. “But it doesn’t matter. I never cared about fame anyway. Sales come down to hard quality, and no amount of their PR can take away the fact that we own K-On!’s copyright.”
“That’s right,” Miyano Mitei said, crossing her legs with a playful wiggle of her toes. “But K-On!’s explosion is doing us a huge favor.”
Fuyukawa Tetsu might not get a big cut of the profits, but holding the copyright meant they could make sequels—better sequels—to rake in cash later. More importantly, the IP’s influence was a game-changer for them.
Miyano Mitei knew Fuyukawa Tetsu planned to dive straight into making a 3A game after going independent. 3A games needed massive funding and top talent. Those with 3A experience were already at big studios, with great pay and status. To lure them, Fuyukawa Tetsu had to prove not just his skills but also his financial ability to sustain a company long-term. Holding a huge IP like K-On! gave those talents confidence.
That’s what they really cared about. The profits from a moderately priced ten-million-seller? Not as big a deal.
They chatted back and forth, and soon the clock on the wall hit 5 p.m.
As the office outside grew noisier, Fuyukawa Tetsu typed his last character, stretched in the boss’s chair, and glanced at his watch. “Phew—quitting time. Little Sunflower’s probably packed her bags by now. Oh, and you and Sayako are heading to Sistar’s celebration party tonight. Go easy on the drinks. I don’t want to be up all night babysitting two drunk cats.”
“Hmph, please,” Miyano Mitei shot him a playful glare, her eyes teasing. “Last time we went drinking, I don’t know who was moaning in the back of the car while Sayako took care of him.”
“…That was because you were tickling me!” Fuyukawa Tetsu’s face flushed as he pulled on his coat, recalling that wild night in the car.
Honestly, Miyano Mitei and Sayako were the type to be cool or reserved in public but let loose in private moments. Add alcohol, and that “letting loose” went up a notch!
It was fun, but even with Fuyukawa Tetsu’s stamina, he was wiped out the next day.
Seeing the mix of longing and slight dread on his face, Miyano Mitei burst out laughing. She sashayed over, her hips swaying like a snake, fixed his collar, and leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his neck. Her breath warm, she purred, “So, you coming to pick us up tonight? Who knows, we might give you a special reward for hitting ten million sales. Like…”
She pressed herself against his chest, guiding his hands to her soft, springy black skirt.
She didn’t finish, but the implication was clear!
Fuyukawa Tetsu hadn’t expected such a bold reward, but what surprised him more was…
“You’re ready for that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
He and Miyano Mitei were already very close. Honestly, she wasn’t opposed to going further, but every time they got close to that final step, her emotions would inexplicably pull back from the haze.
If it was just a fling, Fuyukawa Tetsu wouldn’t care. But Miyano Mitei was someone he loved, and he wanted an emotional connection, not just physical release. So they hadn’t crossed that line yet.
Not even at that final step, and she’s suggesting something this intense?
He was confused.
Sensing his confusion, Miyano Mitei forced a smile. “Not me, silly. But I can convince Sayako,” she said with a mischievous giggle.
“…You’re quick to sell out your best friend,” he teased.
“What? You didn’t notice? That’s her thing,” she said. “I’m just helping her out.”
“…”
Tiger-level words!
Miyano Mitei’s cool, glamorous lips were spitting straight-up tiger-level words. Just as Fuyukawa Tetsu was about to respond, a flicker of hesitation crossed her eyes. She leaned her head against his chest, murmuring, “As for me… let’s wait until we leave NTsoft. There’s some stuff I’m still working through.”
Hesitation.
Feeling the instability in her emotions, seeing this rare moment of vulnerability from a strong woman, the teasing in Fuyukawa Tetsu’s eyes faded. After all this time together, he had a rough idea of what was troubling her.
It wasn’t family drama.
Miyano Mitei’s childhood was rough—her dad was a gambling, alcoholic abuser who hit her and her mom. But she wasn’t some TV drama heroine, all polished on the outside but dragged down by family baggage. Fuyukawa Tetsu knew that when she became a top exec at SATE, the first thing she did was go home, force her dad to apologize to her mom, and, after learning he’d beaten her mom again over gambling debts, nearly had his legs broken by local thugs. Since then, she’d ruled the Miyano household.
Just like how she jumped from SATE to NTsoft when she hit a career ceiling, or how, when she saw no further growth at NTsoft, she decisively backed Fuyukawa Tetsu as a rising star.
Her childhood forged her into someone who appeared cold and commanding but was deeply insecure, willing to do whatever it took to feel secure.
She wasn’t short on money or power—her role as SATE’s minister was already top-tier in Japan’s gaming world.
But like some people eat or shop to cope with stress, Miyano Mitei could only calm her inner turmoil by constantly chasing more power, more control.
Her soul had been scarred by her brutal childhood, and now she needed to fill that void with external gains.
But what if, one day, Fuyukawa Tetsu couldn’t satisfy that hunger?
Or was her love for him now just because he could help her climb higher?
Their time together gave him confidence that her feelings weren’t just about ambition, but she herself might not have fully sorted it out—or, even if she had, her subconscious still doubted her own heart.
That mental block kept her from fully letting go, even if her thirty-year-old body craved him and she was more than willing. Every time they got close to that final step, her emotions pulled her back.
Some knots you have to untie yourself.
With that thought, Fuyukawa Tetsu gently stroked her back, smiling. “No need to stress. It’ll happen when it’s meant to.”
“Hmph, didn’t know you had such a sweet mouth,” she teased, her tension and confusion easing as she felt his affection. She stood on her toes, kissed the corner of his mouth, then shooed him off with a playful wave. “Go on, pick up that girl before she starts nagging.”
“Hey, this is my office, you know.”
“Tch, I’m the minister! Talk back again, and I’ll transfer you to the Okinawa branch!”
“…You’re gonna pay for that tonight.”
“Hah, bring it on! Just don’t be whining in the morning.”
“…Alright, I’m out. Text me when you’re done drinking.”
Half-exasperated but amused, Fuyukawa Tetsu shot her a look, grabbed his briefcase, and left the office.
As his footsteps faded down the hall, the smile and teasing on Miyano Mitei’s face slowly vanished.
She deftly pulled a pack of cigarettes from Fuyukawa Tetsu’s drawer, lit one with practiced ease, and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the distant sky.
“Joining his company will probably be the highest I ever climb,” she murmured.
“If, even then, I don’t need to keep ‘feeding’ and my feelings for him stay the same, then… maybe I really just want to live with him.”
Her eyes were complex as she exhaled a thin stream of smoke. Just then, her phone buzzed.
“Sayako?” she wondered.
But when she checked, her brows furrowed slightly.
[Pervert: Stop daydreaming by the window and go pick her up. And… don’t forget the Sayako Strategy plan! (😈)]
Glancing out the window at the black BMW merging into traffic, the gloom in her eyes cleared, and a smile tugged at her lips.
“Strategy plan, huh? Tch, always looking for a new thrill, you perv!”
Chapter 164: Ruby
It’s 5:30 PM, and the bustling streets of Tokyo are packed with people.
“Phew—Japanese schoolgirls are something else. Wearing skirts in this weather?”
A black BMW pulls up at the gate of Tokyo University of the Arts. As soon as Fuyukawa Toru steps out, a chilly gust hits him, making him shiver involuntarily.
It’s winter now. Though the temperature is still above freezing, Japan’s island climate carries a damp cold that seeps into your bones, no matter how warmly you dress. Yet, despite the weather, groups of vibrant college girls strut by, their skirts fluttering and legs bare.
Just looking at them makes him feel cold. Tightening his thick scarf, Fuyukawa grumbles to himself and quickens his pace toward the university gate.
This year, Miyano Mitei and Sayoko were invited by Sistar to attend a celebratory banquet. Originally, Sistar wanted to invite Fuyukawa himself, but since he has no plans for a new album or discussions about a K-On! sequel, showing up would just mean drinking, networking, and pointless boasting.
It felt like a waste of time, so he declined.
But clearly, after K-On!’s explosive sales, Sistar now sees Fuyukawa as the ultimate golden ticket. Despite his refusal, Ms. Mori insisted, so Miyano Mitei and Sayoko are attending the banquet tonight.
A total rich-lady affair, but Fuyukawa couldn’t be bothered. Plus, Tokyo University of the Arts is about to go on winter break. Early this morning, right after Miyano and Sayoko left the bedroom to make breakfast downstairs, Izumi Himawari, dressed in a flimsy nightgown, ambushed him under the covers.
The blanket bulged impressively.
After a playful tussle, he agreed—while catching his breath—to come help her move her luggage today.
“She’s got a car already, and still insists I pick her up. Such a spoiled brat,” Fuyukawa mutters.
The Ueno campus of Tokyo University of the Arts is right next to Akihabara, less than a twenty-minute drive from home. Izumi doesn’t even live on campus, so she barely has anything to pack. There’s no real need for him to come fetch her, but…
“Is that girl seriously wearing that ruby to class today?”
His mind flashes back to the morning’s fun, then to the image of Izumi in her JK skirt, deliberately bending over at the entrance before heading out.
Thinking of that ruby, a spark of excitement flickers in Fuyukawa’s eyes. His thoughts wander, but as he steps through the university gate, the lively campus atmosphere quickly pulls him back.
Today is the final day of the Takenotsume Art Festival, the university’s equivalent of the campus festivals you see in anime. Unlike high school festivals, though, this one—held at a prestigious art school like Tokyo University of the Arts—feels more like an art exhibition crossed with an alumni reunion.
The university has produced countless world-class artists, including one name familiar to many: Eiji Aonuma, the game producer who elevated The Legend of Zelda to its peak. From 1998’s Ocarina of Time to 2023’s Tears of the Kingdom, he produced 16 of the series’ 20 titles.
Of course, in a world without Zelda, there’s no Aonuma either. But just as this world lacks Zelda yet still has other classic games, Japan’s music, film, and gaming industries are filled with elite talent from this very university. During festivals like this, alumni are invited back for lectures, live performances, or student interactions.
Top universities are like that. Fuyukawa himself recently received an invitation from the University of Tokyo to give a lecture at next year’s Komaba Festival, sharing insights on the gaming industry.
But whether it’s next year’s Komaba Festival or today’s Takenotsume Art Festival, Fuyukawa isn’t too invested.
Picking up his wife and heading home for some “quality time” is the real priority.
Strolling down the campus avenue, he occasionally glances at the lively crowds, texting Izumi as he walks. Soon, his phone buzzes with a new message, and he raises an eyebrow.
[World’s Cutest Sunflower: Stinky old man, you’re finally here! I’m in the lecture hall at Building 1. Hurry up! (kiss kiss)]
“Building 1 lecture hall?”
No doubt, that ridiculously sweet contact name was Izumi’s doing. But that’s not the point. The real issue is…
“We haven’t even had dinner yet, and this girl’s running around instead of packing?”
Grumbling to himself, Fuyukawa slips his phone into his pocket and heads toward the Western-style building to his left.
…
“Why’s the old man taking so long?”
In the packed lecture hall of Building 1, Izumi Himawari yawns discreetly from her front-row seat. Glancing at the man speaking on stage, then at her two senior roommates diligently taking notes beside her, her eyes scream boredom and exasperation.
She’d planned to pack her things this afternoon and head home early for some alone time with Fuyukawa. But her two senior roommates dragged her to this game industry lecture.
Yup, a game lecture.
Both seniors are graduating soon and job-hunting. One studies music, the other art. Neither necessarily has to join a gaming company, but with the intense competition among Japanese college students, having more options is always better. Problem is, they don’t know much about the gaming industry and were worried they wouldn’t understand the lecture. So, they roped Izumi in as their “game industry encyclopedia.”
Her seniors have always been good to her, so she didn’t mind helping out. Still…
“The guy’s just spouting basic common knowledge. Two hours of this? It’s like being in jail.”
Listening to the speaker drone on, Izumi feels her eyelids growing heavy.
It’s not surprising. Though she’s not in the gaming industry, she’s been training under professional instructors at Sistar, learning music theory, acting, and singing. Plus, living with Fuyukawa and Miyano Mitei—both elite in the gaming world—means she’s constantly overhearing their casual conversations, which are packed with insights most industry folks would kill for.
Surrounded by that level of expertise, a basic lecture like this, delivered by a deputy director from NICO’s headquarters and aimed at college students, feels painfully dull. But that’s human nature—when you’re steeped in privilege, you don’t always realize it.
Izumi has zero interest in the lecture, but her two seniors are eating it up.
“Wow, Mr. Takahashi’s on another level. A corporate elite at NICO? He’s answering everyone’s questions like it’s nothing,” the short-haired senior gushes, her pretty face glowing with admiration as she watches the suited middle-aged man on stage.
Beside her, the bespectacled senior adjusts her glasses and smiles. “NICO’s one of Japan’s gaming giants. Someone like Mr. Takahashi, a high-ranking manager invited to speak here, has to have an incredible breadth of knowledge. But NICO’s bar is so high. I heard they only hired seventeen people from our school last year.”
“Yeah, Japan’s society gives young people no breaks,” the short-haired senior sighs, then winks at Izumi. “Speaking of, I heard NTsoft’s short on staff. Little Sunflower, got any insider info?”
They’re close roommates, so they know about Izumi’s relationship with Fuyukawa. And Fuyukawa…
Sure, they haven’t entered the workforce yet, so they don’t fully grasp how big a deal he is. But his title as NTsoft’s youngest deputy director, the recent K-On! craze, and the fact that Sistar—a company they’d struggle to even get a low-level job at—gives Izumi so much freedom all point to one thing: Fuyukawa’s a big shot.
They’re out here stressing about job applications while their roommate’s already soaring!
It’s hard not to be a little jealous, but they don’t harbor any ill will.
Izumi’s had a rough life—losing her mother young, dealing with a cruel stepmother, becoming an orphan, bounced around by relatives, betrayed by her K-On! band, and then tempered in the cutthroat world of Sistar. At just under twenty, she’s learned how to read people.
Anyone with bad intentions gets cut from her circle. And most importantly…
Fuyukawa hasn’t warned her about these two.
Izumi trusts his judgment even more than her own.
Hearing her senior’s slightly sensitive question, Izumi slumps onto the desk, shrugging lazily. Her innocent face takes on a thoughtful look. “Well, the old man did say NTsoft’s likely to expand hiring next year. They made a killing off his projects this year, so they’ve got plenty of cash. If you’re interested in gaming, it’s worth sending them your resume.
“But, while NTsoft’s growing, it’s got a bit of a sunset vibe. For long-term growth, you’re better off aiming for NICO or SATE.”
“Sunset vibe? Hey, that’s your old man’s company you’re talking about!” the short-haired senior teases, shaking her head while listening to the lecture. “Speaking of, your old man’s a deputy director too, right? Same rank as this Mr. Takahashi?”
“Same rank, but my old man’s got way more clout!” Izumi retorts, rolling her eyes. She might poke fun at Fuyukawa in private, but she won’t let anyone else slight him. Her seniors, after a year of knowing her, are well aware of her fiery loyalty.
The bespectacled senior chuckles, poking Izumi’s puffed-up cheeks. “Alright, alright, we know your old man’s a big deal. Haha, you’re hopeless. Rie’s teasing, and you still take the bait. But seriously, with K-On! blowing up, why isn’t Sistar going all-in to promote you?”
Izumi’s expression turns serious. Propping her chin on the desk, she points to the hearing aid in her ear. “I’ve got my final surgery coming up. Even if it goes well, I’ll need a long recovery. Plus, after a year of doing the band and idol thing, I’m realizing it’s not really for me. So, the company’s focusing their promo on my teammates instead.”
“They’re… okay with that?” the short-haired senior asks, puzzled.
Though they’re not in the gaming industry, they know how huge K-On! is right now. Izumi’s album is a hit—music students at school are obsessed, and even their renowned music professor praised its quality. The buzz is unreal!
With a little promotion, Izumi could skyrocket to fame.
And while the internet loves to call out celebrities for “marketing ploys” or “going the scandal route” or “dressing provocatively for attention,” the seniors, having met plenty of industry veterans at school, know the truth: unless you’re a top-tier star, artists have zero say in these matters. So how is Sistar letting Izumi get away with such a willful move, passing up a golden opportunity?
Does Fuyukawa really have that much pull in the music industry?
The short-haired senior considers the possibility but isn’t sure.
Izumi shrugs with a smile. “They tried talking to me at first, but then the old man called our executive director, and it was settled.”
“The executive director… talk about unequal connections,” the short-haired senior says, stunned. The bespectacled senior shakes her head, laughing. “Your old man really spoils you. But it’s probably for the best. You don’t seem to love the spotlight. And fame comes with a cost—your private life takes a hit.”
“Exactly~” Izumi agrees, about to nod, when a strange sensation jolts through her from the chair.
A signal from below!
The ruby sparkles!
Her body tenses instantly, her legs—wrapped in gray tights—clamping together as they rub nervously.
Izumi hunches over, a flush creeping up her innocent face. As she glares in embarrassment, her phone lights up on the desk.
[(heart heart heart): I’m at the back door. Where you at?]
“What kind of way is this to find someone?!”
Fuming, she turns to see a handsome man in a black coat and thick scarf standing at the back door.
The back door is the highest point in the lecture hall. As Fuyukawa steps in, curious glances from nearby female students turn to quiet delight at his striking appearance.
But Izumi isn’t focused on his looks. Clutching her lower back, her face red with embarrassment, she glares at Fuyukawa’s right hand, tucked smugly in his pocket.
“Stupid old man, don’t mess around in a place like this—ugh~”
As she turns, Fuyukawa spots the twin-tailed, edgy little loli.
A cheeky grin tugs at his lips.
“This is my reward for coming to pick you up.”
“Stupid old—hiss—”
Their eyes lock across the lecture hall. No words are spoken, but they read each other’s intentions perfectly.
The signal’s still flashing!
Izumi’s beyond nervous, her face growing redder as she glances at her classmates, engrossed in the lecture. Afraid the chair might start making thumping noises, she half-stands, not fully sitting, her little tiger teeth biting her glossy lower lip. Just as she grabs her phone to beg for mercy, the lecture wraps up.
Chapter 165: The Shadow of a Tree, the Name of a Man!
Japan’s land area is small—with 75% of it being mountainous or hilly, unsuitable for economic activity, industry, or agriculture. Yet, it’s home to 120 million people, with a population density 2.5 times.
That’s a staggering figure, and it means one thing: if you don’t work, someone else will.
Japanese government is well aware of this issue and has been tirelessly creating jobs, one example being the music industry.
In Japan, 66% of music industry revenue comes from physical records. This isn’t a natural market trend.
Businesses wouldn’t voluntarily choose the riskier, costlier path of physical records. The dominance of physical sales isn’t just because many Japanese genuinely prefer them—it’s also because selling physical records creates more upstream and downstream jobs. An invisible hand is at work, regulating the industry. But it’s still not enough.
With 120 million people and an average population density 2.5 times, 40 million of them are crammed into the Tokyo metropolitan area!
The pressure on jobs is immense.
In the lecture hall, NICO’s Deputy Director Takahashi had just finished his talk and was sipping tea. Bold students swarmed him, some asking for “game autographs,” others playing the “junior” card to cozy up. Takahashi, unfazed, didn’t put on any airs.
This was expected. Today was the final day of Tsuchi Art University’s “Tsuchi Art Festival,” and since this year’s festival was held later than usual, it was close to graduation for seniors and the internship phase for juniors. So, this lecture was less a campus fest event and more a mini-recruitment fair hosted by NICO.
The stage was abuzz with chatter. Meanwhile, at the back door, under Tetsu Fuyukawa’s gaze, a cute double-ponytailed head bobbed up the stairs against the surging crowd.
“Stinky old man! Stop it already!!!”
“Haha, come on, you’re the one who said, ‘If you pick me up today, you can play however you want!’”
“Argh! Don’t say that! T-That was for later, in the car! This… ugh—this is a lecture hall!!!”
Rushing to Tetsu’s side, feeling the lingering buzz of the “ruby,” and noticing curious glances from classmates, Himawari Izumi’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and nerves, her legs trembling slightly. Seeing the teasing glint in Tetsu’s eyes, her blush deepened.
She snuck a glance at the surrounding students, ensuring no one was too close, then, red-faced, nervously fidgeted with the hem of her oversized hoodie. In a shy whisper, she pleaded, “Please, Master.”
“Now that’s more like it.”
A pure, double-ponytailed lolita in a crowded classroom.
Hearing her soft, pleading voice, Tetsu, bundled in a thick scarf that left only his nose and eyes visible, grew even more excited. But seeing Himawari trembling, her long legs nearly crossing into an X, he chuckled and turned off the “Ultra indicator.”
“Phew—hmph! Perverted old man!”
The strange sensation gone, Himawari relaxed, glaring at him fiercely.
But Tetsu noticed that her slightly dazed eyes held not just the relief of “getting away with something” but also a tiny hint of disappointment, like “leaving before finding the treasure.”
As expected, the purer a woman seems, the wilder her tastes.
A smile tugging at his lips, Tetsu leaned forward slightly, looking down at her. “Oh? So Himawari doesn’t like it? Guess I won’t press it anymore.”
“You!”
Sensing the teasing in his gaze, Himawari bared her little tiger teeth, ready to snap back with a proud, “I don’t need your help, pervert!” But then, the strange thrill from before flooded her mind.
It was completely different from doing it herself. And they were heading to the car soon.
Her face burned hotter, her excited heartbeat dancing in her ears. But…
That smug look of his was infuriating!
Craving it but annoyed at Tetsu’s cat-and-mouse vibe, Himawari’s face flushed as she tossed her head haughtily. “Stinky old man’s just a stinky old man! Himawari’s ignoring you! You gotta buy me boba tea from the alley to make up for it!”
Let’s be real—her cute, pure appearance, rocking a cozy black oversized hoodie, long legs wrapped in gray tights, and that tsundere blush was a lethal combo.
Nearby male classmates were practically hypnotized. But after a year of close contact, her stunning looks didn’t faze Tetsu much.
“Alright, I’ll get you some later.” Seeing the “that’s more like it” look on Himawari’s cute face, Tetsu shook his head with a smile, then glanced at two seniors talking to Takahashi. “You gonna say hi to your seniors? Or head straight to grab your stuff?”
“Oh, almost forgot—my dorm key’s still with Senior Makise. Wait for me, Uncle!”
With that, Himawari spun like a little top and dashed down the stairs toward the stage.
“That girl, always so reckless,” Tetsu muttered, chuckling at her cute retreating figure. He adjusted his scarf and plopped into a nearby seat. Just then, a surprised yet delighted voice came from his left.
“Excuse me, are you Mr. Fuyukawa from NTsoft?”
“Hm?”
Turning, he saw a portly middle-aged man standing beside him. The man seemed to have just entered through the back door, still in a stair-descending posture. But upon spotting Tetsu, he paused, his face lighting up with excitement.
Tetsu didn’t know him but nodded politely. “I’m Fuyukawa. And you are?”
“It is Mr. Fuyukawa! Fantastic! Hello, hello, I’m Kosan Oda, head of Sugiki Games’ handheld division. Here’s my card.” The chubby man beamed, handing over his business card.
Sugiki’s head?
Handheld division?
Hearing the introduction and looking at the card, Tetsu was momentarily stunned but quickly pieced it together.
SATE, Microsoft, and NICO were the big three console makers now, but the gaming industry hadn’t always been this way.
Back in the day, the top dogs were SATE, NICO, and Sugiki.
All three were neck-and-neck in game quality, influence, and talent. But Sugiki suffered catastrophic flops due to poor decisions, taking a massive hit.
How bad was it? Put simply, NTsoft became a top-tier Japanese studio largely by poaching Sugiki’s best developers during that time.
Still, Sugiki’s deep roots kept it afloat. Over the years, they’d recovered, releasing several classics. But having lost the eraPillars of the industry, Sugiki could no longer compete with SATE or NICO.
Now, Sugiki was just catching up to NTsoft’s scale, having abandoned home consoles to focus on PCs and handhelds—where NICO still dominated.
Handheld division.
A minister.
How’d this guy know I’d be at Tsuchi Art University today?
Looking at Oda’s beaming face, Tetsu’s eyes sharpened, his mind racing.
This was no coincidence!
Sugiki might not be a gaming giant anymore, but it was still a top-tier studio. A minister-level figure wouldn’t show up at a campus festival for recruitment—formal job fairs were for that.
And the speaker in this lecture hall was NICO’s Deputy Director Takahashi!
Sugiki’s two biggest rivals were NTsoft, which poached their talent, and NICO, which crushed them in handhelds.
Why would Sugiki’s minister “stroll” into this lecture hall?
“Two possibilities. One, he’s stirring trouble for NICO. Everyone in gaming knows I’m going independent, and games need platforms. He might think I’m leaning toward NICO. By approaching me publicly, he could make NICO wary, forcing them to reassess my value. It messes with NICO, costs them more, and earns me goodwill for future deals.
Possible, but… Sugiki’s been under NICO’s thumb for years. Their R&D spending and talent recruitment show they’re hungry to reclaim their peak. So, his visit likely goes beyond that. He’s signaling they’re not afraid to compete with NICO.
The fish has taken the bait.”
Thoughts racing in a flash, Tetsu’s eyes gleamed with a smile as he looked at the chubby Oda.
Hook, line, and sinker!
He hadn’t expected Sugiki to approach him at Tsuchi Art University, let alone send a minister for a first meeting. But ever since Sekiro’s offline demo exploded and he decided to leave NTsoft to make games independently, Tetsu had been strategizing about platforms!
Unlike his proactive outreach to Microsoft for consoles, he’d played it cool with handheld platforms.
In love or business, it’s all about supply and demand.
Microsoft needed games to compete with SATE, but as a trillion-dollar titan with tons of IPs and studios, they weren’t desperate. SBOX hadn’t fallen too far behind PH, so Tetsu knew he’d get little from them—or SATE.
But handhelds were different!
Sugiki had regained some strength, focusing on handhelds, but they were squeezed hard by SATE’s PP series and NICO’s WS series.
Tetsu wasn’t rushing to put his games on handhelds, but Sugiki’s platform desperately needed quality titles!
And let’s be real—his four games were low-spec, small-scale, perfect for handhelds. But NTsoft’s handheld partner was NICO.
This year, unintentionally, Tetsu’s four NICO-platform games had crushed Sugiki. Now, Oda was here, likely having heard he’d be at Tsuchi Art University during NICO’s recruitment talk, and got antsy under a misunderstanding.
A bit of a mix-up, but Sugiki’s restlessness was a golden opportunity!
With that, Tetsu stood, extending his right hand with a smile. “So, you’re Mr. Oda from Sugiki. I’ve heard of you. Didn’t expect to run into you at Deputy Director Takahashi’s lecture. What a coincidence.”
A sharp mind, indeed.
With one mention of Takahashi and a pause, Oda knew Tetsu had clocked his intentions.
His eyes flashed with admiration as he shook Tetsu’s hand, laughing. “Quite the coincidence! I’m a Tsuchi Art alum myself, invited for some evening events. I spotted you at the back door and thought I’d say hello. Hope I’m not interrupting, Mr. Fuyukawa.”
A string of excuses, but both knew it was just pleasantries.
After some small talk, Oda glanced at Takahashi chatting with students on stage, his eyes flickering with irritation at the NICO banner. Turning back to Tetsu, he smiled softly. “I hear your new game, Sekiro, is set for release next summer. Tsk, tsk, a triple-A title in just over a year—your skills are truly impressive, Mr. Fuyukawa.”
Tetsu shook his head with a smile. “Making it is one thing. Selling big is what matters.”
“Oh, that’s the least of your worries, I’m sure. When it comes to understanding players, you’re the best in the business.” Oda gave a wry smile. “This year, Sugiki’s been hit hard by you. Any chance you—or NTsoft—plan to make more small-scale games? It’d help us adjust our release schedule to avoid unnecessary competition.”
His tone was humble, but the subtext was clear.
He wanted to know if Tetsu was really leaving NTsoft and if he’d keep making handheld-friendly smaller games!
Looking at Oda’s smiling, chubby face, Tetsu grinned. “Alright, Minister Oda. I know why you’re here. You’ve probably studied me inside out before coming. You know I don’t act without a clear win. I’m open to working with Sugiki, even if it pisses off NICO. But…”
His smile vanished. “First, I need details on your next-gen handheld’s specs—under NDA, of course. Second, platform revenue share—I’ll give you 10%.”
“Ten percent?!”
Oda froze, staring into Tetsu’s sharp eyes.
He’d known Tetsu was a highly skilled, ambitious powerhouse, but a 10% platform share was staggering!
PC platforms took around 30%, and handhelds often exceeded 50%. A 10% share left Sugiki barely any profit after operating costs!
Tetsu clearly knew this, yet he still demanded such a cut.
“Is he that confident in his next game?!”
The shadow of a tree, the name of a man!
Given Tetsu’s stellar track record, Oda hesitated at this bold, almost brazen demand. Just then, the lecture hall erupted.
Under Oda’s furrowed gaze, Deputy Director Takahashi, watched by the entire room, strode quickly toward them.
“What’s Mr. Takahashi doing?”
“No idea… Wait, is that Mr. Oda? I attended his lecture before! Why’s he here?”
“Mr. Oda?”
“Sugiki’s minister! A big shot! Tsk, tsk, tsk, didn’t expect to see both Oda and Takahashi here. I gotta go make nice!”
“Making nice won’t help. These execs hear enough flattery. Wait, what’s this? Who’s that guy Takahashi’s bowing to?!”