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🕑 Added 2025-08-05 15:16:29 +0000 UTCChapter 111: The Youngest Vice-Minister at NTsoft!
"This... this is..."
A resounding shock!
Looking at the familiar handwriting, the endlessly revised sheet music, and the song title Glory Days at the top, Himawari Izumi froze, feeling as if her chest had been struck by a sledgehammer.
"Impossible! No way! How could this be?!"
Her eyes were filled with disbelief as her slender, pale fingers frantically flipped through the pages. As song titles like Glory Days, Lover, Seven Miles of Fragrance, East Wind Breaks, and Jiangnan—names she couldn’t fully grasp but whose musical notation she understood—flashed by, her hands stopped on I Once Thought of Ending It All and a draft page for Blue Bird, followed by a torn-out sheet. The entire stack of sheet music slipped from her fingers.
"How could this be?"
Kneeling on the floor, her soft frame slumped onto her small feet clad in white knee-high socks. Himawari’s clear, wide eyes were filled with bewilderment, her mind racing with memories from recent days.
Flashes of her chats with Beyond, the overwhelming emotions of earning surgery fees and living expenses through I Once Thought of Ending It All, all slowly faded. What remained were vivid images: a hand guiding hers to touch a speaker, the two of them playing in the snow by the roadside on Christmas, and Tetsu Fuyukawa’s cheeky grin as he left at noon.
Her gaze softened from shock to warmth, filled with affection, then clouded with mist.
"So... it was you all along."
"You old jerk."
Slumped on the floor, she cupped her face with both hands.
In the small room bathed in the glow of the setting sun, soft sniffles gradually filled the air, and the sheet music blurred with tears.
At NTsoft’s towering building, reflecting the sunset.
Completely unaware that his secrets had been fully exposed, Tetsu Fuyukawa was leisurely sipping tea in the minister’s office.
"You’ve got time to sip tea? Spill it—how are you going to handle this?"
Miyano Mitei, exasperated by Tetsu’s relaxed demeanor, grabbed a stack of contracts from the fax machine and tossed them in front of him with a thud.
[Promotion Application]
Glancing at the cover, Tetsu took another sip of oolong tea and chuckled, “It’s just about promoting me to vice-minister, right? Makes sense. This time, with The Binding of Isaac, that guy Asai played me, cutting my profits. This is just his way of tossing me a sweet date to make up for the stick.”
“Obviously! Everyone knows that. The issue is this promotion application—it comes with a non-compete clause!”
Miyano frowned slightly, plopping down next to Tetsu with her arms crossed.
She was happy about Tetsu’s promotion to vice-minister. After all, the salary would jump to over ten million yen annually, firmly placing him in the elite white-collar class. But the problem was, at NTsoft, a vice-minister led a mid-to-large studio independently and had to sign a non-compete agreement!
Sensing her concern, Tetsu shook his head with a smile, slid his arm across the couch, and pulled her into his embrace. “It’s not like there’s a clause saying I can’t work in the industry for years after leaving. Worst case, I pay a penalty. No need to worry too much.”
Non-compete clauses might seem like overbearing contracts, but unlike truly exploitative ones, they balanced strict penalties with equivalent rewards and were tied to supply-and-demand dynamics.
Asai was promoting Tetsu because The Binding of Isaac was a massive hit. To minimize company losses, Asai had funneled profits into marketing, increasing costs and reducing Tetsu’s bonuses while boosting the game’s influence in Europe and America.
In short, Asai was worried Tetsu might get fed up and leave!
Right now, Asai was the one begging Tetsu to take the promotion and sign the non-compete. Naturally, the agreement wouldn’t be too draconian.
One option was a clause prohibiting Tetsu from working in gaming for X years after leaving, plus a penalty, but it came with a promise: NTsoft would fund a game with a multi-million-dollar budget for Tetsu, with a bonus if sales hit a certain threshold.
The other option had no work restriction period but included a penalty and lower rewards: NTsoft would fund two games with three-million-dollar budgets each, with a smaller bonus for hitting sales targets.
The first option offered a higher bonus percentage, but either way, the non-compete’s bonus structure was far more generous than standard contracts.
For Tetsu, this solved the problem.
The non-compete might cost him five eggs, but he could use it to make NTsoft, the old hen, lay fifty eggs while only paying for five!
Of course, NTsoft would still profit more in the end. But what could he do? He wasn’t born with a silver spoon. Who doesn’t take a few losses in the early stages of building something from scratch?
[Gather resources, bide time, and strike when ready!]
Tetsu had thought this through clearly.
Seeing no trace of resistance on his face, Miyano’s cool expression softened into a faint smile of approval. “Alright, I was just worried you’d act impulsively and clash with Asai. Big companies like NTsoft don’t take kindly to employees who ‘defect.’ Without enough capital, we’d be at their mercy if they came after us.”
“I know. I’m not an idiot.”
The workplace was a jungle, plain and simple. Asai might seem friendly now, but just like with The Binding of Isaac, when profits were at stake, he’d show his fangs. Once Tetsu finished Sekiro and took his team to start a “Souls-like” project elsewhere, Asai’s retaliation was predictable.
It’d come down to whose teeth were sharper.
Tetsu shook his head with a grin, shifting focus. He turned to Miyano, eyeing the pale skin at the collar of her blouse.
A soft sniff.
“Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing? This is the office!”
Caught off guard by the ticklish sensation on her neck, Miyano, holding her oolong tea, shivered and shot Tetsu an annoyed glare.
But her fierce look, which could make someone like Kawaguchi quake, had no effect on Tetsu.
Playing with her silky hair, Tetsu grinned. “What am I doing? I seem to recall someone in the film crew promising to show me twin tails. I didn’t misremember, did I?”
“...I said tomorrow!”
Twin tails—she’d never worn twin tails in her life. Miyano’s eyes flashed with embarrassment, but Tetsu was unfazed, twirling her hair. “Tomorrow? That’s a workday. You sure you want to play that kind of cosplay with even more people around?”
“...!”
More people!
Imagining herself in twin tails in front of the company staff, Miyano shuddered. But as she felt Tetsu’s hand slide to her curvy waist, recalling his strong silhouette from last night, her embarrassment gave way to a flicker of desire.
“Fine, I get it! But just this once!”
With an exasperated glare, her cheeks flushed, Miyano stomped back to the boss’s desk in her heels, yanking the curtains shut with a whoosh. Turning around, she faced away, letting her neatly pinned hair fall loose.
“Nice hair.”
Tetsu’s eyes lit up. Miyano’s hair wasn’t as long as Himawari’s waist-length locks, but it was past her shoulders, and more importantly, it didn’t look like the hair of a thirty-year-old woman—it gleamed under the office lights.
But...
“That pose is way too tempting!”
To tie her hair, Miyano raised her arms, causing her blouse to lift slightly.
As her blouse rose, revealing the curve of her lower back, wrapped in a tight skirt, her shapely hips, sheer black stockings, and the high heels on her delicate feet, Tetsu couldn’t help but swallow hard, his gaze fixed.
“Hmph, bet you’re smitten, you little wolf!”
Feeling his heated stare, Miyano’s eyes sparkled with shy pride. Her lips, holding a hair tie, curled into a smug smile. But as the room grew quiet, with only the sound of the hair tie snapping and the clock ticking, and as she sensed Tetsu’s increasingly heavy breathing and intense gaze, a pink haze clouded her eyes.
“That jerk—I’ll make him kneel at my feet someday!”
Lost in her flustered thoughts, she finished tying one ponytail and was about to turn when she was suddenly pressed against the floor-to-ceiling window!
Unexpected yet somehow anticipated, Miyano’s cool, sharp eyes widened in shock. Before she could react, her face was turned to the side.
Her soft waist was gripped tightly by his left hand, her face firmly tilted by his right, her entire body enveloped in Tetsu’s embrace from behind.
“What are you—mmph—”
Before she could finish, her lips were sealed with a kiss.
Hot breath grazed her nose, the forceful kiss making her eyes widen instantly.
But soon, overwhelmed by his crushing strength and the cold glass against her upper body, her cool face flushed red, her eyes growing hazy as she let out soft whimpers.
“You bad guy.”
“Shut up!”
“Ugh—”
A passionate kiss.
It was the weekend, the company nearly empty, the corridors silent. The minister’s office was just as quiet, filled only with the sounds of their closeness and the ticking clock.
After a long moment, their lips parted.
“Help me.”
Utterly limp, Miyano collapsed into Tetsu’s arms. Looking at his heavy breathing so close, her eyes were dreamy, her breath soft as orchids. “You sneak-attacked me, you big wolf.”
She teased, but seeing the fire in Tetsu’s eyes, a shy glint passed through hers. Turning, she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his collarbone deeply and teasing, “How do you want me to help—mmph—”
Her playful words were cut off as Tetsu kissed her again, guiding her right hand upward.
Hiss—
Much later.
“You guys always need a smoke afterward, huh?”
In the minister’s office, smoke lingered in the air. Freshly washed, Miyano plopped next to Tetsu, snatching the cigarette from his mouth for a drag.
Leaning back on the couch, Tetsu laughed. “Don’t act like you’re some expert. With your technique, if you were in Kabukicho, you wouldn’t get a single repeat customer.”
“...! You’re asking for it!”
Stung by the jab, Miyano shoved the cigarette back into his mouth. “You’re just salty because I didn’t... you know, help you with that earlier, so now you’re being all snarky!”
“I’m just stating facts. But no rush—you’re not getting away.”
“Tch, don’t get too cocky! With my looks, if I wanted, I could—ugh, forget it, I’m done with this topic.”
The conversation veered into sensitive territory, and Miyano shot him an embarrassed glare before standing and heading to the boss’s desk. “You sure about signing this contract? I’ll go register it then.”
“Yeah.”
Nodding, Tetsu watched Miyano brush her hair back as she walked to the desk. He took a final drag, stubbed out the cigarette, and stared at the smoke curling around the [Promotion Application]. His eyes glazed over briefly before heijji shot him a scornful grin.
“NTsoft’s youngest vice-minister?”
“Tch, don’t underestimate a man’s ambition, Asai.”
Chapter 112: New Release! Diver Dave!
It’s the weekend, and the NTsoft office is quiet with most employees off. Mito Miyano swings by the company to check on other teams’ progress and chats about President Asai’s “promotion” offer. By seven in the evening, as stars twinkle outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the two head out.
“Glad you didn’t drive off last night, or we’d be stuck hailing a cab. This convertible’s pretty cool, huh?”
Strapping on the seatbelt in the Porsche’s passenger seat, Tetsu Fuyukawa eyes the sliding roof with a spark of curiosity, a nod to Japan’s love for sleek, stylish cars often seen cruising Tokyo’s vibrant streets.
Mito Miyano tugs her own seatbelt across, a playful smirk tugging at her lips, reminiscent of the teasing banter common in Japanese rom-com anime. “Yeah, right. A guy like you in a sports car? You’d probably feel all cooped up.”
“Cooped up?”
Tetsu blinks, then chuckles, feeling the snug interior of the car—a subtle nod to Japan’s compact, efficient designs. “You’re throwing shade now, huh?”
“Tch, I’m just being real—hey, hey, hey! I’m driving here!”
The car roars to life, and Tetsu’s hand lands on Mito’s thigh, clad in black stockings—a bold move straight out of a spicy manga scene. Mito, steering with one hand, swats his hand away, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance, her eyes flashing like a tsundere character. “It’s rush hour, you idiot! Quit messing around!”
“Should’ve let me drive,” Tetsu teases.
“...Pervert!”
Mito shoots him a glare, but as Tetsu reclines his seat, basking in the cozy, everyday vibe, she lets out a small huff. Her eyes soften with a hint of warmth, a classic Japanese gesture of affection hidden behind a tough front. “So, are we grabbing dinner out, or heading straight home?”
“Home. There’s still some seafood soup from yesterday. I’ll whip up some noodles for you.”
Home. Noodles for you.
The casual, almost married-couple-like exchange makes Mito’s lips curve into a smile. Her fingers tap the steering wheel, a habit seen in many Japanese drivers navigating Tokyo’s busy roads, and she floors the gas. “As if I’d go to your place. I’m just dropping you off at the alley!”
Tokyo’s spring nights are stunning, especially in bustling Akihabara, where neon lights flicker like a scene from a cyberpunk anime. Cherry blossom trees line the streets, and cosplay-clad maids hand out flyers under their delicate branches—a quintessential Akihabara sight.
Spotting the maid outfits, Tetsu can’t resist a playful jab, but Mito’s teeth-gritting threat—“Keep talking, and I’ll crush you next time!”—shuts him up, echoing the fiery banter of a Japanese rom-com heroine.
As the convertible Porsche cruises out of the lively district toward the quiet seaside path to Tetsu’s place, the sea breeze tousles their hair. Tetsu’s hand slides back onto Mito’s stockings, and this time, she doesn’t protest—just shoots “‘im a fierce, blushing glare, a perfect tsundere moment.
NTsoft and Tetsu’s family home are both in Akihabara, so the drive is quick without traffic.
“Don’t be late for work tomorrow,” Mito says.
“That’s my line, you little subordinate!”
At the dimly lit alley under a warm streetlamp, Mito rolls her eyes, floors the gas, and speeds off, her red Porsche vanishing like a dramatic exit in a J-drama.
“Tsundere types are such a handful,” Tetsu mutters with a grin, thinking of their flirty office moment earlier, a nod to the subtle romance often woven into Japanese workplace stories. He heads toward his house.
Tetsu’s neighborhood is a cluster of single-family homes, not unlike the cozy, yard-lined houses in Crayon Shin-chan. Dinner-time chatter and laughter spill from homes, and stray cats perch on garden walls under streetlights, creating a warm, nostalgic vibe typical of Japanese suburbs.
As Tetsu opens his door, the savory aroma of seafood soup hits him—a comforting scent tied to Japanese home cooking.
“Tetsu-kun, you’re back… eep!”
Sayoko, wearing a pink checkered apron, steps out of the kitchen. She kneels to grab slippers from the shoe cabinet, a traditional Japanese gesture of hospitality, but Tetsu sweeps her into a hug and plants a firm kiss on her lips.
“I said I’d cook tonight. You’re being naughty,” he teases.
“I… took a nap this afternoon, so I’m not tired anymore,” Sayoko replies, blushing.
“Fine, fine.”
Tetsu gives her a playful pat, slips off his shoes onto the heated floor—a common feature in Japanese homes—and glances around. “Where’s Kuki? Not back yet?”
“She said work was exhausting today. She’s been in her room since she got home. Probably ate out already,” Sayoko says, smoothing her floral skirt, her face still red. The stove bubbles with a soft gugu sound.
“Dinner’s almost ready. Want to change first, Tetsu-kun?”
“Yeah. Oh, and go easy on the salt tonight—my stomach’s acting up from yesterday’s soup.”
“Got it!”
Sayoko plants a gentle kiss on his cheek, a sweet, domestic moment, and heads back to the kitchen. Tetsu tosses his black long-sleeve into the laundry basket and heads upstairs, shirtless.
“She’s that tired from work?”
“Shouldn’t be that bad,” Tetsu muses, passing Kuki Izumi’s room. He’d already told the K-On! director to go easy on her scenes today because of last night’s party.
Lost in thought, he heads to his room when—click!—Kuki’s door swings open.
Kuki, in a bear-themed pajama dress with twin tails, stands there, her big eyes red and puffy.
“?”
Before Tetsu can say anything, she cries, “Stupid old man!” and launches herself at him. Her slim frame clings to him, legs wrapped around his waist in white thigh-high socks. Instinctively, Tetsu catches her, hands on her hips. “Hey, what’s—”
His words are cut off as Kuki kisses him fiercely, her passion overwhelming, like a scene from a shoujo manga. Tetsu’s eyes widen, stunned by her intensity, her breath hot against his face, her eyes closed as she kisses him with fervor.
I just got force-kissed?!
Then he spots a music score on her floor—his music score.
She found out.
Realization hits, and Tetsu’s shock softens. Kuki pulls back, her voice trembling with emotion, eyes brimming with love. “Why… didn’t you tell me before?”
“I was going to, but—”
Another kiss silences him. Her arms tighten around his neck, legs locking around his waist.
This girl…
Who knew the usually soft-spoken Kuki would be so bold in love? Tetsu smirks, but a gentle nip on his lip snaps him back.
“Don’t… get distracted!” Kuki mumbles.
“Teaching me now, huh?”
Tetsu’s tension melts. One hand grips her hip, the other presses her head closer as he kisses back. Moonlight spills through the window, the sound of stir-frying drifts from downstairs, and the two lose themselves in the moment, time seeming to stop—a poetic scene straight out of a Japanese romance novel.
Finally, Kuki pulls back, tears in her eyes, pouting. “Don’t… ever hide things from Kuki again.”
“Promise,” Tetsu says softly, nodding. Her legs tighten around him.
“Take me… to my room.”
“!”
Another passionate kiss. Tetsu carries her into her bedroom, pinning her against the door. Their breaths quicken, and Kuki’s legs loosen as she slides down, kneeling before him, her hands trembling as she looks up, eyes shy but determined.
“Just… this once, okay?”
Tetsu chuckles, ruffling her hair, then gently tugs her twin tails. “Come on.”
“Mmm—”
Much later, on Kuki’s pink bear-themed bed:
“Stupid old man, you’re even more intense than in manga,” Kuki grumbles, nestled in Tetsu’s arms, her voice a mix of embarrassment and affection.
Tetsu shifts, chuckling. “More intense than manga? What’s that mean?”
“Hmph, you’re such a perv,” Kuki teases, squirming shyly.
Tetsu grins, holding her tighter. “Don’t like it?”
“I… like it. But don’t be too rough!”
“Didn’t you say it helps with… development?”
Kuki pouts. “You don’t like it then? But… does it actually work? Sayoko and the others never… and they’re still so… big.”
Her voice drips with frustration over her smaller chest, a common trope in Japanese media where characters lament their “flatness.” Tetsu pinches her cheek. “You know, small is cute too.”
“No way! I don’t want to be teased as ‘fried eggs’ forever!”
Kuki grabs his hand, placing it back, her blush deepening. Then, she looks up, kissing his cheek softly. “I never imagined you wrote those songs, though.”
“Surprised?”
“Hmph, don’t get cocky! I was just… shocked, okay?”
Kuki’s tsundere attitude resurfaces as she pinches his stubbly chin. “But since you wrote them, I can sing them without any guilt! Once I make it big, I’ll kick you to the curb and run off with Sayoko!”
Before she finishes, Tetsu playfully “attacks” her chest, making her melt again. “Stop showing off. Didn’t you say you wanted to write your own songs?”
“Of course I do! I don’t care about the spotlight—I want people to love my voice. But…” Kuki looks up, smiling. “I heard you guys talking. You’re short on cash, right? I’ll lend you my voice for free. The price?”
She climbs atop him, whispering shyly, “You can never leave Kuki. Ever.”
Her sudden confession sends Tetsu’s heart racing, but with Sayoko still cooking, he knows they need to wrap up. By the time they head downstairs for dinner, Kuki’s cheeks ache from… exertion, making chewing lobster a bit tough.
Luckily, she ate earlier, so she nibbles on some oysters and sips hot milk—a playful nod to the Japanese belief that milk helps with “growth.” She sits quietly, listening as Tetsu and Sayoko discuss work.
Asai’s surprise promotion to deputy director is a double-edged sword for Tetsu. It’s a big deal for most, but he’s hesitant. If he doesn’t sign the new contract, Asai might suspect disloyalty, potentially costing him Sekiro’s development rights. But signing means a non-compete clause with a hefty penalty.
The cost is steep, but… the wool comes from the sheep.
The next day, 8:45 AM.
“Good morning, Deputy Director Fuyukawa!”
“News travels fast, huh, Ms. Hatano?”
“Congratulations!”
Monday morning buzzes in the company lobby. The receptionist’s sweet, admiring greeting reflects the Japanese workplace’s respect for hierarchy. Dropping Kuki off at school, Tetsu strides in with Sayoko, his presence silencing the lobby for a moment.
Employees steal glances—some envious, some awed, some jealous.
“For real? Deputy director at twenty-five?!”
“Age doesn’t matter when you’ve got ten million in sales. Most directors can’t touch his numbers!”
“True. It’s a seller’s market now. He’s not just some replaceable grunt anymore. Tons of companies would poach him if NTsoft doesn’t pay up.”
“Still, twenty-five? That’s insane.”
“I heard his new contract includes four million dollars for game production over two years, with a 35% profit share!”
“No, it’s two games, two million each.”
“He’s making another game?!”
“Gotta find out more—maybe get into his studio!”
Word spreads like wildfire, a common trait in Japan’s tight-knit corporate culture. Though Mito submitted the promotion request just yesterday, Tetsu’s rise to deputy director is already company gossip.
Twenty-five and a deputy director. Terrifying.
The contract’s “incentive” clause means Tetsu’s not slowing down—he’s got new games coming. His past hits, Surrounded by Beauties and The Binding of Isaac, sold over five million copies each, making his team’s staff rich from bonuses. Everyone wants in on his next project.
Amid the enthusiastic greetings, Tetsu nods with a friendly smile—a Japanese gesture of humility—and heads to the elevator with Sayoko.
By 10 AM, explosive news rocks NTsoft again: Tetsu submitted a new project proposal to Mito.
The title? Diver Dave.
Chapter 113: Family Harmony
Dave the Diver!
No surprise there—when Tetsu Fuyukawa’s latest project proposal was revealed, the entire company erupted into a frenzy of discussion!
“2D pixel art? Is it another roguelike?”
“Nope, they say it’s a simulation farming game.”
“What?! Switching genres again?! Is this for real?!”
“That’s wild! Three games already, plus Sekiro in development—four games, four different styles?! Is he actually a genius?!”
“That’s not even the point! The real question is, which studio is he teaming up with?!”
Another new genre!
To be honest, after parts of Tetsu’s promotion contract leaked, most NTsoft employees had already guessed that, given his workaholic nature, a new project was bound to be announced soon. But no one expected him to switch genres again!
They were floored!
The entire NTsoft staff was floored!
Sure, whether it’s interactive live-action games, action RPGs, roguelikes, or simulation games, they’re all “games.” But the differences between genres are massive—target audiences, core mechanics, game flow, and design priorities all vary wildly. Few game developers can juggle multiple genres at once!
And yet, Tetsu was tackling four distinct games in a single year!
It was outrageous!
Still, after witnessing his meteoric rise—NTsoft’s youngest team leader, the pioneer of the bishoujo dating sim, the fastest to hit ten million sales, the “God of Roguelikes,” and now NTsoft’s youngest deputy director—the employees had developed a certain “shock immunity” to his antics.
The whole company was buzzing with anticipation, but Tetsu wasn’t paying attention to the chatter. He was busy with other matters.
“This game’s in a 2D pixel style, something you’ve worked on before. I want to put you in charge of the art department. What do you think?”
At Hikari Studio, in the deputy director’s office.
Sitting on the sofa, Tetsu sipped oolong tea, facing Sayoko, who looked conflicted and a bit nervous.
Hearing his words, Sayoko’s hands twisted together on her pale knees, her head lowered, voice laced with self-doubt. “N-no way, I can’t! This game’s got a decent budget, and you need it to sell well for your bonus. What if I mess it up?”
“What’s there to be scared of?”
Seeing her lack of confidence, Tetsu shook his head with a helpless smile and patted the empty spot beside him. “Come here.”
“Ugh…”
Obediently, Sayoko’s cheeks flushed as she shuffled over, her peach-shaped figure accentuated by her tight skirt. She sat next to Tetsu, expecting his warm embrace—but it didn’t come.
Under her puzzled gaze, Tetsu took a sip of tea and smiled. “I know you’re not super ambitious, and I know you’re not great at socializing. I could keep you in my arms forever, but that might not be good for either of us in the long run.”
“W-what do you mean?” Sayoko’s expression turned anxious. “Did I do something wrong, Tetsu-kun?! I can fix it, I—ah!”
Before she could spiral, Tetsu leaned in, giving her soft lips a quick peck before pulling her into his arms.
Ignoring her shy gaze, he nuzzled her fragrant neck, chuckling. “I’m not unhappy with you. I love our life together and enjoy every moment we spend. But love and passion? Those don’t last forever.”
He met Sayoko’s shy, sideways glance and sighed with a smile. “If you pour all your energy into me, you might end up like those housewives on TV dramas, constantly worrying and overthinking, which could strain our family harmony.
“I don’t want that for you, Sayoko. You don’t need to force yourself to be some ultra-independent woman. You can keep relying on me—I love it when you do—but don’t give up on what you love. I want you to pursue your passions in a field you enjoy.”
Tetsu gently pinched Sayoko’s cheek, his eyes full of affection. He wasn’t a kid; he knew that love, while sweet and thrilling at the start, often faded over time. Problems arose when the initial excitement wore off, especially if one partner focused too much on the other.
That combination could be disastrous. For someone pessimistic, fixating on one thing often led to intense anxiety—worrying about the present, the future, whether the love was still there.
Anxiety bred stress, stress bred withdrawal or arguments, and Sayoko, to Tetsu, had a pessimistic streak.
To keep her from spiraling into anxiety, to avoid future conflicts or withdrawal, and to maintain their sweet life together, the best solution was to help her find confidence and joy in a field she loved. That would ease her stress.
Tetsu understood this, and so did Sayoko.
Meeting his gaze, Sayoko’s smile grew sweeter.
She squirmed in his arms, wrapping her hands around his neck and planting a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. “I can feel how much you care, Tetsu-kun. This time, I’ll muster up the courage.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Hehe, but…” Sayoko’s curves pressed closer as she looked up at him, her eyes mischievous. “You’ll have to give me a little advance reward.”
“You little vixen! Get those off yourself!”
“Hmph~”
As the old saying goes, “At thirty, she’s a wolf.”
And it was true. As their relationship deepened, Sayoko had grown bolder. But the office wasn’t home, and dirty clothes were a hassle to change. Luckily, this wasn’t their first rodeo. After a while, Sayoko skillfully pulled two clean pairs of underwear—one men’s, one women’s—from her bag.
A woman’s purse holding lipstick, keys, and two pairs of underwear.
The visual was striking, sending another wave of heat through Tetsu. He was ready for round two when Mitei Miyano knocked on the office door.
No surprise there. As soon as she entered and caught a whiff of the odd air, she wrinkled her nose. But she was here for business. Glancing at Sayoko, who was blushing and staring intently at her tablet as if working, Mitei threw a few sarcastic jabs at Tetsu before steering the conversation to Dave the Diver.
Though Dave the Diver was an indie game and didn’t need a massive team, Tetsu wanted to speed up production. With Hikari Studio fully tied up on Sekiro, they were short on manpower, so Tetsu proposed taking over an established team.
“Simulation games are mostly handled by Division Six’s studios. Minister Serizawa from Division Six is part of Asai’s faction, so borrowing staff from him shouldn’t be an issue. But we’ll need to give them a few slots on the credits. No need—I’ll handle the tea.”
Mitei sat across from Sayoko, legs crossed.
Sayoko started to get up to pour tea, but under Tetsu’s amused gaze—perhaps because the recent gathering had brought them closer, or because Sayoko, with her similar yet contrasting life story, stirred something in her—Mitei, usually so commanding, grabbed Tetsu’s used teacup, poured herself a hot tea, and even poured one for Sayoko.
The two women got along harmoniously, which made Tetsu happy. Spinning his pen, he nodded. “If we’re using their talent, it’s only fair they get some credit. Fine, reserve a ‘Special Producer’ slot for them in the credits.”
Regular employees were already listed in the credits, but Mitei’s point was that borrowing a studio without letting their leader take the helm meant compensating them with some recognition.
Tetsu and Mitei didn’t care much about credits. The discussion wrapped up quickly, and they settled on collaborating with Division Six’s Vanilla Studio and Chocolate Studio.
Yes, two studios. Tetsu’s main goal was to churn out Dave the Diver quickly. His contract’s 30% net profit bonus for two games was a big incentive, and he wanted to cash in before any complications arose.
As for whether merging two studios would cause issues, Tetsu was confident.
Dave the Diver had sold over a million copies in its first month in its previous life, reaching over three million total—a hit for an indie game. But it was a 2D pixel-style simulation game.
In simple terms, a farming game.
Farming games, like Stardew Valley, Cities: Skylines, Frostpunk, Anno 1800, or even Civilization VI (the “start at 9, quit at 8” game), were built on modular systems. For example, in Civilization VI, the tech tree, building upgrades, and military units were all separate modules.
As long as the design aligned these modules properly, splitting development across multiple teams wasn’t too challenging.
But…
“Even though this game was a small hit in its previous life, it’s still nowhere near a beast like Civilization VI. Tsk, gotta make money faster.”
Chatting with Mitei, Tetsu’s mind wandered.
He’d played Dave the Diver in his past life, but compared to Civilization VI, it paled. Not to diss one or hype the other, but thinking about it made him crave Civ VI—which didn’t exist in this world.
“If it doesn’t exist, I’ll make it! Then I’ll take a month off, hole up in a room playing games, cuddle with Sayoko when I’m tired, and keep playing!”
Fantasizing happily while discussing work with Mitei, lunch break soon arrived.
“Whew, time flies. Asai got back to me. He’s already coordinated with the two studio leads—no issues. The company should send out the approval doc this afternoon.”
Noon sunlight streamed through the office’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Mitei, working at one side of the boss’s desk, stretched, her white blouse lifting to reveal her curvy figure dramatically outlined in the light.
From the front of the desk, Tetsu took off his clear-framed glasses, glanced at her midriff, rubbed his nose, and nodded. “Got it. Sayoko, you can start adding those studio members on Line. We might kick things off this afternoon.”
“S-so soon?!” Sayoko, sitting across from Mitei at the other end of the desk, sounded nervous.
Tetsu stood, ignoring Mitei’s presence, and walked behind Sayoko, wrapping her in a hug and kissing her cheek. “No need to stress. You’re leading the art team—they’re the ones who should be nervous.”
“B-but I’ve got no management experience…”
“If you’re unsure about anything, just come to me.”
Halfway through Sayoko’s anxious words, Mitei, lounging with her legs crossed under the sunlight, cut in.
Caught off guard by Mitei’s offer, Sayoko froze. So did Tetsu, but soon a smile tugged at his lips.
He walked behind Mitei, pinched her cheeks to lift her face, and, under her stunned gaze, leaned down for a kiss. “Now that’s a department head vibe—ow!”
Before he could finish, Mitei bit his lower lip hard.
Her face flushed, she shot up, glancing at the equally red-faced Sayoko before glaring at Tetsu. “You’ve got some nerve!”
She couldn’t believe Tetsu kissed her in front of Sayoko. Sayoko, meanwhile, gave Tetsu a resentful look, though it soon softened into resignation.
Standing, Sayoko bowed slightly to Mitei. “Please guide me going forward, Miyano-san.”
“Guide you?” A double entendre. Mitei froze, glaring at Tetsu again, but he swiftly pulled her into his arms and brought her to Sayoko.
Boldly, Tetsu wrapped his right arm around Mitei and his left around Sayoko, grinning. “We’re all family—don’t be so formal.”
“Tetsu-kun, you’re such a pervert!”
“You’re way too bold!”
“Hey, easy, you two!”
With one woman in each arm, Tetsu felt on top of the world—until his left arm was bitten and his right foot was stomped.
As he sat in the boss’s chair, rubbing his arm and shoe, the two blushing women burst into giggles. When their eyes met, realizing they’d both laughed, their gazes held complex emotions. But Sayoko spoke first. “Let’s look out for each other.”
“Likewise.”
Mitei had planned to go out for lunch, but Sayoko had packed bentos.
No debate—they split two bentos three ways. But when Mitei noticed some dishes were leftovers from the day before, she couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
Sayoko’s cheeks reddened. She wasn’t poor anymore, but having grown up frugal, she always bought quality ingredients and followed a “clean plate” policy. She hadn’t expected Mitei to join them today, so it was a bit embarrassing.
To her surprise, though, Mitei paused only briefly before digging into the bento.
Feeling the warmth of this family-like lunch, watching the two women chat, Tetsu smiled. He’d always thought Sayoko and Mitei wouldn’t clash too much—not just because of Sayoko’s gentle nature, but because, in some ways, they were alike.
Family harmony made Tetsu happy. Meanwhile, Asai’s team worked fast, sending out the Dave the Diver project approval doc at noon.
Tetsu would lead the merged Vanilla and Chocolate Studios.
Seeing the news, many employees sighed in disappointment.
No mystery why—Tetsu had produced two smash hits!
Hits meant huge bonuses and resume-boosting credits, valid both at NTsoft and beyond.
Fame and fortune!
Every employee without a big background wanted to work on his projects!
But the merger announcement dashed many hopes.
However!
Another announcement soon reignited their excitement!
The doc confirmed the studio merger but also stated that Tetsu was recruiting additional staff for the Dave the Diver team!
Two studios, and still not enough people?!
It was just a mid-sized simulation game!
Many were puzzled.
Naturally—they’d never guess that Tetsu, NTsoft’s youngest deputy director and elite behind Sekiro, was a rebel at heart!
Vanilla and Chocolate Studios were Asai’s loyal teams, trained to stay with him. But new hires? They were Tetsu’s chance.
Stockpile resources, bide time, then strike!
For Tetsu, “resources” meant capital and talent.
More talent for his future company meant faster game production and lower costs!
But for many employees, that wasn’t the point—they just saw a chance to cash in and boost their careers!
No surprise, as soon as Tetsu announced the openings, the line to register with HR’s Nogiki-obaasan was packed!
Chapter 114: I Want to Shout I Love You
The buzz around the new project had sent ripples through the employees, but Fuyukawa Tetsu was used to it by now. His focus was entirely on selecting the team for Dave the Diver. Picking the right people was meticulous work, but thankfully, with no new releases scheduled at the four departments, Miyano Mitei’s workload had lightened considerably.
After lunch, she stayed in the office, helping Tetsu sift through candidates. Meanwhile, Sayoko...
It was clear this was her first time as a supervisor, even if it was just for the art direction of a mid-to-low-budget project. She was visibly nervous, sitting stiffly all afternoon, chatting with employees who’d added her as a friend. Those in the know recognized her as the leader; others might’ve mistaken her for a candidate herself. The scene was so amusing that Tetsu couldn’t help but smile, though he kept quiet about her anxious demeanor.
Some things you just have to experience yourself.
In the serene afternoon, the quiet office was filled only with the soft voices of Tetsu and Mitei discussing, the gentle tap-tap of Sayoko’s slender fingers on the keyboard, and an overall sense of calm. Time always seemed to fly in such a relaxed environment.
While the trio worked steadily, Sistar Entertainment received the sheet music submitted by Izumi Himawari.
“A song written by Mr. Fuyukawa?”
Shinjuku, Sistar Entertainment’s office building.
In the office, Executive Honda furrowed his brow, glancing at the sheet music and then at Himawari, who sat across from him, outwardly calm but inwardly panicking.
“Yes, Executive!” Deputy Director Tanaka, standing by the boss’s desk, beamed. “Mr. Fuyukawa hopes Blue Bird will be one of the songs to wrap up the first school-year arc of K-On! However…”
“Hm?” Honda’s brow creased further.
Tanaka, sweating slightly, wiped his chin. “However… Mr. Fuyukawa said he doesn’t want to sell the song’s rights to us. He’s only lending it for use… out of consideration for Himawari-chan.”
“What?! Lending it to us?!” Honda slammed the desk, his frown deepening.
Tanaka flinched, and though Himawari’s face remained expressionless, her pale neck betrayed a nervous swallow. Just then, an elegant older woman entered the office, led by a secretary.
“Executive Honda, you called for me?”
The room’s atmosphere was tense, but this woman clearly held significant status. She gave a slight bow, nodded to Himawari and Tanaka, and prompted Honda to force a smile. He stood, returning a bow before guiding her to the sofa. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you during your time off, Ms. Mori. President Myoujin will be thrilled you’re here.”
Calling Ms. Mori directly?
So Honda was just putting on a show to rattle me.
Himawari blinked, catching the shift from Honda’s earlier temper to his now-charming demeanor. Then she recalled Tetsu’s advice: “Don’t be afraid. The workplace is harsh, but ninety-nine percent of it revolves around profit. Figure out people’s motives through their actions, then work backward to find your place.”
Steadying herself, Himawari took a deep breath, sitting up straighter. Her newfound composure went unnoticed by the fawning Tanaka, but both Honda and Mori caught it.
She doesn’t panic under pressure—a promising talent.
Quite mature for her age.
Honda’s eyes flickered with approval, while Mori showed a hint of surprise but didn’t dwell on it. Placing her handbag on her lap, she tilted her head. “No trouble at all; I happen to be in Japan. But I have dinner with my grandson tonight, so please get to the point, Executive Honda.”
Mori’s high standing at Sistar was evident, her ease apparent even with a top executive like Honda. He was used to it, grabbing the sheet music from his desk and handing it to her. “Here’s the situation. Himawari-chan submitted this sheet music this morning. It’s composed by Mr. Fuyukawa.”
“Mr. Fuyukawa? You mean the rising star from NTsoft, Fuyukawa Tetsu?” Mori raised an eyebrow, glancing at the music’s cover.
Honda shot Tanaka a look—What are you standing there for? Get some tea!—before sitting on the sofa and nodding. “Yes, he’s Himawari-chan’s brother. He wrote this song, hoping we’d use it in the game, but he’s not willing to transfer the rights. That’s why I wanted you, a legend in the music industry, to take a look.”
“No rights? I see,” Mori said, her expression sharpening as she understood.
No rights meant the song wouldn’t belong to Sistar, cutting them out of royalties. In simpler terms, Honda suspected Tetsu was using K-On! to promote his own music. While Sistar had to tread carefully around NTsoft and its youngest deputy director, business was business. They bowed not out of respect but to secure benefits. If Tetsu wanted a slice of their pie, they needed to weigh whether sharing it would yield a bigger return, especially since K-On! was a significant investment, and they wanted to promote their own songs through it.
But if the song was a hit, with the potential to boost the game’s popularity, increase Sistar’s royalties, and bring more exposure to their idol groups, the equation flipped. The key was whether the song was good.
“The old man’s song? It’s gotta be great!” Himawari thought, her heart racing with both excitement and nerves as she watched Mori flip through the music. Mori wasn’t a songwriter but a titan in the industry—a first-generation idol from the昭和 (Showa) era. After her idol days, she transitioned to managing groups at Sistar, spending decades in music and idol circles. While she might not write hits, her eye for selecting songs and talent was unmatched, a key reason Sistar had risen to prominence in just over a decade.
Even Sistar’s president treated her, the company’s “treasure,” with utmost respect.
“Will she like the old man’s song?” Himawari’s nerves spiked. Honda was just as anxious. Despite his earlier bluster, he wasn’t eager to cross Tetsu unless absolutely necessary.
Only Tanaka was left in an awkward spot. As a mid-level deputy director, he outranked Himawari, but thanks to Tetsu’s influence, he was the only one standing, serving tea like an errand boy. He hovered with the teapot, unsure whether to speak, but no one paid him any mind.
As Mori delved deeper into the sheet music, her brow furrowed, her foot tapping unconsciously to the rhythm. Shock grew in her eyes. After a long pause, she closed the music, took a sip of tea from Tanaka, and exhaled. Turning to Himawari, her wrinkled face bloomed into a warm smile. “You have a great brother.”
A great brother?
Himawari blinked, her eyes widening as Honda jumped in eagerly. “Ms. Mori, do you think this song will be a hit?!”
“Yes, it’s excellent. It feels more suited for an anime opening, with its melody and soaring high notes… no doubt, it’s got hit potential,” Mori said.
“Alright! If Ms. Mori says so, we’re set!” Honda beamed, not just because the song could succeed but because it meant avoiding conflict with Tetsu. A game producer with clout in the entertainment industry was someone no one wanted to cross unless the stakes were dire.
Honda’s excitement was palpable, Tanaka chimed in with sycophantic praise for Himawari, and even Mori joined in, asking if they could arrange a dinner with Tetsu. Blue Bird wasn’t a masterpiece in a technical sense, but as the saying goes, “A thousand readers, a thousand Hamlets.” No product, especially in entertainment, could please everyone. Blue Bird wasn’t high art, but its melody, rhythm, and dense “feel-good” moments—coupled with a powerful high note and catchy spreadability—ensured its impact.
Surrounded by the executives’ praise, Himawari blushed, feeling a bit shy. Then, under their stunned gazes, she pulled another sheet of music from her bag, scratching her head awkwardly. “Um… Tetsu—my brother—said if you’re okay with no rights, I could show you this one too.”
“Another song?!”
“What?! Also by Mr. Fuyukawa?!”
“Let me see.” Mori took the sheet music, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as she opened it—I Want to Shout I Love You.
Chapter 115: Sistar’s Shock!
Whether it’s Blue Bird or I Wanna Shout I Love You, both are anime opening themes. Songs like these become hits for two reasons: first, they’re genuinely catchy; second, they ride the wave of the anime’s popularity.
This world doesn’t have Naruto or Slam Dunk.
The reach of these two songs definitely can’t match their fame in my previous life, but everything’s relative.
If you’re buying a house, ten thousand yen is peanuts. But for a night out with friends, drinks, and good food, it’s plenty. Relying on these two songs to win a major award is a long shot, but as the finishing touch for K-On!, they’re more than enough.
No surprises there—when Blue Bird and I Wanna Shout I Love You were presented, Ms. Mori and Executive Director Honda got visibly excited, showering Himawari Izumi with praise. But between the lines, it was clear they were hoping she’d play matchmaker, arranging a dinner with Tetsu Fuyukawa to build a closer connection.
Being fawned over by company bigwigs was a bit overwhelming for Himawari, who hadn’t even graduated high school yet. Luckily, Tetsu had anticipated this scenario before she left that morning.
“Um… my brother said he’s long admired Executive Director Honda and Ms. Mori, but he’s swamped with a new project right now and can’t make time. He’ll come visit when he’s free,” Himawari said, forcing a calm demeanor.
Executive Director Honda slapped his thigh and laughed heartily. “Yoshi! The Binding of Isaac just launched not long ago, and he’s already got a new project? Sugoi! Mr. Fuyukawa’s the real deal! In that case, Sistar will eagerly await his good news!”
At that, Honda glanced at the still slightly nervous Himawari but didn’t press further. Checking his watch, he turned to Vice-Minister Tanaka. “It’s getting late. Please convey our thanks to Ms. Izumi again. Tanaka, make sure you keep a close eye on her matters from now on, got it?”
“Hai! Please rest assured, Executive Director!”
“Good. Go on. And Ms. Izumi, if you ever face any issues in the company that can’t be resolved, feel free to come straight to me.”
Straight to the Executive Director?
Tanaka’s jaw nearly dropped, his eyes brimming with envy as he looked at Himawari.
In mid-to-large Japanese companies, the hierarchy goes: section chief, division chief, vice-minister, minister, general minister, director, supervisory director, managing director, executive director, president, and chairman!
Chairmen are mostly figureheads these days, and not all companies have section chiefs, though some do.
So, the executive director is essentially second only to the president, overseeing hundreds or even thousands. As an idol group member, Himawari’s status was light-years away from even the lowest management rung, the section chief!
Yet now, she could go straight to the executive director with urgent matters!
Does Executive Director Honda value Mr. Fuyukawa that much?!
Tanaka’s mind reeled, but he bowed respectfully, leading the equally bowing Himawari out of the office. Only after the door closed did Honda’s warm smile fade, replaced by a serious expression.
“Ms. Mori, do we really need to go this far?”
Sipping oolong tea, Honda glanced at Ms. Mori, a hint of confusion in his eyes. As the executive director of a mid-to-large company, he acknowledged Tetsu’s songwriting talent, but going all out for Himawari seemed excessive. Sistar wasn’t short on popular artists, after all. His enthusiasm had stemmed entirely from Ms. Mori’s subtle cues.
Yes, Ms. Mori’s cues!
Ms. Mori held the title of supervisory director—not the top position, but she was the president’s confidante and a key figure in Sistar’s rapid rise. Even Honda owed his own promotion to her, though he’d since surpassed her.
Out of respect, loyalty, and factional ties, Honda held the older woman in high regard.
Hearing his question, Ms. Mori glanced at the sheet music, then casually set it on the coffee table, her earlier excitement gone. “These two songs are great, no doubt. But if it were just about these songs, we wouldn’t need to make such a fuss. However…”
She took a refined sip of oolong tea, smiling. “When I stepped out to the restroom earlier, I looked into this girl’s background. Before joining Sistar, she gained fame with I Once Thought of Ending It All. The songwriter? That internet sensation, Beyond.”
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“Beyond? Oh, I know—the mysterious creator who blew up overnight last year with Boundless Ocean and Sky, then vanished. I loved that song! Executive Director Kobu tried to sign them, but even with all his industry connections, he couldn’t track them down…” Honda’s brows furrowed as realization hit, his posture stiffening. “You mean—”
“Yes.”
Ms. Mori’s eyes gleamed with approval as she nodded, her wise, aged gaze settling on the sheet music. “Beyond’s meteoric rise wasn’t just because their songs were great or their talent exceptional. They also gave their music away for free. That suggests either songwriting is a hobby and they have another job, or they’re deliberately avoiding the spotlight to protect their privacy.
Why would someone with such a distinct approach help this girl? I Once Thought of Ending It All could’ve boosted any top artist’s fame to new heights. From these clues…”
Looking at Honda, whose breathing had quickened, Ms. Mori elegantly crossed her legs, her expression tinged with disbelief. “Beyond can only be someone close to her. And the only person around her with that kind of talent is Mr. Fuyukawa.”
“This…”
Even with his suspicions, Honda felt a chill hearing Ms. Mori confirm it!
A talented singer, unless she’s a diva-level superstar, isn’t critical to Sistar. But someone like Tetsu Fuyukawa, with top-tier skills and the ability to consistently produce stellar work? That’s a game-changer!
Sistar’s struck gold!
Honda’s excitement surged, and he instinctively reached for his phone to call the contracts department.
He wanted to switch Himawari’s short-term contract to a long-term one, but as his hand paused, Ms. Mori spoke up.
Smiling approvingly at the now-calm Honda, she said, “Looks like the executive director role has tempered your impulsiveness. You’re right—we don’t need to change anything yet. A top talent like Mr. Fuyukawa, who’s not even thirty and already a vice-minister at NTsoft, likely knew we’d figure out his identity when he gave us these songs. Clearly, he has a solid career plan for this girl. So, for now, we wait and show our capability and sincerity.”
“Hai, Ms. Mori’s experience still outshines mine. I’ve got some growing to do!”
Calming down, Honda gulped his oolong tea, his excitement easing.
Switching Himawari to a long-term contract would benefit Sistar most, but Tetsu hadn’t brought it up, indicating he wasn’t ready. Pushing too hard now could strain their harmonious relationship.
Sistar’s task was to demonstrate capability and sincerity, outshining competitors to keep Himawari. As for whether Tetsu might take her solo in the future…
Honda thought it unlikely.
Japan’s a paradoxical place: you can marry at eighteen but can’t smoke or drink until twenty. School clubs buzz with activity, but workplaces often stagnate. This contradiction is stark in the music industry.
Japan’s music scene is massive—the world’s second-largest market. Yet, with an 82.9% internet penetration rate and 95.3% of people, including kids and seniors, owning smartphones, 66% of last year’s music sales came from physical records!
Streaming apps accounted for just 33%!
Incredibly, in this internet age, physical records remain the cash cow for Japan’s music industry, for both artists and creators.
Selling records, though, is costly.
You need to secure manufacturers or build your own factory, plus establish downstream retail channels.
That’s all cost—initial investment and ongoing operations. And the kicker?
The music market’s tiny.
Games, movies, music—all fall under entertainment. Some might rank games below movies, but last year, the global film industry was worth about $100 billion, music $26 billion, and games a whopping $240 billion—1.6 trillion RMB!
Add movies and music together, double it, and it barely rivals gaming. Plus, gaming’s growing at over 10% annually!
Honda didn’t believe Tetsu would start from scratch. At most, he’d compare offers and partner with a music entertainment company.
A creator of his caliber couldn’t be let go!
With that thought, Honda’s gaze sharpened.
Tetsu was oblivious to the outside buzz and didn’t care to know. He was dealing with something else.
“The motion capture actor for Wolf got injured?”
At Light Bird Studio, in the vice-minister’s office.
Sipping tea brought by Sayoko, Tetsu looked up from his computer, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. Apparently, they crashed while racing on Mount Akina. The injuries are severe, and even if they recover, it’s unclear if they can continue filming,” said Aunt Nogi, cautiously glancing at Miyano Mitei—who was oddly working in the office—before turning back to Tetsu. “Kawaguchi’s already looking for a replacement on the combat planning side, but motion capture actors skilled in kendo are rare. It might delay things a few days.”
“A few days’ delay, huh…”
Tetsu frowned slightly. Wolf was the protagonist of Sekiro, and like Black Myth: Wukong, it was an action game requiring motion capture.
Simply put, motion capture involves actors wearing special suits, with their movements tracked by software and applied to the game.
Sekiro revolves around swordplay—specifically kendo—so the actor ideally needed kendo expertise. Such talent wasn’t abundant, but NTsoft’s deep pockets and connections made it manageable.
After a moment’s thought, Tetsu glanced at the clock, now at 5 p.m., and nodded to Aunt Nogi. “Got it. Tell Kawaguchi to hustle. I’ll think of some solutions too. Have him contact me with any updates.”
“Hai. I’ll head out then.”
“Mm.”
Seeing Tetsu wasn’t in the mood to chat further and sensing the odd vibe of two women and one man in the office, Aunt Nogi quickly left after her report. As her footsteps faded amid the growing sound of colleagues leaving for the day, Miyano stretched and grinned. “That obasan—you planning to take her with you too?”
“Obasan? Can you show a little respect?”
Rolling his eyes, Tetsu closed his laptop and stretched, his joints popping.
Glancing at Sayoko, still working nearby, he didn’t rush to leave. Instead, he nodded. “Nogi and Kawaguchi aren’t standout talents, but they’re solid enough. More importantly, they’re my old crew. I know their personalities, which makes working with them easier and more reliable.”
“Tch, just say you’re sentimental. No need to play it cool,” Miyano teased, rolling her eyes. She got up to pour three cups of tea, sipping one as she glanced at Tetsu. “So, what about the motion capture actor? Need me to look for someone?”
“Yeah, that’d be great. But no rush—focus on modeling the other boss characters for now.”
Wolf, as Sekiro’s protagonist, required the most motion capture data, but with plenty of bosses in the game, a brief delay on the protagonist wasn’t a big deal.
“Alright,” Miyano said, dropping the topic. She plopped down next to Sayoko, who was still a bit nervous, chatting with staff on her screen.
But one look, and Miyano’s sharp brows furrowed. “Don’t use such a weak tone with subordinates.”
“Eek—I thought… I thought it’d make them feel more… relaxed,” Sayoko stammered, her cheeks flushing as she sipped her hot tea nervously.
Sensing her unease, Miyano sighed, pulled over a stool, and squeezed Sayoko’s arm. Taking over the laptop, she typed while scolding gently, “I’m not saying to intimidate them. Your vibe and resume are different from mine. Even if you try to act tough, they might not take it seriously. But you can’t sound too soft either. As a leader, if you lack confidence, your team will too. An unconfident team won’t succeed.”
“Oh! I see!”
“Dumb-dumb, watch how I talk to them.”
As quitting time approached, the streets outside the floor-to-ceiling windows grew busier. Inside, watching the “mature mentor-student duo” banter over the laptop, Tetsu leaned back in the boss’s chair, cradling his teacup against his stomach, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
This is the life I want.”
Soaking in the warm, harmonious vibe, Tetsu, after a busy day, felt a serene calm—like napping on a winter afternoon and waking to curl your toes in comfort.
Just then, his phone pinged with a Line notification.
“This late—Himawari?”
Sipping his tea, Tetsu grabbed his phone. But one glance at the screen, and he froze.
[Asuka Tsukitake: I’m back in Japan! Buy me some pink stuff tonight!]
