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Chapter 578: Tamagotchi – Digimon Reactions
🕑 Added 2025-08-14 02:09:48 +0000 UTCSaturday, 11 April 1995
Sonaya offices, Japan. Hikaru Kurata stepped into the softly humming workspace to visit his tech team, who were working late into the night on Project Amaterasu — a 32-bit console still deep in development and mired in unresolved technical challenges. Despite the tense atmosphere, Kurata’s expression wasn’t one of frustration or urgency. Instead, there was a faint crease of curiosity on his brow, his gaze drawn entirely to the small, egg-shaped device resting in his hands — none other than a Digimon virtual pet, its tiny pixelated creature bouncing on the screen as if mocking the high-stakes world around it.
“Sigh… how… how can this little device be selling so insanely well…?”
Junpei Hoshida, Sonaya’s head of the video game division, chuckled knowingly, a mix of admiration and begrudging respect in his tone. “Honestly, boss, this is a brilliantly creative approach — far more portable than their handheld consoles, simple enough for anyone to pick up instantly, yet oddly addictive. It taps into that instant emotional attachment people form with tiny companions, the same kind of pull that keeps them checking in every few minutes. It’s an absolutely fantastic way to draw in customers from all walks of life, and the timing couldn’t be better with the craze for cute gadgets. This whole Digital Pet concept is pure genius, and frankly, it’s exactly the kind of clever, market-shaking idea only Zaboru could dream up.”
"I know that, but how can people still be so interested in this in the first place?" Junpei chuckled and replied, "Well, mainly because it’s ZAGE. Anything with the ZAGE brand is a must-have these days — at least, that’s what our marketing team says when they look at the actual data."
Hikaru Kurata let out a deep sigh. “Damn it! It’s incredibly tough to survive in the video game industry when ZAGE is our main competitor… and that damn Zaboru — how does he keep coming up with ideas like this, time after time?”
Junpei then tilted his head, genuine curiosity flickering in his eyes. “But… Why do you seem to care so much about this industry, boss? From what I’ve seen, Sonaya’s other sectors are not just stable — they’re thriving all over the world. You’ve got successes in markets most companies only dream of, so why pour so much energy into fighting this uphill battle in gaming?”
Hikaru Kurata frowned and looked at Junpei. “Junpei… ever since I’ve been alive, I’ve never liked to lose… I can swallow a temporary loss, but officially give up… that shouldn’t exist in my dictionary, Junpei. I hate losing. I loathe it.”
Hikaru Kurata then clenched his fist tightly, his knuckles whitening. “It really, really pisses me off, and it annoys me to no end! That Zaboru is always one step ahead of me, and I can’t stand it. It feels like no matter how hard I push, I just can’t catch up to him… but I refuse to accept that as my fate. I don’t want to live in his shadow, and I won’t let it stay that way.”
Junpei stayed silent and nodded, his expression neutral yet faintly amused. Although he couldn’t relate to his boss’s burning competitiveness, he didn’t mind; it simply wasn’t in his nature to dwell on such rivalries. Instead, his focus remained on the tiny pixelated Agumon bouncing across his Digimon’s screen. With deliberate care, he pressed the buttons to feed it, watching the little creature’s hunger meter rise. A small, satisfied grin tugged at his lips as he murmured, “Get well soon, Agumon… hehehe.”
Hikaru Kurata was pissed. “You dare play that in front of me?”
Junpei chuckled, his tone carrying both admiration and playful defiance. “This little gadget is a touch of genius, boss. Honestly, I’m tempted to dig into its design and mechanics, really take it apart and see what makes it so irresistible. Who knows—maybe I could pull one or two sparks of inspiration from it, something we could twist into our own unique creation.”
Hikaru Kurata let out a slow, weary sigh. Junpei Hoshida’s skill set was undeniably top-notch, and Kurata never underestimated it, but there was one thing that never failed to irritate him: Junpei’s unabashed admiration for Zaboru Renkonan — the owner of ZAGE and Sonaya’s fiercest rival. In truth, Junpei didn’t just respect Zaboru; he idolized him, speaking of his innovations with the kind of awe most reserved for legends. Still, Kurata tolerated it, because deep down he couldn’t deny the reality everyone in the industry already knew — in the mid‑’90s world of video game development, Zaboru’s reputation as the most talented, visionary creator was well earned. And if Junpei wanted to revere the best, Kurata, for now, would allow him that indulgence.
Meanwhile, Bill Gates found himself unexpectedly entertained by the Tamagotchi. For a short while, he tapped its buttons and tended to its tiny digital creature with mild curiosity. But soon his schedule pulled him away, and the novelty wore off. Setting it aside with a shrug, he remarked dryly, “Sometimes I really don’t understand how these things sell so well… maybe it’s because people are drawn to little distractions that don’t actually mean anything?”
Gabe Newell, one of Microsoft’s head engineers, overheard the remark and leaned slightly toward his boss with a half-smile. “It’s the novelty factor, boss. Sometimes a game or gadget doesn’t have to be a technological marvel to hook people — all it needs is that little spark of curiosity that makes them want to pick it up again and again.”
Bill Gates nodded and left the office while Gaben let out a long, thoughtful sigh. “That guy Bill Gates… sure, he’s a genius, no denying that, but when it comes to games, he just doesn’t see the bigger picture. He’s all genius in marketing and business, but vision for gaming? Not so much. Sometimes I wonder if I should just leave and go somewhere that actually values it.” As the thought lingered, Gaben’s mind drifted to ZAGE. Working there almost sounded like a dream — after all, in his eyes, Zaboru Renkonan wasn’t just another developer; he was the undisputed God of Video Games, the kind of leader who could spot a hit long before anyone else even understood the rules of the game maybe working together with him would be like a dream?.
Meanwhile, at Disney, Walt Disney sat back in his office with a wide grin spreading across his face. In his hands, he held a Tamagotchi, the tiny screen glowing as his digital pet bounced about happily. All across the Disney family — from animators to executives — nearly everyone seemed to own one, and friendly competitions Walt chuckled softly, feeding his pixelated companion and watching its hunger meter fill. “Hehehe, that Zaboru boy is really something… I clearly chose the right successor, hehehe,” he murmured, amusement in his voice. To Walt, Zaboru’s genius wasn’t just in making hits; it was in how he touched people’s emotions, creating experiences that drew them back day after day. Always innovating, always surprising — that, Walt thought, was the true mark of a master.
Meanwhile, Zaboru was planning his birthday party for his girlfriend’s birthday on 15 April.
To be continued
