"Sumire's got such a sharp tongue. We need to find a way to smooth things out."
"Alice is such a sweet girl—"
"Damn it, I picked the wrong option! My favorability dropped! Quick, reload the save!"
On Monday morning, a peculiar atmosphere permeated the subway cars and school hallways.
The crowd was subtly divided into two groups: one, with dark circles under their eyes from late-night gaming, wore enigmatic smiles that seemed to hold hidden knowledge; the other, brimming with anxiety, hovered on the edge of eavesdropping while keeping a hand ready to cover their ears like they were guarding against thieves.
"Hey, Sato, spill it. Did that sharp-tongued lady really send Sakura back to the countryside?"
At lunchtime, on the rooftop, a group of cash-strapped students who couldn't afford a Sega CD surrounded the class's only "whale."
Sato took a deliberate bite of his fried noodle bread, his gaze drifting into the distance, adopting the profound demeanor of someone who had cleared the game.
"Sent her back? Hmph, you underestimate Captain Oogami."
"Captain Oogami? We've never seen anyone by that name on TV! Is he the male lead? Spill!"
Just as Sato opened his mouth to bask in their astonishment, a bespectacled, portly kid beside him lunged forward like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, clamping his hand over Sato's mouth and wailing like a slaughtered pig: "Shut up! Don't say it! I'm waiting for next Friday's anime! Anyone who spoils it for me is dead!"
"Gah, gah, gah!" Sato gasped, his eyes rolling back from the tight grip, yet his gaze remained mischievous.
The frustration of knowing the truth but being unable to reveal it had somehow transformed into a perverse sense of superiority.
Watching the surrounding people writhing with curiosity, desperate to know the plot yet terrified of spoilers, Sato felt that the Sega CD he'd bought with his life savings was more than worth it.
This was called information asymmetry, this was called class barriers.
Some people even deliberately feigned dramatic sighs in crowded places: "Ah, I never expected that Sumire Kanzaki was actually—"
Before they could finish, a vacuum instantly cleared around them as everyone scattered, covering their ears and cursing, "Spoiler dog! May you rot in hell!"
Meanwhile, at Sega Headquarters...
Prince Hiroi slammed a freshly printed data report onto Takuya Nakayama's desk with such force that water sloshed out of the teacup.
"It was worth all the effort I put into this over the past two years."
The producer tore off his tie with reckless abandon, his face flushed crimson, his entire body buzzing with adrenaline like a pumped-up boxer. "TV Tokyo just called—the Friday night ratings hit the top three for the time slot! And—"
He pointed at the soaring red line on the report, his fingers trembling. "We sold over 100,000 copies on the first day!"
"These are premium-priced CD-ROM games! Even more astonishing is the news from the Hardware Department: over 3,000 Sega CD consoles were sold out over the weekend, and several Akihabara stores had to put up 'Out of Stock' signs."
Takuya picked up the report and glanced at it, his expression remaining calm, though the tapping of his fingers on the desk quickened slightly.
"As expected," he said.
He set down the report, picked up his teacup, and took a sip. "Buying a machine just to save a woman—that's the romance of a man.
"Tell the sales team not to get too complacent. They need to restock quickly. This buzz is just starting, and it would be the greatest sin if players who want to save Sakura can't buy a console, even if they have the money."
Prince Hiroi looked at the overly calm young man before him and couldn't help but give him a thumbs-up. "Managing Director, your composure... you must have handled projects like this plenty of times over the years. So, what's next?"
"Next?" Takuya glanced out the window, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Let the word of mouth for the anime and game ferment a little longer."
As the ending theme of the second anime episode echoed once more, TV Tokyo's hotline lit up again with calls from enthusiastic viewers. This time, however, complaints were few, and requests for re-runs flooded in.
If the first episode had lured viewers into a trap, the second episode—showing Sakura drenched in sweat at the midnight dojo—had solidified the foundation of that trap.
Even the "wait-and-see" crowd, who had been holding back, were now completely restless.
Mondays at school turned into intelligence exchanges.
Students who hadn't bought a Sega CD slunk shamelessly into the homes of their console-owning classmates like cats drawn to a fish market.
"Sneaking playtime" became the new social etiquette. The Sato family's doorstep nearly crumbled from the foot traffic, their living room packed with eager heads, all craning to see how Captain Oogami could finally shut Sumire Kanzaki's sharp-tongued mouth.
Some went even further. A group of office workers pooled their money to buy a machine for the break room, claiming it was for "stress relief." In reality, lunchtime turned into a brawl over the controller.
Amid this feverish excitement, the latest issue of Famitsu, the industry's barometer, hit the shelves.
On the cover, Sakura Shinguji held the Spirit Sword Wild Eagle, radiating heroic grace.
Inside, the bright red "36/40" score stabbed at the eyes of all her competitors.
Platinum Hall.
In his editorial, Chief Editor Hirokazu Hamamura wrote bluntly: "At first, we thought this was just a lavish facade that Sega had built with money. But peeling it away revealed ambitions that could shake up the entire industry. While the tactical combat has been simplified for casual players, the introduction of the LIPS System keeps battles unpredictable. You're no longer a cold commander; you are the living, breathing Ichiro Ogami."
"When Chisa Yokoyama's voice echoes through the speakers, and Mayumi Tanaka's furious roar accompanies her devastating attacks, you'll realize that Sega has forcibly turned the page on the era of text adventure games. This isn't just a game; it's an animated story you can play, a movie you can rewrite."
After the review was published, even the hardcore players who had previously scoffed at "dating simulators" finally lowered their guard. Who could resist this all-encompassing audio-visual assault?
The sales department at Sega Headquarters became a hot line.
"Restocking? No problem! The factory is already working in shifts to produce more!" The sales section chief repeatedly apologized to one channel partner after another.
Takuya Nakayama looked at the latest sales report in his hand. By mid-April, game sales had already surpassed 200,000 units.
This number might pale in comparison to the tens-of-millions sales of a monster like Mario, but for a brand-new IP that relied on expensive peripherals and catered to a niche genre, it was a nuclear blast of a start.
In Akihabara, pink posters of Sakura now plastered every street and alleyway.
Whether in used game shops or new releases sections, anything with "Sakura" in its name was skyrocketing in price.
This pink storm ignited by Sega was sweeping across the Japanese archipelago with an unstoppable force.
Meanwhile, in countless unseen corners, players were pulling their hair out over the choices on their screens, willingly sacrificing their sleep and wallets for the smile of a girl.
Please Support me by becoming my patreon member and get 30+ chapters.
[email protected]/Ajal69
change @ with a
Thank You to Those who joined my Patreon