No sooner had the bustling pedometer craze swept across the islands than a new temptation quietly captured the attention of children.
The toy store windows on the commercial street seemed to have been enchanted overnight.
The space previously occupied by traditional dolls and robots was now taken over by a group of "new residents" with vibrant colors and diverse shapes.
Companies like Tōka Corporation, San-X, and Mattel, authorized by Sega, launched the first batch of Pokémon merchandise at an astonishing speed.
Plush Pikachu showed a charmingly naive smile, Charmander's tail tip seemed to burn with a warm flame, Squirtle's round head made people want to reach out and touch it, while Bulbasaur quietly lay in the corner, the seed on its back seemingly containing vigorous vitality.
In addition to these palm-sized plush figures, there were also crystal-clear Poké Ball-shaped keychains, reflecting charming light under the illumination.
Several shiny stickers with Pokémon patterns further ignited the most primitive collecting desire of younger children.
What attracted the most attention from children was undoubtedly the "Poké Ball Belt" modeled after Satoshi's equipment in the anime.
The simple Velcro design, available in styles that could hold three Poké Balls and six Poké Balls, instantly struck the boys' dream of becoming "true Trainers."
As soon as the school bell rang, the children, like birds released from a cage, chirped and swarmed towards these stores.
They pressed their small faces almost against the display window glass, their eyes sparkling with longing.
"Wow! Look at that Pikachu hat, wearing it is like having a Pikachu on your head!"
"I want that Charmander backpack! It looks like it's lying on my back!"
"That belt is so cool! With it, I'll be a Pokémon Master!"
Discussions rose and fell, and the air was filled with pure excitement and possessiveness.
This wave of merchandise quickly spread from street-side toy stores to toy sections in major shopping malls, and even small shops around schools were not spared.
The variety of products enriched at a visible speed.
Pokémon-patterned canvas backpacks made the journey to school full of adventure.
Insulated water bottles with cute Eevee prints seemed to make even plain water delicious.
Pikachu umbrellas opened on rainy days instantly dispelled the gloom.
Even the most ordinary pencil cases, once printed with Bulbasaur's pattern, became unique.
These merchandise items were well-designed, brightly colored, and accurately captured the aesthetic preferences of the target consumer group.
Kyosuke had been distracted lately.
His gaze often involuntarily drifted to a classmate's waist in the classroom.
There, a brand-new "three-ball style" Poké Ball belt proudly declared its owner's "fashionability."
When that classmate walked, his back was noticeably straighter than usual.
Kyosuke touched his empty waist, then squeezed the precious Pikachu electronic pet in his pocket, and a strong longing gripped him.
He even secretly calculated in class how much more pocket money he needed for that belt and how many more times he would have to help his mother with chores to save enough.
It wasn't just children like Kyosuke.
Some young female office workers, passing by department store counters during their lunch break, would also be attracted by those round, adorable Pokémon plush keychains.
They would choose an Eevee or Pikachu that caught their eye and hang it on their commuting bags, adding a splash of color to their monotonous work life.
Pokémon's charm seemed to be quietly infiltrating all age groups, showing a potential to appeal to everyone, regardless of gender or age.
At the checkout counter, parents wore smiles of both helplessness and indulgence as they generously paid for their children's passion.
Although the unit price of these merchandise items was not particularly affordable, the surging purchasing enthusiasm showed no signs of fading.
Just as this merchandise craze intensified, Pokémon anime's fourth episode, "Challenge of the Samurai Boy!", aired on schedule.
When Satoshi's Metapod, which had always been considered weak, burst forth with a dazzling white light at the critical moment during its fierce confrontation with a Beedrill.
As the light faded, a Butterfree with splendid wings and a graceful posture flew out, easily resolving the crisis with Sleep Powder.
The children in front of the television erupted in gasps of surprise.
Especially those children who owned Caterpie or Metapod electronic pets, they jumped up from the sofa in excitement.
"It evolved! My Metapod can also evolve into Butterfree!"
The day after the anime aired, an even crazier "stepping" enthusiasm erupted among the children.
They ran and walked more actively than ever before, just to witness the magnificent transformation of their handheld Pokémon as soon as possible.
Correspondingly, the sales of Butterfree plush figures, stickers, and various small items printed with Butterfree patterns instantly surged, clearly becoming new popular stars.
Some subtle changes also began to appear in a wider population.
"My child has been actively asking to walk to and from school every day for his Caterpie recently, and he even eats breakfast faster."
"I heard that many children cried when that Butterfree evolved; it's truly incredible."
Topics such as "Butterfree's Tears" and "Walking for Pokémon's Growth" began to quietly appear in chat groups of some young parents and even in columns of some fashion magazines that focus on popular culture.
Pokémon's influence, like ripples spreading from a stone thrown into a lake, was visibly expanding outwards from the younger children's group, showing initial signs of "breaking out of the circle."
Teacher Kinoshita, while grading homework in the office, keenly noticed this change.
She observed that several young female colleagues, who usually only discussed TV drama plots or celebrity gossip, had recently begun enthusiastically discussing the Pokémon anime plot.
"That Pikachu is just too cute; it's so adorable with that 'Pika' suffix when it talks!"
"Did you watch the latest episode? Butterfree is so beautiful! I almost cried when Satoshi released it."
Teacher Kinoshita put down her red pen, and a slight smile involuntarily appeared at the corner of her mouth.
This craze, sparked by a small electronic pet, seemed to have far more energy than initially expected.
At the same time, a monthly performance review meeting concerning the future of the Pokémon project was being held on the top floor of Sega's headquarters building.
In the first month of the Pokémon anime's broadcast, the sales data of the electronic pets themselves were explosive, even causing a nationwide shortage panic at one point, and the production lines running continuously could hardly meet the huge market demand.
However, for a company of Sega's size, the single-unit profit of the electronic pets themselves was not particularly high.
Considering the enormous funds invested in anime production in the early stages, the complex negotiation and integration costs with authorized manufacturers and various levels of distributors, and the continuous promotion expenses.
Some directors and department heads who had reservations about this project from the beginning, or preferred traditional arcade and console game businesses, inevitably had some private complaints.
In their view, this project was somewhat "all bark and no bite," and the input and output seemed disproportionate.
Takuya Nakayama sat at one end of the conference table, his expression calm.
During this period, he indeed bore pressure, both overt and covert, from various levels within the company.
But he had almost fanatical confidence in the subsequent profitability of the entire project.
He knew that the real harvest season had just begun.