116-120

Chapter 116: Deputy Director Fuyukawa Goes Out, Bringing the Whole Crew? 

“He’s back in Japan?”  

Tetsu Fuyukawa raises an eyebrow at the phone notification. After Surrounded by Beauties blew up, Asuka Tsukitake, the 176cm bombshell who played Hao Hao’s mom, fled to Europe to escape the hype. Tetsu figured she’d wait until the buzz died down to return, but here she is, already back and asking him to buy her a Little Pink—a cheeky nod to Japan’s playful adult toy culture. 

Thinking of the Jumpy Little Pink crushed under his dress shoe, Tetsu’s brow quirks again, and the two women beside him catch it instantly. 

“That look? Who’s texting you? Don’t tell me it’s another woman!”  

Mito Miyano’s slender fingers pause on her keyboard, her icy stare pinning Tetsu. Sayoko, too, fidgets nervously, her eyes a mix of worry and a hint of jealousy—a classic Japanese drama moment where intuition sparks suspicion. 

Cough. Is this a woman’s sixth sense?  

Tetsu didn’t expect a raised eyebrow to tip them off about the sender’s gender. Caught off guard, he stifles a laugh but doesn’t hide anything, spilling the details. 

“She’s asking you to buy sex toys?! That giant from Surrounded by Beauties?!” Mito’s glare sharpens, and Sayoko’s small fists clench. Tetsu can’t hold it together anymore. 

Giant, huh?  

Well, if Yui Shinohara’s 169cm earns her the nickname “Tokyo Skytree,” calling 176cm Asuka a “giant” isn’t too far off in Japan’s height-conscious culture. Still, Tetsu can’t help but snicker, thinking of the Total War series’ “giants” from his past life. His amusement, though, only makes Mito’s stare frostier during this “sensitive topic.” 

“You’re laughing? No way! I’m watching you reply!” Mito declares, dragging a reluctant Sayoko behind Tetsu. Four “snow pomelos” press against his shoulders as they peer at his phone. Tetsu’s grin fades, especially when Asuka’s next message pings. 

[Asuka: You’ve dragged out our bet long enough. You owe interest! Meet me at Isshin Dojo in Shibuya.] 

“…”  

“Isshin Dojo? She’s challenging you to a fencing match?”  

Mito, expecting a dinner invite, is thrown off. A wicked grin spreads across her face, her eyes gleaming with excitement and a touch of jealousy, like a shonen anime rival sizing up a foe. “Tonight, I’m coming too!” 

“…” 

Mito’s determined to confront Asuka, and though Tetsu finds it a bit of a headache, he doesn’t stop her. He and Asuka are just friends—nothing to hide. Before heading to Shibuya, they detour to the K-On! set to pick up Kuki Izumi from work. 

As Tetsu steps out of his black BMW with two stunning women, the crew’s jaws drop. Especially Manager Hase, whose glasses nearly pop off! Last time, seeing Tetsu with Mito could’ve been a fluke, but both Mito and Sayoko now? No coincidence. And what’s with Sayoko tagging along? 

Hase’s brain short-circuits watching the two beauties flank Tetsu. Her stammered greeting goes unnoticed—Mito and Tetsu don’t care, and Sayoko, though shy, brushes it off. Sure, their group might spark office gossip, but with Sekiro wrapping up and Tetsu planning to leave NTsoft, he’s unbothered. This is why he never released his songs publicly—stardom would’ve made this carefree life impossible. Game producers like him are famous in the industry but not chased by paparazzi, unlike, say, the God of War team, where fans care about the game, not the creator’s face. 

Ignoring the crew’s stares, the mood shifts when they reach the set. Mito and Sayoko get along fine, but Kuki, the Scorpio spitfire, has never warmed to Mito, the “sly vixen.” She keeps her distance from Tetsu in public, knowing her singing career is taking off, but clings to Sayoko’s arm, relentlessly roasting Mito and Tetsu. When she hears they’re meeting another woman in Shibuya, her big, clear eyes widen in shock. 

As Tetsu says goodbye to the grinning Deputy Director Tanaka and Manager Hase, Kuki pounces the moment they’re back in the car, straddling him and pinching his cheeks. Tetsu retaliates with a playful spanking. Through the rearview mirror, Mito catches Kuki rubbing her backside and whining to Sayoko, and a smirk tugs at her lips as she drives. 

Chapter 117: Sekiro?! Little She-Wolf! 

“So, Deputy Director Fuyukawa goes out with his whole entourage in tow?” 

On the tatami mats of the kendo dojo, Asuka Tsukitake, holding a bamboo sword in one hand, removed her kendo helmet with a playful smirk. 

She’d clearly been practicing for a while, her body warmed up. Her silver-gray hair, usually hidden under the mask, was damp with sweat, clinging to her face, and her cool, moonlit features were tinged with a faint flush. 

It was an alluring sight, and the onlookers nearby couldn’t help but stare, their gazes turning to envy and jealousy as they looked at Tetsu Fuyukawa. 

Tetsu, unfazed by the attention, just shrugged at Asuka with a grin. “It’s been a while, and your tongue’s gotten sharper. Alright, I’m not here to trade barbs. So, how do you want to spar?” 

“Pretty straightforward, huh? Careful not to embarrass yourself in front of your ladies,” she teased, then, to the disappointment of the onlookers, walked barefoot toward a small training room. 

The dojo taught a variety of disciplines and was quite spacious and upscale. Beyond the large public training area, it had several private training rooms. 

“Tetsu-kun… he won’t get hurt, will he?” 

In the corner of the small training room, lined with dumbbells and facing Shibuya’s streets through floor-to-ceiling windows with two treadmills, Sayoko sat on the tatami, feeling the breeze from the air purifier. She watched Tetsu, now in kendo armor, with a worried expression. 

Hearing her, Mitei Miyano, sitting cross-legged with her cool gaze fixed on Asuka, raised an eyebrow. She recalled Tetsu’s monstrous physical prowess from their last judo sparring session and the suffocating intensity of being kissed in his arms. Her striking face warmed slightly, and she relaxed with a smile. “Don’t worry, that guy’s built like a beast. You’d know that better than anyone, right?” 

“Eek! Miyano-san, don’t say that!” Sayoko, caught off guard by the suggestive jab and remembering their more unconventional moments, blushed furiously. 

Before her flush could fade, Himawari Izumi, fiddling with a women’s dumbbell nearby, popped her head up and shot Mitei a glare. “Hey, don’t you know it’s rude to pry into a couple’s private life?!” 

“Rude to pry into a couple’s private life?” Mitei raised an eyebrow, smirking. “If you ask me, the real issue is a certain someone who’s always hanging around the house like a third wheel. And not just any third wheel—one with some ulterior motives—hey, what are you doing?!” 

“Stop talking!! Let go of me!” Himawari yelped. 

Desperate to keep her secrets from being exposed in front of Sayoko—though she knew Sayoko probably already suspected her relationship with Tetsu—Himawari lunged at Mitei, trying to grab her face. Unfortunately, she picked the wrong opponent. Mitei was a judo expert. 

No contest. Under Sayoko’s amused yet helpless gaze, Mitei executed a perfect rear naked choke! 

She wrapped her arms around Himawari from behind, her legs locking around Himawari’s thighs, her right arm pressing against her collarbone—careful not to actually choke her. 

A rear naked choke! 

Lethal in a real fight! 

One curvy, one slender, the two women tangled together! 

“Let me go, you jerk!” Himawari squirmed, unable to move, weakly patting Mitei’s arm. 

But Mitei, dealing with this barely 90-pound girl who loved to talk big but was actually pretty fun to be around, didn’t use much force. Her right arm rested more on Himawari’s collarbone than her neck, and she playfully pinched Himawari’s cheek with her left hand. “Admit you’re wrong!” 

“Wrong…” 

“That’s more—” 

“Wrong, my foot! I’m sorry, okay? Himawari’s sorry!” she squealed. 

“That’s better.” 

“Better, my foot! You’d better watch out at night!” Himawari shot back, her hands reaching for Mitei’s hair the moment the grip loosened. 

But with a slight flex of Mitei’s arms, Himawari flailed, her pale legs kicking as she apologized loudly again. 

The second Mitei let go, Himawari scurried back to Sayoko, clinging to her arm like she’d found a shield, and resumed her taunts. “This woman—” 

Seeing Himawari stick out her tongue, then glancing at Sayoko sitting between them, Mitei sighed but couldn’t help smiling. Calming down, she hadn’t felt this relaxed and playful in ages. Shaking her head with a warm glint in her eyes, she waved it off. “Alright, alright, I’m done teasing you.” 

“Hmph! When you’re old, I’m gonna whack you with a stick!” Himawari huffed. 

“Himawari~” Sayoko chided gently. 

“Ugh, fine,” Himawari muttered, but still sneaked a grimace at Mitei. 

This girl. 

Feeling the cozy, relaxed vibe she’d only experienced at their last gathering, Mitei shook her head with a smile, her expression softening completely. 

Relaxed, she abandoned her “department head dignity” cross-legged pose, sprawling her legs out, leaning back on her hands casually on the tatami, and glanced at Asuka, now in her kendo helmet. “You know this woman?” 

“Yeah, she used to be Himawari’s music teacher,” Sayoko replied. 

“Music teacher?” 

“Mhm.” 

Sayoko spilled the details. 

Mitei nodded thoughtfully. Looks like another rival’s joining the fray. What a playboy! 

Her mind wandered as the sparring match on the mat began. 

“Shinto-ryu?” Tetsu, adjusting his kendo helmet and eyeing Asuka’s middle-guard stance, raised an eyebrow beneath his mask. “Didn’t you train in Niten Ichi-ryu before?” 

“Against a powerhouse like you, dual-wielding won’t cut it,” Asuka said seriously, her moonlit eyes locked on Tetsu’s legs. She was a prodigy in every sense—except math—learning everything quickly. Coming from a prestigious family, she’d dabbled in every kendo style. 

While Niten Ichi-ryu, the dual-wielding style, was her forte, it relied on technique over power, unlike the Shinto-ryu she was using now. 

This wasn’t a scored match, and though she’d never sparred with Tetsu, she’d seen him unwind during lunch breaks on the set of Surrounded by Beauties, practicing Muay Thai in the gym. She didn’t know much about Muay Thai, but she knew a whip kick that could fling a sandbag nearly 90 degrees meant serious strength! 

“Shinto-ryu, huh? Let’s see it,” Tetsu said, his eyes glinting with excitement. He hadn’t formally studied Japanese kendo, but working on Sekiro had given him some knowledge of styles like Niten Ichi-ryu, Shinto-ryu, and Hokushin Itto-ryu. 

Niten Ichi-ryu was Miyamoto Musashi’s dual-wielding style, while Shinto-ryu, developed in the Edo period by the “Sword Saint” Nobutsume Ueyama, emphasized “no-sword capture” and “one-strike kill.” 

“No-sword capture” meant a samurai could fight without a blade, and “one-strike kill” focused on delivering the most effective strike with minimal movement—a “killing technique.” 

“My kendo’s garbage. To beat her, I’ve gotta close the distance!” Tetsu thought, not overthinking it. With Asuka’s “Let’s go,” he charged forward, bamboo sword raised! 

“This guy’s a total amateur!” Asuka thought, seeing his wide-open stance. 

He looked like he was about to unleash some One-Slash-Two-Halves, Divine Sword move, charging recklessly. Asuka, who’d been on high alert, nearly burst out laughing. Without hesitation, she shifted into a lunge, thrusting her bamboo sword! 

A stab! 

Amid Sayoko’s gasp from the sidelines, the sword aimed for Tetsu’s armored chest. But just as Asuka prepared to pull back, her eyes widened—Tetsu, gripping his sword with both hands, suddenly swung his left arm to block! 

“So fast!” she thought. 

Crack! 

Under Asuka’s surprised—but not too surprised—gaze and Mitei’s knowing smirk, Asuka’s thrust was knocked aside. In the next instant, Tetsu’s right hand swung the sword down with force! 

The power was immense! 

The air whistled with a whoosh—but no sound of the sword hitting a shoulder followed! 

“Not bad!” Asuka said, dodging with a roll. 

Tetsu grinned, but showed no mercy, charging again with his sword raised! 

Yes, he was swinging wildly! 

His kendo skills were nonexistent. Without protective gear, his left hand would’ve been swollen by now. But this was just sparring! 

His freakish physical stats—strong muscles, high durability, and agility—made him hard to hit. Plus, the armor… 

A bamboo sword, especially for sparring, did little damage against it! 

He felt like he’d activated a +99999 armor cheat, hacking away freely! 

Under Asuka’s frustrated glare and Mitei’s stifled laughter, the match turned comical. Asuka, a kendo master, was forced to fend off Tetsu’s relentless, chaotic swings. Unless she hit his throat or face, she couldn’t do much damage. But Tetsu, with his Muay Thai-honed instincts, guarded his face and throat expertly! 

Add his near-superhuman speed and strength—each swing, even if parried, rattled Asuka’s hands, and his attack frequency was insane! 

Crack, crack, crack! 

The sound of bamboo swords clashing echoed in the room. Asuka grew more frustrated, while Tetsu was having the time of his life! 

“No wonder people love Sekiro! Hacking away is so satisfying! But her parries are solid. Wait… parries?” 

As another swing was met with Asuka’s parry and a sweeping leg kick, Tetsu quickly stepped back. Seeing Asuka’s confused expression, wondering why he’d pulled away, he grinned. “Hey, I’ve got a new gig for you. Interested?” 

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?” Asuka blinked, thrown off by his sudden tangent. 

Tetsu chuckled. “My motion capture actor for the new game got in a car accident. I’m struggling to find someone skilled in kendo. Wanna give it a shot?” 

“Motion capture actor?” Asuka blinked again. 

Tetsu nodded. “Yeah, my new game’s hardcore. It’s got tons of sword clashes, parries, and dodges. I think you’d be perfect.” 

Honestly, Tetsu had known Asuka was skilled in kendo but hadn’t initially considered her for the role. Sekiro’s protagonist was a stoic male, and as long as the swordplay was sharp, anyone could do it. Male actors typically brought a stronger sense of power, better suited to male players’ habits. 

But… 

His eyes flicked to Asuka’s dramatic curves under her kendo uniform and her delicate, pale feet. Suddenly, he thought, Why can’t Sekiro be a female ninja?! 

Female ninjas had a market—a huge one! 

From King of Fighters’ Mai Shiranui, Dead or Alive’s Kasumi and Ayane, Tekken’s Kunimitsu, to even Taimanin—female ninjas were iconic! 

There was a market! 

And times had changed. Twenty years ago, boys in red clothes were mocked, but now? Players were getting wilder. More and more loved playing female characters in single-player or online games! 

Everyone mocked Miracle Nikki, but everyone was its audience! 

From Genshin Impact and Bloody Palace in China to Nikke and Nier: Automata abroad, sexy female characters often broke out first! 

Who wouldn’t want to control a sultry ninja in a Mai Shiranui-style outfit, leaping across rooftops and slicing enemies? 

Which single-player gamer hadn’t used a spicy MOD? 

Those who hadn’t just couldn’t find the download link! 

“MODs can change appearances, but they clash with the story. A female protagonist from the start would be better. Though…” 

“We’d keep the male option too. Gameplay and characters—players can skip them, but the game needs both. The female storyline will need some tweaks, though.” 

Sekiro’s story wasn’t its strongest draw—not like Elden Ring with its “Ring Scholars”—but it couldn’t be weak either. A female protagonist could share some plot points with the male, but certain parts would need reworking, and story changes were a big deal. 

Tetsu’s mind buzzed, while Asuka grew impatient. “Hey, what’s with that sneaky grin? Motion capture actor? The spar’s not over!” 

Her tone was annoyed—understandably, after being hacked at for ages. But seeing her fiery spirit, Tetsu’s lips curved. He dropped the motion capture topic, picking up his bamboo sword again. “Looks like you’re not satisfied yet. Let’s go.” 

“Men!” Asuka shouted, and the room filled with the clash of bamboo swords again. 

Yes, Tetsu didn’t press the motion capture topic. It wasn’t like Asuka was the only option. Plus… 

Solving problems required strategy. 

They were just friends, but after spending time together, Tetsu knew Asuka’s personality. She was wealthy, free-spirited, and insanely curious. 

For someone like her, shoving an opportunity in her face would make her scoff. 

To get her as the motion capture actor, he needed Spreed to let her get curious on her own. Dropping the topic now, after planting the seed, was the best move. 

Tetsu schemed quietly as Asuka, her hands numb from parrying, admitted defeat and sat to drink water, frustrated. But Tetsu couldn’t join her. 

Asuka stepped off, and Mitei, who’d been practicing yoga with Sayoko and Himawari, stepped onto the mat barefoot. With a predatory grin, she faced the sweaty, confused Tetsu. 

“You seemed to be having fun with that woman,” she said. 

“…” 

The judo spar with Mitei was a mix of pain and pleasure. 

Normally, Tetsu wouldn’t let a judo expert like Mitei get close, but their relationship had shifted from boss-subordinate to something more. Plus, he could tell Mitei was irked by Asuka’s presence. 

No way he’d use a whip kick or haymaker on his own woman. 

The result? 

Judo’s full of locks—intimate ones. 

Rear naked chokes, thick thighs pressing against his neck in a cross choke, headlocks with her calf pulling toward his groin in a triangle choke. 

Mitei got more excited with each move, unleashing her full arsenal. But after a “You’re playing with fire,” Tetsu, his playful side ignited, scooped her up from behind, pinned her against the wall, and… 

Tickled her. 

In their suggestive pose, Mitei’s embarrassed protests echoed softly. Sayoko, doing yoga, blushed. Himawari, on the treadmill, wrinkled her nose, muttering “pervert,” her face red as her mind wandered. Asuka… 

She spat out her water. 

Chapter 118: Leader Mitei 

The lively chaos at the dojo went on from five in the evening until nearly eight, only stopping when Himawari’s stomach let out a loud grumble. Amid her embarrassed protests, the group finally changed and left the dojo. 

“Phew—nothing beats the fresh air outside,” Tetsu said, standing under the neon glow of Tokyo’s night streets, the gentle breeze ruffling his hoodie. Behind him, Sayoko and the others chatted as they stepped out of the dojo. 

While Sayoko and Miyano Mitei got along harmoniously, Mitei and Himawari bickered constantly, and Himawari clung to Sayoko with her usual clinginess. Meanwhile, Tsukitake Asuka, sipping milk nearby, felt like an outsider. She clearly knew she didn’t quite fit in yet—or maybe she just wasn’t interested in trying. After hearing Tetsu and Himawari discuss dinner plans, she hopped on her motorcycle, bid a quick goodbye, and sped off. 

“She’s not quite the flirty vixen I imagined,” Mitei mused, watching Asuka’s leather-clad figure, complete with a cat-eared helmet, disappear around a corner. She brushed back her wind-tousled hair, then, under Himawari’s pouting gaze, looped her arm through Tetsu’s. “Hey, what do you think about me getting a short haircut?” 

“Short hair?” Tetsu blinked, eyeing Mitei’s stunningly elegant aura and killer figure. His mind instantly conjured up a classic character from a Korean manhwa—Leader Mitei. 

Rubbing his nose, he said, “Could work, but short hair’s tough to tie into a ponytail.” 

“Tch, what are you thinking, you perv?” Mitei shot him a playful, sultry glare, her cheeks flushing as she recalled their steamy moment in the office. But with the others around, she quickly dropped the topic. 

Soon, Sayoko and Himawari returned with bubble tea, and the four piled into the car. 

It was past eight, too late to cook at home, so they opted to eat out. Sayoko had been craving barbecue, so Tetsu picked a well-known wagyu restaurant in Shibuya. Oddly, Himawari, who’d been whining about being starving, barely touched her food, just staring longingly as the others dug in. 

She couldn’t help it. As an A-cup at eighteen, and after getting caught in Mitei’s rear naked choke at the dojo—feeling that soft, overwhelming embrace—she was hit with a serious sense of insecurity. On the way out of the dojo, she’d grabbed a shaved papaya and two large bubble teas, munching and sipping the whole way. By the time they reached the restaurant, she was too full to eat. Her pitiful expression, burping from the milk tea while eyeing the sizzling meat, cracked Tetsu up. 

But there was nothing he could do to help. 

They ate, drank, and laughed, and time flew by. By past nine, they were stuffed and ready to leave. 

Mitei hadn’t driven, and Tetsu offered to drop her off, but a K-car pulled up as they left the restaurant. Behind the wheel was Oyama Futaba, an outsourced member of the Sekiro team. Whether she’d stayed up too late gaming or was exhausted from work, her dark circles were prominent. But the moment she saw Mitei, she perked up, transforming into a feisty dragon, roasting Mitei with complaints like, “You called me when I hadn’t even woken up!” and “You didn’t even save me any food? Are you human?!” 

Himawari snickered at Mitei’s expense, but her amusement vanished with a loud honk. All eyes, including those of passersby, turned to Futaba—or rather, to the massive F-cups pressing against the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare. 

“Holy… that’s just ridiculous,” Tetsu muttered, stunned despite his daily skincare routine. As for Himawari, the A-cup, she went numb the moment the horn sounded. Like a zombie, she climbed into the BMW’s backseat, lost in an existential crisis. 

It was a hilarious scene, and Mitei burst out laughing. But with the hour growing late, she didn’t linger. After a cheerful goodbye, she hopped into the K-car, shooing the exhausted Futaba to the passenger seat to prevent any tired driving. 

“Well, today was quite the adventure. Let’s head home,” Tetsu said with a chuckle, watching the K-car vanish around the corner. He tugged at his collar and walked toward the black BMW parked near the station. Sayoko, clearly enjoying the day’s “team bonding,” smiled and linked arms with him. “Mm. Let’s stop by the supermarket on the way. We’re almost out of condoms.” 

“No need to wear one tonight,” Tetsu teased. 

“No way, it’s a risky day. Plus, I’m not quite ready yet,” Sayoko replied playfully. 

“Fine, your call. But I want the ultra-thin ones.” 

“Hmph, you big perv.” 

Under the starry sky, the two laughed and bantered on Shibuya’s lively streets. As their car sped off, a few onlookers at the station shook their heads, muttering in disbelief, “One guy with four women, and it’s still so harmonious? The world’s gone wild.” 

Life was a mix of mundane routines with occasional bursts of excitement or chaos. 

After that day at the kendo dojo with Asuka, Tetsu’s life settled back into its usual rhythm. Maybe it was the system boosting his stamina, or maybe he’d fully adapted to this pace, but despite his busy work, his energy levels kept improving. 

On Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays, he woke up forty minutes early to jog. If Sayoko was too worn out from the previous night’s antics to join, he’d grab breakfast on the way back. The three of them—him, Sayoko, and Himawari—would eat together before he dropped Himawari off at school or, more often, the film set. 

Yes, the film set. 

By late March, Himawari had graduated from Tokiwadai High School. Unlike her peers, who felt nostalgic about their high school days, Himawari’s high school life had ended the day she left the Light Music Club. Still, Tetsu and Sayoko took her graduation seriously, taking time off to attend her sports festival and ceremony. A photo of Himawari in her school uniform with them under a cherry blossom tree replaced her middle school graduation photo with Sayoko on her bedside table. 

Though, in certain moments—when her twintails were in Tetsu’s hands and she was kneeling on the tatami—the photo would be shyly covered. 

Beyond sports festivals and ceremonies, Japan’s high school graduation season included school trips and university applications. The school trip, a multi-day tour for seniors to mark the end of high school, wasn’t something Himawari joined. She had few friends, and after leaving the Light Music Club, only her tanned bestie, Konno Yumi, remained. But Yumi was laid up with a broken ankle, a devastating blow for a track athlete, though thankfully it happened after entrance exams. 

With no friends, her bestie sidelined, and the film set making it hard to take long breaks, Himawari skipped the trip. As compensation, Tetsu took a day off to take her to Tokyo DisneySea. He snapped a photo of her getting kissed by a dolphin, and in return, the moment they got home, still changing shoes in the entryway, she kabedon-ed him against the wall. 

A whirlwind of passion followed—though not quite to the final step. Afterward, cuddling on the couch watching a movie, Tetsu felt utterly content. 

Post-graduation came university. Despite juggling gigs to make ends meet, Himawari, who’d grown up tough, studied diligently in her limited spare time. Her academic scores were average, limited by time and natural aptitude, but her musical talent shone. With her performance history, song releases, essays, and interviews, she aced the AO entrance exam for Tokyo University of the Arts. 

Tokyo University of the Arts! 

Among Tokyo’s six top music schools, it was the crown jewel, a unicorn in Japan’s music education. Even with her financial stability, Himawari was over the moon when she got the acceptance letter. For the second time with Sayoko home, she dragged Tetsu into the bathroom, stammering nervously. The next day, she “extorted” a fancy meal and a trip to Tokyo Skytree. 

Tetsu had no complaints. His ambition drove him, fueled by a love for games and a desire to create something fun. But at its core, he knew money was key to a happy life, and his career was a means to that joy. He’d never sacrifice living for work. 

Time flew during these happy moments with Himawari. As the excitement of her university acceptance settled, Tetsu’s life gradually shifted back to work. 

Chapter 119: Infusing Chinese Cuisine! 

“Rewriting plotlines is, without a doubt, the biggest headache.” 

As lunch break approached, Tetsu Fuyukawa sat by the floor-to-ceiling window in his office, sipping oolong tea. He slumped back in his plush boss’s chair, staring blankly at the towering buildings of Akihabara outside. Swiveling the chair, he turned his gaze to two documents open on his computer screen. 

[Dave the Diver, Shark Village Plot Revision] 

[Sekiro, Female Ninja Plot Revision] 

Both Word documents were packed with plot analyses, gameplay descriptions, key mechanics for the current storylines, and even embedded images for clarity. Together, they spanned over a hundred pages, but… 

With a pained glance at the files, Tetsu tapped the keyboard, adding “Draft” to both titles. 

“The female ninja route in Sekiro doesn’t just need a plot overhaul—it needs new bosses too. The original Sekiro’s a male character with a hard-hitting, bold fighting style. To capture a female ninja’s allure—sexy, agile, fierce yet charming—we need boss battles tailored to her vibe to make players feel awesome. Am I being too ambitious?” 

Tetsu took another sip of oolong tea, his eyes reflecting both frustration and determination. 

Hidetaka Miyazaki—a name that sounds ordinary but carries weight. In a gaming industry worth $300 billion, Miyazaki became a programmer at 29 and carved out a legacy with the Souls series, rising to the top. His talent? One in a hundred thousand, if not rarer—more exclusive than a national exam top scorer. Adding personal touches to a game by a creator of his caliber, especially while matching his style, was a colossal challenge. 

The hardest part wasn’t technical skill—it was style. 

There are plenty of Souls-like games, but players can instantly spot the difference between Miyazaki’s works and imitators like Code Vein, Lies of P, or Nioh. Blending new content into Sekiro without making players feel like “Did they swap out the director or what?” was a tightrope walk. One misstep could tank the game’s reputation! 

Yes, even just adding new content could spark backlash. In today’s traffic-driven era, some content creators thrive on tearing games apart, magnifying every flaw with clickbait titles like “This Game’s Huge, But Don’t Bother Playing It.” 

Elden Ring faced this too. Its snowy mountain region felt vast but empty, and the Fire Giant boss fight was a snooze. Those issues fueled a wave of videos slamming the game for “falling off.” Thankfully, Elden Ring’s other strengths drowned out the noise. 

Sticking to Sekiro’s original plot and skipping new missions would guarantee solid reviews, but… 

“I’ve got to do it.” 

Tetsu downed his oolong tea, a spark of resolve in his eyes. 

No question—playing it safe was the smartest move. Make Sekiro as is, bank some cash, then create his dream game later. But people get lazy! 

Look at some big Chinese game studios. They might start with “We’ll copy others to make money, then create our own stuff.” But once copying rakes in easy cash, unless the market shifts drastically, they rarely pivot to original work. 

Once your drive fizzles, reigniting it is like climbing a mountain. Besides… 

“I won’t get much profit from Sekiro. This game’s main purpose is to show the industry my ability to handle big projects, my vision for game design, and the technical strength of my core team.” 

Exactly—Sekiro was a billboard, a showcase to attract talent for his future independent ventures! 

In that case, even if the new content clashed slightly with the game’s style, as long as it demonstrated strong technical skills, gameplay innovation, and project management, he’d still draw top talent! 

“The risk is manageable. No need to overthink it.” 

With that realization, Tetsu felt his mind lighten. But soon, his attention shifted to the Dave the Diver document. 

As the debut title from MINTROCKET, a new studio, Dave the Diver sold 500,000 copies in its first week with minimal marketing, eventually nearing four million—a true dark horse hit. 

But it wasn’t flawless. As a first project with limited investment, it shone early on but stumbled mid-game, especially in the Shark Village arc, where its weaknesses showed. 

The issue? Similar to Elden Ring. 

In Elden Ring, the snowy mountain region tanked the game’s freshness, with players noting sparse content, thin plotlines, and a big but empty map. Enemies felt like reskins—same models, just beefed up with more health, armor, and damage. It was like “At level 1, I’m smacking shrimp with a broken stick,” versus “At level 80, I’m fighting True Overlord Sunset Shrimp with a +12 Earth-Shattering Thunder Staff.” 

The root cause? 

Either Miyazaki was holding back for a big DLC to flesh out the snowfields, or he’d run out of steam. 

The story wasn’t done, but the budget or creative juice had dried up, so they padded it with reskinned enemies and a sprawling, empty map to stretch playtime and keep the game trending. 

Dave the Diver had the same problem. 

Its early gameplay was stellar, but as a modestly funded debut, it threw all its mechanics at players early. To extend playtime in the Shark Village arc, the plot dragged on, bloated and aimless. 

In short: filler. 

Pure filler. 

Nothing left to say but still chasing profit? Pad it out. 

The best fix? Add more fresh content. 

“Dave the Diver’s core elements are underwater adventure, fishing, management, and cuisine.” 

“Underwater adventure and fishing are maxed out—unless we toss in Cthulhu, but that’d change the game’s vibe entirely. So, to patch the gaps, I’ll expand the restaurant management module and the cuisine module, which the original didn’t emphasize but players loved.” 

“Hmm, no plot changes, but I’ll add more management and cuisine content to the Shark Village arc. Those two modules…” 

Musing aloud, Tetsu spun his chair, tapping his dress shoes on the floor. Just then, the office door opened. 

Amid the lunchtime chatter from the hallway, Sayoko walked in with her handbag. “Still stressing over the plot?” 

“Pretty much figured it out. Oh, you look gorgeous today—come here, let me give you a hug.” 

Swiveling his chair, Tetsu grinned and opened his arms. 

Sayoko was in her work uniform, but as the art team lead for Dave the Diver under Miyano’s guidance, she’d swapped her understated gray suit for a chic leather pencil skirt, a sophisticated white blouse, and round, frameless glasses. 

Compared to before, she was less subdued and more elegantly refined. 

The look hit Tetsu’s sweet spot. Last night, the moment they got home, he’d pinned her at the entryway, leaving her round glasses smudged. 

Perhaps recalling last night, Sayoko’s cheeks flushed, but she nestled into Tetsu’s arms obediently. Feeling his firm embrace, she adjusted her glasses and said shyly, “Not during the day—it’s such a hassle to redo my makeup.” 

“Come on, what’s that dirty mind of yours thinking? I just want a hug,” Tetsu teased. 

“Hmph, you big wolf!”  

Feeling his deep breath against her neck, Sayoko squirmed in his lap, relaxed, twirling her hair. “Miyano said she’s off to an internal meeting at TGS, so it’s just us for lunch. What do you feel like, Tetsu-kun?” 

After last night’s antics and no ready meals, Sayoko hadn’t packed a bento. 

At her question, Tetsu nipped her pale neck lightly and grinned. “How about Chinese food? It’s been a while.” 

“I’m good with that.” 

Sayoko nodded, standing from his lap. But at the door, she noticed Tetsu hadn’t followed. He was staring at his screen, brows furrowed oddly. 

“What’s up?” 

Sayoko tilted her head, but Tetsu's frown soon eased, a smile spreading as he strode over, cupped her face, and planted a kiss under her shy gaze. 

“Holy crap, how did I miss such an obvious answer?!” 

“Huh? What answer?” 

As a seasoned couple, a kiss didn’t faze Sayoko much, though her cheeks still reddened. She looked at Tetsu’s beaming face, puzzled. 

“Chinese cuisine! I said the game needs more gameplay, right? I was focused on expanding management and cuisine, but since the game’s style leans Western, I overlooked Chinese food!” 

Tetsu’s eyes gleamed. 

Dave the Diver was made by MINTROCKET, a studio under South Korea’s NEXON—y’know, the folks behind MapleStory and KartRider. Korean studios, well, let’s just say they don’t have much standout cuisine of their own and rarely promote Chinese culture. So, the game leaned heavily on Japanese dishes! 

Objectively, Japan’s a global food powerhouse. Japanese cuisine is unique and tasty, but its fame? That’s largely due to Japan’s knack for cultural promotion. 

Take “Goku.” To many Westerners unfamiliar with Asian culture, it evokes Dragon Ball, not Journey to the West. Dragon Ball’s great, but compared to Journey to the West—a classic steeped in history and humanity—it’s not even close. 

Same with food. Japanese cuisine’s got a big name, but in terms of variety and historical depth, it’s outclassed by China’s eight major culinary traditions. 

It just lacks promotion! 

No matter how good something is, without a platform young people vibe with, it stays obscure. 

“Sitting on a treasure trove and not digging it up—what are those guys thinking?” 

Tetsu shook his head but didn’t dwell. The key now? Adding Chinese cuisine could massively expand Dave the Diver’s culinary gameplay and content! 

“That said, while the overall style doesn’t need a big overhaul, the restaurant and protagonist’s designs will need tweaks. Since it’s a fishing game, some ingredients are tough to source. 

That’s tricky to fix. Adding land-based elements would spike costs, but I could add a trading post where players swap seafood for land ingredients like chicken, duck, pork, or beef! Heck, I could save this idea for a future solo project—a game covering both land and sea!” 

The more he thought, the more excited he got. Under Sayoko’s bemused yet fond smile, Tetsu—who’d just put on his suit jacket to head out for lunch—darted back to his desk, furiously typing. 

Sayoko didn’t say much, just smiled, set her handbag down, and poured two cups of hot tea. She pulled up a stool beside him, quietly watching and jotting notes in her notebook. 

Thankfully, it was just a spark of an idea. Expanding it required more research. Tetsu could cook Chinese food, but he wasn’t a gourmet. His skills came from necessity—growing up poor and alone, unable to afford restaurants, he taught himself. 

His knowledge of Chinese cuisine was mostly “the eight major styles are awesome.” 

Without deeper knowledge, the proposal wouldn’t come together. 

No need to stress. As the clock hit 1:30 p.m. and employees trickled back to work, Tetsu slipped on his suit jacket, made calls to find culinary experts, and headed with Sayoko to Heavy Gunner restaurant in Shinjuku. 

Yup, Heavy Gunner. 

Parts of I’m Surrounded by Beautiful Women were filmed there, and when Tetsu brought Himawari Izumi for her stage performance, he’d built a rapport with the owner. Plus, this place served authentic Chinese cuisine. 

Japan had plenty of Chinese restaurants, but many tweaked dishes for local tastes. Japanese palates lean lighter, so some Sichuan spots—betraying tradition—offered spice-level options. Many were even run by Japanese chefs trained in Chinese cooking. 

Heavy Gunner was different. 

It prided itself on authenticity, hiring chefs from China at premium salaries. They’d know the eight culinary styles inside out, and the owner had solid industry connections. 

Plus, Tetsu was craving hot pot. 

No question—when his black BMW pulled up to Heavy Gunner, the owner, tipped off by a call, was already waiting at the entrance! 

Waiting in person! 

No mystery why. To cut costs or attract investment, Tetsu had floated the idea of naming the in-game restaurant Heavy Gunner. 

The owner lost it! 

Kidding aside, running a big restaurant in Shinjuku already screamed wealth and connections. But Tetsu? He was Japan’s youngest game director with a multi-million-selling title! 

When I’m Surrounded by Beautiful Women filmed at Heavy Gunner, the restaurant rode a wave of popularity as the game blew up. 

Now Tetsu was odr a culinary-themed game, even offering to feature their restaurant’s name! 

The owner was beyond thrilled! 

So, as the BMW parked, he greeted them with cheongsam-clad hostesses, personally opening the door amid the stunned gazes of nearby shop staff who knew his status. 

Tetsu was used to the attention. Smiling, he shook the owner’s hand and followed him to a second-floor private room. But as they sat, Sayoko’s eyes lingered curiously on the hostesses’ elegant cheongsams. 

“Tetsu-kun seems really into Chinese culture. Maybe I should get a custom cheongsam made? But… isn’t that slit a bit too high?” 

The fleeting thought brought a shy glint to her eyes. As the spicy hot pot arrived, her focus shifted to the food. 

Noticing Tetsu was too busy talking business to enjoy his favorite lamb rolls, Sayoko thoughtfully started cooking and serving him. 

The owner praised her as the perfect wife. 

That phrase—perfect wife—made Sayoko’s already-flushed face (thanks to the spicy pot) turn redder. But after so long with Tetsu, often taking the “main wife” role in public, she was used to it. 

Instead of sneaking shy glances at him like before, she smiled warmly, serving him food. Under the table, her stockinged foot slipped out of her heel, playfully brushing Tetsu’s leg. 

Chapter 120: Sekiro CG About to Drop! 

“This little minx is getting bolder!”  

Feeling Sayoko’s stocking-clad foot teasingly brush against his calf under the table, Tetsu Fuyukawa shoots her a mock glare. But after years together, his stare lacks any real bite, only fueling the playful mischief in Sayoko’s eyes. Her toes press even closer, a flirty move straight out of a Japanese rom-com. 

Talk about losing control!  

But work comes first. Tetsu lets Sayoko’s teasing slide, focusing on his meeting with the Heavy Gunner boss. The discussion isn’t too complicated—business negotiations are all about balancing interests, a dance familiar in Japan’s corporate culture. 

The Heavy Gunner boss clearly wants a sweet deal, but the sticking point is the sponsorship fee. Before The Binding of Isaac exploded, Tetsu would’ve fought tooth and nail for NTsoft’s利益, since he was using their resources and paycheck. But after the game’s success, President Asai slashed Tetsu’s royalties by nearly 90% to fund aggressive marketing, boosting NTsoft’s fame in the West. It was a smart move for the company, but why should Tetsu sacrifice his share for their gain? 

Free from loyalty to NTsoft, Tetsu’s demands are straightforward: Heavy Gunner covers the salaries for the team providing “Chinese cuisine” expertise, plus a modest sponsorship fee—enough to keep NTsoft from making a fuss later.  

Like a pie falling from the sky!  

The Heavy Gunner boss is thrilled at the low cost for such a partnership, eagerly inviting Tetsu for drinks. With work waiting, Tetsu politely declines, wraps up the meal, and leaves with Sayoko. 

But they don’t head straight back to the office. 

After all that teasing during lunch, Tetsu pulls the black BMW under a quiet bridge with minimal foot traffic. The car starts rocking rhythmically, a cheeky nod to Japan’s love for discreet, romantic escapades in secluded spots. 

Sated and satisfied after their riverside “detour,” Tetsu returns to the office. Sneaking a playful pat on Sayoko’s still-flushed backside at the art department’s door, he chuckles at her shy mumble and heads to his office. 

“Diver Dave’s biggest issue was the lack of mid-to-late-game content, but with the expanded management mechanics, cooking system, and trade features, that’s solved. Now I can focus entirely on Sekiro,” Tetsu muses, feeling good about tying up loose ends. 

But before his seat even warms up, the office door swings open. 

“You’re looking awfully relaxed. Here I am, the department head, running myself ragged, while you’re sipping oolong tea,” Mito Miyano quips. Perhaps it’s the heat outside, but she unbuttons the top of her white blouse, sauntering over with a sway of her hips—reminiscent of a confident anime heroine—and snatches Tetsu’s oolong tea, chugging it down in one go. 

“Slow down, no one’s stealing it,” Tetsu teases, tilting his head. His gaze lingers on her swan-like neck and the glimpse of black lace peeking from her unbuttoned blouse. But what really catches his eye is her short hair, now swaying back as she drinks—a bold change since her fencing match with Asuka Tsukitake.  

The shorter cut amplifies Mito’s icy, alluring aura, like a black rose blooming at midnight. Her long hair once softened that edge, but now? She’s even more striking, exuding a cool, commanding vibe that screams Japanese femme fatale. 

Noticing Tetsu’s increasingly heated stare, Mito sets the teacup down and glares, flustered. “What’s with that pervy look? I’ve got files to deal with—I don’t have time for your nonsense!” 

“…” 

Her intuition’s scary accurate. Tetsu rolls his eyes, amused. Fresh off his “dessert” with Sayoko, he’s not that thirsty. He grabs the empty teacup, refills it with oolong, and leans against the sofa. “Didn’t Sayoko say you were at TGS for lunch? Why’re you suddenly so swamped?” 

TGS—Tokyo Game Show—is a big deal. Hosting it takes more than just a venue; major game companies like NTsoft and Sate bring their titles to prop it up. It’s a two-way street: expos need games for clout, and games need expos for exposure. Think Black Myth: Wukong’s second-by-second promo at Gamescom.  

Though the global summer game expos are months away, TGS organizers invite execs from major companies for internal meetings to outline the event’s flow, promo video costs, and booth prices. These meetings are usually routine, so Tetsu’s puzzled why Mito seems so fired up. 

Mito snatches his tea again, chugging it before venting, “The meeting was fine, but that jerk Nobi was there!” 

“Minister Nobi?” Tetsu raises an eyebrow. 

Mito nods, calming slightly after two cups of tea. Arms crossed, she says coolly, “When we joined Asai’s faction, Chairman Tsume pulled some strings to bring Nobi’s third division into their fold. I thought we’d have to duke it out, but they laid low. I figured Nobi was just fence-sitting, but…” 

Nobi, Tsume, TGS.  

Tetsu’s brow furrows as the pieces connect. “You’re saying—” 

“Exactly,” Mito cuts in, her tone serious. “They’re announcing a new project at this summer’s TGS. And get this—they’re making a sequel to Demon Hero Saga.” 

Demon Hero Saga?  

Tetsu’s frown deepens.  

Japanese studios may lag in tech these days, but their early start in gaming means they hold iconic IPs. Demon Hero Saga sounds cheesy, but it’s a classic from 1987, born in the Famicom era alongside Contra and Mario. It’s a household name for anyone who grew up with a Famicom. 

In 2002, the third division turned the side-scrolling classic into an action-packed PC game, a hit. But the third installment, despite NTsoft’s heavy investment, flopped hard, shelving the IP for nearly a decade.  

Sure, the last sequel bombed, but classic IPs carry weight. Look at Pokémon—each game feels dated, yet sales never dip. Demon Hero Saga lacks anime tie-ins and Nintendo’s marketing prowess, but its legacy is undeniable. 

“How much is their budget?” Tetsu asks, turning serious.  

The sequel’s success might seem irrelevant, but both Demon Hero Saga and Sekiro are NTsoft projects. When a company develops two big titles at once, unless they’re swimming in cash, they’ll weigh each game’s potential. If one falters or underperforms, the company will cut it to funnel funds into the stronger project. 

One way to gauge potential? Game expo CG trailers. They showcase gameplay and test market reactions, like Black Myth: Wukong’s 2018 trailer that drew investors and talent after going viral. 

Sekiro needs a killer CG trailer this summer to compete. 

First, Tetsu needs the rival’s details.  

“Their budget’s locked at 80 million dollars,” Mito says, her eyes icy. “Add Sekiro’s 60 million, that’s 140 million, plus marketing costs—total investment could hit or exceed 300 million! NTsoft can’t bankroll both. The third division’s clearly trying to squeeze us out. Damn it, Asai’s useless! Even if their proposal passed, he should’ve blocked them from reviving an old IP. Useless!” 

Mito’s gaze burns with frustration and disdain. Asai’s faction caved, letting the third division revive Demon Hero Saga. Its last flop proves the risk—a weak point Asai failed to exploit. 

Two big projects competing isn’t all bad. It’s a fair fight, and if Tetsu’s team outshines the third division, Sekiro could snag more funding. But Mito’s disdain for Asai’s incompetence is matched by her worry for Tetsu. 

She bites her fingernail in nervous tension, but Tetsu’s hand covers hers, his finger brushing her lips. Standing in the afternoon sunlight, he sips his tea and smiles. 

“Relax. This is just a little turbulence before we set sail.”