"Always… by my side?"
Kyosuke's eyes lit up like twin bulbs suddenly switched on.
He leaped from his chair, abandoning his meal and dishes, rushing like a whirlwind to his mother in the kitchen, who was washing dishes.
His voice trembled with excitement.
"Mom! Mom! I want it! The thing on TV!"
Startled, his mother turned. "What thing? Why the fuss?"
"The Pikachu one! The electronic pet that keeps Pikachu with me!"
Kyosuke pointed toward the living room TV, his face flushed with enthusiasm.
Sadly, the ad had ended, replaced by a weather forecast.
"Oh, that…" His father looked up from his newspaper, adjusting his glasses. "Some new toy, right? From the ad."
"Yes! Exactly! I want to buy it! Mom, give me my allowance! I need it now!"
Kyosuke's tone carried a fierce determination, his small fists clenched.
His mother wiped her hands, hesitant. "Well… new toys might be pricey…"
She glanced at her husband, then at her son's eager face.
"I don't care! I have to have it! Today!" Kyosuke stomped, resolute.
His father set down the paper, sighing. "Kid, that robot you got last month—you played with it for days, then ditched it."
"This is different!" Kyosuke shot back. "Pikachu's different! It'll stay with me!"
His mother, seeing his rare persistence and recalling the unique yellow mouse from the show, softened.
"Alright, alright," she said with a helpless smile. "We'll go to Grandma's first, and if we see it on the way back, we'll get one. Okay?"
"No! I need it now! I want to take it to Grandma's!" Kyosuke stood firm.
"You little…" His mother rubbed her temples.
Similar scenes played out across countless Japanese homes that morning.
Children's cries, relentless pleading, and parents' surprised or exasperated discussions mingled.
A yellow wave called "Pikachu" swept Japan at an unimaginable pace.
On streets, typically calm on Saturday mornings, flocks of hurried kids appeared.
Clutching hard-earned allowance or coins scavenged from piggy banks, they shared the same excited, anxious look, all headed to the nearest toy store.
"Boss! Boss! Got that Pikachu electronic pet?"
"I want the Pokémon one! From the TV!"
"Any stock left?"
Toy store doors, barely half-opened by trembling shopkeepers, were swarmed by kids.
Staff, startled by the onslaught, quickly donned professional smiles.
"Yes, yes! Pokémon electronic pets, fresh in stock!"
Rows of shiny new boxes lined the counters, featuring Pikachu and other Pokémon.
"How much?"
"I want Pikachu!"
Kids clamored.
A clerk explained loudly, "Kids, this Pokémon electronic pet is Set A, with fifteen different Pokémon!"
He held up a flyer.
"There's Bulbasaur, Charmander, Squirtle—the starter trio—plus Caterpie, Weedle, Pidgey, Spearow, Rattata, Sandshrew, Onix, Psyduck, Goldeen, Jigglypuff, Meowth, and, of course, everyone's favorite Pikachu!"
"Each box has five Poké Balls, each with a random Pokémon."
"But don't worry—every big box guarantees at least one rare starter like Bulbasaur, Charmander, or Squirtle!"
"As for Pikachu, that's up to your luck!"
"Random?"
"What if I don't get Pikachu?"
A small uproar erupted among the kids.
This uncertainty only fueled their eagerness.
"Whatever, I want a Poké Ball!"
"Me too!"
Tiny hands slapped crumpled bills and jingling coins onto the counter.
Meanwhile, Takuya Nakayama finished breakfast.
On TV, Pokémon's ending theme played softly.
He switched it off, a faint smile on his lips, and leisurely headed out.
Strolling under pleasant sunlight, he "happened" to pass several major toy stores.
Without exception, long lines of excited kids and varied-expression parents snaked outside.
Inside, cash registers rang nonstop amid the clamor.
Seeing this, Nakayama's worries eased.
He turned, strolling home calmly.
As he entered, the phone rang urgently.
It was animation director Kunihiko Yuyama.
"Mr. Nakayama! Mr. Nakayama! Ratings! The ratings are in!"
Yuyama's voice was shrill with excitement.
"Episode one averaged over 30%, peaking at 35%!!"
Nakayama smiled knowingly. "Great work, Director Yuyama. This is everyone's effort."
"No, no, it's your brilliant planning, Mr. Nakayama!" Yuyama said, awestruck.
"Please maintain that quality for future episodes," Nakayama encouraged.
"Oh, Director Yuyama," he added, as if recalling something.
"During animation production, I forgot to mention something."
"Regarding certain Pokémon move effects, especially high-brightness, high-frequency color flashes, please have the team tone them down. Reduce flicker, avoid harsh bright colors, or use softer visuals."
He paused, his tone turning serious.
"I recently read foreign medical studies noting that intense visual stimuli, especially for young kids, can harm eyesight or, in rare cases, trigger photosensitive epilepsy. Though unlikely, as content creators, we must consider all risks, especially since kids are our main audience."
Nakayama, fabricating a plausible concern, preemptively addressed the infamous "Porygon incident" from the future.
Yuyama, stunned, responded with respect. "Hai! Understood, Mr. Nakayama! You're so thorough! I'll arrange a review and adjust future episodes immediately, and we'll tweak completed ones too!"
With Yuyama's firm assurance, Nakayama breathed a true sigh of relief.
The storm, as he predicted, had been unleashed by this tiny Poké Ball, and he sat firmly at its eye.
But Hong Kong's production lines would need to ramp up at unprecedented speed.
Directors Terauchi and Hatayama were likely both thrilled and stressed.