When Eri and the baby were wheeled back into the ward, the room once again became the center of the entire family.
This time, however, there was no anxiety left in the air—only overflowing joy.
Still, after a full day and night of turmoil, fatigue was clearly visible on both mothers' faces. Hayao Nakayama and Jun Nakagawa also had official business to attend to the next day.
That left the question of who would stay behind to care for them.
No matter how comprehensive the VIP ward's services were, nothing felt as reassuring as having family nearby.
"I'll stay," Takako Nakagawa spoke up first, holding her daughter's hand, worry written all over her face. "If Eri needs anything during the night, it'll be easier if I'm here."
A mother always believed no one could care for her child as well as she could.
Miyuki Nakayama glanced at her exhausted daughter-in-law, then at Takako, who looked just as tired. She smiled and shook her head, her tone gentle but firm.
"Mother-in-law, you've been running around all day too. You still have things to take care of at home tomorrow. This is a hospital—there are nurses on duty twenty-four hours a day."
As she spoke, her gaze shifted to her son, who stood by the bedside, eyes never leaving his wife and child.
"Takuya will stay tonight. Keiko will stay as well to help him. They're young—let them learn to handle things themselves."
At that, the senior maid Keiko immediately stepped forward and nodded respectfully, ready to serve at a moment's notice.
Letting her son personally care for his wife and grandson was both training and a statement to the Nakagawa family: the Nakayamas would never treat Eri poorly.
Takako Nakagawa still wanted to say something, but Hayao Nakayama, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.
"That's enough. We'll do as Miyuki says. Too many people crowding the room will only disturb Eri and the baby's rest." He turned to his son. "Takuya, you're a father now. Take responsibility and take good care of your wife and child."
The words were stern and blunt, but the pride and expectation behind them were unmistakable.
"Please don't worry," Takuya Nakayama finally tore his gaze away from his son and spoke solemnly to the four elders. "I'm here."
The words landed with weight.
Takako Nakagawa squeezed Eri's hand again and gently reminded her, "Eri, don't push yourself. If you feel uncomfortable, tell Takuya or call the nurse."
Everyone lingered for a while longer, crowding around the baby, before reluctantly preparing to leave.
Before going, Hayao Nakayama paused and turned back to Takuya, lowering his voice.
"Decide on the child's name as soon as possible with Eri. The seventh-night ceremony and household registration are waiting."
It was both an order and the most direct expression of a father's—and grandfather's—expectation for the family's legacy.
"Understood, Father."
Hayao Nakayama gave a quiet "Mm," then took one last deep look at his pale daughter-in-law and the newborn grandson in the bassinet. The lines of his perpetually stern face softened, just a little.
Keiko, the most senior of the maids, silently began sorting the supplies they had brought, her movements efficient and quiet, careful not to disturb the new mother's rest.
Takuya pulled up a chair and stayed by the bedside, unwilling to go anywhere else.
From time to time, he looked at Eri, already fast asleep, a faint look of contentment lingering on her pale face. Then he would lean over to peer at the tiny, red-faced life inside the bassinet.
The feeling was strange.
Just hours ago, he had simply been Takuya Nakayama.
Now, he was a father.
That heavy sense of responsibility, paired with an unprecedented feeling of stability, filled his chest.
After an unknown stretch of time, the little one in the bassinet suddenly stirred, letting out a thin, kitten-like whimper.
Almost at the same moment, Eri opened her eyes—pure maternal instinct.
"Is he hungry?" she asked softly, her voice weak but her eyes clear.
"Probably," Takuya said at once, standing up. Together with Keiko, he carefully helped Eri sit up, placing several soft pillows behind her back.
In truth, Eri had already fed the baby colostrum shortly after birth.
Thanks to thorough prenatal nutrition and care, breastfeeding had gone smoothly, with no issues of insufficient milk.
This time, the little one seemed even more practiced. The moment he was nestled into his mother's arms, he instinctively found his meal and began sucking contentedly.
The ward was quiet, filled only with the baby's swallowing sounds and the faint whisper of wind outside the window.
Takuya sat at the bedside and simply watched.
Watched as Eri lowered her head, her gaze so tender it seemed ready to overflow, her profile bathed in the warm glow of the bedside lamp, surrounded by a halo of quiet sanctity.
Watched the tiny being, barely larger than his own palm, eyes closed, using all his strength to drink from the source of life.
In that moment, Sega, Nintendo, and every blueprint of a business empire were cast far out of his mind.
His world had shrunk to this hospital bed, and to the two people upon it who mattered more to him than anything else.
A deep sense of fulfillment and belonging washed over him like warm seawater, enveloping him completely.
"What are you staring at?" Eri noticed his gaze, a blush blooming across her face as she shot him a reproachful look.
"Huh? Oh—" Takuya snapped back to himself, his face reddening. He hurriedly looked away, scratching his head as he grasped for a new topic. "I was thinking about our son's name. Dad brought it up earlier."
Eri looked down at the baby in her arms, who was feeding contentedly, her expression growing even softer.
"I don't have any special ideas. As long as he's healthy and grows up strong, I'll be satisfied."
Grows up strong.
As Takuya looked at his son, his mind flashed to Sega's tangled shareholding structure and the strong-willed heads of its global branches.
Sega was no longer the simple arcade company his father had once run. North America, Europe, home consoles, arcades, software development, IP operations—factions everywhere. It had taken him years to barely unify them, reduce internal friction, and point them outward.
Add to that Tokyo TV, controlled by his father-in-law.
What this child would one day inherit was an empire far larger and more complex than the one that existed now.
Without breadth of mind, without the ability to reconcile and balance, he would never be able to hold it together.
A single character surfaced in Takuya's mind.
"Eri," he said, holding the hand not supporting the baby and looking at her earnestly. "How about 'Kazuki'?"
"Kazuki?" Eri repeated softly.
"Yes," Takuya explained. "'Kazu,' as in harmony. I hope that one day he'll have a broad, inclusive heart—able to keep this family, and our work, in harmony."
"And 'ki,' as in tree. I hope he'll grow like a great tree—deep-rooted, upright, and strong."
He paused, his eyes burning with warmth as he looked at her.
"For you, and for this family—standing tall against the wind and rain."
Something deep in Eri's heart was gently stirred.
She looked at the sincerity and hope in her husband's eyes, then down at their son, now full and sleeping peacefully, his little mouth smacking in his dreams.
"Nakayama Kazuki…" She rolled the name over her tongue, savoring it, a mother's most beautiful smile blooming across her face.
"Yes. Kazuki."
At that moment, the last trace of unease in Takuya's heart vanished completely. He leaned over, kissed Eri's forehead, then couldn't resist lightly touching his son's soft cheek with a fingertip.
The baby seemed to sense something in his sleep, his mouth puckering and his brow creasing slightly.
Takuya quickly withdrew his hand, helpless.
"Well, that's it. This kid already seems to have a temper. He's probably going to be a little devil."
Eri laughed at his expression and gently swatted him.
"Nonsense. Our Kazuki won't be like that."
With careful examinations and attentive care, Eri recovered very well, and little Kazuki proved to be a champion eater and sleeper, perfectly healthy in every respect.
On the fifth day after Kazuki's birth, convoys from both the Nakayama and Nakagawa families arrived at the hospital in force to bring mother and child home.
The discharge procedures were quick, but Takuya was busier than anyone.
He checked the baby carrier's safety straps three times, then personally tested the car's air-conditioning, afraid the airflow might be too strong for the baby.
"Takuya, that's enough," Eri said, already dressed, leaning against the bed and watching him bustle about with amusement. "If you keep checking, our son will end up celebrating his seventh night in the hospital."
"Safety first!" Takuya said solemnly as he secured the carrier into the rear child seat, tugged it firmly to make sure it didn't budge, then finally let out a long breath and turned to help Eri.
Back at the Nakayama estate, Keiko and the rest of the staff were already lined up at the entrance.
When Eri stepped out of the car holding swaddled Kazuki, everyone bowed in unison—the scene resembling the welcome of a victorious monarch.
Inside the mansion, everything had been renewed. The study originally prepared for Takuya had been transformed into a fully equipped nursery, everything already in place.
On the evening of Kazuki's seventh day, the Nakayama estate was brightly lit, filled with guests.
Miyuki Nakayama personally oversaw the arrangements, hiring a master chef from a long-established Kyoto restaurant to host the seventh-night naming banquet at home.
The main relatives from both the Nakayama and Nakagawa families were all present, the spacious living room filled with laughter, everyone's attention focused on the tiny life carefully wrapped in swaddling.
When the ceremony began, the room fell silent.
Hayao Nakayama had changed into a formal crested haori and hakama and sat at the place of honor. On the low table before him lay a pristine sheet of ceremonial paper.
The business titan who ruled the boardroom with iron authority now wore an expression of solemn anticipation.
He dipped his brush into the ink, his wrist steady, and wrote four characters with deliberate strokes:
Nakayama Kazuki.
Setting the brush down, he examined the characters, then spoke in a low but resonant voice that carried through the room.
"'Harmony' is balance and reconciliation. 'Tree' is timber and pillar. The eldest grandson of the Nakayama family must have an inclusive heart—and the strength to stand tall and bear responsibility."
He lifted his gaze, looking past the crowd to his son Takuya, his eyes filled with undisguised approval and expectation.
Standing beside Eri, one hand lightly supporting her waist, Takuya felt a surge of warmth rise within him.
He had chosen the name, but spoken from his father's mouth, it carried an added weight—the weight of the entire family.
At that solemn moment, little Nakayama Kazuki, sleeping in Eri's arms, seemed to understand his grandfather's words. He suddenly let out a soft "pff," blowing a loud milk bubble.
The stillness shattered instantly.
"Hahaha!" Jun Nakagawa burst out laughing first. He strode over and gave Takuya's shoulder a hearty pat. "Good boy! Looks like my grandson won't be playing by the rules either!"
Even Hayao Nakayama's lips curved upward slightly, the tense atmosphere relaxing at once.
At the banquet, both grandfathers completely shed their CEO airs. With a cup of sake each, their conversation revolved entirely around little Kazuki.
"Look at that nose and mouth—they're exactly like Eri's when she was little," Jun Nakagawa said proudly.
"Nonsense," Hayao Nakayama shot back, even taking off his reading glasses to lean closer. "Those brows and that forehead—he's the spitting image of Takuya as a child! Nakayama genes, without a doubt!"
The two men, together well past a hundred years old, argued childishly over who the baby resembled, prompting the two wives to shake their heads in amusement.
As the banquet wore on, the gathering naturally split into smaller circles.
Among the men, Takuya was pulled aside by his older brother Katsuya, who began sharing advice from experience.
"Those dark circles under your eyes—you're catching up to me back then," Katsuya said, patting his shoulder with a teasing grin.
"You don't know the half of it," Takuya shook his head. "I've been averaging four hours of sleep these days. I have to keep an eye on Kazuki."
Katsuya blinked, then laughed. "Four hours? You need to learn how to rest whenever you can. Kids take years to grow—you can't keep this up forever. And with Aunt Keiko around, you don't need to be so tense."
He leaned in, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear.
"More importantly, you need to learn how to change a diaper in under three minutes—with one hand."
"One hand?" Takuya looked puzzled.
"The other hand has to hold his legs down," Katsuya said with the air of a seasoned veteran. "Otherwise, the moment you finish, he'll reward you with a warm spray—right to the face."
Takuya pictured the scene, his expression instantly becoming priceless. He nodded solemnly.
On the other side, the women gathered around Eri, who was already able to walk about.
Reiko, Takuya's sister-in-law, carefully adjusted Eri's shawl. "Eri, don't touch cold water during confinement, and don't let yourself catch a draft. When I had Maruji, I wasn't careful, and my back hurt for years."
Ayako chimed in, "Yes, and when you breastfeed, posture is very important. Otherwise you'll be the one suffering. See—like this, with an extra pillow behind your back. Much more comfortable."
Eri listened quietly, smiling gently, her gaze never leaving the sleeping Kazuki in her arms. "Sometimes he falls asleep while feeding. I worry he hasn't eaten enough."
"That's normal," Reiko laughed. "If he's hungry, he'll wake up on his own—more reliable than an alarm clock. Your most important job now is to sleep when he sleeps, as much as you can."
As she spoke, Reiko waved to the side. "Maruji, come take a look at your little brother."
Little Nakayama Maruji, who had been peeking curiously from behind a pillar, immediately toddled over on his short legs.
He leaned against Eri's knees, standing on tiptoe to peer at the tiny red face in the swaddling.
"He's so small," Maruji said in his childish voice.
"You can gently touch his hand," Eri encouraged softly.
Maruji slowly extended a chubby finger, hesitating, then lightly touched Kazuki's tiny clenched fist.
At the moment of contact, Kazuki seemed to sense something even in his sleep. His mouth smacked softly, and he let out a contented little hum.
Maruji's eyes flew wide open. He jerked his hand back as if discovering a new world, then turned to his mother, lowering his voice with all his might as he excitedly whispered, "He moved! Mom, little brother moved!"
That innocent exclamation made the room pause for a heartbeat—then burst into even brighter laughter.
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