"Seriously, Tetsu-kun, sometimes I can't tell if you're just super confident or plain arrogant," Miyano Mitei teased, her tone carrying a playful edge.
Despite her words, as she caught Tetsu Fuyukawa's warm, meticulous smile, her sharp gaze softened. She didn't brush away his fingers as they toyed with her lower lip. Instead, her tongue lightly flicked against them, followed by a quick eye-roll. Twisting her body to dodge his teasing touch, she grabbed her oolong tea, leaning casually against the boss's desk as she sipped. Her expression, though, still held a trace of worry, like a lingering cloud over a Kyoto spring festival.
"So, what's your plan for the next steps? Are you going to drop a CG at the summer expo? Sure, your skills are top-notch, and Sekiro's development is moving fast, but the gap in influence between a new game and a classic IP like Demon Hero Saga is massive. You'd better brace yourself for a tough fight."
"Got it," Tetsu nodded, his calm demeanor as steady as a samurai's resolve.
He knew full well that Demon Hero Saga, despite not having a sequel in over a decade, was a cultural juggernaut. Born on the Famicom and later revived during the early internet boom, it carried a nostalgic weight that resonated deeply in Japan's gaming community. It wasn't just about nostalgia, though—back when the gaming industry was still a budding cherry blossom, Demon Hero Saga was one of the first action (ACT) games, earning it a revered spot as "one of the pioneers of the ACT genre."
Of course, as an industry insider, Tetsu was well aware that this "pioneer" title was mostly a marketing ploy by NTsoft when they pushed the PC sequel years ago. In truth, Demon Hero Saga wasn't the cream of the crop compared to the absolute best ACT IPs, but the average player didn't know that—or didn't care. For older players, now in their thirties, it was a piece of their childhood, like a favorite Studio Ghibli film. They wouldn't trash-talk it online. For new players, the "genre pioneer" label was enough to spark hype.
This created a perfect storm: old players clung to nostalgia, new players bought into the hype, and Sekiro would struggle to outshine Demon Hero Saga's buzz in the early marketing phase. A first trailer couldn't reveal too much without spoiling the experience, making it a tricky balancing act.
Still, Tetsu wasn't fazed. "It's a bit of a hassle, sure, but it's not as dire as you're making it out to be. You're just rattled—take a deep breath and relax."
"Hm?" Mitei raised an eyebrow, her expression as sharp as a kunoichi's kunai.
Tetsu shrugged with a grin, exuding the cool confidence of a tea ceremony master. "Whether it's marketing or building hype, it's all about securing the company's resources to keep the game from getting axed. Right now, we're not the only ones who want Sekiro to survive—Asai's faction is in the same boat."
Asai?
Mitei's brow furrowed as she recalled how Asai hadn't blocked the Demon Hero Saga revival at the board meeting. But watching Tetsu sip his tea with unshakable calm, her jittery nerves—akin to a first-time visitor to a bustling Tsukiji fish market—began to settle.
Reflecting on the whole situation, her frown eased, and she shot Tetsu an appreciative glance. This guy's cool-headedness is almost scary, she thought, like a Zen monk unbothered by a storm.
She shook her head with a smile. "You're way too calm, Tetsu-kun. When I heard the news, I was freaking out. I didn't even catch that Asai's real target was the Kozuru faction."
"Glad you're catching up," Tetsu quipped.
Sliding an arm around Mitei's waist, he plopped into the boss's chair, his hand grazing her soft midriff. He leaned in, inhaling the faint scent of her sweat-dampened neck, and chuckled. "Back when Demon Hero Saga got shelved, it wasn't just because the sequel tanked—it was also because the ACT game market was getting eaten up by other genres. Now, with the third division reviving this IP, if Asai really wanted to stop it, it wouldn't have been that hard. But…"
"But why would he do that, right?" Mitei finished, her cheeks flushing as she shifted in his lap, her curves pressing against him. The air felt charged, like the electric buzz before a summer matsuri fireworks show, but her expression was relaxed, her body melting into his.
"Exactly," Tetsu said with a grin. "Demon Hero Saga was revived because Kozuru, the faction leader, pulled strings at the board meeting. If this game flops or gets canceled, NTsoft will take a financial hit, but the Kozuru faction will take Lows the hardest blow—they might never recover. For Asai, this is like a shichisho ken—a seven-wound fist."
"Seven-wound fist? What's that?" Mitei asked, tilting her head back in his arms, her voice curious like a tourist at a Kyoto temple.
Tetsu kissed the corner of her lips lightly and explained, "It's like hurting your enemy a thousand times but taking eight hundred hits yourself. Asai and that woman Koharu know the ACT market isn't what it used to be, and they're not betting on Demon Hero Saga's sequel succeeding. But they're willing to risk the company's profits to deal a blow to the Kozuru faction—and, while they're at it, remind us that we 'can't survive without Asai's support.' If I'm reading this right, they'll probably throw us a bone soon and ramp up support for our project."
"I was just thinking the same thing," Mitei said, her eyes glinting with thought. "So, how are you going to play this?"
Tetsu shrugged nonchalantly. "We don't need to do anything."
"Huh? That doesn't sound like your usual go-getter vibe," Mitei teased, her smile playful but unsurprised, like she'd expected this all along.
Tetsu rolled his eyes and laughed. "Demon Hero Saga's revival puts pressure on us, but it's also our golden ticket. Why do you think Kozuru's so desperate, pouring money into consolidating the third division and betting everything on this sequel? She's gunning to reclaim power at NTsoft. Asai's faction, meanwhile, will do everything to block her. The closer we stick to Asai's side, the more resources Sekiro gets. Kozuru's faction will panic and double down on Demon Hero Saga, which means we can squeeze even more resources from Asai. They're like the clam and the snipe in that old Japanese fable, fighting each other while we, the fisherman, reap the benefits. We don't need to stop their fight or pick a side—we just fan the flames."
Mitei's eyes sparkled with admiration, a hint of awe creeping in, like she was watching a master calligrapher at work. This guy's worth betting on, she thought, her body fully relaxing against him. She tilted her head back, her neck arching gracefully, and shot him a coy glance. "You've got, like, eight hundred tricks up your sleeve, don't you? You're nothing like a typical twenty-something."
"Come on," Tetsu smirked. "If I didn't have a few tricks, how could I be sitting here chatting with a gorgeous department head like you?"
"Oh, smooth talker," Mitei huffed, though her cheeks flushed deeper. Compliments on her looks were nothing new, but coming from Tetsu, they hit differently—like a perfectly brewed cup of matcha. Glancing at the locked office door, she slid down slowly, kneeling in front of the boss's chair. Her cool, elegant eyes met his playful gaze, and she pouted, "Don't get any ideas. You're just… just my stress-relief tool, got it?"
"Use me as you please," Tetsu replied with a grin.
---
No doubt about it, the news that the third division was reviving Demon Hero Saga with an $80 million budget—higher than Sekiro's—sent shockwaves through NTsoft, like a sudden taiko drumbeat at a quiet shrine festival.
New hires buzzed about the game itself, while veteran employees were stunned that Asai's faction hadn't managed to block the project at the board meeting. Is the sky falling? people whispered, the tension in the air as thick as a humid August day in Tokyo.
Amid the chaos, a juicy rumor began circulating through NTsoft's halls, like gossip at a neighborhood onsen.
"Hey, have you heard? They say the third division's proposal was for an ACT game, but behind closed doors, they're switching Demon Hero Saga to an ARPG!"
"No way, really?"
"It's not that surprising. Proposals aren't contracts—they're just reports for the higher-ups. They get tweaked all the time during development. They're probably planning to pull a fast one! I thought it was weird that the company greenlit a big-budget ACT game when the market's so cold. Now it makes sense."
"Makes sense how?"
"Duh! The Kozuru faction was always planning an ARPG. The ACT proposal was just a decoy to throw the president off! Still, switching genres is a gamble. Players are hyped for Demon Hero Saga because it's 'one of the ACT genre pioneers.' Changing it up could backfire."
"No worries, though! My buddy in the third division says they're super confident. They're gonna crush Hikari Tori's new game!"
"For real? They haven't even started yet!"
"It's different this time. Word is, Kozuru pulled some strings and got retired NTsoft legends to consult on the project. Those are the folks who built this company's legacy—their skills are no joke!"
In the break room, employees whispered excitedly, their voices low like conspirators at a hanami picnic. Outside, a chubby, honest-looking Kawaguchi clenched his fists, his heart pounding. "Team Leader, I'm betting everything on you!" he muttered to himself, nerves as tight as a sumo wrestler's mawashi.
He glanced at Hikari Tori's glowing signboard, recalling Tetsu's promise: "Stick with me, and I can't guarantee you a girlfriend, but you'll make enough to hit Kabukicho every night!" Thinking of Tetsu's mentorship, his promotion to department head, and his undeniable talent, Kawaguchi's anxiety began to fade, like mist clearing over Mount Fuji.
"I've worked at NTsoft for thirteen years. No one gave me a chance, no one even noticed me—except the Team Leader! He promoted me, took me out drinking, introduced me to his network, and made me a department head. I cannot let him down!"
Sipping his hot tea, his face a mix of worry and hope, Kawaguchi returned to the combat planning department, his steps alternating between heavy and light as he settled into his supervisor's chair.
Yes, those rumors about the third division's "amazing new project" and "Kozuru enlisting veteran consultants" were all planted by Kawaguchi at Tetsu's direction.
No ulterior motives here—Asai was using Kozuru's momentum to keep Tetsu in check, but Tetsu wasn't one to sit idly by. If Asai was playing mind games, Tetsu would play them right back, like a shogi master countering a bold move.
You scare me? I'll scare you. Let's see who comes out on top.
Funnily enough, though the rumors were fabricated, they sent Kozuru into a frenzy. She launched a full-on "hunt for the mole" within her faction. She had planned to disguise the ARPG shift as an ACT game to throw Asai off, but the leak threw her into a rage, like a kabuki actor overplaying a dramatic scene.
Of course, she'd calculated that Asai and Koharu, those cunning old foxes, likely saw through her ruse from the start. But that was all part of the plan. Genre switches often flop, and this was Kozuru's chance to flip the board. With Tetsu's star rising, waiting for Sekiro to potentially fail wasn't an option. At over eighty, Kozuru knew her time was limited. If her faction lost its figurehead, it would crumble like a poorly maintained temple. They had to take this gamble.
Asai's faction saw it the same way. To them, Kozuru was a ticking time bomb, and her age was the fuse. Rather than let it detonate later, they'd use Tetsu's recent successes—two hit games raking in profits—to trigger the explosion now. Even if they lost this round, Tetsu's projects would cushion the fall. Plus, with the high risk of an ACT-to-ARPG pivot failing, this was their golden opportunity to crush Kozuru's faction.
The proposal was bound to pass in the current climate, no matter how it played out.
Kozuru wasn't too fazed by the leak—she was a strong-willed leader, but losing control drove her up the wall, like a tea master spilling a perfect pour. Asai, meanwhile, felt the pressure too. They'd anticipated the ARPG shift and its risks, but the rumors—amplified by whispers of "stolen shipments" like a yakuza heist—stoked their unease.
This was a yosei—a bold, open strategy.
To ease the pressure, Asai's only move was to double down on Sekiro and Tetsu.
NTsoft's board had already approved two massive projects this year, so no new big-budget proposals would pass. That left Sekiro as the only contender to go head-to-head with Demon Hero Saga.
It was Sekiro or nothing.
They couldn't hold out.
Soon after the rumors spread, Tetsu and Mitei were summoned to the president's office. Amusingly, Asai clearly saw Tetsu as a green rookie. The moment they arrived, Asai and Koharu put on a theatrical performance, trying to spook Tetsu into signing a stricter non-compete agreement—one that would force him to "cool off" for years if he left. But when Tetsu strolled in with a "female ninja project proposal" and casually mentioned that Sekiro's $60 million budget might not cut it, Asai and Koharu were floored, like they'd just been outmaneuvered in a game of go.
Caught in their own trap, they were stunned.
No surprise there—when Tetsu returned to Hikari Tori's floor, his grin lit up the team. Sekiro's budget had skyrocketed from $60 million to $80 million. Sure, it still needed board approval, and some cuts were likely, but even a $70 million production was massive. More importantly, the team's profit share bumped up by 1.3%.
Don't underestimate that 1.3%—Sekiro was a big-budget title, and though it took three years to sell 10 million copies, its price point was way higher than Surrounded by Beauties or Binding of Isaac. The Hikari Tori team was buzzing like a crowd at a hanabi festival.
Tetsu was thrilled too, but he didn't have time to bask in it.
---
"The budget's up, but it's not a lump sum—it'll come in batches. If Sekiro doesn't make a splash at the Tokyo Game Show mid-year, they could still slash the funds," Tetsu mused, leaning back in his boss's chair, spinning slowly as he stared at the ceiling. His mind raced like a shinkansen.
Game trailers weren't just about flashy CG and epic music—they needed purpose. Take Black Myth: Wukong's first trailer: it was designed to attract talent, showcasing gameplay, theme, and market potential to signal to the industry what they were building and whether it would sell.
Sekiro's setting was a fictionalized Sengoku era, and the ninja theme, while iconic in Japan, wasn't a global crowd-pleaser. The theme wasn't the hook, but the gameplay…
Tetsu frowned slightly. "Soul-like games" were a known quantity to single-player gamers in his past life, but their rise wasn't meteoric. When Demon's Souls launched, it was called "mediocre," scoring a measly 20/40 from one outlet, with only one reviewer giving it an 8/10. The high difficulty, clunky combat of blocks, dodges, and slashes, and less-than-stunning visuals scared off newcomers.
"The gameplay's the core, but this trailer can't just lean on that. I need something else to spark player interest," Tetsu muttered, lost in thought like a monk pondering a koan.
Just then, the office door swung open, and Sayoko, dressed in a sharp OL outfit, poked her head in. "Tetsu-kun, Tsukitake-san's here. She's with Nogisan right now."
"Finally," Tetsu said, his spirits lifting like a lantern at Obon. It had been a while since their last "fencing" session, and Tsukitake Asuka hadn't contacted him—not even about the "buying Kofun" deal. He'd wondered if he'd misstepped, but now…
"She couldn't resist the bait," he smirked.
Asuka showing up at the company clearly wasn't about Kofun—it had to be about the motion-capture actor gig. And motion capture…
Tetsu's eyebrows shot up, his eyes gleaming like a samurai spotting an opening. "Motion capture? Female ninja?!"
"Heck, why not make the sexy female ninja a selling point for the trailer?!"
Sex and violence—two things that always drew a crowd, like a packed Shibuya crossing. A sexy female ninja paired with fresh soul-like gameplay? That could be a hit.
But then his expression turned mischievous. "Is this the legendary 'lure them in and kill them' strategy?"
"Whatever! Players will feel the joy of soul-like games and appreciate my heartfelt efforts!" he declared, laughing.
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American TV Series: Young Sheldon mike edition