"Can you tell me what's been weighing on your mind?"
In the past, Ayane would never have asked such a question.
But perhaps because she had become a mother—or simply because she had grown more mature—she no longer carried the same icy demeanor she once had.
Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. In front of outsiders, Ayane was still just as cold and strict as ever.
It was only in front of Takayuki that she showed this side of herself.
Takayuki put down the controller, wrapped an arm around Ayane, and explained the headache he'd been dealing with.
"So the scale of indie game development is shrinking?" Ayane asked. "Then according to your thinking, what if you used one of your alt accounts to make a few indie games yourself and created another massive hit—would that help?"
Takayuki shook his head. "I've thought about that, but it's probably not very reliable. One person's success can't represent an entire industry. Every game I make turns into a hit, but other developers understand their own abilities very clearly. They know that, no matter how hard they try, they can't match the quality of a top-tier producer."
When Takayuki first started making indie games, his goal was to show people who were lost and uncertain the future of video games.
He wanted more people to realize that even grassroots developers could make money in this industry.
But trying to attract more people simply by personally making more indie games was far more difficult.
"I see…"
Ayane thought seriously about it, but even after a long while, she couldn't come up with a better solution.
Increasing prize money for game development competitions would help—but only to a limited extent.
"Right now, I'm focusing on the developer competition coming up in a little over ten days. I want to start by making some changes there."
"Then think it through properly. Want something to eat? I'll make it for you."
"How about pork cutlets?"
"No problem."
Ayane stood up and headed into the kitchen. Takayuki picked up the controller again, continuing to play while thinking through possible solutions.
He truly wanted to drive the entire industry forward.
But there were still unavoidable obstacles.
First, he had to overcome these hurdles himself.
After thinking about it all night, Takayuki still hadn't come up with any particularly good solution.
If the answer were that easy to find, someone else would have figured it out long ago.
As for himself, his advantage lay in experiences and knowledge from another world.
But by this point in time, the usefulness of that previous world's knowledge was steadily diminishing.
"Forget it. I'll just make an indie game first—finish it before the developer conference."
Takayuki decided to continue thinking about solutions while also developing an indie game.
But what kind of game should it be? That required careful consideration.
The next day, Takayuki went to the company in the morning, still thinking through countermeasures along the way.
After arriving, he first checked the progress of several development departments.
He did this daily to ensure every project stayed on schedule.
For now, everything seemed to be proceeding steadily.
He then returned to his office and glanced at his schedule, realizing he hadn't followed up on the Olympics project for several days.
Earlier, he had visited the department developing the Olympics game—their progress was fast, and they might even finish two or three months ahead of schedule.
But he hadn't paid much attention to the opening ceremony lately. He really should—it was a great opportunity to increase the company's influence.
Online, once people learned that the Tokyo Olympics would include familiar anime and game culture, fans of these subcultures went wild.
They were happy—because things once labeled as "non-mainstream" were finally being accepted by the mainstream.
Even now, video games and the anime industry still weren't fully respected.
The saying "intellectuals belittle each other" seemed to apply broadly across the world.
People from other cultural fields often looked down on animation and gaming.
Of course, it was also possible that these industries had taken away their audience and livelihoods, breeding jealousy that manifested as disdain.
On Facebook's video-sharing platform, there were already countless discussions.
Many bloggers focused on anime and games were fantasizing about just how stunning the Tokyo Olympics opening ceremony would be.
They all vowed to make time to watch it.
At the very least, they would watch the opening ceremony first.
Discussion around the Olympics reached a new peak.
The Rio Olympics before Tokyo had been one of the lowest points in popularity. Many felt large-scale sporting events had become boring.
The International Olympic Committee wanted innovation—something to attract younger audiences.
That was one of the reasons they accepted anime and gaming culture as part of the Olympics.
As Tokyo approached, IOC leadership became increasingly convinced this was the right path.
With anime and games involved, young people were clearly paying much more attention to this Olympics.
Even if many of them cared more about the culture than the sports themselves—that was enough.
At least it brought attention, and attention meant revenue.
Yes, publicly, the IOC preached world peace and resolving conflict through sports.
But in reality, the IOC wasn't that selfless.
They needed money, just like traditional corporations.
They made profits through broadcasting rights, brand licensing, and other commercial operations.
Attention and traffic were their greatest assets.
This collaboration with anime and gaming culture was a win-win situation—and the IOC had already begun researching whether the 2024 Olympics should follow the same model.
Takayuki picked up his phone and dialed the opening ceremony director, Ono Sano.
The call connected quickly, and Ono's voice came through almost immediately.
"Takayuki, it's really great that you called."
"Hm?" Takayuki paused. "What do you mean by that?"
Ono's tone was clearly irritated."Honestly, even if you hadn't called, I was about to call you myself. I'm furious—I'm absolutely livid at those bastards!"