There were only three days left until the Olympic Games officially opened.
All of Tokyo had entered an extremely heightened, excited state.
Even Tokyo Television—a channel that normally aired nothing but animation and esports—had begun broadcasting Olympics-related programs.
Many viewers complained that Tokyo Television had "lost its edge," becoming vulgar and following the mainstream.
But the rise in viewership was undeniable.
Even though most citizens held a pessimistic attitude toward the Olympics, deep down they still longed for the Games to bring some kind of change to their lives—even if it was just a tiny change.
After more than twenty years of economic stagnation, Japanese society had grown increasingly dispirited.
At first, when the bubble had just burst, everyone still hoped the crisis would pass quickly.
Then ten years went by, a period later known as the "Lost Decade."
At that time, the older generation was still unwilling to give up, still hoping to revive Japan's former glory.
Then twenty years passed, and Japan was still much the same—except that industries like games and anime had truly expanded worldwide, forming global influence and allowing Japan to cling to its last shred of dignity.
By then, the older generation had gradually aged, and some had already passed away. They no longer had the boldness or drive they once possessed. All that remained was loss and dejection.
As for the younger generation, by the time they had memories, Japan was already in decline. They never had the chance to experience Japan's once-glorious era. At most, they occasionally learned about it through media and the internet—but it felt distant, unreal.
All they could see was a Japan full of trivial troubles and disarray.
Coupled with the rise of video games and anime, otaku culture flourished in Japan—and continued to this day.
But this year was very different.
An elderly man in his seventies stood on a Japanese street. Not far away, a group of retro-fashionable young women excitedly took selfies.
Idols worked tirelessly in a corner, struggling for their future. On the surface, Japan still seemed immersed in its lost era, continuing to sink.
But elsewhere, the scenery was different.
The old man stood hunched over, his gaze slowly sweeping across his surroundings.
This street held deeply etched memories for him.
He had once been a construction worker—one who built city roads.
This bustling street contained a section that he himself had helped construct.
He remembered it clearly: one of the foundations along the roadside had been laid by his own hands.
He had personally witnessed Japan's prosperity.
In the 1970s, he had been at his peak, striving for a better future.
Even earlier, he had seen Japan rise because of an Olympic Games—how it rebuilt national confidence and secured its place on the world stage.
Later, during the most frenzied era, he had quit his job as a worker and become a real estate investor.
Back then… people were like they had gone mad, all chasing dreams more unrealistic than ever before.
But when the dream shattered, everything turned cold and harsh.
Hiss—
The old man closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the air around him.
The air was mixed with car exhaust and some indescribable odors—but he missed it.
Because this foul air was a sign of a city in vigorous development.
He hadn't smelled it in a very long time.
"Wow! You're that famous diver, right? Can I take a photo with you? I really like you!"
A young girl happily ran up to a handsome foreign man, holding paper and pen, hoping for an autograph.
The foreigner didn't understand Japanese, but he could at least read the girl's body language. He smiled, nodded, and signed his name. The girl immediately bowed deeply in thanks, beaming with joy.
Not far away, there were Japanese office workers walking with their chests held high.
Before this, every one of them had gone to work either listlessly or with dull, empty eyes.
They were people whose edges had been worn away by life.
But now, they all stood tall.
Recently, because of the Olympics, many companies had found new sources of profit, and some old companies had begun to show signs of revival.
Even though many people hated the Olympics, believing the Japanese government was wasting taxpayer money and making a huge fuss over nothing—
From the present perspective, at least some effects were clearly visible.
There were also many foreigners moving through the streets.
Some were tourists; others were staff.
On this very day, the old man saw a vitality in Japan that he hadn't seen in a long, long time.
It moved him deeply. If only he could, he even wished he were twenty years younger—still a fully capable adult—able to do what he loved and contribute to society.
Unfortunately, he was old now. At most, he could only work as a supermarket cashier.
Still, he was already content.
At least in his lifetime, he had once again witnessed Japan showing signs of renewed life.
Even if he were to die now, he could do so with no regrets.
"Banzai! I finally caught a Japan-exclusive Pokémon! Hahahahaha!"
A voice suddenly made the old man turn his head.
It was a Westerner, holding a smartphone and looking extremely excited.
What was he so happy about?
The old man didn't understand foreign languages. This man didn't even seem to be speaking English, making it even harder to understand.
But he could clearly see the excitement on the man's face.
"Let me see, let me see—wow! It's a shiny one! You lucky bastard, you've really struck gold."
"Hehehe, I've been camping here for days. People almost thought I was a homeless foreigner—but it was all worth it!"
The Westerner was overjoyed. Then he checked his phone again, discovered another rare Pokémon about to appear somewhere nearby, and without hesitation dashed off toward his next destination.
The old man recognized the device as a smartphone. He also thought he heard the word "Pokémon."
It was something his grandson and son both loved. At his age, it was naturally hard for him to understand the appeal.
He hadn't expected foreigners to love such "children's toys" as well.
This reminded him, vaguely, of how television stations and newspapers evaluated video games.
Cultural industries like video games and anime had at least allowed Japan to cling to life during these lost twenty-plus years, preventing it from being completely eliminated from the jungle of the world.
And because of the prosperity of games and anime, they had genuinely supported the livelihoods of many people.
In terms of technology, Japan had been beaten half to death by overseas capital and nearly couldn't survive. Without video games and anime holding things together, Japan might have become even worse.
Now, watching foreigners genuinely love his country's video games, even this old man—who didn't understand games at all—felt an unexpected sense of comfort and pride.