Most hotels in Tokyo were already fully booked. According to entry statistics from Tokyo's Narita Airport, the number of international arrivals had reached over 1.3 million in just half a month.
If counted over a full month, that figure rose to 2.3 million.
At several major airports alone, just completing entry procedures required waiting at least seven or eight hours before being allowed into Japan—an astonishing situation.
Naturally, both the Tokyo Metropolitan Government and the Japanese government were overjoyed.
"See? Our strategy really worked. Actively pushing forward with the Olympics has indeed brought in massive numbers of visitors—and visitors mean consumption."
Food, clothing, housing, transportation—everything required spending money.
In just half a month, according to estimates by professionals, nationwide tourism revenue in Japan had already reached at least one trillion yen.
For all of 2020, Japan's total tourism revenue could very well reach six trillion yen.
From this perspective, the Olympics did seem quite worthwhile.
Gradually, public criticism grew much quieter, because more and more people were beginning to receive tangible benefits from the Olympics.
Shops were doing better business.
Restaurants often stayed open late into the night—whereas in normal times they might have closed around seven or eight in the evening, now they were bustling beyond comparison.
Disposable income among the general population also rose significantly, all of which were positive effects.
Among overseas visitors' spending, video games accounted for a major share—almost even surpassing the revenue brought directly by the Olympics themselves.
But without the attention drawn by the Olympics, it would have been difficult to attract so many foreign visitors in the first place.
Even Takayuki had to admit that the Olympics' effect was indeed powerful.
Even the Gamestar World Cup esports tournament under his banner couldn't attract this many tourists.
That said, there were still plenty of complaints online.
Most of them were about how tickets for the Olympic opening ceremony had already sold out.
Every single ticket for the massive stadium with a capacity of 100,000 people was gone.
Even tickets for many of the less popular Olympic events had been swept up.
Many players said they most wanted to see the opening ceremony, but unfortunately couldn't get tickets at all.
Some people were even willing to pay ten times the original price for seats closer to the front.
Scalpers were making a fortune during this period.
If Takayuki were in charge, he would absolutely teach those scalpers a lesson—he had hated them back in his previous life.
However, Olympic ticketing had nothing to do with him. He was only responsible for the opening and closing ceremonies. All he could do was try his best to give some loyal game fans a chance to obtain tickets.
To thank Gamestar Electronic Entertainment for its contributions, the Japanese government promised at least one thousand free tickets to the company. Some were naturally distributed internally, while the rest were handed out by Gamestar Electronic Entertainment through its own channels to players who loved games.
In the years to come, whenever people looked back on this Olympics, their feelings would be quite complicated.
They would remember the benefits it brought to the nation as a whole, while also recalling other frustrating issues that caused Japanese citizens to curse the government for years afterward.
Of course, none of that had anything to do with Takayuki. He only needed to do his own job well.
"Mommy, Mario! Mommy, Pikachu!"
Inside Takayuki's home, Aya Takayuki gently watched her daughter, Takayuki Yume, a short distance away.
Yume happily held a game controller, playing a game and letting out giggles from time to time, her big eyes lively and full of spirit.
She looked to be just under three years old.
At that age, most children were still crawling around and could only say a few very simple words.
But their daughter could already play games seriously, without any of the usual annoying traits children tended to have.
Or perhaps, because she was her own daughter, Aya didn't find her annoying at all. As for other people's kids… sorry, she didn't like them one bit.
"Takayuki, do you think Little Yume will grow up to be a gaming addict girl?"
Aya turned to look at Takayuki, who was lounging casually beside her.
Takayuki leaned back on the sofa, also watching his daughter.
Becoming a "daughter slave"? Absolutely not—never in this lifetime. But daughters were indeed cute and interesting creatures, and Takayuki found he didn't get tired of watching her.
"Huh? A gaming addict?" Takayuki turned his head and looked Aya up and down.
Aya said irritably, "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Weren't you basically a gaming addict back then? Do you think it would be bad if Little Yume became like you used to be?"
"Of course it would be bad. Back then, I refused to interact with anyone at all—that wasn't a good thing."
Takayuki smiled. "Don't worry. Our daughter won't become like that. Look at how happily she's smiling—she's already completely different from you, who used to keep a straight face all day."
Aya was speechless.
"Looks like you've completely been conquered by your daughter."
Takayuki spread his hands. "Isn't that a good thing? What's wrong with liking your daughter?"
"Then what will she want to do in the future? Will she like making games too? Or will she have other dreams? If she doesn't like game development, then won't her name be completely at odds with her dreams?"
"Names can be changed later. If she wants to change it when she grows up, she can. We'll give her a good life, a happy family, and let her grow up in a loving home. The rest is up to her."
Takayuki looked at his daughter and continued, "But I think she'll probably like making games. Look at this little one—she can already clear the first stage of Super Mario. That kind of talent isn't something just any kid has."
"Judging a child's talent based on playing games—you might be the only one in the world who does that."
"So what? As long as she's happy. Of course, if possible, I'd still like her to develop in the direction of video games."
"But she's a girl. Do you want her to inherit the family business?"
Takayuki shrugged. "Why not? She could become the future president of Gamestar Electronic Entertainment—or the president of some other game company."
Aya looked at Takayuki deeply. "Honestly, sometimes I feel like you're not very Japanese at all. Your mindset and values have always been very different from traditional Japanese views."
Takayuki shot back, "Aren't you the same? In that regard, we're pretty evenly matched."
"That's because I spent most of my pre-adult life abroad and received a foreign education. But you hardly ever left the country before adulthood—so how did you develop this kind of mindset?"
Takayuki gave a mysterious smile. "I have another identity—I was once a soul that lived abroad."
"Alright, I believe you."
Takayuki chuckled, then glanced at the clock and stood up. "Alright, it's about time. The opening ceremony starts in seven hours. Let's get ready—we're going to watch the Olympics."