This sense of relaxation reached its peak when he saw that round little figure on the living room sofa.
"Daddy!"
Nearly five-year-old Nakayama Kazuki rushed over like a little cannonball, precisely hugging Takuya's thigh.
The child had inherited the excellent genes of the Nakayama family, sturdy as a little calf.
Nakayama Takuya scooped him up and spun him in the air, making the little guy giggle.
"Easy, Kazuki, don't bump into Mom."
Nakayama Miyuki walked out from the kitchen, holding a plate of freshly cut fruit.
She watched the father and son playing around, her eyes full of tenderness.
On the living room sofa, Nakayama Eri was struggling to adjust her sitting position.
She was eight months pregnant, and the bulge of her belly made her look much rounder, exuding a gentle, maternal glow.
Hearing her mother-in-law's reminder, Eri smiled a little embarrassedly and reached out to support her waist as she stood up.
"Takuya, you've worked hard. Father is in the study; he said we'd start dinner once you returned."
Nakayama Hayao had been in a subtle state of mind lately.
"Takuya, you've worked hard.
Father is in the study; he said we would wait for you to get back before having dinner.
Hayao Nakayama has been in a very subtle state lately."
Ever since Takuya Nakayama introduced the audit committee within Sega, this former powerhouse seems to have found a rhythm for stepping into the background.
He no longer involves himself in every trivial detail of the business; instead, he prefers to stay in his study, researching dry economic data or just staring blankly at the courtyard outside his window.
The atmosphere at the dinner table was harmonious.
Hayao Nakayama set down his chopsticks, took a sip of hot tea, and the conversation naturally turned to recent economic trends.
"I've been looking at the Ministry of Finance's reports over the last two days; infrastructure funding for specific rural and mountain regions has begun to shrink." Hayao Nakayama's voice was still deep, but it lacked some of its usual sharpness. "The projects for building roads and facilities are finishing up one after another, and unemployment in the construction industry is on the rise. Takuya, the aftermath of that 'concrete jungle' you were worried about has indeed begun."
Takuya Nakayama ladled a bowl of soup for his wife and nodded, replying, "Infrastructure can only stimulate domestic demand for a short time; if it cannot be converted into long-term industrial momentum, those construction workers will become nothing more than parts discarded by the era. Right now, quite a few small construction companies in the Kansai region are already filing for bankruptcy."
"So, that program you suggested to Nakagawa is airing tonight, right?"
Hayao Nakayama raised an eyebrow. "He even specifically called me yesterday; he sounded even more nervous than he did the day he became president."
"So, the program you suggested to Nakagawa is airing tonight, right?" Hayao Nakayama raised an eyebrow. "He even called me specifically yesterday; he sounded even more nervous than he did the day he became president."
Takuya Nakayama smiled.
Jun Nakagawa really should be nervous. This program was not only a turning point for TV Tokyo but also a massive gamble for him in the copyright business.
After dinner, the family sat neatly together in front of the television.
As the clock pointed to eight in the evening, a light and slightly soothing melody began to play on the TV Tokyo channel.
Without any flashy opening, the screen directly showed a narrow, gloomy, and nearly dilapidated old house.
The Ultimate Home Renovation King.
At the bottom of the screen, the program's theme appeared: To help families struggling in run-down houses regain their dignity in life.
The client for the first episode was a three-generation family.
In a building area of less than thirty square meters, an elderly couple, a middle-aged couple, and a child in junior high school were squeezed together.
The camera panned over the moldy corners, the staircase that was so steep it was almost vertical, and the back of the housewife busy in a kitchen so narrow she couldn't even turn around.
"This—this is just too cramped," Nakayama Miyuki couldn't help but exclaim. "A staircase like this is too dangerous for the elderly to go up and down."
On the television, the architect, revered as a "takumi" (master craftsman), made his appearance.
Instead of bringing any expensive materials, he first spent a night in that dilapidated house, touching the texture of the walls with his hands and listening to the groaning of the wooden structure in the dead of night.
What followed was nearly a year of follow-up filming.
The dust filling the air when the old house was demolished, the anxiety upon discovering the rotten load-bearing pillars, and the silhouette of the designer repeatedly revising blueprints under a desk lamp late at night.
The production team used an almost obsessive documentary style to record the destination of every single screw.
Eri was watching intently.
As someone with a background in media studies, she could better understand the cinematic language behind those designs than the average viewer.
When she saw how the designer used the dead space under the stairs to create a pull-out storage cabinet and introduced sunlight into the originally pitch-black living room through a light well, she couldn't help but softly marvel.
"The way the flow is handled here is so clever; it completely avoids the blind spots in the elderly's daily life."
The climax of the program came at the very end.
As the family stood before their brand-new doorstep, their hands trembling as they pushed open the door, the background music swelled into something grand and soothing.
Accompanied by the family's heartfelt exclamations of "Sugoi!", the dark, "dangerous house" had vanished, replaced by a home filled with light and shadow, open and airy, and possessing extreme modern functionality.
The grandmother, touching the hallway where anti-slip handrails had been installed, burst into tears.
She said nothing, merely bowing deeply toward the camera.
In that moment, the very air in front of the television seemed to freeze.
Eri's eyes reddened, and she instinctively grabbed Takuya Nakayama's hand.
This impact, this message of "rebirth" and "hope," struck a chord with every viewer in the anxious autumn of 1995.
"This isn't just about renovating a house," Hayao Nakayama let out a long breath, moving his gaze from the screen to Takuya's face. "It's showing those who have lost faith in the future a possibility. As long as this spirit of craftsmanship exists, life can always go on."
Takuya Nakayama felt his wife's hand trembling slightly and gently patted the back of it.
"Daddy, why is the old lady crying?"
Little Kazuki looked up, asking with an innocent expression.
He didn't yet understand the hardships of life, but he could sense that mix of sadness and joy.
Hayao Nakayama reached out and pulled his grandson into his arms, his movements a bit awkward but firm.
"Because she's found her way home, Kazuki."
Hayao Nakayama's voice was a bit hoarse.
Looking at his grandson's carefree face, and thinking of the child soon to be born to Eri, his heart, once as hard as iron, softened completely in that moment.
"Takuya, go ahead and do whatever you need to do at Sega," Hayao suddenly said, his tone revealing an unprecedented sense of relief. "Whether it's auditing or restructuring, as long as it ensures this family can continue for the long haul, I have no objections."
He was referring not just to the Nakayama family, but to the Sega empire he had built with his own hands.
Takuya Nakayama felt a stir in his heart.
He knew that in this moment, he had truly received full authorization from this Showa-era tycoon.
On the television, the show's ending theme began to play softly.
The screen froze on a scene of a family sitting together at a new dining table, eating dinner, the sunset from outside casting a warm light into the room that was enough to make one want to tear up.
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