Sunday 4 August 1998.
Ayumi loved playing games. She was still taking it a bit easy from full-time development work so she could focus on caring for her son, Zenshin, who had become unbelievably lively lately. Even so, she never fully stepped away from game dev—Zaboru had built her a small workshop at home, and she still spent time tinkering, testing ideas, and polishing little systems when she had the energy. Sometimes, Zaboru's sister, Sanika Renkonan, would come by to learn from her and her boyfriend also Hidetaka Miyazaki occasionally stopped in, quietly observing and asking questions that made Ayumi smile, because it reminded her she was still "in the field," not just resting.
Ayumi was a great developer—Zaboru's disciple long before they became husband and wife—and she still had that professional hunger in her bones. But she also genuinely loved games as a player. These days, she could actually find pockets of free time because Zenshin loved playing with Zaboru's mother at home. Keiko was a doting grandmother who treated Zenshin like the center of the universe, so Ayumi often got a rare luxury: quiet hours to herself.
Last week, Zaboru went to the USA. He only returned today, and even though it was the weekend, he still went straight back to work at ZAGE Tower like he couldn't help himself. Ayumi expected he would come home sometime in the afternoon—probably with that tired smile, that "I missed you" look, and a head still half-full of work as he really wanted to play with her son.
She didn't just like ZAGE games—she loved them in a hardcore way, the kind that turns into a habit you can't quit. Even with a busy schedule, she had still managed to play nearly every ZAGE title in existence, one by one, not only because it was her hobby, but because she treated it like study. ZAGE games were genuinely good, and they were teaching her too: pacing, level flow, how systems can feel "tight," how stories can land emotionally without losing momentum. Sometimes she would pause in the middle of a stage just to think, Why does this feel so satisfying? Then she'd scribble a quick note and keep playing like nothing happened.
And recently, she couldn't stop playing Final Fantasy 7. It was only released last week, but it already swallowed her free time completely. She was a good gamer, so she moved through most sections smoothly—smart menus, good setups, clean battles—and that made it even more dangerous, because the game never had a chance to "push her away." Instead, it pulled her deeper. She started loving the characters, getting attached to the party dynamic, laughing at small moments, then suddenly feeling quiet when the story turned heavy. And because it was written by her husband, she went in already expecting it to be good… but it still exceeded her expectations in a way that shocked her.
That was also the problem.
Zaboru had only finished a little bit of work at ZAGE Tower Japan, but even "a little bit" for him still meant a bunch of codes , making art work and brainstorming. He had just returned from the USA today, and his body still felt like it was half on another time zone despite his Enlightenment body, yet the moment he landed he still went straight back to the tower like he couldn't help himself. After that, he went up to the 52nd floor—those private spaces that felt like a second home inside the tower—just to change clothes, wash off the travel smell, and finally do his "Work".
And then, at last, he went home.
The moment he stepped into the Renkonan household, a warm feeling hit him—simple, domestic, comforting. He missed this. He missed his mom and dad, his little sisters, and of course Ayumi and Zenshin. For all the power and noise inside ZAGE, home still had a different kind of gravity. He smiled to himself, already imagining Zenshin running at him like a cannonball, Ayumi teasing him for coming back late, Keiko handing him food the second he sat down.
But when he looked around, the house felt unusually quiet.
Shoes were missing. The living room wasn't messy. The usual "family sound" wasn't there. He noticed it immediately—his dad, his mom, his sister, and even Zenshin were gone. Probably out for a drive, or visiting a mall, or letting Keiko spoil the kid outside so Ayumi could rest. Zaboru chuckled to himself, thinking, Of course… The moment I come home, the whole squad is on an outing.
Still smiling, he raised his voice toward the back of the house. "Ayumi! I'm home!"
A few seconds later, Ayumi stepped out of the bedroom.
And the smile on Zaboru's face faded a little.
Her expression wasn't normal. Not tired, not playful, not the usual gentle look she had when she teased him. It was flat. Seriously. Her eyes were sharp, like she had been waiting. Then she said, slowly and clearly, "Zaboru Renkonan… go in. Quickly." Zaboru froze.
She didn't call him "Zabo."
That was the warning bell. The last time she used his full name like that, it was because he ate her favorite pudding two weeks ago and tried to pretend it "mysteriously disappeared." He swallowed, suddenly feeling like a student called to the principal's office.
"Umm… Ayumi," he said carefully, forcing a small smile. "Did I do something wrong?"
Ayumi didn't answer. She only tilted her head toward the bedroom—one short gesture, no mercy.
Zaboru sighed, already preparing himself for whatever punishment was coming. He walked into the bedroom like a man walking toward judgment, and Ayumi followed behind him.
Then she closed the door.
Zaboru scratched his head, trying to keep his voice casual even though Ayumi's expression made his stomach tighten. "Um… yes? Did I do something?"
Ayumi crossed her arms, stared at him like a judge, and her voice came out shaky—trying to be angry, but failing because it was already cracking. "Yes… why… why, Zabo… why did you make Aerith… die?"
Zaboru blinked. For a second he genuinely thought she was talking about something in the house. Then it clicked. "Huh? Aerith… Final Fantasy 7?" he asked, still confused, like his brain refused to accept that this was the emergency.
Ayumi nodded hard, jaw trembling. "She… she's precious. I love her so much." Her eyes were red—clearly she'd been crying for a while, the kind of crying that doesn't stop when the scene ends because your heart still feels bruised. "I got attached to her, Zabo. I trusted her. And then you just… you killed her."
Her voice rose at the end, not loud, but wounded. "Why? In the story—why, Zabo?"
Zaboru stood there for a moment, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He always knew Aerith's death would put a target on his head in the forums, that players would curse his name and call him a monster… but he didn't expect the first person to hold him accountable in real life would be his wife.
"Ayumi… relax," he said softly, stepping closer. He tried to smile, but it came out gentle instead of playful. "It's her story. You need to respect it. I tried my best to make the story honest. Aerith is part of the story."
Ayumi's lips pressed together like she wanted to argue, but her eyes betrayed her again and she sniffed. Zaboru lifted a hand and patted her head carefully, slow, like he was calming an injured animal. Ayumi's shoulders shook and she sobbed, turning her face away in embarrassment even though she didn't pull back.
"But still… you could just not kill her, right?!" she protested, voice muffled, but stubborn.
Zaboru sighed and nodded, because she wasn't wrong in the simplest sense. "I could," he admitted. "But… the story wouldn't be as strong as it is. Sometimes the story needs a wound. Sometimes you need loss, not because it's cruel, but because it's real. If everyone survives, the world feels like a toy. If someone you love can disappear, suddenly the planet matters more. Suddenly the fight matters more."
He paused, then added more gently, "I didn't do it because I wanted to hurt you. I did it because I wanted the story to mean something—even when it hurts."
Ayumi looked up at him, eyes shining, angry and sad at the same time. "You're awful," she whispered.
Zaboru couldn't help a small, guilty smile. "Maybe," he said, then leaned in and lowered his voice to something more intimate, like a secret he shouldn't share. "But… maybe in the future, if I remake the game… I can make a path where you can save Aerith."
Ayumi's eyes lit up instantly, like someone turned on a lamp inside her heart. The anger didn't disappear, but hope rushed in and pushed it back.
"Really!? You promise?!" Ayumi's voice jumped like she just heard the greatest news in her life.
Zaboru chuckled and raised one hand like he was taking an oath… then immediately ruined it. "No promises. It's a spoiler!"
Ayumi pouted so hard her cheeks puffed up. "But! You said it! You can't just say something like that and then hide!" She pointed at him like a prosecutor. "And what about the ending?! How about the ending of the party—what's their fate? Why is the ending just like that? Why don't you show everyone living happily? Why is it so unclear?!"
Zaboru laughed again, but this time it was the guilty laugh of a man who knew he had made a dangerous mistake. "Because," he said, still smiling, "it depends on your imagination."
Ayumi stared at him like he just committed a crime. "My imagination?!" she repeated, voice rising. "Zabo, I don't want imagination—I want answers! I want to know if everyone is okay! I want to know what happened after! I want to know if it's happy or sad or—" She stopped to swallow, eyes still wet. "You can't do this to me!"
Zaboru shrugged, still trying to keep it playful even though he could feel her anger building again. "That's the point. If I spell everything out, it becomes small. If I leave space, it stays big."
Ayumi's face twitched, like she was deciding whether to cry again or throw something.
She chose violence.
Not the dramatic movie violence—more like the violence of a woman who had been emotionally stabbed by a video game and now needed someone to pay for it.
She snapped, "Fine. If you won't tell me, I'll force you to tell me the ending!"
Her hands shot forward, aiming for his collar like she was going to shake the spoilers out of him.
Zaboru reacted on instinct, stepping sideways with that annoyingly smooth dodge like he was avoiding a slow punch. He grinned, the kind of grin that instantly makes a wife want to throw a shoe. "You can try!"
Ayumi froze for half a second, like she was calculating his escape routes, then her lips curled into a dangerous smile. "Oh, you're enjoying this now?"
Zaboru laughed—too calm, too confident. "No spoilers!"
Ayumi's eye twitched. "Damn you, Zaboru Renkonan!" she cursed, and then she chased him out of the bedroom like he stole her heart and her closure.
The house was empty, so the moment turned into pure chaos: Ayumi running barefoot down the hallway, Zaboru slipping past her like a smug fox, both of them whisper-shouting so the neighbors wouldn't hear, but still sounding like two idiots fighting over a secret treasure. Ayumi tried to corner him near the living room, he darted behind the sofa. She grabbed a pillow like a weapon. He backed away, hands up like surrender, still grinning, still refusing to give her the answer.
And for a few minutes, the quiet Renkonan household became a battlefield of laughter, anger, and love—Ayumi chasing, Zaboru dodging, both of them acting like the ending of Final Fantasy 7 was a national emergency. They were trying to keep their voices down like responsible adults, but it still came out as breathless whisper-shouting, the kind that makes you laugh harder because you know you shouldn't. Ayumi swung the pillow like a sword. Zaboru retreated like a cowardly hero, slipping behind the sofa and peeking out with that smug grin that always made her want to smack him. She nearly cornered him in the hallway, fingers brushing his shirt, and he escaped by pure luck—then instantly regretted it when she narrowed her eyes and said, very calmly, "Okay. Now I'm serious."
In the end, Zaboru finally gave up, because he was laughing too hard to keep running. Ayumi caught him, wrapped her arms around him like a trap, and hugged him so tight he couldn't breathe. "Got you," she muttered into his shoulder—still angry, still smiling, still heartbroken in that messy way that only happens when you love a story too much. She dragged him back to the bedroom, half pulling, half carrying, and pushed him onto the bed like she was arresting him for emotional crimes.
She climbed on top of him just enough to pin him, stared straight into his face, and said with deadly sincerity, "Promise me. One day, you remake the game. One day, you give me a path where I can save Aerith. Promise me that, Zabo… and I'll forgive you and give you good time~." Her eyes were still red, but the softness was coming back, little by little, like the anger was melting into something warmer and dangerous.
Zaboru grinned—tired, guilty, and completely in love. "Tempting," he said, and before she could grab his collar again, he gently rolled them, careful and playful, so he was above her without hurting her. "I can't promise spoilers," he whispered, brushing her hair back like an apology. "But I can promise this: I'll make you moan."
Zaboru leaned down, forehead touching hers for a moment then he kissed her mouth, and the fight finally softened into quiet. The door stayed closed, the house stayed peaceful, but in their bedroom there were sounds of moaning and sounds of other things.
And other players felt the same way as Ayumi—this weird, painful love-hate that wouldn't go away. They cursed Zaboru for what he created: Aerith dying so suddenly, the ending refusing to explain everything, the way the game leaves you hanging with a heart full of questions. But at the same time, they couldn't stop praising him, because only a masterpiece can make people this angry, this sad, and still grateful to have experienced it.
One thing to be said: Final Fantasy 7 is fantastic and not just for the fans but for the Game Developer as well.
To be continue
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