Tuesday 8 July 1999 AKAI Offices a night.
Tonight, after finishing work at ZAGE, Zaboru headed straight to the AKAI offices. He didn't come for the ceremony or small talk. He wanted a direct update on the readiness of the Z‑POD, and the rumors he'd been hearing all day were too tempting to ignore—AKAI's engineers were supposedly finished. Not "almost finished." Finished.
Even with the recent incident still lingering in everyone's mind, Zaboru moved like his usual self—fast, focused, and stubbornly unwilling to slow down. His head was still bald, and the look was so new that even the security staff at the entrance hesitated for a second before recognizing him. Zaboru just waved it off like it was nothing, signed in, and walked deeper into the building with the confidence of a man who owned the future.
At the lobby, Hyoga Akai—the CEO of AKAI—was already waiting. The moment he saw Zaboru, his expression softened with genuine concern. "Zaboru-san! Are you healthy now?" Hyoga asked politely, voice careful, as if he didn't want to remind him of pain.
Zaboru smiled and nodded. "Always, Hyoga-san. My body is stubborn." Then, without missing a beat, he went straight to the point. "So… how's the Z‑POD?"
Hyoga grinned, amused. "Quickly to the case as always, huh?" He gave a short laugh, then gestured toward the secured hallway. "Alright. Come on. Let's go to the lab. You can see the final product with your own eyes."
Zaboru's grin widened. "That's what I like to hear."
With that, Hyoga personally led him through AKAI's corridors and into the heart of the building—the AKAI Lab—where the finished Z‑POD was waiting.
Then they arrived at the lab, and Hyoga finally revealed the device. It was a sleek, square machine—compact, clean, and surprisingly premium in the hand. On the front were four directional buttons arranged neatly, with a circular button in the middle that felt like the heart of the entire interface. Beside it sat a pair of wired earphones, coiled carefully like AKAI was presenting jewelry rather than electronics.
Zaboru smiled the moment he saw it. He picked the Z‑POD up, turning it slightly left and right, feeling the edges and the weight. "Hehehe… finally ready," he murmured, half amused, half genuinely impressed. Then he grabbed the earphones, plugged them into the Z‑POD, and placed them on his ears with the kind of focus he usually reserved for testing new hardware.
He navigated the song list with the directional buttons—quick, familiar motions—then selected one of the preloaded tracks. The moment he hit play, a song started: Zaboru and Zankoku Band—Z&Z—Hysteria. The first notes filled his ears, crisp and strong, and Zaboru's grin widened as he listened closely, already judging the sound like an engineer and a musician at the same time.
Zaboru kept jamming, and the earphone quality proved to be top‑notch—clear highs, warm mids, and bass that hit without turning muddy. When the track ended, he didn't even take the earphones off. Instead, he started exploring the Z‑POD's interface, testing how fast and intuitive everything felt.
He highlighted the current song and pressed the circular button. A clean menu popped up immediately: "Play," "Add Song to Playlist," "Play Next," and "Remove Song." No lag. No confusion. Just options that made sense.
Zaboru chose to add the song to a playlist. The screen switched to a playlist list—currently empty, showing zero entries—then prompted him to create a new one. A small folder icon appeared, followed by a compact on‑screen keyboard. It wasn't a full PC keyboard, but it was designed smartly for a directional pad: quick scrolling, clear selection, and a predictable layout.
He named the playlist "A1." Once confirmed, the song was inserted inside the folder instantly. Zaboru opened the playlist and pressed play again. The UI changed smoothly into the playback screen, now showing the controls clearly: play/pause, next/previous, replay/loop, and a playlist button that let him jump back without getting lost in menus. Every button felt like it belonged there.
Zaboru nodded, genuinely satisfied. This was exactly the experience he wanted: simple on the surface, fast in practice, and flexible enough that players—no, listeners—could organize their music the way they liked. In his head, he compared it to the kind of music apps people used in his previous life—something like a portable Spotify-style experience, but built into a dedicated device. And seeing it work this cleanly, in his hands, made him smile.
"Hehehe… this is really good, Hyoga-san. Exactly what I envisioned," Zaboru said, still holding the Z‑POD like he didn't want to put it down.
Hyoga grinned and nodded proudly. "Heh, I'm glad you love it, Zaboru-san. Our engineers will be relieved to hear that." He paused, then leaned in a little with a practical look. "So… when are you going to present it to the public?"
Zaboru let out a long sigh, already knowing where this was going. "Hey—am I the AKAI CEO, or are you, Hyoga-san?"
Hyoga laughed and lifted both hands innocently. "Oh, come on. You're the majority shareholder in AKAI, after all. And besides…" He pointed at Zaboru's bald head with a teasing smile. "Even looking like that, you're still more suitable for presenting it. Your charm and popularity are ridiculous. People listen to you. They trust you."
Zaboru clicked his tongue, but he couldn't hide the amused grin. "You're really pushing the work onto me, huh?"
Hyoga shrugged, unapologetic. "I'm pushing it onto the best person for the job."
Zaboru chuckled, then nodded. "Fine. The ZAGE Events Building is already prepared for the presentation anyway. So it should be in about two weeks. I'll do it."
He glanced back down at the Z‑POD, thumb resting on the circle button like a habit. "But if the press asks hard questions, I'm sending them to you."
Hyoga laughed again. "Deal."
Zaboru then smiled. "Z‑Tunes is already developed too. So when we introduce this to the world, Z‑Tunes will be ready on day one," he said, tapping the Z‑POD lightly. "People will be able to download music, convert their albums, and manage everything through the Z‑Tunes website and the desktop application. Simple syncing, simple organization—no headache."
He glanced at Hyoga, tone turning more serious for a moment. "And later, we'll add proper purchase options. Single songs, full albums, even curated packs. Not everyone will want to rip their CDs forever. If we make it convenient and fair, they'll choose the official way."
Then Zaboru's grin returned, playful and confident. "Hehehe… it's time for music to be revolutionized."
Hyoga grinned and nodded, clearly happy to see his company growing at this speed. He didn't care about being famous—he never chased the spotlight. What he cared about was success that was measurable and undeniable.
In other words: being rich.
Zaboru smiled. "Anyway, how's the AKAI expansion, Hyoga-san?"
Hyoga grinned and nodded. "It's going smoothly. Better than we expected, honestly. We're ready to become truly big now—because you keep giving us projects that actually matter."
Zaboru chuckled, clearly pleased. And Hyoga wasn't exaggerating. Recently, Zaboru had been feeding AKAI one major assignment after another, pushing them to grow faster than any normal electronics company could manage.
The biggest proof was the AKAI Z2 Flip Phone. It had sold extremely well—far beyond the early projections—and the market response wasn't just hype. People genuinely liked it. Retailers wanted more stock. Carriers wanted special bundles. Even the press, as annoying as they were, couldn't ignore how quickly AKAI's name was starting to spread.
Because of that momentum, Zaboru already wanted the next wave. Not just one phone, but a lineup with clear tiers: a higher‑spec model for power users, a version with similar features but slightly cheaper components to hit a wider price range, and a more affordable, colorful model that would appeal to younger buyers and casual consumers. He also wanted design flexibility—different shells, different finishes—so AKAI could build identity, not just hardware.
And more importantly, Zaboru had been pushing AKAI to learn new technology, not just assemble parts. Touchscreen research. UI responsiveness. Better batteries. More efficient chips. He didn't want AKAI to be "a company that makes phones." He wanted them to become a company that could lead the next era of phones.
Hyoga could feel it too.
With every project, AKAI wasn't just expanding.
They were evolving.
Zaboru smiled. "That's good. AKAI is definitely going to get big," he said, tone light but confident—like he was stating a fact that had already happened. "And in the next year or two, I'm going to give you guys the main task. Something that will revolutionize the phone industry as a whole. But for now… just keep doing what you're doing. Keep building. Keep learning. Keep improving the foundation."
Hyoga grinned and nodded without hesitation. He trusted Zaboru one hundred percent. Not because of blind loyalty, but because everything since ZAGE bought 40% of AKAI and became the major shareholder had been a chain of real results—projects delivered, products selling, and the company's reputation rising faster than anyone thought possible.
Before Zaboru, AKAI had potential.
After Zaboru, AKAI had direction.
And now, step by step, they were already becoming a top giant in the phone industry.
"Leave it to me, Zaboru-san! Just tell me what you want to make—we will help you!"
Zaboru chuckled and nodded. "Good. Keep the momentum. And don't let your engineers get lazy just because the Z‑POD is finished."
Hyoga laughed, accepting the scolding like it was a compliment, and the two continued talking for a while—details about production scale, supplier stability, quality control targets, and how fast AKAI could expand without breaking itself. It wasn't flashy conversation, but it was the kind of talk that decided whether a company would become a legend or collapse under its own growth.
Eventually, the meeting wrapped. Zaboru stood up, pocketed his hands, and gave Hyoga a short nod. "Two weeks. Prepare the lab demo units, and make sure the Z‑Tunes side doesn't crash on day one. If it fails during launch, I'll make you fix it with your bare hands."
Hyoga grinned, half scared, half excited. "Understood!"
Then, a second later, Hyoga blinked—realization hitting him late. "Wait. Isn't Z‑Tunes made by the ZAGE team? Why is it suddenly on us?"
Zaboru burst into laughter. "That's what you get for nodding too fast," he said, waving a hand like it was nothing. "Relax. I'm just messing with you, Hyoga-san."
Hyoga let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, then laughed too—half relieved, half annoyed. "Don't scare me like that," he muttered, but his grin returned immediately. "Still… I'll make sure the demo units are perfect. I don't want to embarrass AKAI in front of the whole world." Zaboru chuckled and left.
On the way home, Zaboru rode in his car. He was still in recovery, and his body hadn't fully earned the right to return to his trusty bike yet. The city lights slid past the window like a quiet stream, and for the first time tonight, he let his thoughts drift.
Zaboru grinned to himself. Hehehe… if this works, the timeline will shift even faster. The Z‑POD wasn't just a device—it was a gateway. Once people tasted portable digital music, they'd start demanding more. Smaller devices. Better screens. Better batteries. A pocket computer that could do everything.
He leaned back, amusement in his eyes. Hehehe… hopefully I can introduce smartphones way earlier in this world…
Zaboru couldn't help smiling at the thought. A smartphone wasn't supposed to be "exciting," not for someone like him who already lived in 2020s. But this one thing—this one device—would change how people lived. He imagined it clearly: people will amazed by a screen you could actually touch, not just press. Messages that arrived instantly without needing to call. A pocket camera good enough to capture real memories, not blurry accidents. A music player, a map, a notebook, and a phone—all fused into one.
But what made him eager wasn't even business.
It was family.
He pictured himself traveling across the country for work, sitting in a the offices at midnight, exhausted and still thinking about work and meetings. Then, with one tap, he could see Ayumi's face. He could see Zenshin jumping around the room, showing off some silly drawing. He could see Arumi's small hands reaching toward the screen like she was trying to grab him through it.
A video call.
Not just hearing their voices—seeing them. Seeing they were safe. Seeing their smiles. Seeing the tiny changes that happened day by day, the kind of changes you miss if you're only told about them later.
He imagined Ayumi scolding him for overworking, but her eyes softening because she could see he was fine. He imagined his mom suddenly appearing in the background, making sure he ate properly even from far away. He imagined Sanika stealing the phone just to tease him and then handing it back, pretending she didn't miss him too.
That was all he wanted.
That was why he wanted it early.
Then he laughed under his breath, like he was sharing a joke with the night.
Hehehe… sorry, Steve Jobs… but I'm going to steal all those Apple inventions first.
The grin stayed, but behind it was something sharper—determination. If this world was going to leap forward, then he would be the one to pull it there. and beside Steve Job is still a asshole in this world so he won't feel bad.
Zaboru would simply build something even better.
To be continue
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