Saturday 2 August 1999 ZAGE Tower 52 floor.
Right now, Zaboru is still in his office, but his family is arriving to stay on the 52nd floor of ZAGE Tower—Zaboru's private living quarters, reserved for himself and the people he protects most. Ayumi comes first, calm and steady as always, with their two children in tow: Zenshin, his first son, already bouncing with restless energy, and little Arumi, the second child, still small enough to cling to her mother's sleeve whenever the elevator doors open.
Keiko comes along too, because no matter how high ZAGE Tower reaches, Zaboru's mother still treats it like home the moment she steps inside. Even Zanichi shows up—"somehow," because when Zanichi decides something matters, he appears like a force of nature. And then there's Akechi, Ayumi's brother, the man known in the underworld as Rashomon, arriving with that quiet, unreadable expression that makes everyone around him instinctively straighten their posture.
They aren't here only for family time. Zanichi and Akechi both want a private conversation with Zaboru—something about the media, about the way headlines can be shaped like weapons. That's why they came personally, not through assistants.
Sanika doesn't come today. She's still studying and preparing for her ZAGE internship next month, and she's doing it alongside her boyfriend, Hidetaka Miyazaki. For once, she chooses discipline over comfort, even if it means missing the warmth of the family floor.
Then Zaboru, Zanichi, and Akechi excused themselves and headed down to the 50th floor—Zaboru's office level, a quieter space usually reserved for meetings that couldn't be trusted to walls with too many ears. The elevator ride was short, but the mood shifted anyway. Up on the family floor, everything felt warm and human. Down here, the air felt colder, sharper, like the building itself understood this was where decisions were made.
Zanichi took a slow sip of coffee, watching the steam curl upward as if he was organizing his thoughts. Then he looked directly at Zaboru, voice calm but heavy.
"Boss… you already know ZAGE is huge. Right now the media still loves us because the players still love us. Our releases are winning people over, our hardware is strong, and the public wants to believe in us." He paused, setting the cup down with a careful clink. "But lately—especially after you released violent games like Medal of Honor, GTA, and Hitman—our reputation has started to take small hits. The headlines are changing. They're pushing the idea that these games can be a bad influence on younger generations."
Akechi, sitting beside Zanichi, gave a quiet nod. His face didn't change, but his eyes narrowed slightly, the way they did when he was already thinking three steps ahead.
Then Zaboru frowned slightly and spread his hands, trying to keep the conversation grounded.
"But that's not true, is it, Dad? I mean… we all know it's a game. It's not real life." He tapped the armrest once, as if emphasizing a simple fact. "I've already done interviews about this. I've said it clearly—these are stories, these are systems, not instructions."
Akechi didn't react with surprise or annoyance. He simply tilted his head, calm as ever, his voice low and precise.
"That might be true, Zabo. It is true." He paused, letting the agreement land before twisting the knife. "But you'll see—media has the power to manufacture misinformation without ever saying an obvious lie. They don't need a full false story. They only need fragments."
He lifted a finger, counting like a planner laying out steps.
"First, they take a real detail—your game has violence, your game has crime, your game has war." Another finger. "Second, they add a half-baked rumor on top of it. Something vague. Something that sounds plausible." A third finger. "Then they sell it as concern. As a warning. As 'think of the children.'"
Akechi's eyes stayed emotionless, but his words carried weight.
"And the people?" he continued. "The ones who are unfamiliar with games, the ones who never touched a controller in their life—they won't analyze it. They'll absorb it. They'll repeat it. Because it's easier to believe fear than to learn something new."
Zaboru's eyes widened, not because he didn't understand the logic, but because hearing it laid out so cleanly made it feel more real.
"In the long run," Akechi finished, "it doesn't just hurt one release. It stains the name. Your reputation becomes a target, and every future headline becomes easier to twist."
Zaboru inhaled once, slower than before, and Zanichi continued.
"That's why ZAGE needs strong connections with the media," Zanichi said, voice steady. "If you can shape the narrative, our reputation stays protected—because you're not leaving it to chance."
He set his cup down again, more firmly this time.
"When negative rumors appear about ZAGE, we use those connections to counter them immediately. We push the correction, the context, the facts—before the lie becomes 'truth' in people's minds." Zanichi's eyes stayed on Zaboru, serious. "Because no matter how strong your charm is, if one rumor sounds believable enough, your reputation can collapse overnight."
He paused, letting the warning sink in.
"And right now, our reputation is everything your reputation to be precise"
Zaboru leaned back and exhaled through his nose. "So… you're saying this means some form of manipulation?"
Akechi let out a quiet chuckle, the sound sharp but not cruel. "Heh. You're still naïve, as always, Zabo. Of course it's manipulation." He folded his hands, posture relaxed, voice flat. "The business world isn't as bright and clean as you want to believe. It's shadows, pressure, and timing. People don't win by being right—they win by being heard first."
Zanichi nodded, eyes steady. "Right now, you're lucky," he said. "The public likes us. Players defend us. Your charm carries headlines before they can turn poisonous." He paused, then leaned forward slightly. "But one day that luck runs out. One bad rumor—just one—hits the right angle, and boom. Everyone believes it. Your reputation plummets even if you never did what the rumor claims."
Zaboru opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Zanichi cut him off immediately.
"Don't give me that 'I don't care what the media says about me,' Boss." Zanichi's voice stayed calm, but it carried authority. "You underestimate how shrewd politicians and old power networks are. They'll use newspapers, broadcasters, and 'concerned experts' like knives. You need to be alert at all times."
He lifted a hand, as if weighing two sides. "You can still be yourself in front of the media. Keep your persona. Smile, joke, disarm people." Zanichi's gaze sharpened. "But don't reveal too much. Don't hand them pieces they can twist into a story. Give them what you want printed—nothing more."
Zanichi let out a small chuckle, then continued. "Right now we have TV Tokyo in Japan on our side, and in the USA we have Kirk TV treating us well." He shrugged. "But those are channels. That's not enough. We need relationships with news agencies and broader outlets too—connections that can steer the mass narrative when it turns ugly."
He looked at Zaboru like he was asking him to remember every headline he'd ever hated.
"It annoys you too, right?" Zanichi said. "You release games, and then some stupid article attacks them for being 'too violent,' as if the writer has never touched a controller in their life. Those pieces don't exist by accident, Boss. Someone always benefits."
Zaboru fell silent, and the truth of it settled into his chest. It really did annoy him—every time ZAGE released a violent game, there was always some ridiculous backlash waiting around the corner. Not from the players, not from the people who actually understood games, but from outsiders who treated headlines like facts and fear like wisdom.
He slumped back into his chair with a dramatic drop. "Connections?" Zaboru groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Sigh… do I really have to bootlick someone? Ugh. I hate that."
Akechi chuckled, quiet and sharp "Zabo…" he said, tone almost affectionate in its coldness. "You're so smart, yet so stupid about this."
Zaboru shot him an offended look, but Akechi continued without blinking.
"You should know who you are. You're Zaboru Renkonan—the youngest billionaire. ZAGE's CEO. You're famous, powerful, and rich." Akechi leaned back slightly, as if this was the most obvious math in the world. "So why would you bootlick those news bastards? It should be the other way around."
He lifted a hand, counting off points as if he was outlining a plan.
"Most of them don't want truth. They want access. They want exclusives. They want money, influence, and the feeling that they're close to power." Akechi's grin sharpened. "So you don't beg them. You buy time, buy silence, buy fairness—whatever the situation demands. And if they refuse?"
He shrugged like it was nothing.
"Then we pressure them. Quietly. Legally. Efficiently."
Akechi leaned forward just a little, the room cooling with him. "Besides…" he said, letting the word hang for a beat, "I'm here, aren't I?"
His smile turned into something more dangerous.
"Don't worry. My security company, Aoshidan, has been wanting to extend our reach into press and news anyway. We'll build relationships, we'll identify which outlets are honest, which are hungry, and which are hostile. And if anyone tries to attack ZAGE with manufactured stories, we'll protect you from the threat—before it becomes a fire."
Zaboru's mood shifted instantly. He grinned, relieved, almost excited. "Hehehe… if it's you, Akechi-san, then I'll pay anything. Money isn't a problem!"
He said it like a joke, but there was real trust underneath it—trust built from all the quiet crises Akechi had handled without ever asking for praise. In Zaboru's mind, money was a tool. If paying it meant keeping ZAGE protected, keeping his family safe, keeping the company's name clean, then it wasn't even a discussion.
Zanichi laughed softly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Yes. Just let Akechi handle it, Boss."
Zaboru nodded, still smiling, but the smile was thinner now—half relief, half realization. He knew he'd been treating the media like background noise, something he could charm away with one interview and a friendly wave. Hearing Zanichi and Akechi explain it like a battlefield made it feel heavier.
After a while, the meeting naturally broke apart. Zanichi and Akechi headed back up to the 52nd floor, returning to the warm chaos of family life—Zenshin's endless questions, Arumi's small laughter, Keiko's steady presence, and Ayumi's calm eyes watching everything.
Zaboru stayed on the 50th floor.
He remained in his chair for a moment longer, staring at the city through the glass like the skyline might give him an answer. The office was quiet now, but his mind wasn't. The sound of applause from the Z-POD event still echoed somewhere in his memory, and underneath it he could hear Zanichi's warning: one rumor, one believable lie, and everything could tilt.
He exhaled slowly, alone with his thoughts, already weighing what kind of world he was building—and what kind of enemies success always attracts.
"Media, huh…?" Zaboru sighed, the words leaving his mouth like smoke. For a moment, he forgot he was sitting fifty floors above Tokyo; his mind slipped back to his previous world, where headlines could destroy a career faster than any court verdict. He had seen it happen—celebrities taken down by rumors, scandals inflated from half-truths, reputations drowned under "sources" that never had to show their faces.
And the worst part was always the same: the media rarely acted alone. In many cases it was tied—openly or quietly—to elites, networks, and people who benefited from controlling what the public believed. Until now, Zaboru had only gotten the gist of that poison. A few harsh articles. A few dramatic talk segments. A few moral panics aimed at games like Medal of Honor, GTA, and Hitman.
But if he let it be—if he treated it like background noise just because business was booming—then it could get worse. Much worse. The kind of worse that didn't attack a single product, but attacked the name itself. And once a name was stained, every future headline became easier to twist.
Zaboru knows that, in this world, people are kinder on average and the government is less corrupt—but that doesn't mean the poison is gone. It just hides better. Rumors still spread. Power still protects itself. And when money, influence, and pride collide, even a "better" society can turn sharp, fast—especially when a name as big as ZAGE gives everyone a reason to aim.
He rubbed his eyes and let out another breath. "Sigh… thank God Akechi-san is handling it." His voice softened, turning inward. "Sometimes I really wonder… am I Deserving all this? i'm really fool huh?" He glanced toward the glass, toward the city lights, as if the skyline could answer.
"Without Dad, Akechi, and everyone else… ZAGE would never run this smoothly."
Then Zaborn—Zaboru's ghost partner—slipped out from the quiet corner of his Emulator Mind like he'd been listening the whole time. His voice carried that familiar, annoying confidence.
"Heh, you're just one person, dude." Zaborn stretched like someone waking up from a nap. "And besides, it's not a weakness to have allies to depend on. Relax."
Zaboru blinked, then huffed a small laugh through his nose, but Zaborn wasn't done.
"And if you really want to be safe," Zaborn continued, leaning forward with a grin, "I can spy for you. Whenever you need it. Especially if some article appears out of nowhere from a shady outlet." His eyes narrowed in mock seriousness. "I can slip in, listen to their internal chatter, figure out who pushed it, who paid for it, and what they're planning next."
Zaboru's eyes widened. The offer hit him like a sudden extra layer of armor.
"That's… actually huge," he admitted. Then his grin returned, sharp and genuine. "That's a good thing, partner. When that time comes, I'm counting on you, okay?"
Zaborn laughed, a short sound that bounced like a coin on a table. "Yeah, yeah." He nodded once, confident. "Leave the dirty work to me."
Then Zaboru decided to head back up to the 52nd floor—to play, to breathe, and to spend time with his family again, while the city and its headlines stayed far below.
To be continue
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