Seeing his wife regain her vitality, Umehara Masao's tense face finally relaxed slightly. He straightened the championship certificate on the table and stiffly addressed his still-dazed son:
"And when is the national finals?"
"End of the month, at the Budokan," Daigo replied.
"Hmm." Umehara Masao grunted, as if making a decision. "I'll take time off from work then, and your mother will too. We'll go watch."
With that, he stood up and walked back to his room, leaving his wife and son with a somewhat diminished, yet no longer so imposing, back view.
Daigo watched his father's retreating figure, then glanced at the championship certificate prominently displayed on the table. His tightly furrowed face finally softened into a slight smile.
The next day, a most unusual pair of visitors arrived at the game center in Adachi Ward.
Umehara Masao had changed out of his work clothes and into the family's only decent suit, his tie meticulously knotted.
His wife followed behind him, carrying a beautifully wrapped gift box, her expression uneasy as she surveyed the noisy space packed with machines and teenagers.
Sato, the shop owner, was holding an unlit toothpick between his lips, directing employees to stock new soda when he looked up and saw the incongruous couple at the door, and the small figure behind them.
He froze for a moment before hurrying over. "Uncle, Auntie, are you—?"
Umehara Masao didn't speak. He simply stepped forward and bowed deeply to the young man nearly twenty years his junior.
"Thank you for taking care of my son all this time," he said, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of a pebble dropped into still water. Nearby students exchanging coins all turned to look curiously.
Sato jumped, the toothpick falling from his hand. He scrambled to help him up. "No, no, no! Uncle, what are you doing? I—I didn't do anything!"
He was just a young man in his twenties, hardly accustomed to such a deep bow from a middle-aged man.
"It's my duty," Umehara Masao replied, straightening up. His expression remained stern, but a glimmer of sincerity appeared in his eyes.
"That boy Daigo has caused you trouble," his wife added, bowing as well, the rims of her eyes growing red.
"Not at all! It's no trouble at all!" Sato waved his hands dismissively. He glanced at Daigo Umehara, who stood silently beside him, then scratched his head and grinned widely, revealing a mouthful of white teeth. "I just think Daigo is incredibly skilled at gaming, and I always wanted a brother just like him. So I just treat him like my own little brother."
After a flurry of activity, Sato ushered the family of three into his cramped office, cluttered with parts and gaming magazines.
"Uncle, Aunt, don't worry," Sato said, pouring two cups of hot tea and getting straight to the point. "Daigo knows his limits. He's not one of those kids who stays out all night playing games."
Umehara Masao picked up his teacup but didn't drink. He looked at the young boss and asked gravely, "I want to know... does this... really have a future?"
This was his most pressing concern. After the initial shock of the one million yen prize, he was thinking about what would happen in ten, twenty years.
Sato's expression turned serious. He rummaged through a pile of magazines and pulled out a copy of Famitsu, pointing to a special feature on the Sega Esports Tournament.
"Uncle, look here. The first tournament's grand prize was 100,000 yen. Last year it was 500,000. And this year, the Tokyo championship prize that Daigo won was 1,000,000 yen. The prize money keeps increasing every year. Sega is determined to make this into a proper sport, like professional baseball or soccer."
He paused, then added, "Do you know Takahashi Meijin? He became an idol for all the kids in Japan just by playing games. Times have changed. Today's Daigo has a much higher starting point than Takahashi Meijin ever did. This is now a path where you can make a living based on your skills alone."
A path where you can make a living.
These six words made Umehara Masao's fingers pause slightly.
He was a practical man. He knew what these words meant for an ordinary family without connections.
"But what about what the newspapers said—" the mother began worriedly, "about him being a delinquent, about game centers being places for bad kids—"
"Ridiculous!" Sato Ichi exclaimed, nearly spilling his teacup in his agitation. "What do those reporters know? They just want a big scoop. That's why I think we need to discuss this with you all."
He looked at Daigo Umehara, then at his parents.
"Daigo's talent is the most extraordinary I've ever seen. Look at that runner-up in the newspaper—the one who's a regular champion at major tournaments. He's now been defeated by Daigo. But Daigo is only eleven. Being pushed too high too soon isn't good. Too much outside interference will ruin him."
The office fell silent.
After a long pause, Umehara Masao set down his teacup with a crisp click. He stared at his son, who had kept his head bowed as if none of this concerned him.
"Daigo."
"Mm."
"..."
"Do you want to keep playing? Make this your life's work?"
Daigo Umehara lifted his head, met his father's gaze without hesitation, and nodded firmly.
"Good." Umehara Masao's voice carried an unyielding resolve. "Then we have three rules."
He raised a finger.
"First, your studies come first. No matter how many championships you win, you will finish middle school. My son, Daigo Umehara, will not be an illiterate who can't even read a contract."
He raised a second finger.
"Second, limit your gaming time. Two hours a day after school, and three hours on weekends. This isn't play; it's training. If you want to make this your career, you'll be a professional athlete. Professionals need rest and reflection. I don't want you burned out so young."
Finally, he pointed at the envelope on the table containing one million yen.
"Third, any prize money you win will be held in trust by me until you come of age. I won't touch a single yen. This money is yours, but you don't know how to manage it yet. When you're grown, whether you choose to continue competing or pursue something else, this will be your capital."
Three rules, each clear and reasonable.
Sato listened from the side, dumbfounded, his admiration for this stern man growing by the minute.
This wasn't suppression; this was laying the most solid foundation for Daigo's future!
Umehara Masao looked at his son. "Can you do this?"
Daigo Umehara nodded again, this time with even greater determination than before.
"Good." Umehara Masao stood up, his aura completely transformed.
The suppressed anger and confusion had vanished, replaced by the resolve and decisiveness of a household head.
He turned to Sato and bowed slightly.
"I entrust this child to you before the national tournament. Please take good care of him."
Sato quickly stood and bowed in return. "Rest assured! I'll take full responsibility!"
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