I Have My Ways
Capsule Monster.
Back in the day, I got plenty of good out of Capsulemon myself.
Whenever my friends looked ready to peel off the stickers and throw the bread away, I hurried over wearing an awkward smile. The chocolate rolls, famous for how good they were, were out of the question. What I remember scoring in quantity was the full-moon bread — enormous, and stingy with the cream.
So I had days like that too.
I was sunk in one thought and another when it happened.
A thin creak.
Through the barely opened crack of the door, a pair of bright, sharp eyes. Behind thick horn-rimmed glasses was a young man with a truly clever face.
"Who's there?"
At times like this, it worked better to let an adult step forward than to go myself.
"Jo Sudeok, director of JH Network."
"JH... you don't mean..."
"The studio that released Dramatic Question, and the company that handles Daisho's North American distribution."
"Why would someone like that come to a shabby place like this..."
"There's urgent business I need to discuss."
"W-with me?"
A nod. And another.
Jo Sudeok held out a doujinshi as he spoke.
"You have a truly outstanding talent."
No sooner had the words landed—
"Five minutes! No—one minute! I-I'll wash up and be right out!"
With that, Tajiri scurried back into the house.
Ten minutes later, a café nearby. Tajiri looked awkwardly from me to Jo Sudeok and back again.
"So... you're saying this gentleman is the one in charge?"
It happened all the time, so I answered with nothing but a small smile.
"But how did you know about me? How did you find this place?"
"Thanks to this book."
"Ah. The Xevious issue."
In truth, that was only a cover story. I had watched the story of Tajiri's life on YouTube in my previous life... ahem.
"This is a personal matter."
"......?"
"My older brother has a temperament a lot like yours, Mr. Tajiri. He made the setting books all by himself. Five whole volumes."
"I-I've heard. That Dramatic Question was born that way..."
"That's why we came to see you."
"......!"
Gulp.
Did he think this was the chance of a lifetime? Tajiri's Adam's apple bobbed, large and hard.
"Are you... looking for a planner like your brother?"
I closed without so much as mentioning the single word he wanted most: investment.
Then Tajiri opened his mouth, careful.
"Th-this is such an overwhelming offer I hardly know what to do with myself... but I don't yet have any mind to belong to a company..."
"A shame."
The regret, though, seemed greater on Tajiri's side. Afraid I might simply stand and leave, he rushed to speak.
"Even so! I have a—a brilliant concept."
"A concept?"
"But I'm short on capital..."
"Is the technology sufficient?"
"Honestly, I don't have the technology either."
Tajiri scratched the back of his head as if embarrassed, then changed his expression at once.
"Still, if I had the capital... I could find a good programmer..."
"And a designer?"
"...Don't have one."
"You'll solve that with money too?"
"D-design, I could cover that myself..."
"So how much do you need, all told?"
It was the first time I had let the possibility of investment show. Maybe that was why.
"......!"
Those already large eyes grew larger still. As if his throat were on fire, Tajiri gulped down coffee that was still giving off steam. It had to be scalding. In this moment, though, he went on like a man whose sense of pain had gone numb.
The figure Tajiri named was four million yen, at the outside.
Good grief.
Over the next thirty years, what the Capsulemon IP would bring in was on the order of a hundred trillion won. Not sales — net profit of a hundred trillion. And to develop that franchise, four million yen... he was asking for forty million won, in Korean money?
But there is a reason for everything. Once I heard where the development stood, I found myself nodding.
He's barely taken the first step.
The characters he had come up with numbered about thirty, if that. On top of that, neither the raising system nor the battle system had any structure to it at all. It couldn't be helped. Capsulemon would not reach the world until the mid-nineties. This had to be the season when nothing existed but the idea. If you didn't know the future...
Forty million won is actually a lot.
Right. If history ran its course, the money would not come until the late nineties.
I'm just a little impatient, that's all.
I had no wish to divert, on purpose, a historical current whose success was already guaranteed. Still, pulling the late nineties forward into the early nineties ought to be all right.
Was there a way?
Of course there is!
A proper balance of carrot and stick!
That's what Grandfather did to me every single day.
You learn from what works.
I fixed Tajiri with a steady gaze. He waited for my answer with a face that tried hard at humility.
"You have two choices."
"......?"
"The first is to take four million yen of investment on the concept you have now."
"Ooh!"
"The other is this. One week from now, you bring a more developed concept, and you take a much larger investment."
"A larger investment..."
"It depends on the proposal, but I'm prepared to go as high as one billion yen."
Forty million won against ten billion. Tajiri's choice was as plain as looking at a fire.
"T-to receive the full billion yen... what else do I need? Specifically, what kind of progress would it take..."
"A hundred characters, minimum. That includes second- and third-stage evolutions, so it isn't actually that many."
Gulp.
His Adam's apple shook, huge.
"A complete overhaul of every system — collection, raising, battle — is unavoidable too."
"But finishing all of that within a week is nearly impossible..."
"You don't have to force it."
"Pardon?"
"I only told you the maximum I have in mind. Bring back however much you're able."
The investment, of course, would have to shrink to match. In this moment Tajiri's head would be full of a single goal: produce an overwhelming proposal, and take that ten billion won no matter what.
Sure enough.
"I'll do it."
No one had even told him to.
"I'll pull it off somehow."
He was burning with fighting spirit all on his own.
"I hope it turns out to be a splendid proposal."
"I'm out of time... I'll be going."
And so, after Tajiri left, a strange excitement still lingered in the seat he had occupied — as if the energy pouring off that young developer had changed the current of the air. The truth was, this was a sight I knew quite well. An enormous reward... a deadline cruel enough to resent... and only then, superhuman strength...
Anyway. Somehow a week had fallen into my hands as well. I could fly home like this. Or I could keep the trip going. Either would do.
I turned to Jo Sudeok.
"Do you have the time, Professor?"
"It's vacation, isn't it?"
Quick to read a room, Jo Sudeok caught my meaning at once.
"If I'm with you, sir, I can clear a month without breaking a sweat."
"Then, before we head home, shall we drop in somewhere?"
"Just say the word. Taiwan? Hong Kong? There are plenty of fine places..."
"How about America?"
"Pardon?"
His face said, clear as day, that he thought I had promised nothing more than a quick stop.
"America is... the exact opposite direction..."
But Jo Sudeok wiped the look away and went on.
"When it comes to America, we have nothing but good memories, don't we? Since it's come up, let's go at once. I'll see you there in style."
The place we headed was Chicago.
A familiar face was waiting at the airport gate.
"How long has it been?"
Was it from roaming ballparks in search of shining talent? Baker looked leaner than before. Stretch the truth a little, and you could call it a build to rival a player's. He looked me up and down just as quickly.
"I hardly recognize you. How tall did you get?"
Soon enough he traded greetings with Jo Sudeok as well — a reunion between the man who had threatened to burn the painting, and the people who had begged him, please, just to sell it.
"I was a bit harsh back then, wasn't I?"
"I made a lot of money thanks to you. That's enough for me."
"I nearly reduced a piece of humanity's heritage to a pile of ash. Honestly."
After the two had exchanged their short greetings, Baker turned my way.
"But why did you want to meet in Chicago, of all places?"
"Why do you think?"
Chicago Stadium. The Chicago Bulls had originally been a team without much of a following, and today they were facing Detroit, a true powerhouse. The game had not even started, and already the place was stirring, the court packed with expectation aimed straight at victory.
Fortunately, we ended up side by side in the very front row. A million won a head or so — expensive enough. But was money the problem now? If I could watch the emperor of basketball from right up close, I would gladly tack on another zero.
That was when the Chicago Bulls stepped onto the court to loosen up. The fans, as one, chanted Jordan's name, and as if answering the roar he launched a midrange jumper. The ball drew a beautiful arc and was sucked straight into the heart of the rim.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
He kept firing midrange shots after that, shifting his spot again and again. He was human, so now and then one rimmed out. What astonished me was what happened the moment a teammate put a defender on him. A flash — and with an overwhelming leap he rose a full head above the man guarding him, then shook the net without fail.
The type who only got stronger once there was a defense in front of him?
Well. Of course.
Strong when it counted. That was why he would reach the Finals six times, win all six, and take MVP all six times. All I had to do was rest easy for a week, watching games like this, then go back to Japan and look over Tajiri's proposal...
Talk about a life spoiled rotten with luck!
I was wearing a pleased smile when Baker, in the seat beside me, turned and spoke.
"The game hasn't started yet, so I'll just say this..."
"......?"
"Manchester United. The one I mentioned before. Unlike the American market, there's a tricky part."
Tricky?
"American sports run on money from the first thing to the last. Pure business, through and through. Europe is different. The fans have a pretty loud voice, you might say."
"What do you mean?"
"Even if an owner decides to sell, I'm told the whole thing often flips if the fans rise up."
"Isn't most business built on fans like that?"
"As I said, America is cold-blooded. Before money, there's no such thing as a sale that won't go through."
Right at that moment, a flash. Jordan rose a good meter into the air and threw down an overwhelming dunk, and the fans all came to their feet and poured out a roar. I turned to Baker.
"So what you're saying is, you can't buy a club with money alone."
"That's right."
Grateful advice. Even so—
"Don't worry about that."
"......?"
"I have my ways."