After returning from Bandai, Nakayama Takuya was swept straight into the whirlwind of pre-engagement matters.
Work had long settled into a stable, orderly rhythm. Every project was progressing smoothly, each led by competent teams—none of it required his personal attention anymore.
But this didn't mean he had any free time.
On the contrary, he felt that dealing with the old foxes on the board was far easier than what he was facing now.
Kyoto — a century-old kimono house.
Nakayama Takuya stood expressionlessly on a low wooden platform as two master tailors in simple kimono gestured and adjusted measurements around him.
He was dressed in a brand-new montsuki formal kimono; the black silk carried the Nakayama family crest—"Maru-uchi Tsumegiku"—gleaming faintly under the warm lights.
"Madam, the young master truly has the physique for fine garments. This fits him as though crafted for him alone."
The shop owner, an elderly man with silver hair, smiled broadly as he spoke to Nakayama Miyuki, who sat poised to the side.
Miyuki nodded, her gaze lingering on her son's tall, elegant figure—pride and joy unmistakably warming her eyes.
She took a sip of tea, posture refined, tone firm and unquestionable. "The shoulder line. Adjust it. My son's shoulders are not this narrow."
"Yes, yes, of course."
The tailors hurried to correct it, reverent and careful.
Takuya remained still, like a finely crafted mannequin.
But in his head, he was thinking: If Sakamoto or any of those business rivals saw me like this, their jaws would hit the floor.
The heir of the Nakayama conglomerate, the future head of a gaming empire—being held hostage by his own mother over a single ceremonial garment.
If this ever spread, where would his dignity go?
"Takuya, don't scowl. An engagement is a joyful event." Miyuki gave him a pointed look.
"I'm not." Takuya sighed helplessly.
He just thought spending an entire afternoon fitting a kimono he'd wear once was borderline torture.
"Enough. This one will do." Miyuki concluded. "After here, tomorrow we visit the calligraphy master who wrote your invitations. I've already made the appointment. You are not allowed to be late."
"…Understood."
A vein throbbed at Takuya's temple.
Indeed—marriage preparations were far more exhausting than corporate warfare.
---
April 15th — taian, the luckiest day.
A private high-end ryōtei in Akasaka, Tokyo. The spring sun filtered over the tranquil dry garden outside.
Inside a refined tatami room, the atmosphere was solemn.
Takuya sat straight-backed in the painstakingly adjusted montsuki. The Nakayama crest shimmered subtly on black silk. Every movement was composed and dignified—none of the frustration from the fitting remained.
Opposite him sat Nakagawa Eri, clad in a gorgeous furisode.
Her makeup was impeccable, her posture graceful—like a court lady lifted from a classical painting. Yet her eyes, when they met his, held a soft smile and quiet reassurance.
Their gazes intertwined.
We finally made it here.
At the upper seats sat the parents.
Nakayama Hayao and Nakagawa Jun—heads of Sega and TV Tokyo—two titans who today had put aside their sharp business auras, becoming simply fathers.
"President Nakayama, you've been well, I hope?" Nakagawa Jun began.
"Thanks to you, still managing." Hayao nodded, his eyes drifting between son and future daughter-in-law. His voice was calm but approving. "And Miss Eri grows ever more elegant."
To the side, the two mothers—the true masterminds of Operation Matrimony—watched the scene with warm satisfaction.
Their gazes fell on the display of yuinō gifts:
A paulownia-wood sake cask.
The white ceremonial fan.
The bundles of kelp and dried seafood symbolizing prosperity…
Each item arranged according to ancient custom, perfect to the smallest detail.
"Dear in-law, look—the children chose everything themselves. Such wonderful taste." Mrs. Nakagawa said gently.
Miyuki lifted her teacup, unable to hide her smile. "Yes. They know what they want. We just watch from the sidelines."
Everyone in the room knew that without the "ultimate directives" of these two mothers, nothing would be this flawless.
Hearing them, Takuya's eye twitched almost imperceptibly. His mind wandered to that date with Eri in Amazake Yokocho.
Compared to today's grandeur, he much preferred that simple, private happiness.
But he knew this ceremony mattered.
It wasn't just a union of two young people—
It was a silent, undeniable declaration between two powerful families.
When the attendants finished setting up the ceremonial implements, the room fell into deep quiet.
The yuinō ceremony officially began.
After countless layers of tradition—so intricate they bordered on absurd—came the exchange of vows.
Takuya held the calligrapher-written vow, the paper rough and dignified to the touch.
He drew a steady breath and looked directly at Eri.
"I, Nakayama Takuya, pledge myself to Nakagawa Eri. From this day forward, in joy and hardship, never to part—"
His voice carried clearly through the quiet room.
Each word struck like a ceremonial drum: solemn, weighty—announcing the beginning of a new era.
When Eri gently spoke, "From today, I shall bear the name Nakayama Eri," Takuya's heart jolted.
Nakayama Eri.
A name that bound two lives—and two empires—together.
For the first time, he felt every chore, every fitting, every obligation… was worth it.
During the ring exchange, he took Eri's hand.
Her fingers were cool, trembling just slightly.
He slid the engagement ring onto her right middle finger—slow, deliberate.
The cold metal touched warm skin.
In that moment, their heartbeats synced.
---
After the ceremony came the gauntlet of familial toasts.
A marathon of social obligations.
"Ah, Takuya!" boomed an elder uncle, face flushed. "Eri is a wonderful girl! You must work hard—our Nakayama family's future depends on you!"
Laughter erupted across the room.
Eri blushed scarlet, nearly burying herself in her sleeves.
Takuya remained unruffled, bowing with a bright, confident smile. "Please rest assured—Eri and I will do our very best."
The teasing turned into delighted applause.
Later, in the banquet, they changed into even more formal attire and greeted every guest.
Nakayama Hayao and Nakagawa Jun stood side by side, raising their glasses.
Two titans—united.
---
When the final guest departed, the glamour faded like the passing tide.
In a private resting room reserved for them, Takuya and Eri collapsed onto the soft couch at the same time, completely drained.
"Whew…"
Takuya exhaled, tugging at his collar. "I declare that the 'Marriage Promotion Committee's product launch event' was a complete success."
Eri burst into a tired laugh, leaning her head against his shoulder, her voice soft and drowsy. "You worked hard, Takuya."
"So did you, Eri."
Takuya turned, looking at her delicate profile—radiant under the warm light, almost unreal.
In this moment, there was no heir, no elite producer.
Just two exhausted, blissful lovers.
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