The elevator doors dinged open, and Nakayama Hayao strode out.
His gaze swept across the hallway, and seeing the entire family seated neatly on the bench, the muscles in his face twitched.
"What's going on?" Hayao didn't look at his son, his eyes fixed on his grandson, who was squirming in Nakagawa Jun's lap. "Didn't you say you were going to the airport? Where's the luggage?"
Takuya Nakayama was about to answer, but little Kazuki, nestled in Jun's arms, spoke first.
The child wriggled free from his grandfather's lap and toddled over to Hayao, tilting his head up to repeat the "information" he'd just overheard.
"Daddy isn't going to the United States to ring the bell," Kazuki said, making a smashing motion with his small hand. "He said he was afraid he might throw the hammer at someone's head, so he's letting Uncle Frank take the blame."
Hayao frowned, turning to Takuya. "This is absurd. You personally approved Silicon Valley Online's IPO. You're not going?"
"It's not over yet, Grandpa," Kazuki said, tugging at Hayao's pants leg and pointing at Nakagawa Jun. "Grandma said that once Mom's condition stabilizes after a few more days of observation, Dad can go to America. And she wants Mom and me to stay with her for a few days. She calls it a 'hostage strategy.' From now on, Grandfather has to come home every day at 6:30 to watch cartoons with me, or he won't be allowed to hold me."
Nakagawa Jun seized the opportunity to twist the knife. He crossed his legs and wore a smug, victorious expression. "What, President Nakayama still has the world to save? In that case, I'll take this grandson back to Setagaya and keep him all to myself. This old man is ready to enjoy the joys of family, so if some people can't bear to part with their presidential chair, they can just sleep in the office."
The words landed like a fatal blow.
Nakayama Hayao's eagle-like eyes lingered on Nakagawa Jun's smug face for a moment, then shifted to Kazuki, who was holding his leg with an expectant look.
I can't lose to this in-law.
Gritting his teeth, Nakayama Hayao tried to bargain, attempting to regain some ground. "No, it's more convenient here. We still have all of Kazuki's things."
Takuya Nakayama stood to the side, watching the two old men who controlled half of Japan's entertainment industry bicker like market women over a few days of "babysitting Kazuki." He couldn't help but rub his temples.
"Enough," Takako Nakagawa and Miyuki Nakayama said almost simultaneously.
The two true heads of the families exchanged a look and instantly reached a silent agreement.
"We'll stay near Haneda for the first half of the month. It's close to the hospital, making it convenient for checkups," Miyuki Nakayama declared, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Once things stabilize, we'll move to Setagaya for the second half. The house there has a large garden and fresh air, which is better for the pregnancy."
The two presidents, who had been on the verge of a heated argument moments before, instantly cooled down.
Although Hayao Nakayama was somewhat displeased with the arrangement to "hand over the child in the latter half of the month," he had to go along with it since his wife had made the decision.
He scooped Kazuki off the floor and slung him over his shoulder, completely disregarding the fact that his expensive designer suit was being scuffed by the child's shoes.
The observation period lasted only five days.
During this time, Eri showed no signs of morning sickness. Instead, her appetite soared, and she even devoured Kazuki's limited-edition pudding from the refrigerator.
Recent test results from Sugiyama Obstetrics and Gynecology Hospital confirmed that Eri's health was excellent, with all her vital signs remarkably stable. If they lingered in Tokyo any longer, Tom and Frank would likely lose their minds, as they were responsible for managing the team's hectic promotional tour schedule.
As for the four-year-old "hostage," he had completely defected.
Nakagawa Jun used his privilege as station manager to grant himself a leave of absence and brought Kazuki back to Setagaya.
Word was that grandfather and grandson were currently building a massive model train track in the living room. Nakagawa Jun even hung up on Nakayama Hayao twice, citing "no unauthorized personnel allowed on the construction site."
With no one pestering him for his dad, the house was eerily quiet.
At the entrance, Eri handed Takuya his passport and casually straightened his slightly askew tie.
She looked radiant, her cheeks flushed with healthy color, showing no sign that she had just discovered she was pregnant.
The car was already idling at the door, its engine humming low.
Takuya slid into the back seat and waved goodbye to his wife, who stood at the door waving back through the car window.
With the home front secured, the remaining task was to take the fight across the ocean.
March 16, 1995, Manhattan, New York.
The executive suite at the Pierre Hotel was stuffy, thick with the smell of cold coffee and the anxiety of extreme fatigue.
Heavy curtains were drawn tightly, blocking out the midday sun. Only two dim floor lamps cast a yellow glow across the room.
Frank slumped on the sofa, his tie hanging loosely around his neck like a fish gasping for air on the shore.
Tom Kalinske, President of Sega of North America, stood by the window, holding half a half-eaten sandwich and staring blankly at a densely packed itinerary.
The door opened, and Takuya Nakayama walked in.
He carried no luggage, dressed in a light trench coat that made him look out of place among these two figures who resembled refugees fresh from a camp.
"Looks like your half-month world tour wasn't exactly pleasant," Takuya Nakayama said, casually tossing his coat over the back of a chair and pulling up a seat. "I thought you might have brought back some London tea or Hong Kong egg rolls."
"Just jet lag and a migraine," Frank said, struggling to sit up. He grabbed the documents on the desk and tossed them over. "And this—Goldman Sachs' final recommendation. God, I can't get the greedy faces of those fund managers out of my head."
Takuya Nakayama opened the report and scanned the rows of data. "How did the roadshow go?"
"Crazy," Tom replied, turning around. He swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and casually grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth. "We met with Fidelity Investments in Boston, and those old guys were still haggling over P/E and P/B ratios. Then Frank gave them a live demo of how to buy a pair of sunglasses for five dollars in the ICQ lobby."
Frank chimed in with a dry chuckle, his voice hoarse. "They asked what those sunglasses were for—do they block radiation? I said they don't do anything; they just show everyone you can afford to spend five dollars. And that fund manager immediately decided to divert funds from a steel plant. He said it's more profitable than selling arms."
"Vanity is indeed the global currency," Takuya said, closing the report and tapping his finger on the cover. "So, this is the result? A price range of $14 to $16 per share, and a valuation of $860 million?"
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