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Chapter 253: Resignation
🕑 Added 2025-09-04 11:23:12 +0000 UTCThree hours earlier, Keizo Kamijo stared at his closed office door, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Kazuo Koizumi’s words rang true. Gus Harper might lack the industry clout of veteran designers, but his fame? Untouchable. Ever since IndieVibe hyped him as a “supernova,” thrusting him from the shadows to the spotlight, Gus had become WindyPeak Games’ living logo. Players passed his name around like a legend.
Kazuo couldn’t match that star power. Keizo knew it.
Even if Kazuo worked the expo floor, he’d barely move the needle.
So, to dim WindyPeak’s shine, Keizo saw one play: smear them. Paint Sekiro as a sneaky cultural takeover, using Japan’s Warring States vibe to “infiltrate” the market. Or rally nearby booths, hire some loudmouths to chant “Game Fest ain’t a circus,” shaming Gus for milking his fame. Anything to tank WindyPeak’s rave reviews, like they did with Garden Warfare.
That was Keizo’s angle.
But Kazuo, leaving the office, had darker ideas.
The boss wanted Gus gone, but it was Day 2. Even if Gus was sent packing back to Seattle, WindyPeak’s booth would still draw crowds. Komina might claw back some buzz by the final day, but catching up? Doubtful.
Why not take down the booth itself? Problem solved for good.
In Japan, Komina’s clout with festival organizers made it easy. Stir up trouble—say, hire “players” to fake sickness after demoing, claiming Sekiro’s new motion assist tech caused nausea or worse. The organizers would shut WindyPeak down on the spot, citing safety. Sekiro would take a PR hit, with “health risks” tanking its hype.
Sure, WindyPeak would prove the tech was fine eventually, but by then, the expo would be over, and the damage done. A two-for-one blow.
That was Kazuo’s plan.
“And then… Nakamura-san reached out…” Green Hair stammered, trembling like a scolded kid.
The earlier chaos at WindyPeak’s booth had settled, thanks to Tatsuya Moritani’s swift intervention. Order was back, and the crowd’s hype for Sekiro hadn’t dimmed.
Green Hair and his punk crew stood in Komina’s backstage area, shrinking under Tatsuya’s icy glare. Gus sipped tea nearby, sneaking glances at Tatsuya’s stone-cold face, smirking inwardly.
He remembered last year, arriving in Japan for Silent Hill P.T.’s debut. Tatsuya had picked him up, all business in a black suit, white shirt, tie, with his team in white gloves, hands clasped behind backs. Tatsuya’s vibe screamed power—rumors of Yakuza ties swirled even then.
Today confirmed it. Those slaps had the force of a street brawler, and Green Hair’s cowering proved Tatsuya wasn’t someone you crossed in Kansai.
“Nakamura-san said…” Green Hair quaked, “they wanted us to mess up WindyPeak’s booth… maybe drive Mr. Harper out.”
“I figured… one and done,” he mumbled. “If Mr. Harper got hurt, he’d… you know… have to leave the expo…”
Crash! Tatsuya hurled his teacup, shattering it at Green Hair’s feet.
Green Hair dropped to his knees, bowing frantically. “Sorry! Sorry, Moritani-senpai! Sorry, Mr. Harper! So sorry!”
Gus waved it off, uneasy. “No need for that…”
As a law-abiding guy, he wasn’t used to this kneeling apology stuff. It felt like a public shaming.
Green Hair shrank, Gus squirmed, but Tatsuya? He was livid.
Nakamura was Kazuo Koizumi’s assistant. This stunt was Kazuo’s call.
Tatsuya’s blood pressure spiked. He took a deep breath, turning to Gus with an apologetic look. “Gus, I’ve got to handle something at headquarters. I’ll call you later. Please… keep this quiet for now.”
He stood, bowing deeply. “I’m asking as myself.”
“Hey, Tatsuya,” Gus said, helping him up with a grin. “Just a hiccup. If you hadn’t stepped in, I might’ve been on a plane back to Seattle.”
Gus didn’t know “Nakamura,” but he’d pieced it together—Komina’s dirty play. Tatsuya’s “keep it quiet” meant he’d handle it internally and deliver justice later.
Anyone else, Gus would’ve laughed and leaked it. This was a scandal that could torch Komina, not WindyPeak.
But Tatsuya? He’d earned Gus’s respect.
“I’ll wait for your call,” Gus said, patting Tatsuya’s arm. “Chill, man.”
Chill? Tatsuya was anything but.
Screech! His silver-gray Lexus screeched to a stop under Komina’s Tokyo HQ. He didn’t bother killing the engine, storming inside.
Ding! The elevator climbed. Tatsuya strode out, eyes blazing, unbuttoning his cuffs and loosening his tie.
“Kazuo Koizumi here?” he barked, tossing his suit jacket to the receptionist trailing him.
Her voice shook. “Director Koizumi’s… reporting in the president’s office…”
“Good.” Tatsuya threw his watch to her, rolling up his sleeves to reveal corded forearms. “I’m going in. No one enters the president’s office, no matter the noise.”
“Y-yes, sir…” the receptionist stammered, spooked.
Tatsuya marched to Keizo Kamijo’s office, shoving the door open with a bang.
Inside, Kazuo sat across from Keizo, smugly reporting. Tatsuya’s entrance froze them.
“Director Moritani—” Keizo started, frowning.
“Shut up, you bastard!” Tatsuya roared, kicking Kazuo’s chair.
Crash! Kazuo flew, screaming. “Tatsuya! Are you insane? What—”
Tatsuya grabbed a chair and swung. Slam! Kazuo hit the floor, yelping.
At nearly forty, Tatsuya hadn’t been this furious in decades.
“You idiot! Hiring thugs to wreck WindyPeak’s booth? To attack Gus Harper?” he bellowed, kicking Kazuo like a soccer ball. “You thought that’d just make him leave? Shut down their booth?”
Kazuo wailed, clutching his head. Tatsuya grabbed his hair, yanking him up, eyes bloodshot. “Do you even know who he is? Gus Harper—WindyPeak’s director and VP. The guy who doubled Parker Capital’s profits in a year. Hand-picked by the Global Digital Entertainment Association. A philanthropist praised by industry leaders!”
“You’re in Japan, at Game Fest, with global media watching! And you hire goons to beat him up?”
Thud! A fist to Kazuo’s gut doubled him over. Smack! Smack! Two more blows nearly knocked him out.
Tatsuya’s hair stood on end. “I was there today. If I wasn’t, and those punks hurt Gus, do you know what that’d mean? A diplomatic incident! Komina hiring thugs to assault a global gaming icon! You, me, the president, the whole company—ruined!”
The office fell silent, save for Tatsuya’s heaving breaths and Kazuo’s groans.
Keizo sat, numb. He’d been about to hear Kazuo’s “squeeze out WindyPeak” plan. Tatsuya’s outburst was the report.
He wanted to calm Tatsuya down, but at nearly seventy, he was ready to join in and pummel Kazuo himself.
Ten minutes later, Kazuo was carted off to the hospital.
Keizo and Tatsuya sat alone, silent.
Finally, Tatsuya spoke, voice heavy. “President, I’m resigning from all leadership and promotional roles for this Game Festival project.”
He was done. Exhausted.
Back with Silent Hill, he’d urged Komina to pull back, not chase WindyPeak’s P.T.. They ignored him, and got crushed. With Torii’s $189 million gamble, he’d played the early game well, but they fumbled at Tokyo, letting Sekiro steal the spotlight. Now, this near-disaster—a diplomatic scandal—proved his team was unleadable.
The enemy was too strong, and Komina’s leadership too reckless.
Keizo’s eyes glinted oddly, then softened. “Fine. But first, we need to handle the PR fallout.”
Tatsuya nodded. “I’ll talk to Gus.”
Keizo waved him off, letting him handle it.
The office door clicked shut.
Keizo slumped in his chair, despair settling in. The festival wasn’t over, and Sekiro vs. Torii’s sales battle loomed, but Komina was on the ropes.
Memories flashed: Tatsuya’s friendly chats with Gus during P.T., his concessions during Silent Hill, his struggles with Sekiro’s promo, and now seeking peace with Gus.
Suddenly, Keizo’s eyes snapped open. He grabbed his phone.
“Hello? Nohara Detective Agency?”
