Another world Game Developers in Japan`s 1991

Friday, 8 November 2001.

Reknonan home, Japan.

The house had become unusually quiet that evening.

Zenshin and Arumi were spending time elsewhere inside the house. Beyond the windows, the autumn night had covered the garden in darkness, leaving only the warm lights along the from Zaboru's private study.

Zaboru sat alone behind his desk, typing through several confidential ZEPS 4 reports.

He had deliberately chosen to remain in Japan for the next few days.

Part of the decision involved work. The development of ZEPS 4 had reached a stage where even minor changes could affect several departments at once. Hardware optimisation, operating-system development, launch software, manufacturing schedules, network preparation, and regional distribution were all moving forward together.

Zaboru needed to stay close to ZAGE Tower.

But that was not the only reason.

Sunday, 11 November was approaching.

In his previous life, the attack against the World Trade Center had happened on September 11. This world had already changed too much for him to assume that history would repeat itself exactly, yet the suspicious international gathering scheduled inside the towers on November 11 continued disturbing him.

He had refused the invitation.

He had also quietly ordered several investigations.

For now, however, there was still no conclusive evidence proving that anything would happen.

That uncertainty remained worse than certainty.

Zaboru could prepare for a known enemy.

He could not prepare easily for a shadow that might not exist.

He stared at the report on his screen, but his thoughts continued returning to New York. Every few minutes, he checked the secure messages sent by his intelligence personnel, hoping for information that would either confirm his fears or allow him to dismiss them completely.

Neither happened.

"Sigh…"

Zaboru rubbed his eyes and forced himself to continue typing.

At least ZEPS 4 remained understandable.

Processors, graphics technology, memory allocation, heat management, development kits, network architecture—those were problems that could be measured and solved.

History was more troublesome.

The door to his study quietly opened.

Zaboru barely noticed at first.

Then the smell of fried chicken and warm coffee reached him.

He looked up.

Ayumi stood near the entrance carrying a tray containing karaage, a soft omelette, rice, and a fresh cup of coffee. Her pregnancy had become impossible to hide now. Her belly was already large because she was carrying twins, and although she remained energetic, every movement required more care than before.

Zaboru's tired expression immediately softened.

"Ayumi!"

He quickly pushed his chair backward and stood. "My love, you shouldn't carry all of that yourself. Don't work too hard."

Ayumi looked at the tray, then at him, and chuckled. "Zabo, this is a plate of food, not a truck engine."

"You're pregnant with twins."

"Yes. I remember."

"You should rest."

"I have been resting."

"More."

Ayumi smiled as she walked toward the desk. "You really underestimate me too much. It was only light work."

Zaboru carefully took the tray from her hands before she could place it down herself.

He looked over the food with immediate interest.

The karaage had a crisp golden surface, while the omelette looked soft and neatly folded. Steam still rose from the rice, and the smell alone was enough to distract him from the confidential reports.

Zaboru sat down and picked up one piece of karaage.

He bit into it.

His eyes widened.

"Holy moly."

Ayumi rested one hand against her waist. "What?"

"This is already like Mom's cooking."

Ayumi blinked.

Zaboru quickly ate the rest of the piece. "No, seriously. You improved a lot. The outside is crispy, but the meat is still juicy. You didn't make it too salty either."

A proud smile appeared across Ayumi's face.

"Of course I improved. mother has been teaching me."

Zaboru picked up another piece immediately. "Dangerous."

"Why dangerous?"

"Because now I'll keep asking you to cook."

Ayumi laughed softly. "As though you didn't already."

Zaboru grinned and began eating with obvious enthusiasm.

For several minutes, the atmosphere remained peaceful.

Ayumi sat on the sofa beside the desk, quietly watching him enjoy the food. Normally, seeing Zaboru eat something she prepared would have been enough to leave her completely satisfied.

Tonight, however, there was something else on her mind.

Her AKAI Black Berry Z01 rested inside her pocket.

The forum thread she had read earlier continued returning to her thoughts.

ZABORU HAS INSANE TASTE IN WOMEN.

At first, it had been funny.

Then she had opened the illustrations.

So many women, all with distinctive faces, bodies, personalities, expressions, and styles.

Ayumi knew Zaboru was an extraordinary artist.

She also knew character design required imagination.

But after reading hundreds of strangers claiming that no man could design so many different beautiful women without "personal research," an unreasonable question had entered her mind.

It should have disappeared immediately.

It did not.

Perhaps pregnancy made her emotions less stable.

Perhaps she was simply tired.

Perhaps the forum comments had repeated the same accusation so many times that they had slowly begun feeling more believable than they deserved.

Ayumi already knew the truth.

Zaboru spent nearly every free moment with her or their children. He openly rejected beautiful actresses, singers, executives, and models. He had never behaved suspiciously, hidden his communication, or given her any serious reason to doubt him.

Yet the question remained.

Zaboru noticed that she had become unusually quiet.

He placed his chopsticks down. "Ayumi?"

She looked toward him.

"Is something wrong?"

"No."

Zaboru raised one eyebrow.

Ayumi knew that expression.

It meant he did not believe her at all.

She hesitated before speaking.

"Zabo…"

"Yes?"

She smiled.

The smile looked gentle.

For some reason, Zaboru felt immediate danger.

Ayumi switched to English.

"Do you like women?"

Zaboru stopped chewing.

For several seconds, he simply stared at her.

Then he slowly swallowed.

"Well…" He glanced around the room as though searching for the safest possible answer. "I do like one woman."

Ayumi's eyes narrowed slightly. "Only one?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

Zaboru lowered the karaage in his hand. "Why does this sound like an interrogation?"

"It is only a small question."

"Small questions do not usually make you smile like that."

Ayumi crossed her arms carefully over her chest.

"How can you create so many beautiful female characters?"

Zaboru blinked.

"What?"

Ayumi continued before losing the courage to ask.

"They don't even look alike. Their faces are different. Their bodies are different. Their expressions, clothing, personalities—everything is different."

She frowned. "I only noticed it properly today."

Zaboru slowly understood where the conversation was going.

His eyes moved toward the Black Berry visible inside her pocket.

"You read the forum thread."

Ayumi looked away for half a second.

That was enough confirmation.

Zaboru sighed. "Ayumi…"

"People were saying that some of the characters might be based on women you met."

"People say a lot of stupid things online."

"I know."

"Then why are you asking me?"

Ayumi remained quiet.

Zaboru studied her face.

There was no genuine anger there.

Not yet.

But he could see uncertainty.

That tiny amount of uncertainty struck him much harder than it should have.

Ayumi looked down at her hands.

"Is it true?" she asked softly. "That some of them came from your… experience?"

The room became silent.

Zaboru stared at her.

His surprise slowly disappeared, replaced by something heavier.

He had designed countless characters using memories from his previous life. He could never explain that truth to her. He could not tell Ayumi that Chun-Li, Jill, Tifa, Lara, and the others had already existed in another world before he was born here.

But the accusation beneath her question had nothing to do with reincarnation.

She was asking whether he had created those women after personally experiencing women around the world.

Whether he had cheated.

Whether his public image as a devoted husband concealed another life.

Zaboru's expression changed.

"Ayumi…"

She looked up.

"Am I really that cheap in your eyes?"

Ayumi's eyes widened. "Zabo, I didn't say—"

"You asked whether those women came from my experience."

"I only meant—"

"What experience, Ayumi?"

His voice remained controlled, but the hurt inside it was unmistakable.

"Do you think I travelled around the world tasting different women because I'm young, rich, and famous?"

Ayumi immediately shook her head. "No, I—"

"Then what are you asking?"

Zaboru looked away from her.

For the first time since she entered the room, he no longer seemed interested in the food.

He leaned back and released a slow breath.

"I do like women," he admitted. "I'm not going to pretend I'm blind. I appreciate beauty. I appreciate strength, elegance, confidence, kindness, and all the different things that make someone attractive."

A weak smile appeared briefly.

"And yes, apparently the entire internet has discovered that I like thighs."

Ayumi almost smiled.

But Zaboru did not.

He looked back at her.

"But appreciating beauty is not the same as betraying you."

His voice became quieter.

"I can design a beautiful woman without wanting to sleep with her. I can recognise that someone is attractive without forgetting that I already chose the person I love."

Ayumi's expression softened.

Zaboru continued, unable to stop now that the hurt had surfaced.

"You know how many opportunities I've had."

Ayumi lowered her gaze.

"Actresses, musicians, models, businesswomen, politicians' daughters—people have approached me directly. Some didn't even care that I was married."

His jaw tightened slightly.

"Not once did I touch them."

He placed one hand against his chest.

"Not because I couldn't."

His eyes met hers.

"Because I didn't want to."

Ayumi's lips parted, but no words came out.

"I don't need another woman," Zaboru said. "I'm not interested in collecting experiences from different countries. I don't see women like products I need to sample because I have enough money."

The more he spoke, the more fragile his expression became.

"I only love one woman romantically."

He pointed gently toward her.

"You."

Ayumi's eyes began filling with guilt.

Zaboru looked down at the desk.

"I thought you knew that."

"I do know it."

"Then why ask me like this?"

Her throat tightened.

"I was trying to tease you."

Zaboru gave a soft, humourless laugh. "Were you?"

Ayumi froze.

The question was not aggressive.

That made it worse.

She realised that somewhere between teasing and curiosity, she had actually wanted reassurance. She had allowed strangers on a forum to create an insecurity that had never existed between them before.

Zaboru rubbed his forehead.

"I can handle strangers accusing me of anything. They don't know me."

His eyes returned to hers.

"But you do."

Ayumi felt the sentence strike her chest.

"When you doubt me," he continued, "it hurts differently."

The frustration disappeared from his face, leaving only sadness.

"Your trust matters more than theirs."

Ayumi immediately stood.

She crossed the distance between them and wrapped both arms around him.

Because of her belly, the embrace was awkward, but she held him as tightly as she could.

"Zabo…"

He remained still for a moment.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm really sorry."

Zaboru slowly placed one hand against her back.

Ayumi buried her face against his shoulder.

"I don't think you're cheap. I don't think you betrayed me. I know what kind of man you are."

"Then why?"

"I don't know."

Her voice trembled.

"Maybe it's my mood. Maybe I read too many comments. At first they were funny, but then they kept saying the same things over and over. I started thinking about all the beautiful women you've met."

Zaboru listened silently.

Ayumi tightened her embrace.

"I know it's stupid."

"It isn't stupid to feel insecure."

"But it was wrong to treat the insecurity like evidence."

Zaboru's expression softened.

Ayumi pulled back enough to look at him.

"I should have known better. You have never given me a reason to doubt you."

She touched his cheek.

"You always return to me. Even when you're surrounded by people more beautiful, more famous, or more powerful than I am, you still look at me like I'm the only person there."

Zaboru closed his eyes briefly against her touch.

Ayumi continued, her voice growing more emotional.

"You loved me before I was ready to believe anyone could love me properly. You gave me a family. You protected me without making me feel weak. You trusted me with every ugly part of myself."

Tears began forming in her eyes.

"And then I let strangers make me question you."

Zaboru immediately raised one hand and wiped beneath her eye.

"Hey."

"I'm sorry."

"Ayumi…"

"I'm really sorry, Zabo."

He sighed and pulled her carefully into his arms again.

"It's okay."

She shook her head against him. "No. I hurt you."

"Yes."

Ayumi flinched slightly at his honesty.

Zaboru gently caressed her hair.

"But I know you didn't intend to."

"I still did."

"And now you apologised."

His voice softened.

"That matters."

Ayumi remained close to him.

Zaboru rested his cheek against the top of her head.

"Just remember something."

She looked up.

"You can ask me anything."

Ayumi nodded.

"But don't let strangers decide the answer before I speak."

Her eyes lowered in shame.

"I won't."

"And trust me."

"I do."

Zaboru looked at her seriously.

"Not only when it's easy."

Ayumi swallowed before nodding again.

"I trust you."

He studied her for several seconds.

Then his expression finally softened into a small smile.

"Good."

Ayumi kissed his cheek.

Zaboru glanced toward the tray of food.

"My karaage is getting cold."

Ayumi stared at him in disbelief.

Then she lightly struck his shoulder.

"Zabo!"

He chuckled for the first time since the argument began.

"What? Emotional conversations make me hungry."

"You were already eating."

"Emotional conversations make me hungrier."

Ayumi finally laughed, though her eyes remained wet.

Zaboru guided her carefully toward the sofa and sat beside her. Instead of returning immediately to his desk, he placed the tray on the small table in front of them.

Ayumi leaned against him.

Zaboru took one piece of karaage, then offered another to her.

She accepted it.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke.

Ayumi rested one hand across her stomach while Zaboru kept an arm around her shoulders. The twins moved faintly beneath her palm, causing both of them to look down.

Zaboru placed his hand against her belly.

One of the babies kicked.

His smile immediately became genuine.

Ayumi watched him quietly.

The man sitting beside her had more wealth, fame, talent, and influence than almost anyone alive. Countless women admired him. Some openly desired him.

Yet the expression on his face while feeling their children move contained no dissatisfaction.

No longing for another life.

Only love.

Ayumi felt ashamed that she had allowed herself to forget that, even briefly.

She hugged his arm tighter.

Inside her thoughts, she sighed.

'Internet forums really are dangerous.'

The thread had begun as a harmless joke.

Then hundreds of strangers repeated speculation until it started feeling like truth.

Ayumi already knew Zaboru better than all of them combined.

Still, their words had clouded her judgment.

She would not allow that to happen again.

Zaboru looked down at her. "Why are you squeezing me?"

"I want to."

"Fair enough."

Ayumi shifted closer and rested her head against his chest.

"You're not working anymore tonight."

Zaboru glanced toward his computer. "I still have reports."

"No."

"Ayumi—"

"You said I should rest more because I'm pregnant."

"Yes."

"Then you should rest more because you're stupidly busy."

"That logic is questionable."

"I don't care."

Zaboru sighed dramatically, but he made no attempt to move.

Ayumi closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat.

"Stay here."

Zaboru looked at the unfinished work on his desk.

Then he looked at his wife.

"All right."

He saved the documents remotely from where he sat and turned off the monitor.

The room became darker, illuminated only by the warm lamps near the sofa.

Ayumi held him more tightly.

Zaboru continued stroking her hair while the two of them sat together in silence, the earlier tension slowly disappearing beneath familiar warmth.

The worries waiting outside the room remained enormous.

But for that evening, Zaboru allowed them to wait.

His wife needed reassurance.

And perhaps, after feeling her doubt, he needed hers too.

To be continued.

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