Hideo Tanaka, in the flesh.
After years of admiring him from afar, I’m not sure what I expected. It somehow startles me to see him without a monitor or a magazine cover obstructing the view, like he’s in focus for the first time.
He looks up at me.
“Miss Chen,” he says, pushing himself off the couch in one graceful move. Then he approaches me, bows his head once, and stretches out a hand. He’s tall, his gestures easy and effortless, his expression serious. The only imperfection on him is his knuckles—they’re bruised, newly scarred, and surprising on his otherwise elegant hands, as if he had been in a fight. I catch myself gaping curiously and manage to stop just in time to extend myhand, too. My movements feel like those of a lumbering ox. Even though my clothes aren’t that different from everyone else’s, I feel dirty and underdressed compared to his flawless style.
“Hi, Mr. Tanaka,” I reply, unsure of what else to say.
“Hideo, please.” There’s that smooth, subtle British accent of his. He encloses his hand around mine and shakes it once, then looks at the others. “Our lead producer for the championships, Miss Leanna Samuels.” He lets go of me to hold his hand out toward the woman in the blouse and skirt.
She gives me a smile and adjusts her glasses. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Chen.”
Hideo nods at the woman in the tee and blazer. “My second-in-command, Miss Mari Nakamura, our chief operating officer.”
Now I recognize her—I’ve seen her give plenty of Warcross-related announcements. She gives me a little bow of her head. “Nice to meet you, Miss Chen,” she says with a grin. I return the bow as well as I can.
“And you’ve already been introduced to our creative director,” Hideo finishes, tilting his head in Kenn’s direction. “One of my former Oxford schoolmates.”
“Not in person.” Kenn hops out of his chair and is in front of me in a couple of strides. He shakes my hand vigorously. Unlike Hideo’s, his expression is warm enough to heat a room in winter. “Welcome to Tokyo. You’ve made quite an impression on us.” He glances once at Hideo, and his grin tilts higher. “It’s not every day that he flies someone halfway across the world for an interview.”
Hideo raises an eyebrow at his friend. “I flewyouhalfway across the world to join the company.”
Kenn laughs. “That was years ago. Like I said—not every day.” His smile returns to me.
“Thanks,” I decide to say, my head whirling from greeting four legendary creators in ten seconds.
The COO, Mari, turns to Hideo and asks him something in Japanese.
“Go ahead without me,” Hideo replies in English. His eyes settle on me again. I realize that he hasn’t smiled since I walked in. Maybe I really am too underdressed for him. “Miss Chen and I are going to indulge in a chat.”
A chat. A one-on-one.I feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Hideo doesn’t seem to notice, though, and instead nods for me to follow him out of the room. Behind us, the others return to their conversation. Only Kenn meets my gaze as I look over my shoulder at them.
“He doesn’t mean to be intimidating,” he calls out cheerfully as the doors close.
“So,” Hideo says as we head down the hall to the main atrium, “your first time in Japan, isn’t it?”
I nod. “It’s nice.” Why does everything I say suddenly sound stupid?
More and more employees are slowing down to watch us as we pass. “Thank you for coming all this way,” he says.
“Thankyou,” I answer. “I’ve been watching your career ever since the beginning, when you first hit it big. This is a huge honor.”
Hideo gives me a half-interested nod, and I realize he must be tired of hearing that from everyone he meets. “I apologize for interrupting your week, but I hope your trip went well enough.”
Is he serious? “That’s kind of an understatement,” I reply. “Thank you, Mr. Tanaka—Hideo—for paying off my debts. You didn’t have to do that.”
Hideo waves a nonchalant hand. “Don’t thank me. Considerit a small advance payment. Frankly, I’m surprised you were in debt at all. Surely some tech company has noticed your skills by now.”
A needle of irritation pricks me at Hideo’s easy dismissal of my debt. I guess six thousand dollars—to me, an unconquerable mountain—isn’t even worth a second thought when you’re a billionaire. “I have a couple of things on my record,” I reply, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. “Mycriminalrecord, I mean. They’re nothing that serious, but I wasn’t allowed to touch a computer for two years.” I decide to not mention my father’s death and my time in foster care.
To my surprise, Hideo doesn’t press me further. “I’ve employed enough hackers to know a good one when I see one. You would’ve been discovered sooner or later.” He gives me a sidelong look. “And, well, here you are.”
He leads us around a corner and toward another set of sliding doors. We enter an empty office. Windows go from ceiling to floor. A bright mural is painted along one corner, a colorful swirl of stylized game levels. Sleek couches are in another corner. The doors slide closed behind us, and we’re alone.
Hideo turns to me. “I know you’ve seen yourself mentioned everywhere online,” he says. “But can you guess why you’re here?”
By mistake?But instead I respond, “On the flight, Mr. Edon said that I was going to be entered into the Wardraft.”
