Friday 28 November 1999.
All of ZAGE's November release games had already launched last Saturday, and the momentum still felt strong. Sales were rolling in better than expected, fans were still talking, and the company's internal chat rooms were full of screenshots and quick reports from every division. Normally, Zaboru would be riding that high and checking numbers every hour.
But today his focus wasn't the release wave.
He was in his father's office, deep inside the ZAGE Hardware and Research department. The room itself felt different from the usual game development spaces. There were fewer posters and more diagrams. Prototype shells sat on shelves beside stacked circuit boards, and a large whiteboard was crowded with notes, power targets, thermal warnings, and neat boxes labeled with abbreviations only engineers loved. This was Zanichi's territory. As the head of Hardware and Research, and the person in charge of the ZGBA project, Zanichi didn't speak in trailers and marketing lines. He spoke in voltages, heat, stability, and impossible deadlines.
Zaboru stood near the desk with a finished unit in his hands. Not a mock-up. Not a plastic shell filled with empty space.
A real ZGBA.
He turned it slowly, letting the light catch the edges. The build felt solid, the weight balanced like it belonged in the palm, and even the buttons had that satisfying resistance that made you want to press them again and again. After more than two years of development, the handheld was finally ready, and for a moment Zaboru just stared at it like he was afraid it would vanish if he blinked.
A grin spread across his face.
"Impressive, Dad. This is really impressive… heheheh."
His excitement wasn't just because it existed. It was because of what it could do.
In his previous world, the gap between handheld and home consoles was wide. Here, that gap had been attacked with raw ambition. The ZGBA's power was far beyond what most people would expect from a handheld in 1999. In his mind, it sat closer to the PSP level of performance, only slightly weaker, and that alone made his chest tighten with anticipation. Even crazier, with the right support and the right circumstances, the system could handle PS1-era games if they existed in this world. The thought made Zaboru's mind race with possibilities, as if he could already see future libraries.
He slid his thumb along the cartridge slot and remembered the other breakthrough.
The new cartridge format had been finalized months ago, and it was another quiet revolution. It was still a cartridge, still dependable, still something you could hold and collect, but it was small and modern, modeled after what would have been Nintendo DS cartridges in his previous life. Smaller plastic, tighter design, higher potential capacity, faster loading, and less bulk in storage. It meant players could carry more games, developers could push bigger ideas, and ZAGE could build an identity for handheld gaming that didn't feel like a smaller, weaker sibling of console gaming.
Zaboru looked down at the unit again, eyes shining, and exhaled like he'd been holding his breath for months.
"It's real," he muttered, almost to himself, before looking back up with that same grin still stuck on his face.
Zanichi smiled. "Heh, of course, Boss. Who do you think I am? The ZGBA will run smoothly." He tapped the desk lightly, then his expression turned more serious. "But hardware being ready doesn't mean the launch is ready. The launch games are close, but not close enough. The three core teams in Japan you assigned for the ZGBA release lineup—Team NOVA, IZAN, and NIWA—are still in the middle of their final work. They're polishing, fixing bugs, and balancing the builds. If you rush them, you'll ship a powerful handheld with games that don't show its real strength. Give them more time."
Zaboru nodded, listening carefully. "That's what I'm planning. I'll help them in the final stage too. I'm giving them another month, no shortcuts." His eyes flicked toward the ZGBA in his hands again, like he was weighing the dream against the schedule. "We want this out in early January 2000, really early. After we announce it at the ZAGE end-of-year event, it shouldn't sit in the shadow for long. Ideally, it releases the very next week."
He let out a short breath and forced himself to speak in exact dates, like a promise. "If we can keep the production line stable and the teams finish clean, then January 1, 2000 becomes possible. A real day-one-of-the-century launch. That's the image I want, Dad. The first morning of the year, and people wake up to a new ZAGE handheld."
Zaboru's tone softened slightly, more honest than strategic. "But I won't sacrifice quality to chase a headline. If the games need the month, they get the month. I'd rather launch one week later than have the first impression ruined forever."
Zanichi nodded, and Zaboru looked at his dad with a half-laugh that sounded like he still couldn't believe it. "Still… to think you can add online functions to this, Dad. It's really impressive."
It wasn't just talk. The ZGBA was actually capable of going online, either through Wi‑Fi or a LAN cable. That feature had only been added a couple of months ago, after the Sendou Fiber project in Japan reached a stage where stable connections finally felt realistic for everyday use. At first, Zaboru had asked out of curiosity, almost as a challenge. Handheld online in 1999 sounded like something people would call a fantasy.
Zanichi had only shrugged and said, "It can be done though."
And then he did it.
Zaboru still found it unbelievable that Zanichi had treated the idea like a simple challenge—one confident line, a quick plan, and then the ZGBA truly gained an online feature.
Zaboru also pushed for user accounts and a trophy list, similar to ZEPS 3. On ZEPS 3, trophies and profiles existed, but without Wi‑Fi they relied on LAN cable connections for syncing. The ZGBA improved that idea by letting players keep a personal profile on the handheld itself and, when connected, upload their achievements. Still, Zaboru made the limits clear from the start. The ZGBA's internal storage wasn't strong enough to support a true digital storefront or full downloadable games. The profile system was primarily for identity, saves management, and trophies, a way for players to feel ownership over their progress and show it off without turning the handheld into something it wasn't ready to be.
Even so, Zaboru couldn't hide his excitement. Online support, accounts, trophies, and a modern cartridge format, all in one device. It made the ZGBA feel less like a small side project and more like the beginning of a new standard.
And it didn't stop at online features.
Zanichi used his almost wizardly hardware skills to make the ZGBA truly backward compatible. Not "sort of compatible" or "only with special versions," but compatible in a way that felt generous and honest. The handheld could run ZEPS 1 titles, ZEPS 2 titles, and even ZGB games through dedicated support built into the system's architecture. It was the same philosophy Zaboru admired in ZEPS 3—respect the library, respect the player—but pushed further for handheld life.
ZEPS 3 could handle ZEPS 1 and ZEPS 2, but it couldn't run ZGB because it was a home console. ZGBA, on the other hand, was built to bridge both worlds. It meant the handheld wasn't starting from zero on launch day. It was arriving with history already inside it, a device that could carry old favorites forward while still opening the door to something new.
Zaboru looked at Zanichi with quiet awe. Without him, a system like this would have stayed as a dream on paper. Zaboru understood retro consoles well from his previous life, but combining architectures, keeping compatibility stable, and making it feel seamless was another kind of difficulty entirely. He could plan ideas and push targets, but he couldn't do the impossible engineering merge by himself.
With Zanichi, though, that dream could become real. And in Zaboru's mind, it was more than a feature list. Backward compatibility was trust. It told players that buying a ZGBA didn't mean abandoning what they already loved. It meant bringing it with them.
"Dad… I don't even know what to say. Thank you. Really. For helping me."
Zanichi chuckled, trying to keep it casual, but the warmth in his eyes gave him away. He was proud, and he didn't bother hiding it for long. "Don't worry about it, Boss. I'm just doing my work."
He leaned back in his chair and pointed a thumb at the ZGBA in Zaboru's hands. "And don't sell yourself short. Hardware is only half the story. The software direction, the features, the timing… most of this starts with your ideas. You're the one who kept pushing the vision until it stopped being a sketch and turned into a real product."
Zaboru's smile softened. He looked down at the handheld again, as if the weight of it carried every late-night meeting and every argument about what was possible.
Zanichi continued, voice steady. "And yes, the fact that you own AMD and NVIDIA helps. Having them cooperate instead of fighting us on every request makes everything easier. Faster prototypes, better optimization support, fewer compromises." He gave a small shrug. "But even with that advantage, someone still had to choose the right targets and the right priorities. That's on you."
Zaboru nodded, genuinely grateful. "Still… none of it moves without you, Dad."
Zanichi tilted his head and gave Zaboru a knowing look. "And not to mention the launch games. You really went all in, didn't you?"
He sounded amused, but there was genuine respect underneath it. Zanichi had seen enough hardware launches to know how easily a great device could be dragged down by a weak lineup.
"If this release lands the way you're aiming for," he continued, "fans are going to lose their minds. You're not just selling a handheld, you're setting a new expectation. Online options, profiles, trophies, backward compatibility… that kind of package can change handheld gaming forever."
Zaboru scratched the back of his head with a small, embarrassed smile. "Hehehe… I'm just trying my best, Dad."
He looked around the office one more time, letting the moment settle in his chest. The ZGBA wasn't a concept anymore. It was a finished reality, and now the pressure shifted from engineering to presentation.
"Anyway, thank you," Zaboru said, more firmly. "I'll head to the ZAGE Event Building. I need to prepare the stage and make sure everything is ready for the end-of-year event in December. There's no point having the perfect announcement if the execution is messy."
Zanichi nodded, his smile returning. "Go. I'll handle my side. Just make sure your teams don't collapse from the hype you're about to create."
Zaboru laughed under his breath, then turned toward the door. "See you later."
With that, he left the Hardware and Research office and made his way to ZEB, already shifting into organizer mode. If the ZGBA was going to enter the world on January 1, 2000, then the announcement had to feel like the beginning of something historic, and Zaboru intended to make sure every detail ran smoothly.
To be continue
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