Niiname-no-Matsuri is a festival where Neon holds a ceremony to sacrifice the newly harvested grain to the gods of heaven and earth to express gratitude for the harvest of a year's labor, and can randomly refresh and drop the Emperor's boss.
It could be represented by a more visual name: Thanksgiving Labor Day.
This is a festival worth opening a dungeon to allow players to quickly and repeatedly defeat bosses to obtain rare props and realize that labor is reward.
Determining it as Thanksgiving Day will undoubtedly verify Ichijō Mirai's deliberately distorted speculation: the game officials are encouraging players to be full of happiness as long as they work hard and dare to rob banks with guns.
But that's not the point, the point is: "19...94?"
Ichijō Mirai repeated slowly.
"Yes," Ishida Eiko grew more cautious, "What's wrong?"
"Excuse me," Ichijō Mirai inquired politely, "What was in the second-floor bathroom again?"
Ishida Eiko was unsure, "Game, game pod?"
"Full name."
Hearing the request, she quickly tries out the full name, "Holographic game pod?"
Okay, that thing upstairs is really a holographic gaming silo that only appears in sci-fi movies, and the year is really 1994.
...Is that even possible?
But Ichijō Mirai wouldn't be so skeptical if the year started with a two.
He swept past the bewildered and completely oblivious Ishida Eiko and inquired another question, "May I ask if you have a cell phone, aunt?"
"What does the most advanced cell phone in Neon look like?"
Ishida Eiko rummages for her own push-button phone and offers it with both hands, "Yes, yes, yes, do you need to contact someone? The most advanced cell phones are the flip-phone, do you want one?"
Ichijō Mirai didn't want one.
How did 'the most advanced cell phone is a flip-phone' and 'a holographic game appeared' merge? Did that make sense?
"Excuse me," he inquired politely for the third time, "What do you know about that holographic game or official?"
And prepared ahead of time for the answer he would receive: almost nothing, other than the information stated at the beginning.
Sure enough.
Ishida Eiko thought for a moment and said tentatively, "You're very accomplished, and you went to work for that company before you even graduated? That game is awesome and makes a lot of money?"
Most importantly, "It's still an American company!"
"It's great to actually develop a high-tech game pod that only appears in sci-fi movies."
So you knew it was 'high-tech'? Then why are you so convinced and not skeptical?
Ichijō Mirai scrutinized Ishida Eiko for a few seconds, and found the answer in the hidden admiration on her face: an American company.
...Ok, Tokyoites yearn to worship the person who controls the sky above them, and they believe in him no matter what incredible contradictions happen. This is reasonable.
Wait, so it's an American company, that's why it's the end of the twentieth century, and the game's opening prompt has the spicy, cheery 'end of the twentieth century, Neon is finally finished' line.
No wonder.
"Okay," Ichijō Mirai nodded deeply, "thanks for the answer."
He turned and walked out of the kitchen, "I'm going to deliver the food."
The dessert store was large, the seating was sequential, like on a roll call list, not too crowded, and mostly groups of young women with only a smattering of seats.
Table 17 is easy to find.
Ichijō Mirai walks slowly over to the table, taking in the other guests in passing:
The clothes of the guests are all in line with the late twentieth century and are very fashionable. They don't look like people from 1994, but more like energetic modern people, and their hairstyles are not always wet bangs with a bit of oil. , but leans towards the Showa era, with a clean and fluffy hairstyle.
Their eyes curved up between whispered conversations, revealing a natural intimacy, and there was a blend of youthful vigor and sweetness of dessert.
The guests at table 17 were two young women, neither with their hair tied back with a hair tie.
One guest had long fluffy hair and watery purple eyes, a light blush on her cheeks, her eyes were moving around, looking up and down but refusing to look at her companion across the table, and her voice was low, "It's just, it's just like that."
The other guest had her back to Ichijō Mirai, who could only see that she had short hair that came down to her chin and wore a small hair band.
The short-haired guest pressed her elbow against the tabletop and probed forward, her voice carrying a clear hint of intrigue, "That's it, really not hiding a little bit?"
"I really didn't expect that guy to understand us Ran so well, yikes, blushing~"
She was teasing her companion.
Both guests were very cat-like.
One was a better-behaved cat, holding her paws down in front of her body when she was shy and vain, with only her tail twitching now and then to be petted gently.
The other is a cat who is a fishy cat, with its tail wagging gently, deliberately rubbing up against its intimates, and licking the tip of its nose innocently as it watches its companion blush with amusement.
Ichijō Mirai walked over.
The long-haired guest's eyes, still wandering around, caught a glimpse of Ichijō Mirai carrying a tray, and his eyes lit up as he hurriedly whispered, "Someone's coming, Sonoko."
The short-haired guest was even more prodding, "What a cheerful tone, seeing a savior."
"Not bad for someone who's going on a date to a tropical park~"
She turned back.
Ichijō Mirai pretends not to have heard the conversation between the guests and looks at the table number on the table without changing her face, "Table 17, please, right?"
"Dessert for two."
He placed the tray towards the table and suspended it in the air again, wordlessly asking the two guests, "May I ask which one of you this dessert is for?
Neither guest spoke at first.
Facing the stranger, the long-haired guest faded the shy blush of chatting about intimate topics and smiled politely as she looked at Ichijō Mirai for two seconds, reacted, and looked over at the unmoved short-haired guest.
The short-haired guest rose to a blush.
She stared at Ichijō Mirai blankly, no longer the cat who stole the fish, but the dull cat, even her eyes rounded a bit, and her gaze rose.
Still dark green eyes, more cat-like.
Ichijō Mirai: "...?"
What?
As if reacting as an afterthought, the long-haired guest immediately looks down, a few hot puffs of smoke rising from the top of her head, and then looks up again, "Excuse me, please put the desserts on..."
As she spoke, the short-haired guest opened and closed her mouth as if belatedly only just receiving the signal, as if her mind had gone blank and she was completely unable to control her mouth, and could only babble, "Sa-Savior."
"Ah no," the scarlet on her face rose another layer, "mine!"
Ichijō Mirai looked at her a few more times, focusing more on the layer of blush on her cheeks, and placed the tray of desserts in front of her.
He realized one thing belatedly: Oh, there is no disguise. Walking on the street now, not to mention the possibility of attracting the attention of police dogs and police, may also attract the attention of a young and lovely lady.