Sunday 15 December 1998 in Renkonan Household
Right now, the entire Renkonan family—Zanichi, Keiko, Ayumi, Sanika, and Zenshin—had gathered inside the Renkonan household in Japan. The reason was simple, yet aningful: today was Zaboru's birthday. He is 24 years old now. And just like every other year, he refused to celebrate it in a flashy or extravagant way. Despite being one of the richest and most influential n in the world, Zaboru had no interest in luxury banquets, exclusive hotels, or dia-covered galas. All he wanted was to spend the day casually, surrounded by the people he truly cared about—his family and close friends, sharing food, laughter, and ordinary monts that money couldn't buy.
However, while the atmosphere inside the house felt warm and relaxed, the guest list was anything but ordinary. If any cara had managed to capture who was actually present inside the Renkonan household that day, the public would have been left completely stunned. These were not casual acquaintances or distant business partners. Every guest who had arrived was soone Zaboru personally knew—friends who had traveled from all across the world, each with their own legendary reputation, yet all gathered here simply to celebrate his birthday.
First, there was Walt Disney. Despite his age, he had made the long trip to Japan personally just to celebrate Zaboru's birthday. He even brought his wife and his children along, turning the occasion into a small family holiday. Zaboru knew them all well—so well, in fact, that he had long since co to think of Walt as his own grandfather rather than just a business partner. After all, Zaboru now owned fifty percent of Disney, but their relationship had always gone far beyond contracts and shares.
For Walt, this trip wasn't only about business or celebration; it was also a chance to enjoy Japan at a relaxed pace, away from studios and boardrooms. Inside the Renkonan household, he looked completely at ease, laughing and chatting casually with Zanichi, Zaboru's father. The two n had grown close over the years, often bonding over family stories, life experiences, and their shared pride in watching Zaboru grow into the man he had beco.
Then after that ca Stan Lee, the legendary figure behind Marvel Comics. Despite his fa and status, Stan had arrived casually, genuinely happy just to be there. He was deeply grateful to Zaboru ever since ZAGE acquired Marvel, an event that had breathed new life into the company. Since then, Marvel Comics' sales had surged, creative freedom had expanded, and the brand had once again beco a dominant cultural force. For Stan, this wasn't a formal visit or a corporate obligation—he simply wanted to personally attend Zaboru's birthday and thank him face to face.
At the mont, Stan was engaged in lively conversation with a fellow creator from Japan's manga world. The mangaka he was talking with was none other than Akira Toriyama, who was also a close friend of Zaboru. Dragon Ball was currently on a strong rise, with its manga selling exceptionally well and its ani enjoying massive popularity across audiences of all ages. Toriyama himself looked relaxed and cheerful, speaking animatedly as he exchanged ideas with Stan.
Toriyama was genuinely grateful to Zaboru as well. Within the manga and ani industry, Zaboru was widely respected as the person who had transford the lives of mangaka and animators—raising their salaries, improving their working conditions, and restoring their sense of value and dignity. Because of that, many creators could now live comfortably and focus fully on their craft. Watching Stan Lee and Akira Toriyama talking like old friends felt surreal, yet perfectly natural in the warm, casual atmosphere of Zaboru's birthday gathering.
Then there was Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, sitting comfortably among the guests and casually enjoying a plate of gyoza while chatting with those around him. The sight alone felt surreal, yet inside the Renkonan household it felt completely natural. Michael and Zaboru had grown genuinely close ever since their collaboration on the ZAGE ga The Moonwalker, followed by Zaboru composing the song Smooth Criminal for Michael. What began as a professional partnership quickly turned into a real friendship, and since then Michael would occasionally visit Zaboru whenever his schedule allowed.
Michael looked relaxed and at ease, far removed from stadium lights and screaming crowds. He laughed easily, clearly enjoying the simplicity of the gathering, occasionally pausing mid-bite to comnt on how good the food was. For him, monts like this—being treated like a normal guest rather than an untouchable icon—were rare, and he cherished them.
Sitting beside him, patiently explaining the finer points of eating gyoza properly, was Jackie Chan. Jackie demonstrated with animated gestures, showing how to hold the chopsticks, when to dip, and how not to burn one's mouth on the hot filling. The two laughed repeatedly as Michael tried to follow along.
Jackie had grown close to Zaboru as well, ever since their collaboration on Jackie Chan Stuntmaster. They kept in touch from ti to ti, exchanging updates and ideas, and Jackie had long been impressed by Zaboru's athleticism and discipline. Watching Jackie and Michael casually joke with each other over gyoza felt like sothing that could only happen in Zaboru's ho—a gathering where legends from different worlds could simply sit, eat, and enjoy each other's company.
Then near them was Michael Jordan, the rising superstar of the NBA, whose presence imdiately drew quiet attention from everyone nearby. At the mont, he was deep in conversation with another guest, listening intently and nodding along with an expression that made it obvious he was the one fanboying this ti. Seeing Jordan like this—relaxed, curious, and genuinely engaged—felt strangely refreshing.
Zaboru had co to know Jordan after personally inviting him to beco the cover athlete for ZAGE's basketball title NBA LIVE 98. What started as a professional discussion quickly turned into mutual respect. The two had even gone one-on-one on the court before. Although Jordan ultimately won, Zaboru had managed to put up a real fight, ending the ga at 11–7. That alone had earned Jordan's respect—few people could score on him at all, let alone push him that far.
Now, by coincidence, Jordan happened to be in Japan for a photo shoot related to his shoe brand, making it easy for him to accept Zaboru's birthday invitation. Dressed casually and far removed from packed arenas and roaring crowds, Jordan looked completely at ease, laughing and enjoying the atmosphere like any other guest. To him, this wasn't a publicity appearance—it was simply a chance to spend ti with soone he respected, on and off the court.
The person Michael Jordan was talking to was chuckling softly, offering calm and thoughtful advice with every sentence—and it was none other than Bruce Lee. Unlike the loud excitent surrounding other conversations, Bruce's presence carried a quiet intensity, his words asured and precise. He spoke about balance, control, and discipline, concepts that imdiately resonated with Jordan, who listened with genuine respect.
Bruce Lee was no stranger to Zaboru either. In fact, he was a regular custor at Zaboru's favorite gyoza shop in Japan, often visiting it quietly without drawing attention to himself. Over ti, that simple connection had grown into sothing more. Bruce and Zaboru had even trained together on occasion—brief but intense sessions focused on fundantals, efficiency of movent, and ntal clarity rather than brute force. Though Zaboru had not yet formally negotiated for Bruce's image rights, neither of them felt any urgency. So things, they both agreed, were better left to ti.
These were all Zaboru's friends—people who had personally reached out first to ask whether they could co. Zaboru never made a fuss about it; if they wanted to be there, he welcod them without hesitation. Even so, Sanika, Zaboru's sister, was still visibly shocked. The realization that her brother was genuinely close friends with Michael Jackson left her speechless more than once. No matter how many tis she reminded herself of who Zaboru was, it still felt unreal, and she couldn't quite believe it.
Around the house, conversations flowed naturally, without hierarchy or distance. Zaboru's friends quickly beca friends with one another, blending together as if they had known each other for years. Even soone as globally famous as Michael Jackson seed to cherish this atmosphere the most. Inside this room, he wasn't an untouchable superstar—he was just another guest. At one point, Zaboru's mother even scolded him lightly for eating gyoza with a spoon instead of chopsticks, causing laughter to ripple through the room. Michael took it in stride, smiling sheepishly and imdiately trying to correct himself.
He genuinely loved the casual, family-like environnt. The warmth, the teasing, the lack of pressure—it was all incredibly refreshing to him. Over the course of the evening, he also grew closer to others, chatting comfortably with Jackie Chan, whom he found surprisingly cool and easygoing, and exchanging laughs with Michael Jordan as well. In this house, fa faded into the background, replaced by sothing far rarer: a sense of normalcy and belonging.
With Michael Jordan, Michael Jackson joked with him using an old, familiar expression from his younger days—calling Jordan "My Nigga" that caught Jordan off guard for a split second because Jackson is look like white now. Jordan blinked, then burst out laughing, suddenly rembering Michael's roots and he used to be black!. The awkwardness vanished instantly, replaced by loud laughter and a shared sense of camaraderie.
As the party continued, the atmosphere only grew warr. Conversations overlapped, laughter echoed through the house, and no one seed in a hurry to leave. Eventually, music took over. Michael Jackson stood up, smiling, and began singing Smooth Criminal, his voice smooth and effortless even without a stage or spotlight. People gathered around instinctively, clapping, nodding to the rhythm, and vibing together. There was no performance pressure—just friends enjoying the mont, letting the night flow naturally as the celebration reached its most joyful peak.
Then there was another one‑on‑one—Zaboru versus Jordan—this ti on the Renkonan family's outdoor basketball court. Friends and family gathered along the sidelines, cheering loudly as the two took their positions. What started playfully quickly sharpened into a real contest. The intensity was unmistakable: quick footwork, tight defense, and no wasted movent from either side. In the end, Zaboru still lost, the score closing at 11–8 in Jordan's favor, but the gap was noticeably smaller than before.
The highlight of the ga ca midway through, when Zaboru drove hard to the basket and rose up for a clean dunk right over Jordan. The mont froze the court for a split second—Zaboru had actually posterized him. Laughter and shouts exploded from the sidelines, and Michael Jackson could be seen recording the mont, clearly amused by what he was witnessing.
After the match, both n were breathing hard but smiling. Jordan clapped Zaboru on the shoulder and admitted that he was getting better. Half‑joking, half‑serious, he added that he'd better keep working his ass off before Zaboru ever beat him—sothing Jordan fully intended never to allow. Zaboru laughed it off, then sincerely wished Jordan luck in winning the NBA Championship that year, a comnt that earned another nod of respect from the basketball star.
After that, everyone continued enjoying Zaboru's small birthday party, laughing and relaxing late into the night. Little did he know that the video and photos Michael Jackson had taken—capturing the mont Zaboru posterized Jordan—would one day beco famous in the future.
To be continued .
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