Hideo Kojima

Sega Managing Director's Office.

Nakayama Takuya, with a smile on his face, gestured for Hideo Kojima to sit on the sofa opposite him. Hideo Kojima gave a slightly reserved bow, a stark contrast to Takuya's relaxed demeanor.

The office was simpler than he had imagined, lacking excessive luxury decorations and instead exuding a pragmatic atmosphere.

"Kojima -san, I've heard so much about you. Suzuki- san has mentioned you to me quite a bit." Takuya's voice had the clear, youthful quality of a young man, yet it also carried a maturity beyond his years. He personally picked up the teapot on the table and poured Hideo Kojima a steaming cup of sencha, his movements natural and fluid, without the slightest air of superiority.

Hideo Kojima quickly accepted the teacup with both hands, feeling its warmth on his fingertips. "You're too kind, Executive Director Nakayama," he said, his voice slightly hoarse from days of travel and stress. This young executive director was more approachable than he had heard, which eased his tense nerves a little.

Takuya's gaze fell on the original Metal Gear script that Hideo Kojima had placed on his lap, its edges slightly curled, the cover worn from years of handling. "May I take a look?"

Hideo Kojima hesitated for a moment, but still handed over the script.

Takuya took it and carefully flipped through it. For a moment, the only sound in the office was the rustling of the pages turning. He read intently, sometimes nodding slightly, sometimes raising his eyebrows unconsciously. Hideo Kojima, holding his teacup, felt a little resentful. This script had been criticized as worthless by Konami.

"Stealth espionage, an anti-war theme, a complex web of relationships, and a profound exploration of technological ethics and humanity—" Takuya put down the script, looked up at Hideo Kojima, and said with genuine admiration, "Kojima -san, you are a true genius. Even by my most discerning eye, this script is a masterpiece. Especially the character of 'Solid Snake,' it's incredibly well-developed."

Upon hearing this, Hideo Kojima's hand holding the teacup paused almost imperceptibly, and a long-lost glimmer of light finally appeared in his previously dim eyes. This was the first time he had heard such direct and specific affirmation of his work from someone who truly understood the field and held a high position. At Konami, he had heard more doubts and denials such as "the market doesn't need something so complicated" and "players won't like this kind of heavy theme."

"Special Secretary Nakayama— " He was somewhat agitated, his throat tightening.

"Kojima -san, if you don't mind, please call me Takuya- kun." Takuya interrupted him with a smile, trying to create a more relaxed atmosphere. "At Sega, we value talent and creativity more than those tedious superior-subordinate titles."

Look at me as an example. Although it's undeniable that I'm the president's son, without solid performance, the executives wouldn't have put me in this position.

These words made Hideo Kojima's tightly pursed lips relax slightly.

"The promises we made through Suzuki. Suzuki remain valid, and I will personally oversee their execution." Takuya's smile faded, his eyes becoming exceptionally serious. "Sega will grant you a high degree of creative freedom; your ideas and concepts will be fully respected here. Funding, technology, personnel— Sega will fully support you, as long as it's reasonable."

Hideo Kojima's heart was truly soothed by these words. Creative freedom—this was exactly what he had longed for.

But what was ruthlessly taken away from him at Konami. He took a deep breath and nodded solemnly. "I understand."

Takuya- kun."

When the specific project arrangements were discussed, Takuya's expression became slightly serious. "Kojima -san, I personally really like the Metal Gear project and am very optimistic about its potential. However, there's a practical problem we need to face together."

Hideo Kojima's heart tightened; his newly ignited hope seemed to have been doused with cold water. He had a premonition of something. "Takuya- kun, please speak."

"The original script for Metal Gear, although it's the culmination of your hard work, still faces some copyright risks," Takuya frankly stated. "Konami, while they've shelved your original concept, will likely leverage this IP to release a significantly revised version and launch it on the Famicom platform first."

After all, they still retain some power.

Hideo Kojima frowned; this was his biggest worry.

"If we immediately launch your original Metal Gear, and Konami makes a move..."

"This could very well trigger a protracted legal dispute," Takuya continued, "And this could negatively impact your recent joining of Sega, our partnership, and Sega's reputation. You know..."

Legal matters can sometimes be more agonizing than game development itself.

Takuya's tone was calm, but his analysis was meticulous and full of business acumen. Upon hearing this, the light that had just ignited in Hideo Kojima's eyes dimmed slightly. He understood Takuya's meaning, of course. It was a work to which he had poured countless hours of effort, a part of his soul, yet now, bound by these business rules, he couldn't realize it according to his own wishes. A deep sense of powerlessness welled up inside him, and he subconsciously clenched his fists.

But he quickly recovered. Takuya's honesty made him feel respected, not just treated perfunctorily. This open and honest attitude was far better than Konami's insincere smiles and underhanded tactics.

"I understand, Takuya- kun." Hideo Kojima nodded, his voice somewhat low. "This is the reality of business operations, and I can accept it." The frustration in his heart had not completely dissipated, but his trust in Sega and the young executive director before him had grown a little more. At least, he had not been deceived or looked down upon.

Takuya keenly sensed the subtle shift in Hideo Kojima's emotions. He smiled slightly, knowing it wasn't the right time to dwell on the Metal Gear copyright issue. "Kojima -san, I know you've poured your heart and soul into Metal Gear. The fact that we can't start it now doesn't mean we're giving up forever. I believe that one day it will be released in the way you most desire. And we can also simultaneously prepare our legal cases and see if there's any chance of getting the copyright back completely."

"But before that," Takuya stood up and gestured invitingly, "I hope you can take a look at some things Sega is secretly working on. Perhaps you'll discover a wider world, and maybe even temporarily forget the unpleasantness caused by those bastards at Nintendo."

His tone carried a hint of mystery, successfully piquing Hideo Kojima's curiosity.