Clash of Inspirations

He asked Takuya several questions about the animation's visual style, target audience, and budget.

"Mr. Nakayama," Oba Kotaro's voice broke the silence in the conference room, "what kind of style do you want this animation to have?"

"A realistic fighting style, or an exaggerated approach leaning toward supernatural powers?" he pressed, his gaze sharp.

Takuya answered without hesitation. "I want the animation to convey the realism of fighting while incorporating some supernatural elements—abilities derived from combat techniques and bloodline inheritances."

"And the target audience?" Oba asked.

"Primarily teenagers, but we also hope to attract a broader audience." Takuya's tone brimmed with confidence.

"How much is Sega planning to invest in producing this animation?" Oba's eyes never left Takuya.

"Sega is willing to invest 220 million yen to produce a first season of thirteen episodes." Takuya's voice was firm, showing how seriously he regarded the project.

After hearing that, the anticipation on Oba Kotaro's face turned to delight. He nodded, clearly satisfied with the project's potential and Sega's commitment. "Mr. Nakayama, I'm very interested in this project. If Sega trusts in my abilities, I'm willing to serve as the director of this animation."

Takuya was overjoyed, and a smile spread across his face. "That's wonderful, Director Oba. With you on board, I'm sure this animation will be exceptional."

Just then, Masami Kurumada hurried in, several freshly drawn sketches in hand, his face alight with excitement. "Mr. Nakayama!" He practically ran to the conference table, his voice carrying a trace of urgency. "I've decided! I'll take on the character designs for the Fatal Fury animation!"

He spread the sheets across the table. They contained quick sketches of several characters, their lines wild and hurried. The figures wore strange armor-like equipment and struck intensely dynamic fighting poses, with what seemed to be trails of flowing energy surrounding them. Though extremely rough, they unmistakably carried the familiar essence of the future Saint Seiya.

His eyes burned as he looked at Takuya, filled with the excitement of having found a breakthrough. "Those ideas of yours—especially your concepts about the 'nature of power' and how to visualize it—were simply... enlightening! They woke me up and showed me an entirely new direction. Maybe I can finally express what I've always wanted to convey but could never quite grasp!" He nodded vigorously. "It's not just about fighting. It's something deeper—the manifestation of will, a... source of power!"

"Thank you so much!"

Waves crashed through Takuya's heart. Good lord, he had only wanted to make a Fatal Fury animation. How had he somehow sparked the inspiration for Saint Seiya along the way? This butterfly effect was a little too... thrilling. He clicked his tongue inwardly. This really was an unexpected delight.

He put on an expression of surprise and sincere honor. "It would be an honor for this project if it could offer even the slightest inspiration for your new ideas, Mr. Kurumada. With you joining Fatal Fury, your designs will surely be the finishing touch!"

He turned to Oba Kotaro. The seasoned director merely gave a slight nod. Behind his lenses, his eyes swept over Kurumada's sketches before returning to the concept drafts Takuya had provided, as though assessing how his own style could be blended with Masami Kurumada's character art. "Mr. Kurumada's enthusiasm makes one look forward to the final visual presentation." His tone was calm, yet it also carried an acknowledgment of this union of two powerhouses.

"Then," Takuya said, striking while the iron was hot as he looked at the two masters, "shall we consider our preliminary agreement to collaborate established?"

"I have no objections," Oba Kotaro answered crisply.

"Of course!" Masami Kurumada was already itching to return and continue refining his new ideas.

The three men shook hands, symbolizing the preliminary establishment of this heavyweight collaborative framework.

Standing to one side, Suzuki felt as though none of this was real. This absurdly young Nakayama Takuya had, with just a few words and the span of a single meal, pulled two animation industry giants with completely different styles—men who were notoriously difficult to recruit—onto Sega's war chariot? And judging from Mr. Kurumada's excitement, the inspiration he had drawn from this was clearly extraordinary. Suzuki felt like he had simply lucked into an easy win.

The meeting drew to a close amid an atmosphere of excitement and harmony. Specialized teams would naturally follow up on matters such as drafting contracts and discussing creative details.

Takuya rose to his feet and saw the two masters out with a broad smile. He knew that, for Project "K," he had successfully pried loose the two most crucial and most influential external engines. He had won this opening battle beautifully.

North America, Redmond, Washington, Nintendo of America headquarters.

Summer sunlight filtered through the blinds, cutting patches of light and shadow across the long conference table, yet it could not dispel the oppressive atmosphere hanging in the room.

Minoru Arakawa sat at the head of the table, his expression as dark as the thunderclouds outside the window. His gaze was like a blade as it bore into the marketing manager before him. The manager kept his head lowered, his voice strained, as though every word carried an enormous weight.

"President, several major media outlets... have recently begun questioning our promotional strategy." The manager spoke cautiously, afraid of angering his stern superior.

"They believe that defining the NES as a 'home entertainment system' is a deliberate attempt to avoid using the term 'game console,' and that it may mislead consumers." He paused before continuing. "Some commentary pieces have even stated outright that this is... deceptive advertising."

"Deceptive?" Minoru Arakawa abruptly raised his head, his eyes sharp as knives, as if they could pierce through all falsehood.

Bang! He slammed his fist onto the table, making the water in the glasses tremble. Rage surged within him. "Bastards!"

The manager's voice grew lower and lower, and he scarcely dared to look Minoru Arakawa in the eye. Arakawa's fury was like a volcano on the verge of eruption. "To avoid the negative effects of the Atari crash, we packaged the NES as an entirely new, harmless home entertainment device. And now they dare use words like 'deception' to describe our efforts!"

He stood, bracing both hands on the tabletop. His voice was low but imposing. "What do they want? Do they want the NES to fail in North America?"

"Get moving immediately!" He pointed at the marketing manager, his tone resolute. "At any cost, suppress these negative voices!"

"Contact those media outlets. Give them money and make them shut up!" A ruthless gleam flashed in Minoru Arakawa's eyes. "Increase our advertising placements! We'll blanket the market with promotions and tell everyone what the NES is—and what it can bring them!"

Meanwhile, at Sega of America headquarters in San Francisco.

David Rosen's office was far calmer. Reclining in a broad leather chair, he listened to his subordinate report on Nintendo's troubles, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly as though he were watching a good show.

"Oh? The reports we pushed were bought off?" he repeated slowly, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest as though considering something.

"Yes, sir. I contacted several outlets, and they implied that 'Nintendo offered too much money.'" His subordinate answered respectfully.

David Rosen nodded slightly, a calculating glint flashing through his eyes. "Minoru Arakawa is still too young. He thinks money can solve everything. How naive."

He leaned back in his chair, the smile at his lips becoming more pronounced, as if he were anticipating the drama to come. Nintendo's predicament was precisely their opportunity to rise. Inwardly, he calculated how to seize this chance and claim victory in the competition.

Could money really solve the problem?

Nintendo had tried to numb the market with the sugar-coated shell of an "entertainment system," but it had underestimated the media's instincts—and even more so, the deep scars left by the Atari crash.