Tokyo's Interrogation
Back in Tokyo, the moment he stepped into the Sega Headquarters building, Nakayama Takuya could even sense a subtle tension in the air.
When the receptionist saw him, her eyes lit up, and she bowed even more deeply than usual.
Colleagues I encountered in the elevator all greeted me respectfully as "Special Advisor," their eyes filled with a mixture of awe and curiosity.
As he walked to his office, his secretary had already prepared his usual Blue Mountain coffee.
"Manager, welcome back." The secretary handed over today's schedule. "The Finance Department —no calls have come in."
Nakayama Takuya took the coffee, sipped it lightly, as if he were listening to something trivial.
"Yeah."
He gave a nonchalant reply, but he knew exactly what was going on.
The absence of a phone call is the biggest disturbance.
While Nakayama Takuya's plane was still over the Pacific Ocean, the atmosphere in the Finance Department of Sega Headquarters seemed to freeze.
On the Finance Department Kuroda's desk lay a stack of papers, still warm, fresh from the fax machine.
That wasn't the situation report they expected, nor was it a detailed request for supplemental budget.
Instead, it was a collection of English newspaper pages.
"Minister, this is the reply from the United States branch." A young accountant stood at the table, his voice slightly trembling.
Department Head Kuroda adjusted his glasses, picked up the top one, and his face instantly darkened.
The Los Angeles Times ' technology section featured a huge headline. "Silicon Valley Online: A New Era for the Internet."
He frowned and flipped to another page.
The San Jose Mercury News ran an even more sensational headline. "Capital Sharks Have Smelled Blood."
"Nonsense! Utter nonsense!" Minister Kuroda slammed the newspaper on the table. "I asked them to explain a huge amount of extra-budgetary expenditure, and they sent me a bunch of local United States newspapers? What kind of attitude is this!"
"Minister, and—and this too." The accountant, his hand trembling, handed over the last fax.
The paper texture and layout are noticeably different from other newspapers.
The Wall Street Journal.
These five words made Minister Kuroda's hand freeze in mid-air.
He snatched the newspaper, his gaze fixed on the headline. "[Internet Catalyst: How Silicon Valley Online BBS Reshapes the Venture Capital Ecosystem]".
The article didn't mention any editor wars; instead, it analyzed a phenomenon called "Ta" with a calm, even ruthless, tone.
The startup project "Wiz" attracted the attention of Sequoia Capital and KPCB within minutes of its launch.
"Sequoia Capital," Director Kuroda muttered to himself. There was no way he didn't know this name.
"Minister, there's one more sentence at the end of the fax—" the accountant whispered a reminder.
Kuroda turned to the last page, where a line of simple Japanese printed text immediately caught his eye.
"I approved the funding. If you still have questions after reading the newspaper, have them prepare coffee and ask me in my office when I return to Tokyo."
Signed by Nakayama Takuya.
The office was deathly silent.
Department Head Kuroda's face flushed red and then turned pale, his fingers trembling slightly as he held the fax paper.
This is provocation! This is blatant disregard!
But his gaze involuntarily returned to the headline in the Wall Street Journal.
If the Sankei Shimbun is the mouthpiece of the Japan economy, then this—is the bible of capital worldwide.
The Bible, dedicating its entire business review section to reporting on the project spurred by the money spent by Nakayama Takuya, gave it extremely high praise.
How can we hold people accountable for this?
Should we take the company's rules and regulations to a the Wall Street Journal commentator and question them?
After a long while, Department Head Kuroda let out a long, deep breath, as if all his strength had been drained away.
He slumped into the chair and waved his hand.
"Archive these."
"That inquiry letter-"
"What else do you want to ask!" Kuroda snapped irritably, then lowered his voice, sounding weary, "Go—go buy some good coffee beans, the Blue Mountain that Executive Director Nakayama likes. Have some on hand."
"Yes!"
There was a gentle knock on the door to Nakayama Takuya's office.
The person who entered was a long-time member of the board of directors, Director Ikeda.
Unlike the people in the Finance Department, he didn't have a bureaucratic air about him; he had a warm smile on his face.
"General Secretary Nakayama, welcome back. You must have had a tiring trip to the United States."
"Director Ikeda, you're too kind." Nakayama Takuya stood up and gestured for the other man to sit down.
"I'm not just being polite," Director Ikeda said bluntly after sitting down. "The expressions on those people's faces in the Finance Department were quite something. It's the first time I've seen Kuroda so thoroughly taken advantage of."
He spoke with a smile, but his eyes were carefully observing Nakayama Takuya's reaction.
"It's never a bad thing to let them see the outside world," Nakayama Takuya said casually, pouring a cup of tea for Director Suzuki.
"<The Wall Street Journal> - Takuya- kun, this time your move is bigger than any game release." Director Ikeda's tone became serious. "In the board, no one dares to question your decision now. They just—don't understand it. Can you give me a straight answer, does this ' Silicon Valley Online ' really have as much potential as the newspaper says?"
That was his real purpose in coming.
They dared not question anymore, but curiosity and uncertainty about the future made these old guys restless.
Nakayama Takuya smiled and pushed the teacup towards him.
"Director Ikeda, what do you think Sega does?"
"Of course it's a game, it's for entertainment."
"That's right, we bring happiness to people." Nakayama Takuya nodded. "But in the future, people's happiness will increasingly come from a small screen and an internet connection to the world."
He pointed to his computer.
"Silicon Valley Online" is the first flag we planted in that new world. Right now, it's just a small stronghold, but soon it will become a city, an empire. Then, we will not only be merchants selling happiness, but also rule-makers of the new world.
"Furthermore, I've already set up a venture capital department at our United States headquarters. Of course, we won't be at the forefront; that's Sequoia Capital and KPCB's job. We just need to follow behind and make our fortune. After all, the platform is ours."
"So we're also planning to get these United States investors to invest in our Silicon Valley Online. Then, wherever their reach extends, we can reach too."
Director Ikeda held his teacup, remaining silent for a long time.
He looked at the young man before him, and the light shining in his eyes was something he had never seen in any of his peers, or even in any of the company's senior executives.
That wasn't ambition, but an absolute confidence that comes from having already witnessed the future.
After a long silence, he took a sip of tea and nodded solemnly.
"I understand. Executive Director Nakayama, go ahead and do it. I'll help you keep things stable with the board of directors."