Animation Teaser

At the end of November, the smoke of the Thanksgiving shopping season had only just cleared.

At Nintendo of America's headquarters in Redmond, the office was filled with an almost boiling sense of joy.

Minoru Arakawa gripped the receiver of the overseas phone call tightly. The muscles in his face twitched slightly from excessive excitement as he tried to suppress the tremor in his voice.

On the other end of the line was Nintendo's Kyoto headquarters—his father-in-law, Yamauchi Hiroshi.

"Yes, Father! The NES sales momentum is extremely strong!"

Minoru Arakawa's voice brimmed with irrepressible confidence, as though every word proclaimed victory.

"Based on the current channel feedback and sales statistics, we are very confident that we can easily break through one million units sold before the end of the year!"

One million units.

In the North American market, which had just suffered the Atari crash and shunned video games like the plague, that number was nothing short of a mythical milestone.

It declared that Nintendo—or, more precisely, Nintendo of America under Minoru Arakawa's leadership—had successfully invited video games back into American living rooms.

He, Minoru Arakawa, was the rightful president of Nintendo of America, with solid achievements to his name—not someone occupying the position solely because he was President Yamauchi Hiroshi's son-in-law.

There was a brief silence on the other end.

Yamauchi Hiroshi's low, imposing voice came through, revealing little emotional fluctuation.

"Good."

"What about Sega? Have they made any noteworthy moves in North America?"

The question itself reflected Yamauchi Hiroshi's constant vigilance toward this old rival.

Minoru Arakawa had long been prepared for it. His tone was relaxed, even carrying a faint trace of disdain.

"Sega?"

"They're the same as ever. Aside from their Tetris handheld that's still selling, and the arcade game Hang-On, nothing else is worth mentioning."

"Mm."

Yamauchi Hiroshi responded, seemingly unsurprised by the answer.

"Then focus on our own work. If soldiers come, we'll meet them with generals; if water comes, we'll block it with earth. They can't stir up much trouble."

"Just like Tetris, no matter how good their new game is, it's still only one game. A single game can't change the overall situation."

Meanwhile, at the Iron Plate Formation Building in Tokyo, Japan.

The atmosphere at Namco headquarters was somewhat oppressive.

Nakamura Masaya looked over the sales reports for the company's other games on the Famicom platform.

The numbers themselves were not bad.

But the empty release slot left by the delayed Famicom version of Pac-Man was like a thorn deeply lodged in his heart.

Nintendo's strength and tyranny hung over the industry like dark clouds, leaving him suffocated and helpless.

Yamauchi Hiroshi's strategy of "holding the core ground of the home console market" was charging ahead triumphantly in North America while ruthlessly squeezing competitors' room to survive in Japan itself.

The market had never been kind to challengers.

Time quietly slipped into mid-December.

Just when Nintendo—and even many within Sega—believed the animation promotion for Project "K" would not make any moves until the spring season next year—

A bombshell piece of news exploded among Japan's teenagers without warning.

The Fatal Fury anime was officially scheduled for the January season.

And its first promotional video had been released.

This was no shoddily made concept teaser.

The editor in charge was none other than Masami Obari, whom Nakayama Takuya had drafted from Tatsunoko Studio.

This animator, who would later become famous throughout the industry for his distinctive style, was currently at the peak of his creative drive.

Supported by the project's ample budget, he was able to draw upon a large number of completed, high-quality key animation sequences.

After editing them in his intensely personal style, a trailer brimming with power and speed was born.

Sharp lines sliced across the screen.

Shots switched at breakneck speed.

Close-ups captured the characters' explosive movements.

Exaggerated perspective effects.

Distinctive character designs.

The early form of Obari's One-Slash Style was on full display in this trailer, perfectly embodying the violent aesthetics of street fighting and the wild, uninhibited charm of its characters.

The trailer was precisely placed during late-night television anime slots most frequently watched by teenagers, as well as on promotional pages in major anime and gaming magazines.

In 1985, when production budgets were generally limited and anime trailers usually amounted to a few static images and lines of text, this high-spec, high-impact, information-packed trailer was like a depth charge dropped into a placid lake.

It instantly seized every viewer's attention.

"Holy crap! What anime is this? The animation is incredible!"

"That blond foreign guy is so cool! His moves are insane!"

"Is it adapted from that manga called Fatal Fury? It feels even more exciting than the manga!"

"It's a game—a game adaptation!"

"Games can have action like this too?"

"Definitely watching it in January!"

The buzz spread like a wildfire.

Far beyond anyone's expectations.

The mysterious veil over the "K Plan" was abruptly lifted at one corner, and its popularity began spreading from the core gaming circle to a broader audience of teenage anime fans.

Inside Sega's Development Team Three office, the balance adjustments for the Fatal Fury game itself had also entered their final stage.

After the initial fierce debates, clashes, and Nakayama Takuya's subtle guidance, Team Leader Shimizu and Yu Suzuki's understanding of fighting game design no longer remained at the simple level of adjusting numbers up and down.

They began considering every detail in terms of overall strategic depth, distinct character traits, and even the psychological mind games between players.

The performance parameters and move sets of most characters had basically been finalized.

They had reached a level suitable for stable internal testing and public demonstrations.

As the development team watched the smoothly animated characters on the screen, satisfied smiles appeared on their faces.

Yu Suzuki, in particular, felt he had gained enormously during this period. The ideas Nakayama Takuya occasionally brought up—such as "player experience," "strategic counters," and "easy to learn, difficult to master"—were like a door opening onto a new world, elevating his understanding of game design by several levels.

Nakayama Takuya was pleased with the development team's growth.

After confidently leaving Shimizu and Yu Suzuki to lead the final wrap-up work, his own focus quietly shifted as well.

He closely monitored the chain reaction the anime trailer had caused in the market.

He gathered information from magazine reader feedback, television ratings reports, and even the discussions of teenagers in streets and alleys.

The first step of the plan had succeeded in igniting public interest.

That was within his expectations.

But this was only the beginning.