Sega's Visit

Inside the Managing Director's Office at Sega Headquarters.

Nakayama Takuya casually tossed a few newspapers onto the table with a "thud".

Next to the headline "Fighting Beast" in Nikkan Sports was a heart-wrenching social commentary in Yomiuri Shimbun, filled with prejudice and arrogance towards video games.

"A tragedy for society? A wasted childhood?" Nakayama Takuya chuckled. "These old fogies, their minds are still stuck in the last century."

He picked up the internal phone and dialed directly to the head of the Public Relations Department.

"It's me, Nakayama. Did you see that little champion named Daigo Umehara?"

The person on the other end of the phone repeatedly agreed.

"Very good." Nakayama Takuya leaned back in his executive chair, his fingers lightly tapping the table. "Now that the media has portrayed us as demons poisoning the youth, let's go with the flow and play the saints who save child prodigies."

"You mean----"

"Immediately contact a few media outlets with whom we have good relationships and publish several articles. The theme should be the same: protecting gifted children and opposing media violence. Sega as a socially responsible, compassionate company that protects and supports gifted young people. They're standing on moral high ground, aren't they? Then we'll stand even higher than them."

These words enlightened the Public Relations Department on the other end of the phone, who readily agreed.

After hanging up the phone, Nakayama Takuya instructed his secretary to notify the eSports tournament's operations team, ordering them to immediately send someone to Adachi Ward to find the arcade where Daigo Umehara had registered, and to make sure they could contact the child and his family as soon as possible to convey Sega's stance.

He knew very well that being an eleven-year-old champion was a double-edged sword.

If used well, it can be an excellent calling card for esports to move into the mainstream; if used poorly, any negative news can be a major blow to the entire industry.

Adachi Ward, Sato's Game Center.

Two men in sharp suits, carrying briefcases, carefully bypassed several students playing happily on the ground and appeared in front of their boss Sato, who was wiping down the machines.

This outfit was completely out of place in the noisy and bustling environment.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Sato? We are from Sega Corporation." The leading man handed over his business card, his attitude respectful.

"Sega?" Sato paused, took the business card, glanced at it, and immediately became wary. "What are you doing here? Daigo's bonus has been paid in full!"

Seeing Sato's protective attitude, the newcomer not only wasn't angry, but actually laughed.

"You misunderstand, Mr. Sato. We're here specifically for Umehara," the man explained. "The company's upper management highly values Umehara's talent, but they're also worried that excessive media hype might negatively impact him. That's why they sent us here specifically to speak with his family and see what kind of protection and support Sega can offer."

Upon hearing this, Sato's expression changed from wary to surprised, and then to a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

"You're too late."

"Too late?"

"It's not just late!" Sato slapped his thigh and vividly recounted how Masao Umehara had visited him yesterday and laid down the "three rules," especially the line, "My son, Masao Umehara's son, cannot be a blind man who can't even understand a contract." He spoke with great enthusiasm and spittle flying from his lips.

"Tell me, isn't being a father even harder than dealing with the final boss?" Sato concluded.

The two well-dressed operations team members listened in stunned silence, exchanging bewildered glances.

They anticipated all sorts of scenarios, including parents' greed, shortsightedness, or lack of understanding, and prepared their responses accordingly.

The only thing I never expected was that this father had already planned the most stable path for his son in the simplest yet most effective way.

"It seems we were overthinking it." The leading man shook his head with a wry smile, but admiration shone in his eyes. "This Mr. Umehara is a remarkable father."

"That's right!" Sato said with a proud expression.

"In that case, Mr. Sato," the man bowed again, "Would you please take us to visit the Umehara Family? Our purpose is the same as yours, Mr. Umehara's; we simply want to express Sega's stance and put the family at ease."

Sato thought about it and felt there was nothing wrong with it. It would also let Daigo's father see that the people he knew weren't bad.

"Okay! I'll take a day off and then I'll take you there!" He readily agreed, handed over his job of minding the shop to the shop assistant, and excitedly led the two Sega employees out of the arcade.

Sato led the two to the slightly worn door of the Umehara Family and pressed the doorbell.

Soon, footsteps came from inside the door, and the door was pulled open, revealing Masao Umehara's stern face.

When he saw Sato, and the two distinguished strangers behind Sato, his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

Sato rubbed his hands together, a somewhat obsequious smile plastered on his face, and stepped aside. "Um—Uncle Umehara, these two are from Sega Corporation, they've come specifically about Daigo."

Masao Umehara's gaze swept across Sato's face and landed on the two men in suits.

His expression remained unchanged; he simply turned to the side and said in a low voice, "Please come in."

The house is small, and the entryway feels even more cramped.

Masao Umehara's wife hurriedly came out of the kitchen, and was stunned when she saw the scene. She wiped her hands on her apron again and again.

"Excuse me." The man in the suit at the head of the group bowed slightly, took off his leather shoes, and neatly arranged them.

The other person did the same, their movements were meticulous.

The atmosphere in the small living room was somewhat heavy.

Daigo peeked out of his room and watched silently.

"Mr. Umehara, Mrs. Umehara." The leading man bowed again, took a business card from his briefcase, and handed it to them with both hands. "I am Yamamoto from the Sega Esports Operations Department, and this is my colleague, Tanaka."

Masao Umehara didn't take the business card; he just looked at him.

Yamamoto wasn't embarrassed. He casually placed his business card on the coffee table and got straight to the point. "We're here regarding Daigo. The company's upper management takes those media reports very seriously."

He glanced at Sato beside him, then changed the subject. "Before we came, we heard from Boss Sato about the rules you set for Daigo. We admire you greatly; you are a visionary father."

This straight ball eased Masao Umehara's tense expression slightly.

He originally thought these people were there to "steal" his son.

"So," Yamamoto continued, "What Sega Corporation wants to do is not interfere with your family's education, but to clear unnecessary obstacles in the path for you and the talented player."

He took several documents out of his briefcase.

"First, there's the issue of public opinion. Regarding the unfounded accusations and malicious manipulation by media outlets like the Yomiuri Shimbun, the company's Public Relations Department has contacted Nikkan Sports and several television stations overnight, and a new article will be released today. The theme is 'Protecting talent, beware of being overpraised.'"

Masao Umehara's eyebrows twitched.

"Secondly, there's the legal aspect." Yamamoto pushed a document in front of Masao Umehara. "This is a lawyer's letter drafted by our Legal Department. We will formally send it to several weekly magazines with the most offensive language, demanding that they cease their harassment and false reporting against minors. Rest assured, this is only the first step. If they don't stop, Sega will file a lawsuit, and the company will bear all the costs."

After he finished speaking, the living room fell silent.

Umehara's wife covered her mouth, her eyes filled with shock.

Sato, listening from the side, was so excited he wanted to slap his thigh.

Is this the power of big companies?

While they were still worrying about a few words in the newspaper, others were already preparing to "bombard" those media outlets with lawyer's letters!