Sakura Wars Warm-Up

But Sega was different.

As long as a work carried the title of "Children of the Star Ring" supervisor, that meant the plot was guaranteed to be tense and brisk, every bite packed with real substance.

No padding, no dragging, only smooth frame counts and detailed backgrounds smashed out with hard cash. Even recycled cuts would have their budget filled to the brim, leaving viewers no reason to complain.

On the television screen, stirring orchestral music suddenly rang out, the soaring trumpet melody instantly catching the ears of passersby.

It was the theme song, Geki! Imperial Combat Revue.

In the image, white steam gushed forth as the bulky yet mechanically beautiful "Light Warrior" mecha took heavy steps across the streets of Ginza, the sound effects of meshing gears deep and solid.

Then the camera cut, and Sakura Shinguji, a girl in a red-and-white kimono, drew her blade from its sheath, her black hair dancing amid a rain of cherry blossoms. In that instant, her sharpness and softness formed a tremendous visual impact.

Steampunk, Taisho romance, dating simulation, mecha battles.

These elements that seemed as unrelated as the wind, the horse, and the ox were forcibly kneaded together, and somehow produced a wondrous chemical reaction.

"This is Sega's new trick?"

Countless bored viewers who had been pressing their remote controls stopped their fingers, their gazes locked firmly onto the screen.

In the PV, the girls were glamorous opera performers onstage. Once the alarm blared, the image turned, and they changed into gorgeous yet period-appropriate tight pilot suits, leaping into mecha to slay demons and eradicate evil.

That intense contrast in identity, paired with a theme song that made people unable to stop bouncing their legs after hearing it once, directly pierced the mental defenses of countless young men.

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