Sunrise's Trailblazing

"Change your habits?" Miyagawa Yasuo, somewhat puzzled.

"Let's align with United States standards." Nakayama Takuya picked up his knife and gestured on the tablecloth. "A typical Japan anime episode is 24 to 25 minutes long, but in the United States, commercial television channels typically allocate about 8 minutes for GG and television announcements during their half-hour programming. That means the actual episode can only be 22 minutes long."

"If we don't edit it ourselves and send it to the United States, those incompetent editors at the TV station will just shred it with their big scissors. Then the story will be disjointed, the footage will skip frames, and it will ruin Sunrise's reputation."

Nakayama Takuya's voice turned serious. "For future projects targeting overseas markets, write scripts for 22 minutes each. Also, try to make the number of episodes a multiple of 13. 13 episodes per season, 26 episodes for half a year, and 52 episodes per year. This will fit the seasonal episode length requirements of the Public Television Service Alliance, and we'll be able to sell to more TV stations."

Miyagawa Yasuo listened with some excitement, his pen flying across the paper as he took notes.

If no one points out these details, even if Sunrise explores for another ten years, it will probably only be scratching the surface.

"22 minutes of main content, 8 minutes of GG----a multiple of 13 episodes----" Miyagawa Yasuo muttered to himself, as if reciting some kind of wealth code.

"That's right. As long as we make these specifications up to standard, United States TV stations can buy them and broadcast them directly, making it very convenient for them to import them. This will greatly reduce the money and effort they need to invest, and they will be more likely to consider our work."

"Of course, all these wonderful prospects depend on Ted Turner being willing to foot the bill." Nakayama Takuya forked a piece of crab meat covered in butter and put it in his mouth.

Miyagawa Yasuo put down his pen, his brows furrowing slightly.

He understood the logic, but when it came to actually facing that media tycoon, he still felt uncertain.

"I won't be at the negotiating table," Nakayama Takuya said, wiping his hands with a tissue. "That's President Miyagawa's domain. Sunrise is an independently operated company; you're the president. At such a crucial and visible moment, you should be the one making the decisions."

Miyagawa Yasuo paused for a moment, his fingers tightening around the pen.

As the major shareholder, Nakayama Takuya fully qualified to lead this negotiation.

After all, this not only concerns Sunrise's future, but also involves the massive plans of Sega and Bandai.

If it were any other Fangdai, they probably would have already prepared a speech and handed it to him, so he could just read it verbatim.

This complete trust and delegation of authority made Miyagawa Yasuo feel a weight on his shoulders—the weight of responsibility, and the warmth of being respected.

"Executive Director, this is, after all, Sunrise's first serious attempt to enter a mainstream United States television network—" Miyagawa Yasuo hesitated for a moment, but still decided to ask for advice, "Regarding the price, do you have any suggestions? I'm not familiar with the market here in the United States. If I quote too high, I'm afraid I'll scare them away; if I quote too low, I'm afraid I'll lose face for Sunrise."

"Don't think United States are too generous, especially Ted Turner. He's practically splitting every penny in half to expand his empire." Nakayama Takuya picked up his glass of iced water and swirled it, water droplets sliding down the sides. "CartoonNetwork is a relatively new company, and their 24-hour broadcast time is like a bottomless pit. Their self-produced animations cost tens of thousands of US dollar per minute, and even buying reruns of older shows isn't cheap."

He leaned forward, lowered his voice, and a sly glint flashed in his eyes. "So, we need to give him a special offer he can't refuse."

"Special offer?"

"A tiered revenue-sharing agreement." Nakayama Takuya held out his palm and made a slicing motion in the air. "We'll drive down the price of the first-run rights, even to half the cost, making them feel like they're getting a great deal. But that's just the ticket. We'll add a clause to the contract that if the viewership reaches a certain level, the subsequent revenue sharing will increase by one tier."

Miyagawa Yasuo's eyes lit up.

"This move is a godsend for CN right now. The initial investment is small, the risk is almost zero, and it's perfect for filling those less popular time slots. If it's a hit, they'll be willing to pay more; if the response is lukewarm, the impact on them will be limited," Nakayama Takuya smiled. "As for us, Sunrise doesn't lack cash flow right now; what we lack is an opportunity to prove ourselves, a bridgehead into the United States market. Once the show airs, Bandai's toys can be stocked, and that's the real money. As for the animation's copyright fees, even if we earn less and the payback period is longer, it's still a profitable deal, since we've already recouped our costs in Japan."

"Using low prices to gain market share, betting on the future." Miyagawa Yasuo muttered to himself, then nodded emphatically, "I understand. This isn't just about selling films; it's about helping them solve their 'film shortage' problem."

"That's right. Let them use the money they would spend on cabbages to buy a potential stock that could become gold." Nakayama Takuya snapped his fingers. "Once we figure out what United States audiences like, Sunrise can invest even more money in producing works for a global audience, ensuring high-quality visuals and consistent animation standards. We'll be confident that we can earn that money back from across the ocean."

Miyagawa Yasuo took a deep breath, closed his notebook, and the apprehension on his face mostly disappeared, replaced by an eager excitement.

He picked up the slightly cooled clam chowder and drank it all in one gulp.

"I know how to fight this battle."

On Tuesday evening, the sky over Atlanta was low and heavy with clouds.

Nakayama Takuya and Miyagawa Yasuo had no interest in appreciating the scenery of the city on the eve of the Olympics. They quickly ate a meal at the hotel and then went back to checking the details of tomorrow's negotiations.

The next morning, the two appeared on time in the reception hall of the CNN Center.

This is the heart of global news. A giant globe slowly rotates in the center of the high-ceilinged hall, and staff members hurry to and fro, each with a sense of urgency on their face as if they are dealing with something that will change the world.

Ted Turner was clearly part of this sense of urgency.

The media mogul didn't arrange any leisurely tours; his secretary led the two directly into an office filled with surveillance cameras. Ted Turner was yelling something into the phone, but when the guests entered, he hung up and pointed to the sofa.

"The coffee's on the table, help yourself." Turner unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down, getting straight to the point. "You only have twenty minutes, after which I have to attend a financial report. So, tell me, what can Sega's executive officer bring to my Cartoon Network after coming all this way?"

Miyagawa Yasuo glanced at Nakayama Takuya subconsciously.

Nakayama Takuya didn't touch the pot of coffee, but instead leaned back on the sofa and said, "Mr. Turner, Cartoon Network has been airing for over a year, and the ratings are indeed rising, but I bet you had a lot of trouble filling out the programming schedule, right?"