Showing Its Muscles

The basic gaming capabilities demonstrated by that machine have almost completely shattered Bandai's hopes of catching up with its own Game Development Department.

"Let's go, Father has already Tsukiji Jisaku at Tsukiji Haruto." Nakayama Takuya raised his hand and looked at his watch.

The group drove to the restaurant.

Nakayama Hayao was already kneeling on the tatami mat, with warm sake placed in front of him.

Upon seeing Yamashina Makoto enter, the head of Sega, without putting on airs, laughed heartily and stood up to greet him.

"President Yamashina, it's been a long time. Your golf skills really impressed me since we last met at the golf course."

"Not at all, President Nakayama, you flatter me." Yamashina Makoto quickly replied politely, his gaze sweeping over the father and son as he sat down.

The old guard is like a tiger crouching in the ground, while the younger ones are like cunning foxes. Sega's current momentum is indeed somewhat unstoppable.

During the meal, exquisite kaiseki cuisine was served in a continuous stream.

Nakayama Takuya made no mention of the black machine from earlier, nor of the "merger" suggestion that had terrified Yamashina Makoto long ago.

He rolled up his sleeves and poured drinks for the elders with great enthusiasm, telling them all sorts of interesting stories about United States.

"Mr. Turner's steak is plentiful, but the flavor is just too rough; I felt like throwing up after a couple of meals." Nakayama Takuya picked up a piece of sea bream sashimi, dipped it in soy sauce, and looked quite satisfied. "The taste of home is still the best. President Yamashina, I heard you're also planning a trip to the United States for inspections?"

Yamashina Makoto paused for a moment, then resumed his normal expression. "We are planning to do that. After all, Takuya- kun set such a great stage for us, we should at least go and see what happens."

"Of course." Nakayama Hayao picked up the conversation, raising his glass in a gesture of acknowledgment, his tone exuding an air of arrogance. "Young people these days are much more unconventional than we were back then. I heard about that Cartoon Network thing; that kid did a good job, but he still needs to rely on Bandai's toys to monetize it, since selling anime licenses alone doesn't bring in much money. Come on, let's toast to Gundam's huge success in United States."

"Cheers."

Amidst the crisp clinking of glasses, Mitsui Chuta couldn't help but interject, leaning slightly forward. "President Nakayama, that new Gundam model we just saw—it's truly—"

"Hey, let's not talk business over dinner." Nakayama Hayao waved his hand, interrupting Mitsui directly. His smile remained, but it carried an undeniable air of authority. "Today is just a gathering of old friends. Leave the work to the subordinates. It's time for us old bones to enjoy ourselves. I heard this place has specially supplied sake, Mitsui -san, would you like to try some?"

This Tai Chi push was skillfully executed.

Mitsui Chuta swallowed back the praise that was about to come out, his face flushing slightly, and he could only awkwardly pick up his wine glass.

Yamashina Makoto gave a deep look at Nakayama Takuya, who was intently peeling shrimp.

This is hardly a discussion of non-business.

That machine was "Wei," and this meal is "En."

Sega laid out its technological barriers, telling you, "Only I can make this thing"; and it also laid out its interests in the United States market, telling you, "Follow me and you'll profit."

Not talking about it is more unsettling than talking about it.

The meal was enjoyed by both host and guests, at least on the surface.

They talked about horse racing, golf, and the newly opened club in Ginza, but not about games or business mergers and acquisitions.

After seeing Bandai Nakayama Takuya stood at the entrance of the ryotei (Bandai restaurant), loosened his tie, and let out a long sigh.

"How is it?" Nakayama Hayao stood behind him, his previously kind older brother expression fading, his eyes sharpening. "Judging from that old bastard Yamashina's face, he probably won't be sleeping tonight."

"The timing's almost right." Nakayama Takuya watched the departing taillights, a slight smile playing on his lips. "They've flexed their muscles, and they've given us the sweet talk. If they don't want their Gundam games to be a flop or left behind by the times, they have no choice but to hand over the game division to us."

"You're even more cunning than me," Nakayama Hayao snorted, turning to walk back, his tone full of admiration. "Well done, though. If Bandai falls into our hands, that old fox Nintendo will probably be getting restless."

Following in his father's footsteps, Nakayama Takuya said casually, "It doesn't matter. Sega just needs to wait for the Model 2 and Jupiter games to be successfully released, and for the Jupiter's ownership to exceed the survival threshold. That will mean the game is set, and two generations of game consoles will be successful. With the current development of the global game market, by the time production is finally discontinued, the total sales of the two generations of game consoles will definitely exceed 100 million units, spanning more than seven years of players' gaming lives."

"Sega will become the undisputed number one company in the video game industry. It would be their loss if they didn't follow suit."

The early spring wind swept up the fallen cherry blossoms on the ground, casting long shadows of the father and son.

Bandai, this ripe fruit, is just one final push away from falling into Sega's basket.

Mid-April.

After six months of development, the project codenamed "72 Hours After the Disaster" was finally completed.

To reduce the oppressive feeling brought by the somewhat heavy word "survival," the Marketing Department racked their brains, and finally, Nakayama Takuya made the final decision to name it "Disaster-Fighting Little Hero."

At this moment, the MD platform cartridge was lying quietly on Nakayama Takuya's desk.

On the cover, a chibi-style cartoon figure wearing a yellow hard hat and carrying an emergency backpack is pointing seriously ahead.

"Director Yoshikawa, it seems your public relations expenses were well spent." Nakayama Takuya picked up the cassette tape, his fingertip tracing the prominent list of sponsoring organizations on the cover: Fire and Disaster Management Agency and Communications Fire and Disaster Management Agency, Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology, Disaster Prevention Research Institute, Kyoto University...

This long list of titles is practically a get-out-of-jail-free card.

Sitting opposite him, Yoshikawa couldn't hide his smugness. He picked up his teacup to clear his throat and said, "Executive Director, you have no idea how difficult those bureaucrats are to deal with. When they first heard it was a game, they all shook their heads like rattles, afraid of getting involved with 'electronic heroin' and affecting their careers."

"So how did you manage to deal with them?"

"As you instructed, I provided two reassurances." Yoshikawa held up two fingers. "First, there was that legitimate disaster prevention guidance donation." This money went through a public welfare account, which both gave them face and filled the gaps in their livelihood, so they naturally had no complaints about their work.

Nakayama Takuya chuckled softly. In any era, funding is always the best lubricant.

"The second point is your 'responsibility separation' clause." Yoshikawa had to admire the young executive's shrewdness. "We've clearly written it in black and white in the agreement: if it fails the final review, or if the test feedback is unsatisfactory, Sega will remove all government department signatures upon release, rename it a purely fictional entertainment product, publish the report of the failed review to the public, and simultaneously issue a disclaimer stating that 'this product does not provide professional guidance.'"