Kyoto, Nintendo headquarters, the president's office.
The air in Yamauchi Hiroshi's office was even colder than it had been in Hudson's president's office a few days earlier; the lingering heat of early September seemed to have been shut out completely.
A report on Metroid's first-week sales lay quietly on his desk. The numbers were not ugly, but they were far from the expectations he held in his heart.
Yokoi Gunpei stood before the desk, his expression calm, though the tight line of his mouth still betrayed the waves churning inside him.
Metroid, which he had built with his own hands, had an excellent reputation. The praise from players even surpassed some major titles released in the same period.
And yet the market had not given it an equal, fervent response.
"Yokoi-kun."
Yamauchi Hiroshi's voice was low, impossible to read for joy or anger, yet it carried an unquestionable authority.
"The finals of Fatal Fury supposedly set a new daytime record for Fuji TV's ratings in that time slot."
He did not directly mention Metroid's sales.
Yokoi Gunpei lowered his head slightly.
"Yes, President. Sega's combination punch of promotion and commerce for this tournament was indeed very successful. Aside from Sega itself, several other sponsors and distributors truly gained their own benefits as well. It was not simply Sega losing money to buy a shout."
Yamauchi Hiroshi's fingertips tapped lightly on the expensive wooden desktop, producing a dull sound.
"Players' attention is limited."
"No matter how excellent our products are, if they cannot seize their eyes at the very first moment, they will be drowned out."
"What I need is a work capable of shaking the entire market, a work that can completely suppress our opponents. At the same time, our promotional methods must keep pace. Do not be afraid to