Windows 95

"Understood. I'm just feeling things out and brushing up while I'm at it." Nakayama Takuya stood up. "On the systems side, I've already had Hoshino push it forward. Once the proposal is ready, we'll bring it to the board for discussion."

After leaving the president's office, Nakayama Takuya let out a long breath.

These past two months had been even duller than studying for university entrance exams.

Every day, it was reading books, checking data, making phone calls to ask questions, and reporting to the old man.

There were no bright lights and red wine, no launch events for new games, not even the newly submitted project proposals—they had all been handed over to Hisao Oguchi. On his desk, there were only endless tables and numbers.

But he knew very well that this was the tempering he had to go through if he wanted to take over the giant ship that was Sega.

Only by thoroughly digesting these underlying business logics and financial rules could he stand undefeated in future commercial wars.

Whether facing Sony pressing closer step by step, or weathering the impact of a Nasdaq storm, healthy cash flow and a rigorous internal control system were the foundation that would allow Sega to survive.

He returned to his office, pulled out his chair, sat down, and opened Modern Corporate Financial Management again.

While Nakayama Takuya was settling in and building himself up at Sega Headquarters, plotting to raise the level of internal control in this vast machine, a new storm was arriving in the computer industry across the ocean.

In August 1995, the sunlight on the west coast of the United States was still dazzling.

In Silicon Valley's cafés, young people talking about code and stocks were everywhere.

The wealth-making legend of Netscape's IPO was still stimulating every