"Something's happening?" Nakayama Takuya casually set the proposal on the corner of the desk, looked up, and smiled knowingly.
Director Hattori walked up to the desk and gently placed the fax, still faintly warm, on its surface. He tapped it with a finger.
"Matsushima delivered the message. Sure enough, those old Sotsu shareholders couldn't sit still any longer." Director Hattori pulled out a chair and sat down, a calculating smile in his voice. "Honda from Daiwa Securities just called me. Sotsu has taken the initiative to propose further, deeper contact with Sega."
"Oh? How many came?" Nakayama Takuya raised a brow.
"The five core founding shareholders. Every last one of them."
Hearing that answer, Nakayama Takuya let out a hearty laugh.
"It seems that Pokémon financial report packed quite a punch. It was practically a nuclear bomb thrown into their conference room.
Director Hattori laughed along heartily, then picked up the teapot on the desk and poured himself a cup of water. "Isn't that so?"
Those old men had spent most of their lives clawing their way through the copyright business. They knew better than anyone what money was easy to make and what money was hard to make. They had watched Bandai remain completely at a loss against us, with nowhere to start, every step of the way."
The old man took a sip of water and continued, "Sega now not only holds Sunrise as a trump card, but has also willingly tossed out a tidal-wave-sized chunk of fat like Pokémon. A big stick on one side, a mountain of gold on the other—unless their brains are broken, there's no reason they wouldn't bite this hook."
Nakayama Takuya picked up the fax on the desk and glanced over the densely packed list of several tentative meeting times Sotsu had