Yamashina Makoto knew that among them were surely inquiry calls from banks, as well as calls from distributors demanding shipments.
The great ship that was Bandai had completely lost its direction.
As its president, he held the wheel in his hands, only to discover that the steering mechanism had broken long ago—and even the crew were preparing to jump into the sea.
Go begging Sega?
Yamashina Makoto still remembered Nakayama Takuya's half-smiling expression at the reception, as though the young man had seen through everything.
Sega had no need to merge with Bandai at all.
Sega only needed to wait for Bandai to bleed itself dry and collapse, then stroll over like an elegant vulture and pick out the valuable innards.
Yamashina Makoto closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, seeming to age ten years in an instant.
Tokyo's April rains fell without end.
The gray sky was like an enormous slab of lead, pressing heavily down upon this jungle of steel.
In the top-floor conference room of Bandai Headquarters, another week's executive meeting was underway.
The air was so stifling it was hard to breathe. The only sound was the white noise of raindrops densely pattering against the windows outside.
Yamashina Makoto sat at the head of the table, his face dark as water. His knuckles tapped unconsciously against the polished tabletop, producing dull tap, tap,
tap sounds.
A stack of the latest quarterly sales reports lay on the table, their covers printed with glaring red downward arrows. Yet the executives present avoided them as though they were a plague; no one dared reach out and open them.
"Put the contact with Sega on hold for now." Yamashina Makoto cleared his throat, breaking the deathly silence as he tried to set the tone. "Toy shipments may be