Ajal.
patreon
Chapter 155: The Arcade Faction’s Challenge
🕑 Added 2025-10-21 11:23:19 +0000 UTCAfter the board meeting, Takuya Nakayama returned to his office, barely setting down his notes when a knock came. To his surprise, it was Yutaka Suzuki—not the marketing head Masao Suzuki, but Sega’s arcade tech genius. Rarely seen outside his circuit boards or graphics lab, Suzuki’s visit to the executive office was a first.
“Executive Nakayama,” Suzuki greeted stiffly, unaccustomed to formalities.
“Suzuki-san, come in,” Takuya said warmly, rising. “No need for ceremony between us.”
Suzuki nodded but stayed standing, cutting to the chase. “Free tomorrow evening? I know a kaiseki restaurant in Ginza—care to join me?”
Takuya’s brow twitched. Kaiseki? Suzuki’s type would pick a rowdy izakaya for drinks, not a refined venue. Noting Suzuki’s earnest expression, Takuya sensed the real intent but didn’t press. “Sure, it’s been a while since I had kaiseki. I’ll try their craft.”
The next evening, at Ginza’s Kikunoi branch, Takuya arrived on time, guided to an elegant private room. Sliding open the shoji door, he saw Suzuki waiting on the tatami, but his eyes caught three sets of Kutani porcelain tableware on the low table. Takuya understood but sat calmly, awaiting the main player.
Sipping tea, they chatted lightly about Suzuki’s latest tech projects—Suzuki’s way of showing goodwill through his passion. The mood was cordial, if not lively. After fifteen minutes, the door slid open again.
A slightly stout, genial middle-aged man entered, removing his hat to reveal a familiar face: Director Takahashi, head of Sega’s arcade division. *As expected,* Takuya thought.
“Director Takahashi,” Takuya greeted with a slight bow.
“No need for formalities, Nakayama-kun. Sorry to keep you waiting,” Takahashi replied, sitting with a smile, exchanging pleasantries without touching the real issue.
Three rounds of sake and five dishes later, the room’s atmosphere warmed under alcohol’s influence. Takahashi set down his cup, wiped his mouth, and straightened, his smile fading slightly. “Nakayama-kun, I’ve thought long about your boardroom strategy—grand and impressive. But it seems to benefit every department except my arcade division. Have you considered this?”
His tone was measured but sharp, cutting straight to the point. Takuya didn’t answer immediately, glancing at Suzuki, who sat stone-faced, avoiding involvement. Takuya’s eyes returned to Takahashi, who read his unspoken question.
“I invited Suzuki-kun,” Takahashi said frankly. “With his talent and contributions, he’s bound for the board someday. I brought him to understand the situation and to show you that our arcade future hinges on him.” His words subtly flexed the arcade division’s strength and legacy.
Takuya smiled, turning to Suzuki. “Has Takahashi-san mentioned my ACGN strategy?”
Suzuki shook his head. “He only said you’d clarify it yourself, Executive.”
“Good.” Takuya sipped his sake, setting the cup down with a crisp clink, his presence sharpening. He succinctly recapped ACGN: building IPs across anime, comics, games, and novels through cross-media synergy.
Suzuki listened intently, his brow furrowing then relaxing. When Takuya finished, Suzuki spoke slowly. “Executive, I share Takahashi-san’s concern. How does this help arcades?”
Takuya sidestepped, posing a seemingly unrelated question. “Takahashi-san, our claw machines—last year’s performance was strong, right?”
Takahashi blinked, then his eyes lit up, catching a spark. Takuya continued evenly. “Sega can’t build ACGN from scratch—it’s too slow. Mergers and partnerships are faster. We lack anime and novel expertise, that’s a fact.” He paused, eyeing both men. “So, who’s the best target in Japan?”
Takahashi, seasoned in business, ventured after a moment, “Sunrise and Bandai?”
“Bingo,” Takuya snapped his fingers. “Sharp as ever, Takahashi-san.” He explained: “Japan’s ACG industry is dominated by the Hitotsubashi Group—Shueisha, Shogakukan, Hakusensha—untouchable giants we can only partner with. Among the rest, Sunrise and Bandai’s IP creation and industry chain are the most valuable and attainable. Their weakness is our strength: top-tier game development and global distribution.”
“But,” Suzuki interjected, unable to hold back, “even if we acquire Bandai, what’s the direct link to arcades? Their game dev skills are, frankly, negligible.”
Takuya smiled. “Sunrise holds *Gundam*, *Dunbine*, *L-Gaim*—boys’ dreams. Bandai has capsule machines, model kits, and countless IP monetization avenues. Picture this: our claw machines stocked not just with dolls for girls but *Dragon Ball* figures and *Kamen Rider* toys for boys, next to cutting-edge capsule machines in malls. That’s not one-plus-one—it’s exponential.”
Takahashi’s breath caught, envisioning the blueprint. “These are low-tech, low-cost, steady cash cows, unlike arcade boards needing constant upgrades,” Takuya added.
He pivoted. “But Bandai’s market value is high now—forceful acquisition isn’t smart. We need an opening.” Seeing their rapt attention, he laid out the plan: “Step one: build ties with Bandai and Sunrise through game projects. When the time’s right, acquire Sunrise first. Step two: take a small equity stake in Bandai to ease their wariness about our Sunrise move. Then, we wait.”
“For what?” Suzuki asked instinctively.
“For them to stumble,” Takuya replied, his smile confident. “Bandai’s foundation is shakier than ours. Their business model is narrow, their risk resistance weak. Their aggressive investments—like the failed TV-JACK5000 in ’86 and the half-baked ‘Bandai Channel’—show ambition without capability. They’ll misstep, and we’ll seize the chance to take them at the right price.”
Silence fell. Takahashi’s cup froze midair, his earlier probing replaced by awe. This wasn’t just a strategy—it was a meticulous, almost ruthless hunt. He’d thought Takuya’s success was luck; now he saw a chessboard spanning Japan and beyond.
“I’m enlightened, Executive Nakayama,” Takahashi said, raising his cup. “The arcade division won’t hinder your strategy.”
Takuya laughed, raising his cup, pulling Suzuki in. “Thanks, Takahashi-san. We’ll need arcade’s support—and Suzuki-san’s.” They clinked glasses, sealing the pact.
