Ajal.
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Chapter 104: Collaboration Achieved
🕑 Added 2025-10-03 09:56:55 +0000 UTCThe rustling of pages in the meeting room finally ceased.
Ken Kutaragi abruptly raised his head, his eyes behind his glasses glinting with near-obsessive fervor.
Without even glancing at Takuya, he turned directly to Shigeo Maruyama, his voice trembling with suppressed excitement.
“Mr. Maruyama, Mr. Mitsui, I request… we need to discuss this internally immediately.”
His sudden request tightened the room’s atmosphere further.
Shigeo Maruyama’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, but seeing Kutaragi’s utterly engrossed demeanor, he nodded.
“Very well.”
Chuta Mitsui gave Takuya a meaningful glance, a faint, enigmatic smile on his lips, and agreed.
The Sony trio stood and moved to a small adjacent meeting room.
As soon as the door closed, Kutaragi could no longer contain himself.
“Mr. Maruyama, Mr. Mitsui, this proposal… it’s practically tailor-made for the LD player. A godsend.”
His tone brimmed with unshakable excitement, his hands still trembling slightly as if clutching the scorching proposal.
“Kutaragi-kun, calm down,” Maruyama said, initially displeased by Kutaragi’s near-loss of composure, raising a hand to quiet him.
“My apologies for the outburst,” Kutaragi said, bowing to both men, but he quickly continued, “But this proposal is something Sony cannot afford to miss!”
“Its understanding and application of the LD’s high-capacity, high-quality visuals are spot-on.”
“Several core technical aspects, I can confidently say, can only be perfectly realized with Sony’s technical reserves.”
“It aligns perfectly with Mr. Morita’s vision of ‘hardware paired with exceptional content.’”
As Kutaragi methodically outlined the proposal’s key technical points—particularly those tied to Sony’s proprietary technologies—Maruyama’s cautious gaze gradually gave way to a sharp intensity.
His internal scales tipped dramatically.
Chuta Mitsui was more direct, tapping the table and locking eyes with Kutaragi.
“Technically, if Sony goes all in, how confident are you in realizing the proposal’s vision?”
Kutaragi didn’t hesitate.
“With Sony’s involvement, there’s no technical issue.”
“In fact, it’s practically impossible without Sony.”
His words landed with resounding conviction.
Maruyama and Mitsui exchanged a glance.
In that instant, consensus was reached.
Sony had to secure this project.
Maruyama, after a moment’s thought, spoke.
“The preferred option is to attempt a buyout of this proposal.”
“At any cost.”
The brief recess ended, and both parties returned to their seats.
Director Yoshikawa and Masao Suzuki could clearly sense a shift in the Sony trio’s aura—a palpable sense of determination.
Chuta Mitsui wore a warm smile, looking at Takuya with a trace of admiration.
“Takuya-kun, your proposal is truly remarkable.”
“Sony is extremely interested.”
He paused, then dropped a bombshell.
“We’re willing to offer twenty million dollars to buy out this LD game proposal and all related rights.”
Twenty million dollars.
The figure exploded like thunder in Yoshikawa and Suzuki’s ears.
Suzuki instinctively clenched his fists, palms sweating.
Yoshikawa’s heart skipped a beat—this price, for a yet-to-be-realized game proposal, was astronomical.
Takuya’s lips curved into a barely noticeable smile.
Sony had taken the bait.
He exchanged a calming glance with Yoshikawa, signaling him to stay composed.
Then, meeting Chuta’s gaze, he shook his head gently, unruffled.
“Mr. Mitsui, thank you for Sony’s generous offer.”
“But this proposal’s value far exceeds twenty million dollars.”
His voice was calm yet carried unwavering resolve.
“Its potential to ignite the LD market, its strategic significance for Sony’s hardware promotion, and the vast commercial benefits it could yield are immeasurable.”
“More importantly, Sega also needs this game to prove our prowess in new technological domains and solidify our industry standing.”
Chuta’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes sharpened.
He had anticipated Takuya wouldn’t yield easily.
“Takuya-kun, I understand your ambition.”
“But,” he pivoted, gesturing to Kutaragi, “some technical challenges can’t be overcome with passion alone.”
Kutaragi, catching the cue, adjusted his glasses, his tone blending technical rigor with a hint of subtle arrogance.
“Mr. Nakayama, frankly, your proposal’s reliance on real-time high-capacity data reading, dynamic compression and decompression, and seamless high-quality audiovisual streaming heavily depends on Sony’s core patents and expertise in LD drive technology, signal processing chips, and audio-video codecs.”
“Without Sony’s full technical support, Sega would face immense challenges achieving the proposal’s promised results.”
“Certain critical interactive experiences might be outright impossible.”
His words carried unmasked pressure, implying that without Sony, the proposal’s value would be severely diminished.
The room’s atmosphere grew tense once more.
Yoshikawa and Suzuki’s hearts raced.
Yet Takuya remained as steady as a rock, a faint smile lingering on his face.
“Mr. Kutaragi’s technical analysis is highly professional,” he said, acknowledging the point before smoothly shifting gears, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather.
“If Sony insists on a buyout rather than a win-win collaboration with Sega…”
“Sega may face technical hurdles, but we’re not without alternatives.”
He lifted his teacup, took a sip, and glanced casually at Maruyama.
“For instance, we could explore deep content collaboration with Columbia Records in the U.S.”
“Their vast library of high-quality music and film rights aligns perfectly with the LD player’s entertainment positioning.”
Maruyama’s hand, holding his teacup, paused almost imperceptibly.
Sony’s ongoing pursuit to acquire Columbia Records was no secret among industry elites.
Takuya set down his cup, turning to Chuta, his tone still breezy.
“On the hardware side, we could consider technical exchanges with Philips.”
“After all, Philips is a key driver of LD standards and has substantial expertise in certain technical areas. They’d likely welcome content strong enough to challenge Sony’s LD dominance.”
At these words, Chuta and Maruyama’s expressions shifted noticeably for the first time.
Philips—Sony’s direct competitor in LD standards.
Takuya’s offhand remarks precisely struck Sony’s vulnerabilities. While Sega might not dare partner with Philips, a collaboration with Columbia Records could elevate their stock price, potentially costing Sony dearly in acquisition talks next year.
This not only suggested the proposal wasn’t exclusive to Sony but also warned that a buyout could backfire, benefiting competitors and disrupting Sony’s broader content and hardware strategy.
A suffocating silence enveloped the room.
Only the faint hum of the air conditioning reminded them of time passing.
Chuta’s deep gaze met Maruyama’s sharp eyes in a wordless exchange.
After a moment, Chuta took a deep breath, his smile fading into a complex expression tinged with reluctance and fatigue.
“It seems we underestimated Takuya-kun’s resolve and preparation.”
“Very well, collaborative development it is.”
“We’ll need to renegotiate the specific terms.”
Though reluctant, rationality dictated that partnering with Sega to bring this highly aligned LD game to market was Sony’s most profitable path.
A tougher, more detailed negotiation over project control, profit sharing, and mutual obligations loomed ahead. But in this moment, the overarching direction of collaboration was, at last, painstakingly secured.
