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Chapter 82 - Pokémon Center
🕑 Added 2025-09-26 12:06:56 +0000 UTCThe marketing director cleared their throat and pressed the projector remote.
A detailed report appeared on the large screen.
“Here’s the sales summary for our first wave of Pokémon licensed merchandise, just one week after launch.”
The air in the meeting room froze for a moment.
All eyes locked onto the scrolling bar graphs and staggering figures.
The report clearly showed that plush toys, toy belts, themed stationery, and even small stickers and keychains had amassed a jaw-dropping total.
More crucially, since these products’ main revenue came from licensing fees, their profit margins far surpassed those of the electronic pets themselves.
Silence.
A brief, breath-audible silence.
Then came stifled gasps and low exclamations.
Directors who’d worn skeptical looks moments before fell silent.
Their expressions shifted rapidly: from slight disdain to shock at the data, wide-eyed disbelief, and finally, a mix of relief and barely concealed excitement.
Takuya Nakayama watched it all calmly.
Light filtered through the blinds, casting flickering patterns in his deep, youthful eyes.
Everything was unfolding as he’d predicted.
Inwardly, he mused with satisfaction: No surprise from the world’s top money-making IP.
He glanced at a prepared event proposal, its cover boldly titled: “Pokémon Center Flagship Store and Offline Event Preliminary Plan.”
Nintendo, the gaming industry giant, had noticed Sega’s cross-media craze.
In their boardroom, executives discussed this novel electronic pet phenomenon, starkly different from their traditional cartridge games.
They saw Sega’s tight integration of electronic pets, anime, and merchandise forming a formidable commercial force.
But to them, this model strayed from pure gaming, resembling a trendy toy operation.
“It’s profitable, no doubt,” one executive said, adjusting his glasses, his tone cautious.
“But it poses no immediate threat to our Famicom market,” another added, confident in their product.
Hiroshi Yamauchi, listening, nodded and concluded, “Good. Sega’s approach is a sideshow. We stick to our path. Proceed with the second-half game releases as planned.”
They opted to observe for now, prioritizing their console game development schedule.
Meanwhile, Pokémon episode six, “Clefairy and the Moon Stone,” aired on time.
Countless kids sat glued to their TVs, eyes full of anticipation, forgetting their outdoor hustle.
In the anime, the mysterious Moon Stone glowed softly, triggering a spectacular mass evolution of Clefairy, a fantastical scene.
Kyosuke watched, entranced, his hand instinctively touching the Pikachu pet in his pocket, feeling its cool familiarity.
He thought, If only my Pikachu could evolve like those Clefairy with a magical stone. That’d be so cool.
But he noted that Clefairy wasn’t among the first wave of electronic pets, a small pang of regret hitting him, like a candy missing its flavor.
Other kids shared similar thoughts, yearning for the mystical Moon Stone as a key to becoming stronger trainers.
As the episode’s ending theme played, most kids thought their Pokémon time was over.
But the TV didn’t switch channels. The screen went black, then burst into a new scene, grabbing everyone’s attention.
Upbeat music played as a shop with a “Pokémon Center” sign flashed onscreen.
Bright and clean, filled with Pokémon elements, it looked like the anime’s Pokémon Center brought to life, not a mere store.
A magnetic voice announced excitedly, “Starting today, Sega will authorize select stores nationwide to upgrade into ‘Pokémon Centers’!”
“Offering trainers unprecedented special services!”
The scene shifted, showing a high-tech machine like those in the anime’s Pokémon Centers.
A kid connected their electronic pet via a cable, the screen’s status changing from “tired” to “full vitality” visibly.
“For just 100 yen, restore your six Pokémon to peak condition!”
The narrator’s clear voice highlighted the affordable price.
Next, the screen zoomed in on a data cable, strikingly similar to Sega’s Tetris handheld link cable, exuding familiar industrial design—clearly repurposed Tetris stock.
“Trainer interactions will be easier than ever!”
Kyosuke’s eyes lit up, nearly leaping from the couch, heart racing.
He instantly recalled his “friendly connection” promise with Kinoshita. This cable was tailor-made for them, like fate’s guidance.
The climactic scene stole the show, pushing emotions to a peak.
A futuristic “evolution platform” appeared center-screen. A uniformed staff member placed an electronic pet on it with professional grace.
She connected the cable, then inserted a stone-textured circuit board into a slot, radiating mystery.
A close-up revealed three words on the card—“Moon Stone”—brimming with magic.
The pet’s calm image began flashing intensely, erupting in dazzling evolution light, too bright to watch.
“Certain Pokémon can evolve using specific evolution stones!”
The narrator’s voice hit a fever pitch, full of allure.
“Evolution service costs 500 yen, irreversible—trainers, choose wisely!”
The serious reminder heightened the evolution’s sanctity.
The narrator emphasized that the first batch of evolution stones was the Moon Stone, fresh from the anime, seamlessly tying to the plot.
