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Chapter 95: Square in the Doldrums
🕑 Added 2025-09-30 11:29:11 +0000 UTCAfter reaching an agreement with Masao Suzuki, the head of the marketing department, on the key strategies for the copyright battle surrounding Super Robot Wars: The First, Takuya Nakayama swiftly shifted to his next battlefield. Time was his most precious resource.
While copyright negotiations were critical, toppling Nintendo’s industry dominance required more than a single game. Sega needed to build a robust coalition of third-party developers to not only bring more high-quality games to the new console but also fundamentally weaken Nintendo’s moat. This strategy was central to Takuya’s plans.
His next target was already locked in—Square, a company based in Tokyo’s Ueno district.
He headed to the underground parking garage, got into his RX7, and drove toward Square’s office.
Outside the car window, Tokyo’s cityscape flashed by, but Takuya’s thoughts were already with the struggling game company.
At this moment, Square was, as he recalled from his past-life memories, mired in a deep slump.
Their previous releases on PC and Famicom platforms had received lukewarm market responses, with dismal sales that were disheartening. Not only had they failed to recoup development costs, but the company’s cash flow was stretched to the breaking point. Even paying employee salaries on time had become a challenge.
The RX7 pulled up in front of an unremarkable office building. Takuya looked up, noticing Square’s faded sign on the third-floor window, its letters slightly misaligned, clearly neglected for some time. He turned off the engine, straightened his suit, and stepped into the building.
Inside Square’s office, the atmosphere was stiflingly oppressive. A few employees sat at their desks, their eyes reflecting confusion and unease. Some were hunched over, tweaking code, but their keystrokes lacked rhythm, betraying their distraction. In a corner, a printer emitted sporadic, grating noises, as if protesting the work environment.
The receptionist at the front desk was startled to see Takuya—visitors, especially sharply dressed businesspeople, were rare at Square these days. She instinctively smoothed her uniform, wary of embarrassing the company.
“May I help you?” Her voice carried a hint of nervousness.
“I’m Takuya Nakayama from Sega, here to see President Miyamoto. I made an appointment yesterday,” Takuya replied.
The receptionist’s expression grew complex. Sega? Why would they visit at a time like this? Her mind raced with possibilities, but she quickly regained her professional composure, offering a standard service smile.
“Please wait a moment. I’ll inform President Miyamoto.” She hurried toward the inner office, her footsteps echoing in the quiet space.
Takuya was led to a modest reception room. The coffee table was worn, and the walls were adorned with faded game posters, their colors dulled. The receptionist served him tea, the quality of which was clearly subpar, but under Square’s current financial strain, it was the best they could offer.
A few minutes later, Takuya was ushered into Masashi Miyamoto’s office.
The office was smaller than he’d expected, cluttered with stacks of documents and reports, some with yellowed edges. In a corner, several cardboard boxes held game cartridge samples, their labels smudged and barely legible.
Masashi Miyamoto, a man in his mid-forties, wore black-framed glasses with scratched lenses. His shirt collar was frayed, and his cuffs showed signs of wear, suggesting he hadn’t bought new clothes in some time. The exhaustion on his face stemmed not only from work but also from deep concern for the company’s future.
When he saw Takuya enter, he forced a smile, though it appeared strained.
“Executive Director Nakayama, I didn’t expect you to visit in person,” he said, his voice hoarse, as he gestured for Takuya to sit in the small meeting area inside his office.
Takuya sat across from Miyamoto, his gaze sweeping over the room. The faded game screenshots on the walls, one with a curled edge, spoke volumes about the immense pressure weighing on the company—a pressure so palpable it seemed to thicken the air.
“President Miyamoto, I’m here to discuss a business proposition,” Takuya said, cutting straight to the point without pleasantries. In this situation, small talk would only seem insincere.
“Sega is willing to invest one million dollars for a 15% stake in Square.”
Miyamoto’s teacup trembled slightly, nearly spilling. One million dollars? For Square in its current state, that was an astronomical sum—enough to sustain operations for over a year and even revive shelved projects.
But he quickly regained his composure, his businessman’s instincts kicking in. There’s no such thing as a free lunch, especially in the business world. A cautious glint flickered in his eyes.
“Executive Director Nakayama, what are your conditions?” His voice grew more guarded.
Takuya smiled faintly, leaning forward with a tone of earnest sincerity. “Our terms are extremely favorable. Sega will provide strategic guidance and necessary support but will absolutely not interfere with Square’s operational decisions or creative freedom in game development.”
Miyamoto’s eyes wavered. No interference in operations? That was almost unheard of in Japanese business. Most investors demanded control or at least significant input in major decisions, with some even sending their own management teams to oversee operations.
Takuya’s offer sounded too good to be true, which made Miyamoto skeptical. Having navigated the business world for years, he knew no one invested without strings attached.
Miyamoto fell silent, his fingers tapping the desk unconsciously, his hesitation and uncertainty evident. He was mentally calculating risks and possibilities.
Takuya, perceptive as ever, picked up on the shift in mood. Without betraying his thoughts, he glanced at the other Square executives in the room before turning back to Miyamoto.
“President Miyamoto, could we have the room? There’s something more important I’d like to discuss privately.”
Miyamoto nodded and addressed the others: “Please step out for a moment.”
As the group prepared to leave, puzzled, Takuya suddenly spoke up.
“Wait.” His gaze landed on a young man. “Mr. Sakaguchi, please stay.”
Hironobu Sakaguchi, a core developer at Square and one of the key figures behind Final Fantasy, was in his early thirties. Dressed in a slightly faded checkered shirt, his eyes still held a spark of passion for game development, though it was dimmed by the company’s struggles. Surprised to be singled out, he paused.
Soon, only three remained in the room, and the tension in the air grew thicker.
Takuya pulled a photograph from his briefcase and placed it solemnly before the two men.
“President Miyamoto, Mr. Sakaguchi, this is a token of Sega’s sincere commitment to a deep partnership with Square—and our confidence in the future.”
Miyamoto and Sakaguchi leaned forward to examine the photo.
In the next moment, their expressions froze.
