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Chapter 25 - Clash of Inspirations
🕑 Added 2025-09-14 11:42:43 +0000 UTCOba broke the meeting room’s silence, addressing Takuya. “Takuya-san, what style do you envision for this animation?”
“Is it a realistic fighting style or leaning toward exaggerated supernatural expressions?” he pressed, his gaze sharp.
Takuya answered without hesitation. “I want the animation to showcase the realism of fighting while incorporating supernatural elements, like abilities derived from martial techniques and ancestral lineage.”
“Target audience?” Oba followed up.
“Primarily teenagers, but we aim to attract a broader audience,” Takuya replied confidently.
“And Sega’s budget for this animation?” Oba’s eyes remained fixed on Takuya.
“Sega is prepared to invest 220 million yen for a 13-episode first season,” Takuya said firmly, underscoring his commitment to the project.
Oba’s anticipation turned to delight. He nodded, clearly satisfied with the project’s potential and Sega’s investment. “Takuya-san, I’m intrigued by this proposal. If Sega trusts my abilities, I’m willing to take on the role of director.”
Takuya’s heart leaped, a smile spreading across his face. “That’s wonderful, Director Oba. With you on board, I’m confident this animation will be spectacular.”
At that moment, Masami Kurumada rushed back, clutching freshly drawn sketches, his face alight with excitement. “Takuya-san!” he called, almost sprinting to the table, his voice urgent. “I’m in! I’ll handle the character designs for Fatal Fury!”
He spread the sketches on the table—rough, bold lines depicting characters in unique, armor-like gear, striking dynamic fighting poses, with traces of energy flowing around them. Though crude, they echoed the future aesthetic of Saint Seiya.
His eyes burned as he looked at Takuya, brimming with the thrill of a breakthrough. “Your concepts, especially about the ‘essence of power’ and its visualization, were a revelation! They woke me up, showing me a new direction to express what I’ve been struggling to capture!” He nodded emphatically. “It’s not just fighting—it’s deeper, a manifestation of will, a source of power!”
“Thank you so much!”
Takuya’s mind reeled. Good lord, he just wanted a Fatal Fury animation, and somehow he’d sparked the inspiration for Saint Seiya? This butterfly effect was… electrifying. He marveled inwardly at the unexpected bonus.
He showed genuine delight and honor. “If our project sparked even a sliver of inspiration for you, Kurumada-sensei, that’s our privilege. Your designs will be the finishing touch that elevates Fatal Fury!”
Turning to Oba, the seasoned director nodded slightly, his gaze shifting from Kurumada’s sketches to Takuya’s materials, assessing how his style could mesh with Kurumada’s vibrant character designs. “Kurumada-sensei’s passion makes me eager for the final visual outcome,” he said calmly, with a hint of approval for the powerhouse collaboration.
“So,” Takuya seized the moment, looking at both masters, “we have a preliminary agreement?”
“No objections here,” Oba replied crisply.
“Absolutely!” Kurumada said, already itching to refine his ideas.
Their hands clasped, sealing the framework for this monumental collaboration.
Suzuki, standing aside, felt a surreal disbelief. This overly young Takuya Nakayama, in the span of a meal, had roped two distinct, hard-to-move animation giants onto Sega’s chariot? And Kurumada’s fervor suggested a profound creative spark. Suzuki felt like a “freeloading winner.”
The meeting wrapped up in an energized, harmonious vibe. Contract drafting and creative details would be handled by dedicated teams.
Takuya stood, smiling broadly as he bid farewell to the masters. He knew he’d ignited two critical, heavyweight external engines for the “K” project. The first battle was a stunning victory.
North America, Redmond, Washington, Nintendo of America Headquarters.
Summer sunlight streamed through blinds, casting striped shadows across the meeting room’s long table, yet failing to dispel the heavy atmosphere.
Minoru Arakawa sat at the head, his face dark as storm clouds. His piercing gaze bore into the marketing manager, who spoke haltingly, each word weighed with burden.
“President, several major media outlets… are questioning our promotional strategy,” the manager began cautiously, wary of provoking his stern boss.
“They argue that branding the NES as a ‘family entertainment system’ dodges the term ‘game console,’ misleading consumers.” He paused, then added, “Some articles even call it… deceptive marketing.”
“Deceptive?” Arakawa’s head snapped up, eyes sharp as blades, cutting through pretense.
Bang! His fist slammed the table, rattling a water glass. Fury surged within him. “A bunch of bastards!”
The manager’s voice dropped, barely daring to meet Arakawa’s eyes. Arakawa’s anger was a volcano ready to erupt. “To avoid the Atari crash’s stigma, we packaged the NES as a fresh, harmless family device. And now they call our efforts ‘deceptive’!”
He stood, hands braced on the table, voice low but commanding. “What do they want? For the NES to fail in North America?”
“Act now!” he pointed at the manager, his tone ironclad. “At all costs, squash these negative voices!”
“Contact those media outlets, pay them to shut up!” Arakawa’s eyes glinted with ruthlessness. “Ramp up GG advertising! We’ll flood the market, showing everyone what the NES is and what it brings!”
Meanwhile, San Francisco, Sega of America Headquarters.
David Rosen’s office was far calmer. Leaning back in his wide leather chair, he listened to reports of Nintendo’s troubles, a slight smile playing on his lips, as if watching a good show.
“Oh? Our pushed stories got bought out?” he repeated slowly, fingers tapping the armrest, mulling something over.
“Yes, sir. Some media hinted that ‘Nintendo paid too much,’” his subordinate replied respectfully.
David nodded, a calculating glint in his eyes. “Arakawa’s still too green. Thinks money solves everything—naive.”
He leaned back, his smile widening, anticipating the drama’s next act. Nintendo’s struggles were Sega’s opportunity. He calculated how to seize the moment and win.
Money solves problems?
Nintendo’s “entertainment system” sugarcoating underestimated the media’s nose and the deep scars of the Atari crash.
