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Chapter 23 - The First ACG Collision
🕑 Added 2025-09-14 11:37:48 +0000 UTCIn the afternoon, Takuya and Suzuki stood outside Tatsunoko Studio, sunlight filtering through tall buildings, casting dappled shadows on them.
Suzuki dabbed his forehead, his meticulously ironed suit unable to mask his nerves.
“Relax, Suzuki-san,” Takuya said, patting his shoulder with a chuckle. “We’re here to offer money—they’ve no reason to refuse.”
Suzuki managed a weak smile, still uneasy. This was Sega’s first foray into animation and manga, a far cry from promoting gaming machines. Pioneering uncharted territory unnerved this conservative soul.
Inside the studio, a rich creative atmosphere enveloped them. Walls adorned with classic animation posters and concept sketches silently boasted Tatsunoko’s storied legacy.
The receptionist politely led them to a small second-floor meeting room. Simple in setup—a long table, a few chairs, and walls hung with posters of Tatsunoko’s iconic works.
Takuya stood by the window, gazing at Musashino City’s streets. Outwardly calm, his heart buzzed with anticipation.
Footsteps broke the room’s quiet.
A slightly stout middle-aged man entered, hair neatly combed, sporting gold-rimmed glasses and a professional smile, exuding poise.
“Hello, I’m Shutaro Oba,” he said, extending a hand to Takuya and Suzuki. His gaze lingered on Takuya, curious about the young project lead.
“An honor to meet you,” Takuya replied humbly. “I’m a huge fan of your Urusei Yatsura and Iron Fist Kid.”
Oba smiled, exchanging pleasantries. The three sat, engaging in light small talk. Oba showed cautious curiosity about Sega’s cross-media venture but wanted to know what made this “fighting game” worth such a fuss.
“Director Oba, what’s the biggest challenge in adapting a fighting game into an animation?” Takuya asked, breaking the ice.
Oba adjusted his glasses, speaking slowly. “The challenge is turning simple one-on-one battles into a compelling story. From what you described, fighting game characters risk being flat, lacking depth. Pure fighting bores audiences quickly. The fights must serve the story. Only with a complete narrative and rich characters do battles avoid feeling hollow—at least in animation.”
Takuya nodded, impressed by Oba’s insight, seeing the core issue instantly.
More footsteps sounded, and the door opened again.
A tall, angular-faced man entered, hair slightly unkempt, expression tinged with fatigue and contemplation—Masami Kurumada.
Suzuki rose quickly, bowing respectfully. “Director Oba, Kurumada-sensei, this is Takuya Nakayama from Sega’s game development, the lead for the ‘K’ project.”
“Takuya-san, this is Director Shutaro Oba, known for Urusei Yatsura and Iron Fist Kid, and Masami Kurumada-sensei, celebrated for Ring ni Kakero and Fuma no Kojirou in Shonen Jump.” Suzuki’s introduction was concise yet formal, highlighting their stature and Sega’s commitment.
Kurumada nodded briefly in greeting. He was in low spirits, reeling from Otoko Zaka’s cancellation, and needed a new outlet to prove his worth.
Takuya stood, his confident smile unwavering. “Masters, it’s an honor to collaborate with you.”
He turned to Oba. “Director Oba, you hit the key issue. Pure fighting grows tiresome quickly.”
Facing both, his tone earnest, he continued, “Sega’s a game company, but the ‘K’ project isn’t just about promoting a game.”
“Fighting game may sound simple, even crude,” Takuya paused, “but imagine this world.” His voice, soft yet clear, reached every ear. “Wealth and crime flourish unchecked, where official order falls short.”
“In this world, a group of extraordinary fighters exists.”
“Not street brawlers,” Takuya stressed. “Some inherit ancient martial arts, their moves both lethal and steeped in legacy; others forge themselves in desperation, honing body and mind to unimaginable heights; some may even tap into forces beyond common understanding.”
He noticed Kurumada’s eyebrow twitch slightly.
“Through intense training, these fighters master incredible techniques, wielding superhuman reflexes, speed, strength, and timing, capable of facing armed foes with ease.”
“The key is: why do they fight?” Takuya looked at Oba. “That’s the soul we’ll give this world. Fights must serve the story.”
“These stories are the characters’ flesh and blood. Every punch, every block, should carry their resolve, anger, sorrow, or hope.”
His gaze swept both men. “We’re not asking you to fill in visuals and plot for a basic game concept.”
“On the contrary, we want to build this ‘dark urban martial world’ together, creating vivid, charismatic characters and gripping stories. Let this world come alive in animation first.”
“Then, through the game, we’ll deliver this world, its characters, and their fiery clashes to audiences and players craving passion and emotion.”
He paused, letting the vision settle.
“The ‘K’ we’re building is a starting point, a grand stage for countless compelling stories—a world where audiences feel the visceral impact of every blow and connect with the characters’ fates.”
The room fell silent. Oba adjusted his glasses, his eyes now appraising, no longer distant. Kurumada, previously quiet, leaned forward slightly, fingers tapping the table, a flicker of long-suppressed creative spark in his eyes.
Suzuki exhaled quietly, sensing the room’s tension ease.
He steered the topic to Fatal Fury’s core story.
Seeing the mood soften, Suzuki jumped in, a hint of excitement in his voice. “The world Takuya-san described—we’ve got a preliminary story concept that could serve as our discussion’s starting point.”
