Ajal.
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Chapter 102: Bringing in Sony
🕑 Added 2025-10-02 11:23:01 +0000 UTCChuta paused, his tone casual, as if commenting on an inconsequential street deal. “This way, Bandai’s board and shareholders would be thrilled, pocketing an extra dividend by year’s end.”
He gently placed his teacup back on the exquisite rosewood table, the cup’s base producing a faint but distinct sound as it met the surface. His usually mild eyes now fixed on Takuya unapologetically, carrying an air of probing intensity that brooked no argument.
“But, Takuya-kun,” Chuta Mitsui leaned back in his chair with an air of relaxed confidence, his distinct knuckles tapping slowly on the pearwood armrest, emitting soft clicks that broke the tea room’s tranquility, “this deal may be a nice bonus for Bandai, and perhaps a lifeline for Sega. But for me, Chuta Mitsui, personally…”
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze seeming to pierce through Takuya to some distant point, as if awaiting an expected answer.
“It doesn’t seem to offer me any direct benefit, does it?”
The words were delivered without a trace of emotional fluctuation, flat and straightforward. As the final syllable landed, the silence in the tea room grew heavier.
This was the moment.
Takuya felt no tension—on the contrary, his heart lightened. He had been waiting for this question. If Chuta had agreed outright without raising personal demands, that would have been cause for real concern.
The real negotiation was only now beginning.
Takuya adjusted his posture, easing back slightly from his forward-leaning position, his spine instinctively straightening. His hands rested naturally, clasped on the table. The true contest had just started.
“Mr. Mitsui, I’ve heard you hold significant shares in Sony as well,” Takuya said.
Chuta’s hand, holding the teacup, paused almost imperceptibly, the gyokuro tea rippling faintly. Sony? This young man’s reach was impressive. His shareholding in Sony wasn’t a secret among industry insiders, but for a first-time “distant nephew” to point it out so confidently as a bargaining chip was intriguing. He sipped his tea, letting out a noncommittal “hm,” his eyes sharpening with curiosity.
“Sega can develop a bespoke game tailored for Sony,” Takuya continued, his voice steady, betraying no hint of nervousness.
Chuta’s brow twitched slightly, but he remained silent, watching Takuya, waiting for more. A game for Sony? What was this kid up to?
“This game,” Takuya said, pausing to ensure every word landed clearly, “could be designed to leverage Sony’s recent heavy investment in the LaserDisc player—LD—which has yet to meet market expectations.”
The words hit their mark. Chuta’s fingers tightened briefly around the teacup, a flicker of genuine surprise breaking through his calm facade, followed by rapid calculation.
Sony’s LD player. The words stirred ripples in his mind. It was indeed a project that he and other Sony executives had poured significant resources into, yet it remained a sore point. Cutting-edge technology, superior visuals, yet the market wasn’t biting—high costs and a lack of compelling content made the LD player a white elephant, weighing on Sony’s books and Chuta’s mind. Boardroom discussions had repeatedly hinted at cutting losses.
Now, this young man proposed using a game to revive it?
“A game… to promote LD?” Chuta’s voice carried a trace of unnoticed astonishment, overshadowed by piqued interest. He set down his teacup and leaned forward slightly—a sign he was genuinely engaging with the proposal. “Takuya-kun, your idea is… unexpected.” He chose his words carefully, masking the stirrings of excitement. Using a game to jumpstart a hardware market sounded far-fetched, yet coming from this young man, it carried an oddly compelling allure.
Takuya met his gaze, unflinching. “The LD’s technical capabilities are ideal for delivering high-capacity, high-quality interactive entertainment. It just lacks a ‘killer app’ to ignite the market. A well-crafted, innovative exclusive game could be that spark.”
Chuta fell silent, his fingers absently tapping the rosewood table. He was calculating swiftly. If—by some chance—this kid could pull it off? A revitalized LD business would boost his standing on Sony’s board and yield tangible financial gains far outweighing Bandai’s modest “bonus.” The temptation was far greater and more direct.
He chuckled softly. “Sony’s old guard has been tearing their hair out over LD sales. If you can deliver, they might just build a shrine to you.”
The lighthearted remark eased the tea room’s tension.
Then, Chuta’s expression turned serious, his eyes sharp and deliberate. “If,” he said, each word weighted with authority, “your plan proves feasible and can effectively drive LD sales, then I, Chuta Mitsui, will personally ensure the licensing issues with Sunrise and Toei are resolved.”
This was a promise of immense weight.
Takuya’s taut nerves relaxed slightly, though he maintained his composed and respectful demeanor. He had successfully tied a seemingly intractable copyright issue to an unrelated market challenge, pinpointing the critical leverage point.
“Thank you, Mr. Mitsui,” Takuya said, bowing again, this time with heartfelt gratitude.
“I’ll finalize the game proposal as soon as possible and arrange for you and representatives from both companies to review and discuss it.”
“Good,” Chuta nodded, a genuine smile spreading across his face, replacing earlier scrutiny with something akin to an elder’s appreciation for a promising junior. “I look forward to a proposal compelling enough to sway Sony—and me.” He raised his teacup, gesturing for Takuya to drink, his tone now warmer.
“The gyokuro’s getting cold. Let’s have another pot.”
He summoned the tea master to brew a fresh pot of fine tea.
