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Chapter 97: Waiting for the Best Offer
🕑 Added 2025-10-01 11:32:24 +0000 UTCOsaka’s streets carried less of Tokyo’s frenetic bustle and more of a grounded weight.
Takuya Nakayama drove his RX7 through the commercial district, the engine’s roar echoing between high-rise buildings.
Outside the window, the scenery shifted from vibrant shopping streets to an industrial park, where Konami’s twelve-story modern headquarters gleamed under the sunlight.
In stark contrast to Square’s faded, aging office, this building radiated prosperity.
The glass curtain walls were spotless, the flowerbeds at the entrance meticulously trimmed, and even the security guards’ uniforms were impeccably pressed.
Takuya parked in a visitor spot and adjusted his tie.
Today’s negotiation target wasn’t a struggling company like Square but a sharp, commercially savvy beast.
The lobby’s decor was sleek yet imposing, adorned with posters of Konami’s classic games over the years.
The receptionist’s smile was polished and professional, her uniform pristine, with folders on her desk neatly arranged by color.
“Mr. Nakayama, President Ueyama is waiting for you in the meeting room.”
The meeting room exuded the host’s taste and influence.
Leather sofas emitted a faint scent of fine hide, the tea set on the table was premium Arita porcelain, and while the calligraphy on the walls wasn’t from a renowned master, its elegant framing hinted at considerable expense.
Takuya had barely settled in when the door opened.
Kagemasa Ueyama strode in, of average build, his suit impeccably tailored, his shoes polished to a mirror shine.
Most striking were his eyes—gleaming with shrewdness behind gold-rimmed glasses, as if they could pierce through any business secret.
“Executive Director Nakayama, I’ve heard much about you.”
Ueyama’s handshake was perfectly measured, conveying courtesy while asserting his position.
His smile was warm but carried the calculated distance typical of a seasoned businessman.
“President Ueyama, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet me.”
Takuya matched the commercial pleasantries, quietly observing Ueyama’s reactions.
Once seated, Ueyama personally poured tea for Takuya, his movements smooth and refined.
“I hear Sega’s been making waves lately. It seems you’re gearing up for a big push in the home console market.”
The remark seemed casual but was clearly probing Takuya’s true intentions.
Takuya sipped the tea, its quality undeniably high.
“President Ueyama, you’re as well-informed as expected. Indeed, Sega is preparing a next-generation 16-bit console, and I’m here today hoping Konami will join us as a partner.”
He cut straight to the chase, no unnecessary preamble.
Ueyama’s eyes flickered briefly, but his expression remained a model of business restraint.
“Oh? And what are Sega’s terms?”
Straight to the core—a veteran negotiator’s move.
Takuya set down his teacup and reiterated the third-party policies he had presented to Square.
After he finished, a brief silence settled over the meeting room.
Ueyama picked up his teacup, took a slow sip, and sat in quiet contemplation.
Takuya didn’t interrupt, patiently savoring his tea.
“Executive Director Nakayama, these terms are indeed compelling,” Ueyama said, finally looking up and meeting Takuya’s gaze.
“But I have a few questions. As a challenger, does Sega truly have the resources to sustain these policies?”
The question cut to the heart of the matter.
Takuya was prepared, his expression calm and confident.
“President Ueyama, your concern is valid. But let me ask you this—why would Sega dare to offer such terms?”
“Because we’re confident we can capture market share through superior content, not by relying on monopolistic control.”
Ueyama picked up his teacup again but didn’t drink, merely holding it.
“With such generous treatment for third parties, where does Sega’s profit come from? How long can these policies last?”
The old fox’s true colors showed, each question razor-sharp.
Takuya stood and walked to the window, sunlight streaming through the blinds, casting mottled shadows across him.
“President Ueyama, how long do you think Nintendo’s monopoly can last, especially with such harsh terms for third parties?”
He turned, posing a counter-question.
“The market is always changing. Control only shrinks the pie, while we aim to make the entire market bigger.”
“When the market grows large enough, even a smaller share yields substantial returns.”
Ueyama set down his teacup, a thoughtful glint in his eyes.
The logic was sound—Nintendo’s domineering policies had already sparked industry-wide discontent.
“No need for me to hide this from a well-connected company like Konami,” Takuya said, sitting back down, his tone growing more serious. “The market isn’t just a two-way race between Nintendo and Sega.”
Ueyama’s expression shifted subtly.
“I’ve heard Hudson and NEC have been in close, frequent contact,” Takuya continued, not applying direct pressure but highlighting the market’s complexity.
“Soon, we’ll see multiple console makers vying for dominance. Third parties will play a pivotal role in driving new console sales, making the sincerity of new console makers critical. That’s why Sega is offering such favorable terms.”
Ueyama’s fingers tapped the armrest unconsciously, betraying a ripple of inner turmoil.
He was well aware of Hudson’s collaboration with NEC. Though Hudson’s scale was limited, NEC’s technical prowess was formidable.
If a three-way competition emerged, choosing a side would soon become a priority.
While there was no word yet of Hudson and NEC approaching third-party developers, Sega’s current terms were undeniably the most developer-friendly.
“Executive Director Nakayama, your analysis makes sense,” Ueyama said, carefully choosing his words, his businessman’s caution preventing a firm commitment.
“But a decision of this magnitude requires thorough discussion with our board.”
The response was within Takuya’s expectations.
A businessman like Ueyama wouldn’t commit after a single meeting.
“Perfectly understandable,” Takuya said, standing. “I only hope Konami seriously considers this opportunity.”
“Opportunities are reserved for those who are prepared—and those bold enough to seize them.”
Ueyama stood as well, and the two shook hands again.
“Executive Director Nakayama, thank you for your candor. I’ll carefully consider Sega’s proposal and keep in touch.”
His polite words carried a merchant’s savvy, neither promising anything nor closing the door.
As Takuya left Konami’s gleaming headquarters, he glanced back at the building.
He knew he’d planted a seed in Ueyama’s mind. A profit-driven businessman like Ueyama was destined to join the fray at the right moment—after all, Takuya knew Konami was one of the earliest prominent third-party developers for the Mega Drive.
When that seed would sprout depended on market shifts and the new console’s actual performance.
But at the very least, Konami had heard Sega’s call.
The battle to secure allies had just begun, and every third-party developer was a chess piece to be carefully courted.
Square’s desperation made them easier to persuade, but Konami’s strong position allowed them to hold out for the best offer.
That was the reality of the business world—everyone calculated their own interests.
Yet it was precisely this calculus that convinced Takuya that Sega’s generous terms would ultimately prevail.
After all, in business, profit was the most persuasive advocate.
