A week passed quietly amidst countless document reviews and discreet networking.
Takuya almost buried himself in the material of Bandai and Sunrise, with the office lights often burning through the night. Interviews, industry analyses, annual shareholder reports, and even outdated business magazines and news clippings piled up higher than him. The basic information collected by the Marketing Department, in his view, was merely the tip of the iceberg floating on the surface of the sea. What he needed was the enormous entity beneath the surface, the capital networks and personal connections hidden behind cold numbers and official rhetoric that could truly influence decisions. Some information even required special channels and considerable cost to obtain even a fraction of it.
The game development progress for the new console, however, was proceeding in an orderly fashion, which allowed him to breathe a sigh of relief. However, daily routine inspections were indispensable; if he didn't personally oversee these games, he worried that some overly self-centered individuals among Sega's developers might alter the core themes he had set. But after a round of inspections, no problems were found.
These advancements brought Takuya some comfort, but a string deep within him remained taut.
As long as the authorization contract for the robot anime was not signed, the guys in Development Group Eight would not be able to truly settle down.
Especially for "super robot wars," a project into which they had poured countless efforts and dreams, if it ultimately couldn't be developed by them due to copyright issues, it would undoubtedly be a torment of day and night. He had even witnessed several times core members of Group Eight sighing over robot model setting books in the lounge, as if they had lost their beloved toys.
Bandai's shareholder list was densely annotated by him with different colored pens; every name, every layer of shareholding relationship, every seemingly unrelated concurrent directorship, was like a thread that needed careful scrutiny. He tried to find the fulcrum that could leverage the entire network, the key person who could establish a subtle connection with the Mitsui Zaibatsu or other potential allies. This was undoubtedly like searching for a needle in a haystack, tedious and grueling. Sometimes, he would even stare blankly at a long string of common surnames like "Satō" and "Suzuki," wondering if he had missed any crucial information.
It wasn't until a name appeared that Takuya looked at it a few more times.
Mitsui Chuta.
This name was inconspicuous on the long list of shareholders, holding less than three percent of Bandai's shares, not even ranking among the top ten shareholders. Takuya initially just scanned it as a matter of routine, without paying too much attention. However, when he imported all shareholder information into the database for cross-referencing analysis, this name popped up again. What caught his attention was an annotation that followed it—this person also held over one percent of the shares on Sony's shareholder roster.
Sony!
It was as if something suddenly clicked in Takuya's mind. Sony, this behemoth, although a direct competitor to Sega in the console market in his previous life, had not yet entered the market now, and behind it were also complex zaibatsu interests. If this Mitsui Chuta had equity ties with Bandai, was also connected to Sony, and was named "Mitsui"...
He immediately picked up the phone and dialed his home number. When the call connected, a familiar "Moshi Moshi" came from the other end. He recognized it as his mother, Nakayama Miyuki, and tried to make his voice sound calm, as if casually mentioning something.
"Mom, do you remember a person named Mitsui Chuta?"
On the other end of the line, Nakayama Miyuki's voice paused slightly, evidently recalling.
"Mitsui Chuta… Hmm, he's from our Mitsui main family. If you count it, he's a distant cousin of mine."
She thought for a moment, then added, "But he's a low-key person, and his main focus is on his own investment ventures. He doesn't visit our side of the family very often."
Distant cousin.
This relationship, neither too close nor too distant, was just right.
Takuya began to plan in his mind.
Directly contacting this distant uncle would seem abrupt and might even mess things up.
He decided to ask his maternal grandfather to step forward.
His maternal grandfather held high prestige in the Mitsui family; having him convey the message would show respect and be more reliable.
One week later.
A tastefully decorated private tea room in Ginza, Tokyo.
In the air, the fragrance of tea intertwined with the faint scent of sandalwood.
Takuya sat upright.
Across from him was a gaunt middle-aged man, Mitsui Chuta.
"Takuya-kun, no need to be so reserved."
Mr. Chūta's voice was gentle. He personally poured Takuya a cup of clear yellow gyokuro, his movements unhurried.
"The great name of 'pokémon,' and its founder Takuya Nakayama, I have heard mentioned several times at Bandai's board meetings."
Mr. Chūta picked up his own teacup and took a sip.
"Meeting you in person today, you are indeed young and promising. Miyuki is fortunate to have a son like you."
His words carried both the casualness of an elder and an assessment of this "distant nephew's" capabilities.
Takuya respectfully performed the junior's bow:
"Mr. Chūta, you flatter me. I apologize for intruding today, but I do have a favor to ask."
He didn't beat around the bush; in front of such a person, it was better to state his purpose directly.
Mr. Chūta gave a soft "Mm," indicating for him to continue.
"Regarding Sunrise's refusal to grant Sega IP authorization," Takuya's tone was steady, "I presume, might there be a factor from Bandai behind this?"
As his words fell, the tea room became silent.
Mr. Chūta put down his teacup, the bottom gently tapping the expensive wooden table with a faint sound.
"Your guess is correct."
He answered very directly, confirming Takuya's judgment.
"Bandai and Sunrise have cooperated for many years; of course, they wouldn't be happy to see someone jump out and snatch this piece of cake."
Indeed.
Takuya's speculation was confirmed, perfectly aligning with his father's analysis and his week-long investigation results. Bandai was indeed the force behind it.
"Sega is willing to exchange interests with Bandai," Takuya calmly began, briefly outlining the pre-prepared proposal, "in exchange for Bandai no longer setting any obstacles regarding the IP authorization for Sunrise, and even Toei Animation."
After listening, Mr. Chūta picked up his teacup and gently stirred the floating gyokuro tea leaves with the lid, but did not immediately drink. He toyed with the warm porcelain cup, his gaze assessing Takuya from behind the misty tea vapor. After a moment, he finally looked up, his eyes carrying a hint of scrutiny, and the corners of his mouth almost imperceptibly twitched upward.
"Takuya-kun, your calculation is indeed shrewd." Mr. Chūta's voice was not loud, but it carried a unique penetrating quality, each word clear. "If the 'sincerity' offered by Sega is enticing enough, those old fellows on Bandai's board of directors have no reason to turn down money. After all, you specialize in games, and they focus on toy merchandise. Although Bandai also makes some games, that's just small-scale, and I generally know their technical level; they just make a bit of money from fans. The overall conflict isn't significant, and if Sega can develop good games, you can even promote each other and boost sales. It certainly sounds like a very profitable deal. Especially since you even want those old anime IPs that have been sitting in their archives for years, for some people at Bandai, this is almost like 'resource utilization,' so why not?"