In the evening, the Nakayama family's dining room glowed warmly.
Crystal chandeliers cast soft light over a long table laden with dishes—glistening sashimi platters, golden-crisp tempura, and steaming sukiyaki.
Hayao Nakayama sat at the head, his wife Miyuki Nakayama to his left, and his eldest son Katsuya Nakayama and daughter-in-law Reiko Nakayama to his right.
Takuya Nakayama and his sister Ayako Nakayama sat opposite. Young nephew Maruji Nakayama, nestled beside his mother Reiko, sniffed the aromas, his curious eyes darting to his uncle across the table.
The air hummed with the scent of food and the gentle murmur of family chatter. The maid, Keiko Nakayama, quietly served tea and water, her movements so subtle they were barely noticeable.
"Speaking of, Takuya," Ayako set down her ivory chopsticks, smiling warmly at her brother, "that block game you brought home was really fun." She referred to testing the Tetris prototype. "Mom and I have been playing the prototype you left at home—it's hard to stop. How's it going? Is development smooth?"
"Game?" Maruji, clumsily picking at beef with his small chopsticks, looked up, his big eyes wide with excitement. "What game? Blocks? Is it fun, Uncle?" His childish voice pressed eagerly, his small body leaning forward, nearly knocking over a soy sauce dish. Reiko quickly steadied him.
Takuya, charmed by his nephew's enthusiasm, chuckled. "Don't worry, Sis," he replied to Ayako. "The arcade version is complete, debugging's done, and it should soon roll out in Sega's arcades." He paused, adding, "The console and handheld versions are progressing faster than expected."
Turning to Maruji, he lowered his voice playfully. "Soon, there'll be an awesome version you can hold and play anywhere—in the yard, in the car."
"Wow! A game you can hold!" Maruji's eyes grew wider, imagining it, clapping his little hands. "Really? Can I hold it too?"
"Of course," Takuya said, stifling a laugh. "I'll give you one as a gift, okay?"
"Yay! Thank you, Uncle! I'll tell Tarou!" Maruji nearly bounced out of his seat, forgetting his food.
Miyuki and Reiko exchanged smiles, curious about the novel game. Ayako looked at her brother proudly, pleased he'd created something so well-received. The table glowed with familial warmth.
Hayao ate methodically, his movements precise. His occasional glances at his family lingered slightly longer on Takuya, his deep eyes holding subtle scrutiny and thought.
Dinner neared its end.
Hayao wiped his mouth with a napkin and set it down. The room's light chatter faded.
"Katsuya, Takuya," his voice, though soft, carried undeniable weight. "Come to the study."
Miyuki, Reiko, and Ayako exchanged glances, silently agreeing not to pry. Reiko gently told Maruji, "Let's watch cartoons in the living room, okay? Let Daddy and Uncle talk business."
The study door closed, muffling the outside cheer.
Heavy chestnut curtains blocked the night, leaving only a classic green banker's lamp casting a soft glow on the desk. Sandalwood bookshelves exuded a calm, steady scent.
Hayao settled into a wide leather chair, leaning back slightly. Katsuya and Takuya sat on the guest sofa, their postures straighter than at dinner.
Keiko brought three cups of steaming gyokuro tea, the emerald liquid releasing a delicate aroma in white porcelain. She set them down and slipped out, closing the door quietly.
The study was silent save for soft breathing and the steam rising from the tea.
"Katsuya, how's the company doing?" Hayao lifted his cup, blowing gently, addressing his eldest son first.
Katsuya leaned forward, steady as ever. "Father, CSK's enterprise IT system promotion is progressing well," he said clearly. "We've secured major contracts with banks and manufacturers, with significant sums. However," he shifted, "in the SME market, technology adoption is slow, and we face fierce competition from agile local software firms offering lower prices and flexible services." He reported both successes and challenges candidly.
Hayao gave a noncommittal "hm," sipping his tea, tacitly approving his son's steady approach. "Keep at it. Securing major clients is the foundation."
His gaze then turned to Takuya, now sharper, like a honed blade ready to cut through.
"Takuya."
"I hear from Shimizu that the arcade Tetris passed final testing, and the console and handheld versions are nearly done," he stated calmly, confirming facts. "The project's moving faster than I expected. Not bad."
He set his cup down, the clink on the rosewood desk resounding softly.
"So, what's next?"
"Nintendo's Famicom is thriving, dominating Japan. Third-party developers flock to them like stars around the moon. Now, they're reaching for North America, and Yamauchi's ambitions are vast, aiming to replicate Japan's success." Hayao's voice grew low, tinged with coldness and heavy pressure, echoing the grim market report. "And Sega? The SG-1000 and Mark III keep losing ground in the home console market."
"Faced with this, how will Sega break through with just a Soviet block game?"
The question landed like a boulder in a still lake, rippling silently but heavily in the study.
It wasn't just about Tetris's market plan—it was a direct test of Takuya Nakayama's strategic vision and execution.
Takuya felt the weight of his father's words and Katsuya's attentive gaze.
He knew the successful acquisition and rapid development of Tetris had only bought Sega a brief respite, a card to draw some attention.
To truly challenge Nintendo's seemingly unassailable dominance and reverse Sega's home console decline, much more was needed.