Sega's Third Development Department was as sweltering as a midsummer asphalt road, buzzing with fervent activity. The office echoed with keyboard clacks, heated discussions, and occasional bursts of test sound effects.
Takuya Nakayama hunched over his desk, eyes glued to scrolling code, fingers dancing across the keyboard. The "K" project, Fatal Fury, had reached the critical demo-building phase.
After early stumbles, the team unleashed remarkable efficiency and creativity.
"Takuya-kun, Terry's move animations are integrated smoothly—better than expected!" a programmer, sweating from excitement like he'd run a marathon, reported eagerly.
Takuya looked up, a satisfied smile forming. "Great work! Keep it up, and we'll have a playable demo by month's end."
"Hai!" The programmer saluted energetically and dashed back to his station.
Takuya stretched, easing his stiff neck.
A voice came from behind. "Takuya-san, you're looking relaxed. No coding for you?"
Without turning, Takuya knew it was his recent friend, Yuji Suzuki. He spun around, grinning. "You're one to talk. Done with Hang-On and now just loitering in Team 3?"
Yuji Suzuki shrugged, clapping Takuya's shoulder. "Your game's too intriguing. I can't help wondering what a fighting game in a flat plane, or even 3D, would be like."
Takuya shrugged back. "When the tech's ready, you'll make it happen."
Inwardly, he marveled—Yuji was already envisioning Virtua Fighter.
Grabbing his jacket, he said, "Keep looking. Share any ideas with Shimizu-san. I'm off to Tatsunoko."
Soon, Takuya arrived at Tatsunoko Studio.
Walls were plastered with Fatal Fury character designs and concept art.
Director Shutaro Oba and key animators were locked in intense script storyboard debates.
"The punch needs more exaggerated force to capture street fighting's raw impact!" Oba insisted.
"No, Director, it should be restrained to keep some realism, matching the manga artist's style. These frames are just transitional, not a key fight," an animator countered.
Takuya stepped in tactfully. "Director Oba, I think Uta-san's point makes sense. Overdoing transitional fights reduces the visual contrast for climax battles. It also helps distinguish regular brawls from the fighters' fantastical special moves. Just my two cents—what do you think?"
Oba paused, then nodded, accepting animator Kazuhiko Utagawa's suggestion. "You're right. This enhances the climax's impact. I've been carrying habits from Urusei Yatsura. Thanks for the catch, Uta-san."
Kazuhiko Utagawa, pleased his idea was adopted, dove back into reviewing keyframes.
Leaving the studio, it was evening.
Back at Sega's building, Takuya overheard marketing staff chatting.
"Heard Pac-Man's Famicom version got delayed."
"No way! That's Namco's winter flagship. Why the change?"
"Who knows? Rumor says it's Nintendo's call, dodging some competition…"
Takuya's steps faltered.
Pac-Man Famicom delayed?
With "K" project's animation hype building through Tatsunoko and Shueisha, and Nintendo's domineering style, it clicked. This wasn't random. Hiroshi Yamauchi, the old fox, sensed "K"'s threat—a targeted snipe.
A faint smirk crossed Takuya's lips.
No anxiety, just a sense of "all according to plan."
Nintendo's reaction confirmed "K"'s weight. It played right into his hands.
Time to add fuel to the fire.
A counterstrategy to leverage "K"'s momentum began forming in his mind.
Meanwhile, Sega's top-floor boardroom was as heavy as the leaden sky outside.
The third-quarter board meeting was in session.
David Rosen, weary from a rushed North American trip, stood before a projector, reporting market data.
"Board members, regrettably, North America's situation… isn't optimistic," his voice rasped.
"Nintendo's NES, driven by Super Mario Bros., has reversed its negative press. Sales are surging, heavily suppressing our Master System rollout."
The projector's cold sales graph starkly showed Sega's console market struggles.
The room fell deathly silent.
Directors' brows furrowed, faces grim.
Hopes for the console market shattered under harsh reality.
Challenging Nintendo head-on in consoles looked bleak, filling many with worry and frustration.
Hayao Nakayama sat at the head, his face unreadable.
His sharp gaze swept over anxious faces, landing on his trusted sales director, who nodded subtly.
The sales director stood, clearing his throat. "Everyone, North America's challenges show we can't keep chasing Nintendo's tail."
His voice broke the silence, clear and forceful.