Early July. In Sega's top-floor office, the air conditioner hummed, sealing out Tokyo's humid clamor. Takuya Nakayama reviewed a Dentsu report on *Pokémon: Mewtwo Strikes Back*'s first two promotional phases. Media exposure and public buzz were sky-high. Survey respondents cited varied reasons for interest: *My Neighbor Totoro*'s April success boosted trust in animated films, Pokémon's anime and pet fans were hooked, and the cloning ethics debate drew curious onlookers.
Toho, having seen the report, confidently allocated 35% of theater screens to the film. As Takuya prepared to brief the remaining campaign phases, his internal line rang. "Executive Nakayama, Toho's distribution department." He pressed the connect key. "Put them through."
The voice was Toho's Matsuoka, the hard-nosed director who fought over every film frame. "Executive Nakayama, it's Matsuoka," he said, sounding weary yet candid. "I've been in distribution twenty years, and I've never seen anything like this." He paused. "This morning, Toei and Shochiku execs blew up my phone, fishing for who's behind your campaign. They've dissected it, baffled how a serious cloning ethics topic sent a cartoon's hype through the roof."
Takuya leaned back, gazing at the bustling city, a smile curling. "Matsuoka-san, we didn't create the topic. It's always been there—in newspapers' corners, university lectures. We just put it under the spotlight at the right time." Matsuoka, incredulous, pressed, "That's it?" Takuya replied, "That's it. But we made it vivid, not like some professor's dry talk."
Matsuoka sighed, a mix of realization and self-mockery for clinging to old ways. "We keep shoving content at audiences, forgetting what's on their minds," he said, now like an eager student. "Your campaign's got two phases left—its full power's yet to come." Takuya teased, "The best is still ahead." Matsuoka turned serious. "I'm not just congratulating you. Next big project, Toho wants first dibs. Name your price; we'll fight for screens." Takuya didn't hesitate. "Of course. Sega's vault holds more than Pokémon. When the time's right, we'd love to partner with Toho for the big screen."
Hanging up, Takuya set aside the Dentsu report and picked up an MD software sales summary. Third parties following Sega's advice to launch ports before July's summer season reaped huge rewards. Technos's *Double Dragon*, Konami's *Jackal*, and Taito's *The Legend of Kage*—proven on arcades or FC—thrived on MD's hardware, with stellar sales figures. Porting costs were recouped easily, profits delighting their boards.
An industry weekly's anonymous quote stood out: "On Sega's platform, we feel unprecedented respect. They share clear plans, warn of storms, and guide us to safe harbors. It's unlike Nintendo, where you're always on edge, nickel-and-diming cartridge runs, fearing arbitrary punishment or expulsion." A note added: *This view is widely shared among third-party developers.* More studios were eyeing MD as their primary platform.
Takuya approached a massive whiteboard mapping the console war. Sales updated by the marketing head showed MD's Japan sales surpassing 2.5 million units, cementing its market foothold. North America hit a historic 1 million units, Europe 400,000, with global sales nearing 4 million. Takuya circled "North America 1M" in red marker. Japan's victory was secure; the next frontier was overseas.
Competitor data showed NEC's PC Engine growth flattening, labeled: *Software offensive stalled, momentum weak.* Nintendo's FC held a massive install base, but its recent software slate was thin, noted: *Third-party waver, in transition, but counterattack imminent—stay vigilant.* Takuya agreed. Pokémon's heavy blow and Sega's lenient third-party approach had gashed Nintendo deeply. The beast was licking its wounds, gathering strength. Before Nintendo's counterstrike, Sega had to prepare for the next market clash.
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