The day after the interview aired.
Sega headquarters' phone lines were completely swamped.
"Hello! This is the Sega Sales Department!"
"What? Story of Seasons? It's sold out everywhere?!"
"Emergency reorder? How many? Thirty thousand sets?!!"
The sales staff were stunned. The initial release of fifty thousand units had been sluggish, even considered difficult, and now they were out of stock.
All the executives who had previously questioned Takuya Nakayama looked with surprise at this unusual sales trend.
Takuya Nakayama immediately called Hayao Miyazaki and sincerely expressed his thanks.
On the other end of the line, Miyazaki-san's voice sounded unconcerned, as if he had only done something insignificant.
"I only spoke the truth."
"Nakayama-kun, you've shown me the future, and you've given me another reason to keep working in the animation industry. I'm very grateful to you."
"You are too kind. When I have another good work in the future, I will certainly ask for your guidance again."
Miyazaki-san laughed and hung up.
As the player base began to grow, word-of-mouth quickly became polarized.
One segment of players, especially animation fans and Miyazaki-san's supporters, were completely captivated by the game.
"The experiences in this game are truly heartwarming and healing. This is the true spiritual core of My Neighbor Totoro!"
However, the other segment—mainstream players attracted by the massive fame and sales—cried foul.
"The most boring game ever made! No combat, no clear objective, I wanted to fall asleep after playing for two hours!"
"The pacing is infuriatingly slow! Is this art? Don't make me laugh!"
This debate quickly stirred up a huge commotion in gaming magazines like Fami通 and on player forums, unexpectedly sparking Japan's first small-scale public discussion on "Gameplay vs. Artistry" in the gaming industry.
Takuya Nakayama, the producer who developed Story of Seasons, a game that ignited an industry discussion about "artistry," was completely unconcerned with the external commotion at that moment.
He was on mandated leave.
It was a non-negotiable "Supreme Order" from his mother, Miyuki Nakayama.
Just a week prior, Takuya Nakayama had just finished a department meeting celebrating the comeback sales of Story of Seasons and returned home, only to be intercepted by his mother at the entrance hall.
Miyuki Nakayama pointed at the television, where her older son's son, who was already in elementary school, was playing an MD game, and then looked back at her younger son, who had been working for four years after graduation and didn't even have a shadow of a girlfriend.
For the first time, a look of angry disappointment—the kind that comes from a parent who feels their child isn't living up to their potential—flashed across her well-maintained face.
"Takuya."
"I don't care if you're a Senior Managing Director, and I don't care how many people like your games."
"Look at your older brother's son, he's already in elementary school!"
"And you? What do you have besides work?"
"I'm telling you, I've already set it up for you. It's the daughter of Mr. Nakagawa, the President of TV Tokyo, an old friend of your father—Miss Eri."
Mrs. Nakayama delivered the final command in an uncompromising tone.
"This weekend, you are going on a blind date, period!"
"If you dare mess it up, I'll have your father shut down all your projects, and you'll stay home every day researching how to have children for me!"
Thus, Takuya Nakayama could only sit up straight at L'OSIER, Tokyo's top French restaurant in Ginza.
The light refracted by the crystal chandeliers cast a brilliant, soft glow, yet it made him feel more uneasy than facing the board of directors.
The air was filled with the expensive aroma of truffle and butter.
The crisp sound of silverware lightly touching the top-grade porcelain plates was amplified several times over in the overly quiet environment, striking against his nerves again and again.
Just as he picked up his water glass, using the movement to slightly relax his tense back, a gentle yet polite voice sounded in front of him.
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Takuya Nakayama?"
Takuya Nakayama looked up.
Under the soft lighting of the restaurant, a girl in a light-colored dress stood by the table, bowing slightly, her posture as elegant as a figure stepped out of a classical painting.
She had long, silky black hair, fair skin, and refined, soft features. Especially her eyes, which were as clear as a mountain spring, held just the right amount of a gentle smile.
Her entire demeanor exuded a quality called "Yamato Nadeshiko" (the ideal of a traditional Japanese woman).
Eri Nakagawa was, indeed, just as beautiful and graceful as the picture his mother had shown him.
Takuya Nakayama felt a flicker of admiration. Cultivating such a temperament was mandatory for the daughter of a prominent family.
He immediately stood up, gave a slight nod, displaying impeccable etiquette.
"Yes, I am Takuya Nakayama. You must be Miss Eri Nakagawa? Please have a seat."
"The weather is quite nice today."
After saying this opening line, Takuya Nakayama couldn't help but feel a bit helpless and want to laugh.
He could stand before the titan of the animation world, Hayao Miyazaki, and paint a grand technological vision for the next thirty years. Yet, at this moment, facing a woman his own age, even a polite sentence felt so bland.
He somewhat awkwardly turned his head, his gaze drifting towards the distant Tokyo Tower outside the window, pretending to admire the skeletal steel structure.
In recent years, the women he interacted with were either resolute female subordinates or sharp, capable business partners. A girl who could simply sit quietly, her eyes conveying a warm aura with every glance, was truly his first time encountering one in this capacity.
"Yes, the air in Ginza is much fresher after the rain," Eri Nakagawa replied.
The Eri Nakagawa across from him didn't mock his awkwardness; instead, she smoothly picked up the dry topic with an extremely natural demeanor.
Her voice was as soft as the soothing music flowing in the restaurant, easily dissolving the slight tension in the air.
She rested one hand on her delicate chin, tilting her head slightly, her clear eyes holding a hint of understanding and amusement.
"Mr. Nakayama, you don't seem very comfortable in occasions like this?"
This gentle teasing instantly relaxed Takuya Nakayama's tense nerves.
He candidly met her gaze and shook his head with a wry smile.
"I apologize for letting you see that."
"Compared to a top French restaurant, I'm probably more accustomed to being in a development room full of circuit boards and code."
"That's amazing, too."
Eri Nakagawa's eyes instantly lit up. It wasn't polite flattery, but genuine admiration.
"Being able to create a world that brings joy to countless people is itself a magical thing."
She didn't pursue the cliché topic of family background but precisely focused on his career. This appropriate conversational skill both cleverly eased the awkwardness and made Takuya Nakayama feel respected.
After a few casual exchanges, the atmosphere quickly warmed up.
When discussing work, Takuya Nakayama was completely back in his element. Talking about several projects he oversaw, he naturally brought up the best-selling game of the year, Pokémon Red/Green.
"...So, our initial idea was very simple: we just wanted to create something that would allow children to connect with each other, exchange joy, and share secrets."
"Pokémon?"
Eri Nakagawa's reaction was much more enthusiastic than Takuya Nakayama had expected.
It was as if she had suddenly remembered a treasure. She excitedly pulled a small, pink device carefully out of her Hermès handbag.
"Are you talking about... this?"
Takuya Nakayama focused his gaze, and the corners of his mouth instantly curved upward uncontrollably.
It was none other than the "Mew" edition virtual pet he had strongly pushed for to boost the MD's launch—a device with a global limit of only fifty units!
The surprise in his eyes was unmistakable: "You have one of these?"
"I specifically stated that only fifty of these units would be produced as prizes for the MD launch event raffle."
"Of course!" Eri Nakagawa held the small pink device in her palm, carefully wiping the screen with her fingertip, her face showing unconcealed pride and delight.
"I had to ask a lot of people and spend a considerable sum of money to buy this from a collector! Fifty units is just too few for a limited edition!"
She shook the "Mew" device in her hand, her tone carrying a hint of a little girl's playful petulance.
"I named it 'Little Dream.' Isn't it cute?"
Watching the genuine, utterly undisguised brilliant smile on her face, the barrier between them, created by their family backgrounds and status, instantly vanished.
Takuya Nakayama completely relaxed.
So, this flawless Yamato Nadeshiko, who seemed to step out of an ancient painting, could also become so excited over a small virtual pet. This contrast made the girl in front of him suddenly seem incredibly vivid and real.
After discussing Takuya Nakayama's accomplishments, the conversation shifted to Eri Nakagawa.
"Me? I don't have much to talk about," Eri said, stirring the lemon water in her glass, her tone somewhat helpless. "At TV Tokyo, they say I'm familiar with how various programs operate, but in reality, everyone just keeps me around as a mascot. They never let me get involved in any core work."
She stuck her tongue out and made a face. "My daily job is studying, sitting in on meetings, and then reviewing a pile of documents that my father has already stamped."
This slightly self-deprecating complaint only increased Takuya Nakayama's favorable impression of her.
He thought for a moment and said, "Isn't TV Tokyo currently promoting the 'Establishing the Station through Animation' strategy?"
"Yes, but those established animation studios either look down on us as the 'eternal sixth-place station,' or they ask for an exorbitant price." Eri sighed. "Father has a real headache over it."
Takuya Nakayama's mind immediately started working.
He put down his knife and fork, leaned slightly forward, and his expression turned serious: "Miss Nakagawa, perhaps I can help you."
"Hm?"
"I'm on relatively good terms with several animation production companies. For instance, Tatsunoko Production, which made Fatal Fury for Sega, or Studio Ghibli, which made Princess Mononoke, and I also know people at Sunrise and Toei Animation."
Takuya Nakayama looked at her, his eyes conveying a confidence that put her at ease.
"If you're interested, I can help make an introduction and arrange a meeting. Not in my capacity as a Sega Senior Managing Director, but as your friend. You can speak with them directly, show them your plans and your sincerity."
Eri Nakagawa froze.
The hand holding her glass stopped mid-air, and for a moment, she couldn't find her words.
Since childhood, she had heard endless flattery and encountered countless people with ulterior motives. In their eyes, she was first and foremost the "Daughter of the President of TV Tokyo," and only then a vague feminine symbol. They either flattered her or held her in awe, but no one, like Takuya Nakayama, had so keenly perceived the ambition and predicament beneath her shine during their very first formal meeting.
More importantly, he was not offering an opportunity in a condescending manner.
"As your friend."
That sentence was like a warm light, instantly dispelling the gloom that had long settled in her heart.
This wasn't just a promise or a connection; it was an equal footing, an acknowledgment, a deep, genuine respect. He recognized her ability, respected her career, and was even willing to use his own resources to pave the way for her dreams.
Eri Nakagawa's hand holding the glass stopped mid-air, and for a moment, she couldn't find the words.
Since childhood, she had heard endless flattery and encountered countless people with ulterior motives. In their eyes, she was first and foremost the "Daughter of the President of TV Tokyo," and only then a vague feminine symbol. They either flattered her or held her in awe, but no one, like Takuya Nakayama, had so keenly perceived the ambition and predicament beneath her shine during their very first formal meeting.
More importantly, he was not offering an opportunity in a condescending manner.
"As your friend."
That sentence was like a key, precisely inserted into the heaviest lock in her heart, turning it gently, and the shackles sprang open.
She suddenly recalled all the rumors about Takuya Nakayama—a young man who broke all the rules but always created miracles. It instantly made her understand why the critical and stubborn Hayao Miyazaki spoke so highly of him.
This man, perhaps a bit clumsy in trivial matters of life, possessed a moving courage and sincerity in what truly mattered.
She suddenly realized that this meeting, arranged by their families, might not lead to the stiffly polite yet utterly lifeless ending she had long anticipated. Nor would it result in the constraint she feared most: being asked to abandon her career and return to the home after marriage.
Eri Nakagawa's tense shoulders completely relaxed at this moment.
She looked at Takuya Nakayama for a long time. The initial shock and confusion in her beautiful eyes slowly melted away.
She suddenly burst out laughing, with a hint of mischief.
"Mr. Nakayama, don't tell me you think my TV station's resources are good and you're trying to make a commercial layout in advance?"
This sudden teasing momentarily stunned Takuya Nakayama, who had just been maintaining the composure of a business elite.
He scratched the back of his head, coughed a bit awkwardly, and his composure, which was as steady as a rock even when facing the board, instantly cracked.
"Well—I didn't think that," he quickly waved his hands, a rare expression of embarrassment on his face. "I was just worried that President Nakagawa would hear I've been corrupting you and send people to Sega to block my door."
Watching his flustered attempt to explain himself earnestly, Eri Nakagawa laughed even harder.
So he could get nervous too. This small discovery made the man in front of her seem much more real.
As her laughter subsided, she dropped the playful look, her face adopting a seriousness she hadn't shown before. She slowly raised her glass of juice; the ice cubes clinked against the glass wall, making a crisp sound that was particularly pleasant in the quiet restaurant.
"Then, Mr. Nakayama—"
Her voice carried an unprecedented lightness.
"—To a brand new beginning."
Takuya Nakayama smiled. He could read all the subtext in her words.
He raised his own glass and gently tapped hers in the air.
"Cheers."
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