Makoto Yamashina slowly opened his palm. Under the glimmering light of the chandelier, the words on the small note became clear.
It contained a few neat lines in English, followed by a Japanese annotation:
[American Society for Testing and Materials (ASTM), Standard PS72-76: Focus on risks of choking hazards from small toy parts for young children.]
Then another line followed:
[ASTM F963-86 Standard: Mandatory Age Classification Requirements. Clearly marked 'Not for children under 3 years old,' with detailed physical safety testing standards for different age groups, including torque, tension, and impact tests.]
Yamashina's eyes sharpened.
He wasn't from a technical background, but as the president of Bandai, he instantly understood the true weight behind this piece of paper.
This wasn't some casual suggestion—it was a ready-made professional guide! A document capable of silencing both the bureaucrats at the Ministry of Trade and Industry and the loudest critics in the media.
What Takuya Nakayama had handed him earlier wasn't just a "knife" for self-regulation—this was an entire sword manual.
With these internationally recognized, market-proven industry standards from across the ocean as their blueprint, Japan's toy industry could now form a credible grading system—not built on fantasy, but on proven data and legitimate precedent.
They could even make it more precise, better suited to Japan's context!
Moments ago, he had been worrying—how should the industry define self-regulation?
Who would set the standards? Too lenient, and it would be meaningless. Too strict, and it would kill their own market.
Now, Nakayama had quietly placed the perfect answer in his hand.
"President?" One of Bandai's directors, noticing his shifting expression, couldn't help but ask.
Yamashina clenched the note so tightly that his palm began to sweat, nearly soaking the paper through.
He looked up, eyes blazing.
This—this was power. Authority. Influence.
Why had Takuya Nakayama come to him, and not to Takara's president, or Sanrio's CEO?
Because Sega—or rather, that calm, unassuming young man—was handing him, Makoto Yamashina, and Bandai, the leadership seat of the entire Toy Industry Self-Regulation Association!
And the price?
The price was simple: Bandai had to be the first to step up, wave the banner high, and execute this plan flawlessly.
What a grand move. What a terrifyingly brilliant young man.
"Call in Mr. Sato from Takara and President Hori from Sanrio," Yamashina said in a low but commanding tone. "Tell them this: Bandai will lead the development of the toy industry's grading standards. I already have a plan."
"Yes, sir!"
He took a deep breath, glancing toward the distance.
There stood Takuya Nakayama, chatting easily with the manga executives, smiling as if the whole storm were nothing but a chess game—and he was the one quietly redrawing the map of a new world atop the ruins.
The old Showa-era businessmen were still stuck in their defensive mentality—thinking about survival, about huddling together and pretending not to see the danger.
But this young man… he was already designing the architecture of the post-crisis era.
"Sega… the Nakayama family…" Yamashina murmured, eyes gleaming with both awe and excitement. "That's one hell of a favor they just handed us."
And Bandai—would gladly accept it.
---
The conference at the New Otani Hotel had barely ended when the winds of public opinion across Japan suddenly shifted.
That same evening, during prime-time news broadcasts, viewers were stunned to see a subtle change in tone across all major TV stations.
No longer were anime, manga, and games lumped together with the "perverted murderer" narrative. Instead, broadcasters began inserting a new development—joint statements from Toei, Shueisha, Sega, Bandai, and dozens of other industry giants.
They publicly and firmly condemned all forms of child pornography and announced the formation of an independent self-regulatory organization, along with plans to establish a national content rating system and embrace government oversight proactively.
But to certain predators already sharpening their knives in the media—this looked like nothing more than their prey's final struggle.
The next day, the backlash came roaring.
Yomiuri Shimbun's editorial page screamed with a headline:
"Too Little, Too Late—Is This 'Self-Regulation' True Repentance or Just a PR Stunt?"
The article questioned the credibility of "self-supervision," stirring public distrust and calling for direct government intervention to conduct a "thorough purge" of the industry.
On Fuji TV's morning show, a so-called social commentator slammed his fist on the desk:
"So the thieves form a neighborhood watch—and that proves they're innocent? This so-called self-regulation is nothing but a shield to dodge real scrutiny!"
Within hours, phrases like "Self-management isn't management" and "The industry is protecting its own criminals" spread like wildfire.
---
At Sega headquarters, President Hayao Nakayama turned off the TV.
The image of the furious commentator vanished, leaving the office in silence—just the reflection of father and son in the dark screen.
He glanced at Takuya. "The media's hitting harder than our projections. Are all the next steps in motion?"
Takuya Nakayama was calmly rinsing a tea set. His movements were smooth, unhurried, almost meditative.
"Yes." He poured out the first wash of tea, then refilled the pot, pouring a cup for his father and one for himself.
"Let them shout," he said softly. "The louder they yell, the better."
He lifted his cup, gently blowing away the steam.
"The more they curse us, the more they build our stage for free. They're gathering all of Japan's attention for us. When we finally unveil the curtain… their faces will be priceless."
Hayao Nakayama took a slow sip, silent—but inwardly, he knew.
If his son spoke like this, there was always another move coming.
"Public opinion is like a spring," Takuya said with a faint smile, setting his cup down. "The harder you push it down, the stronger it rebounds."
"Our public statement was step one—showing our intent to change. They didn't believe it, so they attacked us—that's step two. Stirring up the chaos."
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Now it's time for step three."
"Mr. Toshio Suzuki from Studio Ghibli just called," he continued. "Director Miyazaki's interview with NHK has already been recorded. It airs tomorrow at noon."
---
And indeed, the following day—NHK's flagship noon news show aired an exclusive interview with Hayao Miyazaki.
On screen, the legendary animator looked tired but fierce—his eyes burning with conviction.
"I don't know how that demon fell so far," he said, voice trembling slightly.
"But in his collection, you won't find my works."
"My films do not contain filth, vulgarity, or anything disgusting."
"I am a creator. My words are my works."
"In our industry, there are those who corrupt it—but there are also those among us who bear responsibility to society."
"We welcome scrutiny and criticism. But please—judge us by our creations, not by a criminal who shares nothing with us but a medium."
Every word struck like thunder.
It was as though a surge of pure, clean air had swept through the murky swamp of public outrage.
That afternoon, NHK's phone lines exploded with calls. Viewers from across Japan voiced their support:
"He's right! You can't destroy My Neighbor Totoro and Castle in the Sky just because of one lunatic!"
"At least the industry dares to face the problem head-on! Better than those lazy tax-sucking politicians!"
The tide of public opinion began to shift.
But for Takuya Nakayama, this was still only the beginning.
Sega's initiative had lit the signal fire. One by one, new self-regulatory councils for anime, manga, games, and toys were officially established—each unveiling charters, mission statements, and operational rules across Japan's newspapers.
Bandai even released an early prototype of its new grading system—based directly on the ASTM F963-86 standard from the U.S., the very same mandatory safety classification rule.
Its clear structure and international credibility won over both regulators and the public alike.
Yet—this was still not the end of Takuya's grand strategy.
This was only the opening act of his "Media War."
Please Support me by becoming my patreon member and get 30+ chapters.
[email protected]/Ajal69
change @ with a
Thank You to Those who joined my Patreon