Osaka, Kita-Shinchi.
A discreet alley hid a refined little restaurant called "Shizuki."
No large signboard, no gaudy lanterns—yet it was the favored meeting place of politicians and business elites seeking absolute privacy.
Nakahata Ryoji's channels were discreet, and Kamizuki Keimasa's reply had come swiftly.
The two had quickly agreed to meet here.
After all—this was Konami's territory.
Led by a server through a pebble-lined courtyard, Nakahata stepped into an elegant tatami room. Kamizuki Keimasa was already there, kneeling before a low table, leisurely admiring a cluster of heavenly bamboo outside the window.
"Mr. Nakahata, thank you for coming all this way," Kamizuki turned with a warm smile—like a host welcoming an old friend rather than a corporate rival.
"Not at all. It's my honor to be received by President Kamizuki," Nakahata replied with an equally polite smile as he took his seat.
Neither had brought attendants.
That alone spoke volumes.
"I heard Konami's been doing quite well in the arcade market lately. Sunset Riders has made your company a fortune," Nakahata began with polite flattery.
"Haha, just a small success. The credit goes to my team."
Kamizuki poured Nakahata a cup of sake, the glass a beautifully cut piece of kiriko.
"As for Sony—your results in Walkmans and televisions are true triumphs. Our tiny ventures can't compare."
He dismissed Konami's arcade success with casual humility, and deftly shifted the topic to Sony's traditional hardware lines—carefully avoiding the subject of game consoles altogether.
Nakahata cursed the old fox in his heart.
He hadn't come all the way here to hear praise for Sony's ancient consumer electronics.
But Kamizuki refused to take the bait.
He chatted leisurely about food, Osaka's weather, recent seasonal ingredients—perfectly friendly, impeccably courteous, and utterly impenetrable.
Time slid by.
Dishes arrived, were eaten, and removed.
Kamizuki ate slowly, savoring every bite as if this meal were the true purpose of their meeting.
In contrast, Nakahata found every dish tasteless.
He felt like a man carrying a priceless treasure, trapped at the door while the host forced small talk about the neighbor's dog.
This old man's patience was terrifying.
Just as Nakahata lifted his cup, preparing to force the conversation toward business, Kamizuki leisurely spoke—almost as though he had finally remembered something trivial.
"Come to think of it, the game industry has been lively lately."
He lifted a translucent slice of sea bream, brushed it lightly through soy sauce, and continued unhurriedly:
"Sega is making quite the fuss—CD units, a so-called 'Dream Team' with Square… The noise never ends.
Nintendo, meanwhile? The SFC keeps rumbling like distant thunder, yet third-party hits still haven't materialized. Hard to understand what they're thinking."
Only after savoring the fish did he raise his eyes, a teasing glint within them.
"And Sony—I hear your SFC-CD project with Nintendo hasn't seen much progress?"
Finally.
The fox had opened the gate.
Nakahata straightened, ready.
But he did not reveal Sony's true intention—developing an entirely independent console.
That would be stupid.
It would hand all leverage to Kamizuki.
Instead, he put on a troubled expression and sighed.
"President Kamizuki, you know how it is. Nintendo's attention is all on SFC cartridges. As for CDs—this 'future technology'—they're quite indifferent.
Our engineers at Sony are full of ideas, but nowhere to use them."
He raised his cup toward Kamizuki and shifted his tone, injecting the faintest hint of temptation.
"We sometimes imagine… if a visionary, capable company like Konami were willing to join us—if together we could prove the true potential of CD-based games—
the entire industry might look very different."
He said no more.
He simply watched Kamizuki.
The air between them tightened.
Kamizuki set down his chopsticks.
The smile in his eyes faded—replaced by a sharp, penetrating look.
When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, yet carried undeniable force.
"Mr. Nakahata…
Are you saying Sony intends to bypass Nintendo and publish SFC-CD games independently?"
Nakahata's heart slammed against his ribs.
Here it comes.
Nothing escaped this man.
He was about to follow that line when suddenly Kamizuki continued—giving him no room to maneuver.
"No…
That's not it."
He shook his head—rejecting his own hypothesis, yet simultaneously voicing the truth Nakahata dared not admit aloud.
"A giant like Sony wouldn't be satisfied being merely a publisher. You want to use Nintendo's SFC-CD project as cover, build your own ship in the shadows, and then set sail directly…
Is that it?"
The words landed like a hammer.
Cold sweat soaked Nakahata's back.
All the careful preparation—shredded in an instant.
Realizing concealment was pointless, he straightened and bowed slightly.
"President Kamizuki… your insight is unmatched."
"Hahahahaha!"
Kamizuki burst into hearty laughter, echoing through the refined room.
"Marvelous! Truly marvelous! Nintendo raises a tiger and doesn't even know it! This game is getting more interesting by the minute!"
When he finished laughing, he lifted his cup, eyes bright with barely concealed excitement—excitement for chaos.
"So tell me, Mr. Nakahata—
your ship…
do you want Konami to be the first to board?"
"Not the first passenger," Nakahata replied steadily.
"A partner who shares the helm."
"Partner?"
Kamizuki rolled the word on his tongue.
"A partner's ticket doesn't come cheap."
"We're prepared to offer the utmost sincerity," Nakahata replied immediately.
"A royalty rate far more generous than Kyoto's president would ever offer.
Priority access to technology.
And Sony's global distribution network.
We believe creators deserve the greatest rewards."
Kamizuki understood instantly.
Money—plenty.
Support—decisive.
He nodded, satisfied—but still cautious.
"Sounds wonderful.
However… Konami believes good games should be played by everyone.
We won't be chained to any single ship."
A clear refusal of exclusivity.
Nakahata wasn't surprised.
He hadn't come for a contract anyway, only to place Sony's intention directly into Kamizuki's hands.
And that much was already achieved.
Kamizuki would talk; the third-party world would know.
As for whether he'd inform Nintendo or Sega—that hardly mattered.
He certainly owed neither loyalty.
Nakahata raised his cup.
"Naturally. We respect Konami's choices. Then—shall we hope for a pleasant cooperation?"
"A pleasant cooperation."
The two clinked cups.
Once business had passed, the air relaxed.
They ate, drank, and finally began enjoying the food.
Just as Nakahata thought the meeting was ending, Kamizuki lifted a piece of fatty toro and spoke casually:
"Oh yes, Mr. Nakahata.
I hear Panasonic has been… unusually restless lately."
Panasonic?
Sony's lifelong rival in the consumer electronics battlefield?!
Nakahata froze mid–chopstick.
He forced his smile to remain intact.
"Oh? Whatever do you mean? I thought they were focused on appliances and VCRs."
"Well, times change."
Kamizuki chuckled, lifting his cup with an inscrutable glint in his eyes.
"Just a few days ago, someone spoke with me about 'the future.'
The wording was… shockingly similar to yours today."
Boom.
It felt like a hammer struck Nakahata's chest.
Sony was not the only defector.
Panasonic—another colossus—was quietly preparing the same rebellion.
Cold dread crawled up Nakahata's spine.
He had imagined Sony as the lone Greek warrior sneaking toward the city gates.
But outside the walls…
another, perhaps fiercer, army was already gathering.
Kamizuki sat above it all, watching with relish.
Nakahata forced a smile, swallowing the turmoil inside him.
"Well… perhaps great minds think alike. Confidence in the future, after all."
Kamizuki's smile widened.
And then he dropped another bomb—this one almost casual.
"Speaking of which, something amusing is happening in America.
You know Trip Hawkins, yes? The founder of EA?"
Of course Nakahata knew.
A titan—creator of North America's foremost software empire.
"Well, I hear he's resigned.
Looking for investment.
Planning to start a brand new company."
Nakahata jerked his head up.
This was no coincidence.
Not when mentioned alongside Panasonic.
Was Kamizuki hinting Sony should recruit Hawkins?
Secure a software titan for the PlayStation?
Try to win EA's allegiance during this transition?
Or was he saying—
Panasonic already had Hawkins?
Or… was he simply showing off his information network, reminding Nakahata that in this game, Konami held more cards than any of them?
Nakahata's thoughts tangled and spun until he felt faint.
He looked at Kamizuki—the gentle smile, the eyes that saw everything—and for the first time truly felt the man's depth.
Kamizuki watched his frozen chopsticks and pale expression, then finally dropped the last veil—smiling faintly.
He placed the piece of toro into his mouth, savoring it before speaking.
"Mr. Nakahata… what's wrong?"
"This toro is exquisite.
Leave it too long, and it would be a shame."
Following his cue, Nakahata lifted a piece of toro and placed it on his tongue.
But the rich, luxurious fat tasted like wax.
His mind whirled, connecting every fragment of information:
Panasonic.
Trip Hawkins.
A rival giant.
A software mastermind.
Two thunderbolts detonated in his chest, shattering all the confidence he had brought tonight.
Kamizuki was not chatting.
Every word he had spoken was a scalpel—
cutting open Sony's illusion of secrecy and laying the brutal reality bare:
—Sony is not the only player.
—Others are already moving.
—And their pieces may be bigger.
Nakahata forced down the fish, throat tight.
He lifted his cup, seeking relief in the sharp burn of sake—
Only to see Kamizuki smiling quietly at him.
A smile of total understanding.
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