July 23rd, Tuesday.
With fifteen minutes still left before the agreed ten o'clock, Ouji Hiroi was already standing at the entrance of Sega's headquarters.
The receptionist at the front desk had clearly been informed in advance. Smiling politely, she led him straight toward the executive director's office.
The excitement and exhilaration from a few days ago, after fermenting through several sleepless nights, had settled into a restless mix of anticipation and anxiety, leaving the creator unable to calm himself.
When he pushed open the office door, Takuya Nakayama was standing by the window, holding a cup of freshly brewed tea.
"Mr. Hiroi, you're quite early," Nakayama said as he turned around. He gestured toward the sofa in the reception area and set a steaming cup of sencha on the coffee table in front of him.
The curling tea aroma eased Ouji Hiroi's taut nerves just a little.
He accepted the cup with both hands but had no mood to savor it, speaking impatiently instead. "Executive Director Nakayama, about what you mentioned at the premiere last time—"
"Don't rush," Nakayama said with a smile, waving his hand gently as he took a seat across from him. "That idea came to me on the spur of the moment when I saw you that day. It wasn't fully formed yet. That's precisely why I invited you here today—to have a professional like you help turn it into a complete project."
The words were both modest and skillfully placed, subtly handing over creative initiative. Ouji Hiroi felt a warmth in his chest.
"Please, go ahead," he said at once, sitting upright. He pulled out a notebook and pen from his briefcase, looking fully prepared.
"Let's start with the setting," Takuya Nakayama said, leaning forward slightly as he sketched out a vast world. "We'll place it in a fictional 'Taisho Era.' It sounds like the real Taisho period, but it isn't exactly the same. That way, audiences can easily anchor the time period, while we retain freedom to introduce surreal elements—such as highly developed steam technology."
Ouji Hiroi's pen paused, his eyes lighting up.
Taisho. Steam.
Just those words together already carried a unique romantic allure.
"In this world, besides humans, there are also 'demons,'" Nakayama continued. "In the past, people could only rely on warriors with innate spiritual power, wielding spirit blades and similar weapons to fight them."
He paused briefly before revealing the core concept.
"But in our story, technology has advanced. Humanity has developed steam-powered machines that require spiritual energy to operate. I call them 'Spiritual Armor.'"
Steam-powered mecha!
Ouji Hiroi's breath caught. Wasn't this exactly his specialty? Ever since Mashin Hero Wataru, he had held a particular affection for stout, charming machines of this kind.
"However, spiritual power isn't something everyone possesses," Nakayama went on. "Those capable of piloting Spiritual Armor are exceedingly rare. And so, an organization called the 'Imperial Combat Revue' comes into being, recruiting spiritually gifted girls from all over the world."
"Girls?" Ouji Hiroi echoed instinctively.
"Yes—girls in the prime of youth," Nakayama said with a faint smile. "But it doesn't end there. To the public, the Imperial Combat Revue's identity is that of the 'Imperial Theater,' a performance troupe."
"In other words, these girls are stars on stage in peacetime, performing song and dance to sustain the troupe. In wartime, they pilot Spiritual Armor to defend the Imperial Capital of Tokyo."
"Idols… and soldiers?!" Ouji Hiroi was completely stunned. His pen began flying across the page, desperately trying to capture the surge of inspiration.
"Exactly. Imagine it—a group of adolescent girls who are colleagues competing under the spotlight, yet comrades who entrust their lives to one another on the battlefield. Practice, performances, combat—how many conflicts and stories would naturally arise from daily life like that?"
Nakayama's question sent Ouji Hiroi's mind racing.
Vivid images surfaced—girls switching between stage and battlefield, overflowing with dramatic tension.
"But—such a team would be hard to manage," Ouji Hiroi said, immediately identifying the problem.
"Which is why," Nakayama snapped his fingers, "the Imperial Combat Revue selects a young male naval officer, also gifted with spiritual power, to serve as the captain of this all-female unit—the 'Flower Division.' And in our game, the player takes on the role of that captain."
The answer was revealed.
Ouji Hiroi jerked his head up, his face filled with shock and ecstasy.
Romance simulation, role-playing, tactical combat, troupe management—countless game genres collided in his mind, assembling into a grand blueprint unlike anything before.
"Genius! Executive Director Nakayama, this concept is pure genius!" Ouji Hiroi leapt to his feet, pacing the room. "And since the members are recruited worldwide, once the Tokyo story is told, we could have a Paris Combat Revue, a New York Combat Revue—this could be a project that lasts ten years!"
Watching him completely ignited, Takuya Nakayama smiled with satisfaction.
"That's why I need your help, Mr. Hiroi, to give flesh and blood to this framework," he said calmly, lifting his tea cup. "Sega's marketing department will contact Red Company soon to finalize the collaboration. You'll be responsible for overseeing the project as a whole."
"No problem—leave it to me!" Ouji Hiroi thumped his chest, then suddenly thought of something. "Executive Director, since the setting includes the Imperial Theater… could we conduct field research at a real theater troupe? Only then can we capture the authentic feeling."
"That was my intention as well," Nakayama replied, setting his cup down. "Sega has a good relationship with Toei. Through them, I can arrange contact with the Takarazuka Revue."
"Takarazuka?!" Ouji Hiroi exclaimed.
That was the holy ground of Japanese musical theater.
"Exactly," Nakayama explained. "Our 'Imperial Theater' is largely inspired by the Takarazuka Revue. It was founded in 1913—right at the beginning of the Taisho Era. And its defining feature is an all-female cast, with women playing male roles."
"That aligns perfectly with our Flower Division—an all-girls unit."
Seeing Ouji Hiroi's dawning realization, Nakayama added, "In an entirely female environment, having the captain as the sole male makes the romantic storylines with each heroine far more convincing, doesn't it?"
That final piece snapped into place, completing the puzzle flawlessly.
Ouji Hiroi felt his scalp tingle as he looked at Takuya Nakayama with near-reverence.
This young executive hadn't merely come up with an idea—he had already laid out its cultural roots, commercial logic, and emotional framework, waiting only for execution.
"I understand—I completely understand!" Ouji Hiroi nodded vigorously, carefully closing his notebook filled with notes as if it were a priceless treasure.
"Executive Director Nakayama, I'll return immediately to organize my thoughts. I won't disappoint you!"
Before the words had fully left his mouth, he bowed deeply and turned to leave, his movement stirring a rush of air, as though he couldn't spare a second.
But after taking just one step, Ouji Hiroi froze.
He turned back abruptly, the creative frenzy on his face replaced by a vital doubt.
Looking at Nakayama, his eyes shone with solemn intensity.
"Executive Director Nakayama… this great project of ours—" his voice trembled with excitement, "it doesn't have a name yet."
A name.
To a creator, it wasn't just a label—it was the soul and banner of the project.
Takuya Nakayama smiled.
He calmly lifted the now-lukewarm sencha and took a small sip, clearly unsurprised by the question.
"Sakura."
Nakayama set the cup down, uttering the word evenly.
"Sakura?" Ouji Hiroi repeated. In his mind bloomed a vision of pink petals filling the sky—an image perfectly suited to the romance of the Taisho era and the flowerlike brilliance of the girls.
"Wars."
Nakayama followed with the final word, his tone calm yet decisive.
"Sakura Wars?"
Ouji Hiroi rolled the four syllables across his tongue. From a whisper, his voice grew louder, his eyes widening as if struck by lightning.
Sakura—girls, the Flower Division, the dazzling stage of the Imperial Theater, Taisho romance, youth and beauty.
Wars—Spiritual Armor, roaring steam, desperate battles against demons, iron and blood in defense of the capital.
Ultimate softness and ultimate strength.
Ephemeral beauty and life-or-death conflict.
Two seemingly opposite words fused into a name that perfectly encapsulated the project's core tension and allure.
This wasn't just a title—it was poetry, a painting, a distillation of the entire story.
"Genius—absolute genius!" Ouji Hiroi clutched his briefcase, knuckles whitening. "Executive Director Nakayama, this name—it was born for this project!"
"Then I'll leave it to you, Director Hiroi," Takuya Nakayama said lightly, his form of address shifting without notice.
That single word—Director—sent a shiver through Ouji Hiroi.
From this moment on, he knew he no longer carried just an idea, but an entire world called Sakura Wars.
"Yes! I will not fail you!"
This time, he didn't hesitate. After bowing deeply once more, he practically ran out of the office.
The door closed, and silence returned.
Takuya Nakayama drained the cold tea in one gulp, the intense brainstorming leaving his throat dry.
The seed of Sakura Wars had been planted. With Ouji Hiroi personally at the helm and Sega pouring in resources without restraint, this flower was destined to bloom magnificently.
Returning to his desk, Nakayama noticed a blinking email notification on his computer.
The sender was the Silicon Valley Online project team in the United States.
Opening it, a detailed progress report filled the screen.
The writing style was characteristically direct and confident, opening with:
"Hey, Takuya—good news. ICQ's core framework is complete, and it's even cooler than we expected!"
The main software development was nearly finished, but the report also mentioned a modest issue.
"Regarding the login and user authentication module, we've run into a 'happy problem.' The top-tier hackers we recruited are too good. They've been arguing for three straight days over whose encryption algorithm is more elegant and reliable. Every morning they arrive and start fighting again. Don't worry—we've separated them and will pressure-test each solution independently. We'll have a final answer soon."
Takuya Nakayama couldn't help laughing.
In the real world, these unruly geniuses might have been headaches for the FBI—but here, their creativity had been guided onto the right path.
Tasking them with guarding the gateway to a digital world was perfect.
The email concluded:
"Overall software is expected to enter internal testing by mid-next month. We can't wait to see internet users around the world connect through our platform!"
Nakayama typed a brief reply:
"Excellent work. Security is the top priority for login—user accounts must be guarded like a vault. Looking forward to the final build."
After sending it, he leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly.
Outside the window, the sunset painted the sky in brilliant shades of orange and red.
Everything was ready—only the final wind was missing.
Next would come a carefully orchestrated encirclement of Nintendo.
Recent logistics data suggested Nintendo was stockpiling hardware in North America beyond just the FC and Game Boy.
It seemed the SNES launch in North America was imminent, with Nintendo aiming to dominate the winter shopping season.
But what they didn't know was that Sega had already prepared a grand gaming feast.
A faint smile curved Takuya Nakayama's lips as he imagined North American teenagers clutching their hard-earned allowance and part-time wages, standing in game stores before Sega's dazzling wall of cartridges, torn between joyful agony and desire.
As for Nintendo—
A glint of amusement flashed in his eyes.
He hoped the players would still have money left to buy the SNES.
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