Eiji Yamaura closed his notebook, his expression suddenly turning troubled.
"However, Managing Director, there's a major landmine we need to defuse first," Eiji Yamaura said, lowering his voice cautiously. "The original creator, Masaya Takahashi—the bad blood from back then hasn't been fully resolved. He's got a real temper."
Back when Gundam Sentinel was serialized in a model magazine, Masaya Takahashi and Bandai had a nasty fallout over the model planning and copyright ownership, eventually parting ways on terrible terms.
This was the biggest obstacle that had always prevented the project from being animated.
After hearing this, Takuya Nakayama burst into a carefree laugh.
He turned to Kiyoshi Hattori, who had been silently sipping tea with an air of leisure.
"Director Hattori, I'm afraid we'll have to trouble you to handle this one personally."
Kiyoshi Hattori set down his exquisite teacup, leaned back in his chair with an air of absolute composure, and raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? You want me to go and negotiate with Masaya Takahashi?"
"Yes." Takuya Nakayama nodded. "Sega will step forward, bringing cold hard cash and showing full sincerity. The unpleasantness from back then was nothing more than a dispute over profit distribution and a loss of decision-making power—not some blood feud over a murdered father or a stolen wife. There's no deal in this world that can't be closed."
Kiyoshi Hattori nodded. He had conducted these kinds of placating negotiations a thousand times, if not eight hundred, in his life. This was his specialty.
"Besides," Takuya Nakayama added, a hint of schadenfreude in his voice and a mocking smile on his lips, "Bandai was the one who caused the trouble back then. Those guys at Bandai were so greedy and blatant that they completely alienated him. Now, we've got Bandai brought to heel. You just go and tell Masaya Takahashi that Sega is here to help him reclaim the ground he lost back then."
Kiyoshi Hattori couldn't help but laugh out loud, pointing a finger at Takuya Nakayama.
"Understood. I'll make sure he sees Sega's sincerity."
"Whether we buy out the copyright or enter a partnership, I'll leave it to you. Money is no object," Takuya Nakayama said, his smile fading as he added a serious condition. "But there is one requirement: he must be invited onto the Production Committee and personally participate in the editing process. We need to ensure the script's style doesn't stray. Only when the original author personally oversees the project will the fans feel it's authentic and be willing to pay for it."
"Leave it to me. I'll make sure it's handled perfectly," Kiyoshi Hattori agreed immediately.
As the Gundam mess was sorted out piece by piece, the atmosphere in the meeting room turned light and cheerful once again.
Matsushima listened from the side, his heart pounding with excitement, too absorbed to even wipe away his sweat.
Sega's decisive, direct, and "money-is-no-object" approach filled him with boundless confidence in Sotsu's future after its acquisition by Sega.
Following a boss like this, how could I ever worry about not getting a piece of the action?
Eiji Yamaura also let out a long sigh of relief.
The major problems that had plagued Sunrise for years were being resolved by Takuya Nakayama with just a few words and a few laughs. It felt like a dream.
Takuya Nakayama picked up the water glass from the table and took a leisurely sip.
"That's all for today's agenda. I've laid out the grand plan, and it's enough to keep everyone busy for a while. Meeting adjourned—barbecue's on me!"
Sega Headquarters Building, Investment Department's exclusive trading room.
The air conditioning was cranked so high the room felt like an icebox, a stark contrast to the sweltering, humid July heat outside in Tokyo.
Dozens of computer monitors emitted a faint blue glow, illuminating faces flushed with extreme excitement. The rapid-fire clatter of keyboards filled the air, thick with the scent of adrenaline.
Hoshino had already shed his suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging askew. He stood at the central console, clutching a stack of foreign exchange market reports freshly printed from the terminal.
On the screens, the Baht-to-US Dollar exchange rate curve continued its descent, plummeting like a kite with its string cut.
But that was no longer today's main event. With the first domino fallen, the real show was just beginning.
"Director Hoshino! The Philippine Peso's offshore exchange rate has broken through the psychological support level! The defense line has collapsed!" a trader shouted, his voice cracking with excitement as he bolted to his feet.
"The Malaysian Ringgit is facing a massive sell-off! Our contacts in Kuala Lumpur report that their central bank is panicking and preparing to intervene forcefully!" another trader shouted, his voice urgent.
"The Indonesian Rupiah is seeing violent volatility in the spot market, and the selling pressure is still doubling!"
Hoshino took a deep breath and slammed the crumpled briefing in his hand onto the desk.
"Close the net!" Hoshino commanded, his words rapid and laced with unquestionable decisiveness. "Close all our long positions in Manila, Kuala Lumpur, and Jakarta—immediately! Don't leave a single cent behind! Lock in the profits now!"
The traders quickly sat down, their fingers dancing across keyboards, leaving afterimages in their wake.
With the crisp clack of the Enter keys, a torrent of capital, like a burst dam, flowed silently through the complex financial conduits back into Sega's secret offshore accounts.
Whoosh—
The heavy, soundproof automatic doors of the trading room slid open.
Takuya Nakayama strolled in with a light step.
He carried a chilled glass of Oolong tea he'd just grabbed from the breakroom, its surface glistening with beads of condensation.
"Whoa, Hoshino-san, the AC is cranked so high, you'd think Sega had pivoted to the chilled meat wholesale business," Takuya Nakayama joked with a smile. He strode over to Hoshino, expertly pulled out a spacious leather swivel chair, and sat down, crossing his legs comfortably.
"All the early positions closed out?" Nakayama took a large gulp of the iced tea, letting out a satisfied ahhh as his eyes casually swept over the screen, which was covered in a sea of green data.
"All closed. We didn't leave them a single cent," Hoshino said, pulling up a summary interface of several accounts and sliding it toward Nakayama. His eyes burned with barely contained fervor. "Managing Director, this is the biggest windfall of the year. With the Baht's collapse, the defenses of the surrounding countries crumbled like wet paper. Our early investments in their domestic markets have already doubled in value—it's faster than a money-printing press!"
Nakayama glanced at the staggering string of numbers on the screen, raising an eyebrow in satisfaction.
"Move fast. Launder this money and transfer it in batches back to our secure accounts in Hong Kong," Nakayama said, setting the still-chilled glass on the desk. "What's the next move? We can't just stand by and let the Wall Street crowd eat all the profits, can we?"
Hoshino immediately produced a brand-new, top-secret stamped trading plan and handed it over.
"Riding the current momentum, we will sequentially build NDF (Non-Deliverable Forward) short positions on the Philippines, Malaysia, and Indonesia. Meanwhile, we'll take light short positions on the stock indices of these countries, kicking them while they're down."
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