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Chapter 154: New Authority, New Strategy
🕑 Added 2025-10-21 11:21:07 +0000 UTCThe Mega Drive’s near-two-million first-month sales were a shot of adrenaline, electrifying every corner of Sega. Employees moved with a spring in their step, laughter lacing their chatter, buoyed by visions of a brighter future. Takuya Nakayama’s name echoed through these triumphs, his reputation soaring to new heights within the company.
Days later, Sega’s top-floor boardroom, the seat of its highest authority, hosted the first board meeting since MD’s launch. President Hayao Nakayama sat at the head, his weathered eyes scanning the directors before resting on his son.
The meeting began without preamble, his deep voice launching the first agenda. “Before today’s routine matters, I have an announcement.” All eyes locked on him. “On behalf of the board, I formally commend Executive Takuya for his exceptional talent in MD’s development, launch lineup, and marketing strategy.”
A trace of pride colored his tone. “From the console’s core concept to its launch titles and disruptive marketing, Takuya’s contributions were the cornerstone of MD’s first victory. Given his outstanding work, the board has decided to elevate Executive Takuya Nakayama’s authority, effective immediately, to deeply participate in shaping Sega’s overall strategic planning and gain independent proposal rights at board meetings.”
The room stirred briefly, then fell into a deeper silence. This wasn’t just a promotion—it was an official endorsement of status. Takuya rose, bowing deeply to his father and the board, ignoring the complex gazes around him.
The seasoned directors, veterans of corporate battles, now regarded Takuya with genuine scrutiny and respect. Someone began clapping, and soon the room filled with warm applause. As it faded, Takuya spoke, his voice clear and humble. “Thank you for your recognition. I don’t claim this success alone. MD’s triumph is the result of our hardware, game development, marketing, and production teams’ tireless collaboration, and the unwavering trust and support from my father and the board. I merely did modest work at the right time.”
He bowed again, crediting the collective. The directors’ guarded expressions softened, their eyes showing real admiration for his ability and maturity beyond his years.
Takuya scanned the room, meeting each director’s gaze briefly. “Our first win came from seizing a moment created by technological shifts and market demand. We met players’ desires with superior hardware and experiences they craved but couldn’t find elsewhere. Our open stance united a wide array of third-party developers, proving our path is correct.” His concise breakdown of MD’s success—chip choices, open third-party policies, and diverse launch titles—blended sharp insight with youthful vigor, earning silent nods from older directors.
The commendation seemed to conclude, the mood lightening. But Takuya didn’t sit. “MD’s start is strong, but it’s only the beginning.” As the room expected his remarks to end, he shifted gears, seizing attention. “President, directors, I have a preliminary strategic vision for Sega’s future to present.”
The room froze, even Hayao Nakayama’s brow twitching slightly. The air grew taut again. Takuya took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping the board, then delivered a bombshell: “I call it the ACGN Comprehensive Strategy.”
ACGN? The unfamiliar acronym puzzled the directors, their faces a mix of confusion.
Takuya didn’t rush to explain, instead hooking them with a fact. “You’ve likely reviewed the 1987 fiscal draft, particularly *Pokémon*’s data.” The directors’ expressions turned serious—they’d seen the staggering numbers. “One game IP’s anime licensing, manga publishing, and merchandise generated profits far beyond the game itself, with sustained revenue potential.”
The room was silent, his voice resonating. “A successful IP’s value extends far beyond games into multiple domains.” He broke down ACGN: “A: Anime. C: Comic. G: Game. N: Novel.” Each word landed like a hammer. “These are Japan’s dominant youth culture mediums, rapidly expanding globally with East-West exchanges—a unique Japanese advantage.”
“Sega must not settle for being a top game developer or hardware maker,” he continued. “We should control and create high-value original IPs, developing and operating them across anime, comics, games, and novels simultaneously.” He paused, letting the revolutionary idea sink in. “This opens countless profit streams and, like *Pokémon*, builds an unassailable brand moat, shielding us from market risks.”
He broadened the vision. “With the Cold War easing, Japan’s cultural exchanges with the West will only grow. This is a golden era for global IP investment and operations. We can’t just focus on Japan’s small pond.”
His proposal thundered through the silent boardroom, its strategic scope far exceeding expectations for an executive. Shock, contemplation, and disbelief mingled on the directors’ faces.
Hayao Nakayama listened quietly, his stern face unreadable. After a long pause, he broke the silence. “Takuya’s ACGN strategy is insightful and bold,” he said, setting a serious tone with his approval. But he pivoted: “However, its scope is vast, with profound implications for resource allocation and direction. It requires utmost caution.” His gaze swept the room. “I propose we delay voting on this strategy. It will be a top-priority agenda at the first board meeting after the 1987 fiscal report’s release, for thorough discussion.”
He looked at Takuya, eyes deep. “Until then, all details of this ACGN strategy are strictly confidential, not to leak beyond this room to avoid market speculation or competitor advantage. Directors, use this time to gather data and assess its feasibility.”
His words balanced presidential caution with paternal protection. The board unanimously agreed.
