Nakayama Takuya once again arrived at Sunrise—this time for the kickoff meeting of Mobile Suit Gundam 0083: Stardust Memory.
The conference room was thick with cigarette smoke. Veteran creators of the Gundam franchise sat around the long table, their expressions grave. These were all old hands—men with the calm weight of countless battles behind them.
After the core staff finished presenting the story framework they had polished for weeks, every gaze shifted naturally toward Nakayama Takuya.
As SEGA's representative on the production committee—especially after the China outsourcing strategy he proposed saved G Gundam a massive amount of money, and after he provided Sunrise with the low-cost kids' anime project Kirby of the Stars—his opinion was no small matter. Within Sunrise, this young executive had already earned a rare degree of respect.
"Executive Nakayama… what do you think of the story framework?" producer Ueda Mitsuaki ventured cautiously.
Takuya smiled and nodded, beginning with affirmation:
"The framework itself is fine. The period after the One Year War and before the rise of Titans—this blank in history does need a work to bridge it. The positioning of 0083 is very precise. It can enrich the Universal Century worldbuilding beautifully. That much, I appreciate."
The atmosphere relaxed visibly.
But then his tone sharpened.
"However, I have several major concerns regarding the character writing."
He raised one finger.
"First, the protagonist: Kou Uraki. A Federation lieutenant who fought in the One Year War—when he encounters Zeon's ace, 'The Nightmare of Solomon,' Anavel Gato, what is his reaction? Blank. Slow. Like some clueless student who's never seen the world.
Is that reasonable?"
"That man is the enemy. A war criminal. Even if he doesn't immediately draw his gun, shouldn't there at least be hatred? Disgust? Instead he behaves like a tourist from Side 6. Unless he's actually from someplace like Von Braun, which he isn't."
"We're shaping the growth of an ace pilot—not a sluggish test dummy whose only emotional reaction is feeling 'shame' when the Gundam gets stolen."
Faces around the table stiffened. The scriptwriters looked especially uncomfortable.
Takuya continued as though he hadn't noticed.
"Now the antagonists—Anavel Gato and Aiguille Delaz. Their 'grand ideals' are far too hollow. 'For the restoration of Zeon!' Shouting this at common soldiers is fine—good for morale. But who are the people in these scenes? Delaz Fleet brass. Opportunists from Cima's unit. Envoys from Axis. All seasoned schemers."
"They've managed to survive three years after Zeon's defeat, stirring up chaos right under the Federation's nose. Are these people really going to repeat empty slogans to one another? Doesn't that flatten their personalities?"
"There should be subtler exchanges, trial balloons, probing dialogue—lines rich with information. A few such lines would instantly deepen the entire story."
"Especially Delaz."
Takuya's gaze swept the room, finally pausing on a plain-looking middle-aged man in the corner.
"He lay low for three years. Calculated every move. And his grand plan is… dropping a colony? Why? Pure revenge? Too simple. Too small-minded for a man who can raise a fleet."
"Is he trying to cripple the Federation's North American breadbasket to destabilize Earth's rule? Or maybe perform a show of force for other Zeon remnants—like Axis—to gain political capital? Even just a hint of these motives would make him far more believable."
"The script needs far more polishing."
His eyes flicked, seemingly casually, toward Imanishi Takashi.
This director was notorious for stuffing ideological baggage into his works—grandiose slogans and faux-heroic rhetoric masking a certain right-wing narrative tendency.
Takuya sneered inwardly.
Not this time.
Not with this project.
With a solid foundation and coherent character logic, there would be no soil for Imanishi's "empty grand ideals."
Imanishi's eyes narrowed behind his lenses, fists tightening under the table.
Silence swallowed the room.
Takuya had just laid bare the core problems with surgical precision.
At last, producer Ueda cleared his throat.
"Then… Executive Nakayama, how do you think we should revise it?"
Takuya leaned back, smile returning.
"My idea is simple. The Universal Century is vast—but we don't need to cram everything into the animation."
He scanned the room. Though he had criticized them harshly moments ago, his tone was now relaxed, almost conversational.
"We can build on the UC timeline through multi-media linkage—in other words, a Gundam Universe Supplement Plan."
"Supplement… plan?"
Series director Tomino Yoshiyuki murmured the words, intrigued.
"That's right." Takuya snapped his fingers.
"For example: a manga. Focused entirely on what happened to the Zeon remnants who fled to Axis after the One Year War."
He began counting on his fingers.
"Haman Karn—just a teenage girl—how did she seize power among scheming generals? Char—how did his relationship with Haman shift from close partnership to separation?
And Minerva Zabi, the little princess—is she a puppet or something else entirely?"
"What about the factions within Axis, and their ties with the Delaz Fleet or even the Zeon Republic under Federation oversight?"
"Make it a manga in Newtype. Core Gundam fans will devour it."
Several scriptwriters immediately grabbed their pens, sketching notes at high speed.
"And Cima Garahau," Takuya continued, a tinge of pity in his voice.
"She deserves her own short novel—or a single-volume manga. I even have a title: Shell of the Cosmos. Tell the story of how her unit—once regular forces—became betrayed pirates struggling to survive."
"Then, when viewers watch the OVA, they'll understand her despair and madness. Her death will hit."
He paused, then smiled slyly.
"And from a commercial standpoint, this is a big move. Manga and novels cost far less than animation. They can heat up the market ahead of time. And Bandai—every prototype Axis mobile suit, every improvised Delaz Fleet unit cobbled together during their early reorganization—that's all perfect new model kit material, isn't it?"
Bandai's representative Mitsui Chuta blinked, then exchanged a knowing glance with his colleague—smiling wide.
Yes—this was exactly the expanded model-kit licensing they'd hoped for.
"And most importantly," Takuya said, expression turning serious again,
"This approach liberates the OVA."
"Stardust Operation can be the sole focus—military realism, political intrigue, Kou Uraki's growth. Tight, uncompromising pacing. Those who want deeper lore get manga and novels. Those who want MS combat get the animation. Clear division of labor. Everyone wins."
Silence returned—this time out of awe.
What Takuya offered wasn't feedback.
It was an entire system.
A blueprint that would elevate the work—and earn serious money.
Producer Ueda's face flushed with excitement.
"Executive Nakayama… this has truly opened our eyes!"
Tomino nodded thoughtfully.
"With such a system, future Gundam productions wouldn't struggle so much with what to include or cut. Side stories can live as manga, novels, MSV, setting books… and the main animation stays focused."
Only Imanishi sat stiff in the corner, eyes growing darker.
This "Supplement Plan" boxed out his ideological monologues completely.
When every character has specific, human motivations and consistent backstory, there's no room left for lofty, empty speeches.
Takuya took a sip of water and continued:
"Gundam—especially the Universal Century—is already a world that can evolve on its own. Every character, event, and mechanic it generates becomes a lasting asset for Sunrise."
"All our UC work must follow one rule:
A consistent worldview and thematic core."
"With consistency, no matter what new stories we create, fans' recognition will not decline—it will deepen."
"UC has outgrown the stage where low-age writing can be applied. Its depth demands an audience of at least young adults."
Screenwriter Takahashi Ryosuke muttered, "Then how do we bring new young fans into Gundam? We can't rely on us old-timers forever…"
Takuya laughed.
"A good question. To attract children, we must create new and lighter universes. For example, G Gundam is already attracting elementary and middle-school viewers, isn't it?"
"When these kids become fans, they'll naturally explore older entries. And when they're old enough to appreciate UC's depth, we'll release a new, high-quality UC work for them.
They'll transition smoothly. Generation after generation."
He spread his hands.
"I call this: Every generation has its own Gundam."
Tomino repeated the words softly—eyes reflecting complex thoughts.
"When you're young, there's always one Gundam that becomes your Gundam," Takuya said firmly. "If Sunrise can ensure that—our mission is complete."
Bandai's Mitsui quickly nudged his subordinate, whispering orders—clearly to check the rental data for earlier UC works.
Takuya wasn't done.
"Additionally, a bold idea."
His gaze swept across the room—finally settling on Tomino.
"We can bring in contributions from veteran fans."
The room stirred.
"You mean… doujin works?" Ueda asked cautiously.
A revolutionary idea for commercial animation.
"Yes." Takuya nodded. "As long as they don't violate our UC framework or thematic core, we can adapt outstanding fan works into official canon."
"Of course, licensing must be cautious—we only absorb works that truly fit Gundam's world. And final approval…"
He looked at Tomino.
"…should be yours, Director Tomino."
All eyes turned.
Tomino leaned back, tapping the table lightly. The idea was unheard of—fans contributing to official history. But the more he pondered it, the more it appealed: a way to keep the IP alive, and invigorate creativity when the staff's inspiration ran dry.
After a long silence, he said quietly:
"If their work is good enough—if I can feel their love for Gundam, and their respect for life—then… I don't see why not."
He agreed.
Excitement instantly surged through the staff.
The earlier tension evaporated—replaced by a creative fever like nothing before.
This wasn't just a revision plan.
It was a new era of Gundam.
A coherent, expandable world.
A system to support generation after generation of creators and fans.
An IP that could grow endlessly.
Mitsui from Bandai scribbled so hard his notebook was nearly full.
Attending this planning meeting had been worth its weight in gold.
The future of Gundam—and Bandai's next decade of merchandise—was sitting right across the table, smiling calmly:
Nakayama Takuya.
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