Tetsu Kobayashi had imagined more than once where Hayao Nakayama might choose to meet him, but this was the last place he expected—a Western-style restaurant.
At this hour there weren't many customers, and the place was unusually quiet. That might also have had something to do with the fact that the menu was written entirely in English, making it hard for many Japanese diners to read.
Tetsu Kobayashi had dressed a bit more formally than usual. His Zhongshan suit was crisp and well-fitted, making him look especially sharp.
Hayao Nakayama, on the other hand, had a very different presence—Western suit, slicked-back hair, exuding that distinctly 1980s sense of fashion.
At fifty-three, Nakayama could hardly be called old. His eyes were still sharp, keen with calculation.
He would later become famous for a line of his: "I live to make Nintendo uncomfortable."
And now, Tetsu Kobayashi was sitting across from the very man who made Nintendo uncomfortable—the current chairman of Sega.
"Atlus, Kobayashi-kun. I've heard your name many times, but this is our first meeting," Nakayama said, wearing the expression of a kindly elder. Even his gaze toward Tetsu Kobayashi seemed unusually gentle. He spread his hand toward the seat opposite him in an inviting gesture.
"I hear your family returned from America. You're probably not fully accustomed to Japanese cuisine yet—perhaps the food here will feel more familiar to you."
Tetsu Kobayashi twitched the corner of his mouth, at a loss for words.
In that case, they might as well have gone to a Chinese restaurant.
He wasn't some kind of culinary chauvinist, but he truly didn't like steak.
He idly stabbed at the piece of meat in front of him with his fork, poking holes all over it.
"Chairman Nakayama knows I grew up in the U.S., so I'll skip the pleasantries," Tetsu Kobayashi said bluntly. "I want to know what you can give me—and what you want from me."
He emphasized deliberately, "I am me. My father is my father. Just because he stands on your side doesn't mean I will."
Nakayama wasn't surprised at all.
"Straightforward is good. It saves a lot of trouble."
He set down his knife and fork. "Since the founding of Atlus Studio, all development has been carried out on Sega platforms. Even setting aside family ties, the relationship between Atlus and Sega is exceptionally close. You could say Atlus naturally stands on Sega's side. There are some things I can't promise right now, but given the profits Atlus brings in, I believe certain exceptions can be made under the royalty system. For example—"
Tetsu Kobayashi fixed his gaze on Nakayama, waiting for that "for example."
Nakayama continued, "Allowing Atlus to independently contract factories to manufacture cartridges, without requiring special approval from Sega."
Tetsu Kobayashi said nothing. He simply tapped the tabletop lightly with his fingers, his mind racing.
This wasn't without precedent. After Namco released its ironclad lineup on the Famicom, Nintendo granted it special permission—allowing Namco to bypass the cartridge production portion of the royalty system and either contract factories directly or manufacture cartridges itself.
The royalty system itself was unavoidable, but platform holders sometimes granted special advantages.
Atlus wasn't yet on Namco's level, but receiving this kind of treatment was still extremely generous.
The advantage of independent production was higher profit margins. The downside was the need to tie up massive amounts of capital each time cartridges were produced—and if demand was misjudged, unsold inventory could pile up.
High risk, high reward.
After weighing the pros and cons, Tetsu Kobayashi felt the condition was entirely acceptable.
"It seems Chairman Nakayama really is giving Atlus special consideration," he said. "So then—what do you want Atlus to do?"
As he spoke, he casually poured himself a drink and took a sip.
Nakayama replied, "Atlus will be merged into Sega and become a first-party studio—a special development division. Kobayashi-kun will retain his position, and there will be no personnel changes for at least twenty years."
Tetsu Kobayashi almost sprayed his drink straight into Nakayama's face.
HAL had been acquired due to mismanagement—that was one thing. But Atlus was doing just fine. On what grounds should it be acquired?
"Chairman Nakayama, isn't that a bit excessive?" Tetsu Kobayashi frowned deeply. The price being asked was far too high.
He wasn't denying that he had a soft spot for Sega. After all, he'd grown up playing Sega games.
But—
Right now, he didn't represent himself. He represented Atlus Studio—Yuji Naka, Tsukasa Masuko, Takeshi Kitagawa, and everyone who had been making games all this time, as well as Satoru Iwata and the others in the acquired Second Development Division.
Nakayama maintained his gentle smile. "The profit-sharing ratio can be raised again—to fifteen percent. Kobayashi-kun, you're an insider. You know very well this figure can't go any higher. At this rate, Sega would be operating right on the edge of a loss."
Tetsu Kobayashi didn't deny it, but his brow remained tightly furrowed, devoid of any joy.
Nakayama continued, "Given that, I believe Atlus's development work should be subject to Sega's oversight."
Tetsu Kobayashi suddenly stood up.
"It seems Chairman Nakayama isn't negotiating in good faith. I think we should end this here."
Nakayama didn't rise. He simply repeated, "Independent cartridge production. Fifteen percent. Kobayashi-kun, you won't find better terms anywhere in the world. Even Nintendo can't offer more."
Tetsu Kobayashi badly wanted to flip him off—but he restrained himself.
Nakayama changed his approach.
"Kobayashi-kun. Your father works at Sega."
This time, Tetsu Kobayashi really did stop. He raised both hands and gave a standard Kumamoto-style bow.
"He is him. I am me. If you think you can use that kind of sentiment to bind me, then you're gravely mistaken."
After speaking, he resumed his earlier polite demeanor, bowed once more, and turned to leave.
Nakayama didn't follow. He simply took a towel from the waiter and wiped his hands.
The talks had fallen apart—just as he expected.
Nakayama's knuckles tapped lightly against the table.
His personal creed was to make Nintendo uncomfortable.
Now, he felt it was necessary to make Atlus uncomfortable as well.
"No matter how outstanding a studio is, it's still just a studio. It will never surpass the platform.
Creators have virtually no way to pressure a platform. A platform, however, has hundreds of ways to pressure creators.
If an author is dissatisfied with a website, no matter how unhappy they are, they have little ability to express it. But if a website wants to deal with an author, all it takes is a single 'content restriction' or 'rectification notice' to make every author miserable."
Nakayama didn't hesitate at all before making his decision.
Even though he had once publicly praised Tetsu Kobayashi and Atlus Studio in front of Sega's executives.
That was business.
No emotions—only interests.
Please Support me by becoming my patreon member and get 15+ chapters.
[email protected]/Ajal69
change @ with a
Thank You to Those who joined my Patreon