Clancy picked up one of the diagrams and remained silent for a long ti.
He stared at the familiar tactical terminology on it.
These were the very scenes he had simulated countless tis in his study—cigarette in hand, ideas unfolding in his mind.
And this Japanese man… was trying to draw out the scenes living inside his imagination.
"Ha."
Clancy suddenly let out a short laugh—one carrying unmistakable appreciation.
He gently placed the diagram back on the desk, leaned forward, and looked straight at Takuya.
"I'll see what I can do about the military consultants.
When I wrote The Hunt for Red October, I did get to know a few friends in the Navy. I can ask around."
He raised a finger and tapped lightly on the drawings.
"But I have one condition. Before the ga launches, I want to personally play the finished version.
If it's not worthy of my books, you can forget about releasing it alongside the movie hype.
You'll wait until after the film is out—otherwise Paramount will co after ."
"That's only fair."
Takuya agreed without hesitation and extended his hand.
"We want to create sothing you can be proud of."
Clancy grasped his hand firmly and gave it a solid shake.
"And this is only the beginning." Takuya looked him in the eyes, voice serious.
"When the technology matures, your entire world can be recreated inside gas.
So please, Mr. Clancy—keep writing more, and write even better stories."
Clancy's eyes brightened.
"Kid, I'm looking forward to it."
Finishing the eting with Tom Clancy, Takuya felt genuinely satisfied.
Bernard took the initial cooperation agreent and imdiately flew back to Redwood City to report to Kalinske.
But Takuya rejected the idea of returning right away.
Instead, he opted for a more "old-fashioned" way to travel.
He wanted to cross the country himself—from east to west—and see with his own eyes the North Arican market that looked so promising on reports and spreadsheets.
Accompanying him was Mark, a channel departnt manager—an enthusiastic, confident Arican middle-aged man proud of his team's work.
"Mr. Nakayama, our first stop is a Walmart in the suburbs of New York.
They're one of our most important partners!" Mark said proudly as he sped down the wide interstate in his Ford Taurus.
Leaning against the passenger seat, watching the scenery blur past, Takuya asked casually,
"How's the shelf placent they gave us?"
"Of course it's the best! Right at the entrance of the Electronic Entertainnt section—the most eye-catching spot!"
Half an hour later, when Takuya stood in that Walmart's entertainnt area, his expression turned subtly amused.
SEGA's shelves were prominent—
A massive blue Sonic poster, paired with the taunting slogan "Genesis Does What Nintendon't."
Aggressive. Flashy. Eye-catching.
The new Genesis consoles and rows of ga cartridges shimred under the lights.
It all looked impressive.
But diagonally across from it…
Nintendo's red display area looked sowhat old-fashioned.
Mario's smiling face was far less "cool" than Sonic's.
Yet that side was clearly where most of the kids and parents were gathered.
A mother was holding a box of Super Mario World, promising her child she'd buy it if he did well on his finals.
Another father was studying NES cartridges, seemingly picking an entry-level ga for his younger child.
By contrast, SEGA's area attracted mostly teenagers—
Pointing excitedly at Streets of Rage and Golden Axe covers—
but with almost no parents accompanying them.
"Mark," Takuya pointed toward Nintendo's counter,
"do you see it?"
Mark followed his finger, looking puzzled.
"Sure, they have more people… but our custors have stronger purchasing power!
Teenagers have more allowance!"
Takuya simply smiled, said nothing, and walked over to a young Walmart employee wearing a red vest.
"Hey, kid. Let ask you sothing.
If a father wants to buy his ten-year-old son his first ga console, which one would you recomnd?"
The employee blinked, glanced at Takuya, then at Mark, scratched his head, and answered honestly:
"Well, sir… most people pick Nintendo.
Mario—you know—it's sothing the whole family can play together."
Mark's face instantly stiffened with embarrassnt.
Takuya thanked the worker, patted Mark on the shoulder, and said quietly:
"We've won the kids…
but we haven't fully won the parents' wallets."
Leaving Walmart, they headed to Toys "R" Us.
The situation there was much more balanced—
SEGA and Nintendo split the territory evenly:
Blue "speed and adrenaline" versus red "family and fun."
As for the GaPocket, it practically had no competitors—Nintendo hadn't pushed their handheld much in North Arica.
Their final stop was a large arcade hall in downtown Chicago.
The mont the doors opened, deafening electronic sound effects and the raucous shouts of teenagers washed over them.
The air slled of sweat and pizza.
Flashing screens lit up faces filled with excitent or frustration.
This was gaming in its rawest, most passionate form.
Takuya imdiately spotted the long lines at the Art of Fighting and Fatal Fury machines.
Players taunted each other, the atmosphere as electric as a boxing match.
In comparison, SEGA's pride—DDR—had plenty of onlookers…
but the sa few people were always the ones actually stepping onto the platform.
Takuya approached a teen who had just stepped down from an Art of Fighting machine and handed him a bottle of cola.
"Hey, nice match.
Let ask—why not try DDR over there?
Lots of girls watching, you know."
The boy gulped down the cola and wiped his mouth.
"Oh, DDR gets the girls' attention, sure…
but playing it well is hard.
You might get laughed at a lot before you ever impress anyone."
He grinned.
"But here?
If I beat Jamie's Robert using Ryo Sakazaki,
I get to laugh at him for a whole week!"
Takuya didn't ask further.
He already understood.
DDR's entry difficulty was scaring off newcors.
When it first launched, everyone was new—no problem.
But now that veterans existed…
New players were intimidated.
Still, most of the profit from DDR went to Sony anyway.
And new machine orders were rare these days.
No point dwelling on it.
It was clear:
The charm of arcades wasn't just the gas themselves—
but the community culture and competitive atmosphere ford by the players.
As for shooting gas and action beat-'em-ups,
they still relied on delivering experiences ho consoles couldn't provide—
to earn those precious coins from players.
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