Sega Headquarters, Executive Office
Takuya Nakayama casually tossed several newspapers onto his desk with a thud.
Next to Nikkan Sports' headline "Fighting Beast" lay Yomiuri Shimbun's scathing social comntary, its words dripping with prejudice and arrogance toward video gas.
"The tragedy of society? Stolen childhoods?" Nakayama scoffed. "These old fogies are still stuck in the last century."
He picked up the intercom phone and dialed the head of public relations.
"It's Nakayama. Have you seen the reports about that young champion, Daigo Uhara?"
The voice on the other end responded with a series of affirmative replies.
"Good." Nakayama leaned back in his executive chair, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk. "Now that the dia has painted us as demons corrupting the youth, let's ride that wave and play the role of saints saving a child prodigy."
"Are you suggesting—"
"Imdiately contact several friendly dia outlets and publish articles with a single the: protect child prodigies and oppose dia violence. Portray Sega as a socially responsible company, a guardian of talent, and a conscientious enterprise safeguarding young geniuses. They think they're on the moral high ground? We'll stand even higher."
The public relations director on the other end of the line was imdiately enlightened and eagerly agreed.
After hanging up, Takuya Nakayama instructed his secretary to notify the Sega Esports Operations Departnt. They were to imdiately dispatch personnel to Adachi Ward, locate the arcade where Daigo Uhara had registered, and make contact with the child and his family at the earliest opportunity to convey Sega's position.
He understood perfectly that an eleven-year-old champion was a double-edged sword.
Used wisely, he could be the perfect symbol for esports' mainstream acceptance. But mishandled, any negative publicity could deal a devastating blow to the entire industry.
Adachi Ward, Sato's Ga Center.
Two n in sharp suits, briefcases in hand, carefully navigated around a group of students engrossed in their gas and approached Boss Sato, who was wiping down the machines.
Their formal attire stood in stark contrast to the noisy, chaotic environnt.
"Excuse , Mr. Sato? We're from Sega Corporation," the lead man said respectfully, handing over a business card.
"Sega?" Sato paused, took the card, and imdiately grew wary. "What do you want? Daigo got every penny of his prize money!"
Seeing Sato's protective stance, the n didn't take offense. Instead, they smiled.
"You misunderstand, Mr. Sato. We're here precisely because of Uhara." The man explained, "The company's executives highly value Uhara's talent but are also concerned that excessive dia hype might affect him. That's why we were sent—to discuss with his family what kind of protection and support Sega can provide."
Upon hearing this, Sato's expression shifted from wariness to surprise, then to a mix of amusent and exasperation.
"You're... one step too late."
"Too late?"
"Late? That's an understatent!" Sato slapped his thigh, vividly recounting Uhara Masao's visit the previous day and how he had laid down his "three conditions." He reenacted the scene with gusto, spitting as he mimicked the man's words, especially the line: "My son, Daigo Uhara, will not be a blind fool who can't even understand a contract!"
"Tell ," Sato concluded, "isn't this dad even tougher to deal with than the final boss?"
The two sharply dressed mbers of the Sega Esports Operations Departnt stared at him, dumbfounded, exchanging bewildered glances.
They had anticipated various scenarios—parents' greed, shortsightedness, or lack of understanding—and prepared persuasive argunts for each.
But they never imagined this father would have already charted such a steady path for his son using the simplest yet most effective ans.
"It seems we were overthinking things," the lead man said with a wry smile, though admiration flickered in his eyes. "Mr. Uhara is truly an extraordinary father."
"You bet!" Sato replied, his face beaming with pride.
"In that case, Mr. Sato," the man bowed again, "would you mind taking us to visit the Uhara Family? Our goals align perfectly with Mr. Uhara's—we simply wish to express Sega's commitnt and reassure the family."
Sato thought it over and decided there was no harm in it. It would even give Daigo's father a chance to see that the people he knew were respectable.
"Alright! I'll take a day off and take you there right now!" he agreed readily, handing over the shop duties to his assistant. He eagerly led the two Sega employees out of the arcade.
Sato led them to the Uhara Family's slightly weathered door and pressed the doorbell.
Footsteps quickly approached from inside, and the door swung open to reveal Uhara Masao's stern, unsmiling face.
When he saw Sato and the two distinguished-looking strangers behind him, his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
Sato rubbed his hands together, forcing a sowhat ingratiating smile, and stepped aside. "Um... Mr. Uhara, these gentlen are from Sega Corporation. They've co specifically to discuss Daigo's situation."
Uhara Masao's gaze swept from Sato's face to the two n in suits. His expression remained unchanged as he stepped aside and said in a low voice, "Please co in."
The house was small, and the entrance felt even more cramped.
Uhara Masao's wife hurried out of the kitchen, startled by the commotion. She froze, repeatedly wiping her hands on her apron.
"Excuse for the intrusion," the suit-clad man at the head bowed slightly, removed his leather shoes, and neatly arranged them.
His companion followed suit, his movents precise and ticulous.
The atmosphere in the cramped living room grew tense.
Daigo peeked out from his room, silently observing the scene.
"Mr. Uhara, Mrs. Uhara," the lead man bowed again, retrieved a business card from his briefcase, and presented it with both hands. "I'm Yamamoto from Sega Esports Operations Departnt. This is my colleague, Tanaka."
Uhara Masao didn't take the card, rely stared at him.
Undeterred, Yamamoto smoothly placed the card on the coffee table and cut straight to the point: "We're here regarding Daigo Uhara. The company's executives are deeply concerned about the recent dia reports."
He glanced at Sato beside him, then shifted his tone: "Before coming, Boss Sato told us about the rules you've set for Daigo. We deeply admire your foresight as a father."
This direct approach softened Uhara Masao's tense expression slightly.
He had initially feared these n were here to "steal" his son.
"Therefore," Yamamoto continued, "Sega Corporation's goal isn't to interfere with your family's upbringing, but rather to clear away unnecessary obstacles from the path ahead for you and this prodigious talent."
Yamamoto pulled several docunts from his briefcase.
"First, public opinion. Regarding the false accusations and malicious manipulation by dia outlets like the Yomiuri Shimbun, our public relations departnt worked through the night to contact Nikkan Sports and several television stations. New articles will be published today with the the: 'Protecting Genius: Guard Against Killing with Praise.'"
Uhara Masao's eyebrows twitched slightly.
"Second, legal action." Yamamoto slid a docunt across the table to Uhara Masao. "This is a draft of a cease-and-desist letter prepared by our Legal Departnt. We will formally send it to the weekly magazines with the most egregious statents, demanding they cease harassing minors and publishing false reports. Rest assured, this is just the first step. If they refuse to comply, Sega will file a lawsuit, with all legal expenses covered by the company."
Silence fell over the living room.
Mrs. Uhara covered her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.
Sato, listening intently, felt his blood boil with excitent, so thrilled he wanted to slap his thigh.
Is this the power of a major corporation?
They were still fretting over a few newspaper articles, while Sega was already preparing to "bombard" the dia with legal letters!
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