But Sega was different.
Any project bearing the "Children of the Star Ring" production banner guaranteed a fast-paced, tightly written narrative—every scene packed with substance.
No padding, no dragging, just top-notch animation and ticulously detailed backgrounds, even when using recycled footage. The budget was always generous enough to keep viewers satisfied.
On the TV screen, a rousing orchestral the suddenly blared, its brassy trumpet lody instantly capturing the attention of passersby.
It was the opening the, "Charge! Imperial Assault Force."
The scene showed steam billowing from the joints of the bulky yet chanically elegant Kōbu chs as they stomped through Ginza's streets, their gears grinding with a solid, chanical rhythm.
The cara then cut to a young woman in a traditional red and white kimono. Sakura Shinguji drew her sword, her black hair swirling amidst falling cherry blossoms. The stark contrast between her fierce determination and delicate beauty created a striking visual impact.
Steam Punk, Taisho Romance, Dating Sim, cha Combat.
These seemingly unrelated elents, forced together, unexpectedly sparked a remarkable alchemical reaction.
"Is this Sega's new project?"
Countless bored viewers, their fingers frozen over their remote controls, suddenly froze mid-air as their eyes were glued to the screen.
In the trailer, the girls were dazzling opera singers on stage. But when the alarm sounded, the scene shifted: they transford into pilots clad in sleek, era-appropriate chs, leaping into action to slay demons and vanquish evil.
This stark contrast between their glamorous and heroic identities, paired with a the song so infectious it made listeners tap their feet after a single listen, pierced the hearts of countless young viewers.
No need to wait until April—the re tens of seconds in this trailer had already raised anticipation to its peak.
Gars and audiences alike were thoroughly hooked, rubbing their hands in eager anticipation for that cherry blossom-laden April day when they could finally witness this grand spectacle.
Hong Kong, Kowloon.
The night was scalded crimson by neon lights, the air thick with the briny tang of the sea mingled with the savory aroma of wok-fried beef brisket from roadside stalls.
Tanaka sat at an unassuming street stall, his hand clutching a sweat-dampened can of ice-cold beer.
Beside him, the hourly-rate British lawyer sat stiffly on a greasy red plastic stool. His impeccably tailored suit stood out starkly among the bare-chested diners playing drinking gas, and his expression was even more unpleasant than if he'd just bitten into a fly.
"Mr. Tanaka, this drink is on , Nine-Tattooed Dragon, to apologize to Sega," the middle-aged man across from him said, raising his glass.
He wasn't wearing any flashy suit, just an ordinary white vest that revealed muscular arms. Instead of the expected dragon or tiger tattoos, his skin was almost unnervingly clean.
Tanaka quickly clinked his glass against the other man's.
Things were going more smoothly than he'd anticipated.
When the British lawyer slapped down a letter bearing the royal crest, the previously defiant lackeys instantly fell silent.
Nine-Tattooed Dragon was a man who understood the situation. He knew the British Crown still ruled Hong Kong, and defying the foreigners head-on would be suicidal.
"I've already dealt with those troublemakers according to our own rules. They'll never work in Kowloon again." Nine-Tattooed Dragon downed his beer in one gulp, his eyes sharp. "Double compensation for the goods will be wired to your account tomorrow."
"Brother Kowloon is too gracious," Tanaka said, setting down his glass and signaling for the lawyer to wait in the car.
Once the obnoxious foreigner had left, Tanaka leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Money's no issue. Actually, our Managing Director is quite interested in Brother Kowloon's thods. He said it's better to support Brother Kowloon's business than to fuss over these trivial sums."
Nine-Tattooed Dragon raised an eyebrow, his chopsticks frozen mid-air as he held a peanut. "Oh? A big company like Sega actually deigns to work with us... unsavory types?"
"Exactly because you're unsavory types, certain paths beco easier to navigate."
Tanaka then laid out the "leasing plan" Takuya had entrusted him with.
From hardware repurposing, to mainland factory counterfeiting, to Chinese ga localization and burning, to a distribution model based on leasing rather than selling—everything left Nine-Tattooed Dragon stunned.
This business was practically custom-tailored for him.
Drug dealing? That was a death sentence.
Forcing decent people into prostitution? Damaged one's moral compass.
Collecting protection fees? That was like scraping food from the teeth of the poor.
But smuggling ga consoles into the mainland? That was called "enriching the cultural lives of the masses."
Most importantly, this business could keep people fed.
Instead of letting the restless, uneducated thugs in the Triad gang hang out on the streets causing trouble every day, they could send so to the mainland to manage distribution channels and collect rent. This would also allow them to protect the families of mainlanders who had fled to Hong Kong, thereby winning the loyalty of these n.
As Tanaka had hinted, with the 97 deadline approaching, establishing a network in the mainland was a life-saving asset that money couldn't buy.
"I'll take this deal," Nine-Tattooed Dragon declared, slamming his chopsticks on the table, his eyes gleaming. "Tell Executive Director Nakayama to thank him. Tell him Sega's cargo on the Kowloon route will be safe with us."
The next morning, the manager of Sega's Hong Kong assembly plant received an urgent fax from Tokyo Headquarters.
Seeing the notation "Marketing Gift" on the docunt, the manager wiped his glasses, his suspicions aroused. Still, he dutifully signed the receipt.
A hundred brand-new MD consoles and a thousand boxes of popular ga cartridges were thus boldly labeled "Gifts" and loaded onto an unremarkable freight truck.
That evening, at Sai Kung Pier...
Several modified "Big Fly" speedboats bobbed on the sea, their engines' deep rumble masked by the crashing waves.
"Hurry up! Handle these with care—they're our al ticket!"
The Nine-Tattooed Dragon stood at the pier, directing his subordinates to load the crates. The nimble crew swiftly filled the cargo hold in just a few minutes.
With a piercing roar of engines, white wakes sliced through the dark sea like sharp blades, racing toward the slumbering yet hungering market across the shore.
Tanaka stood on a distant breakwater, watching the speeding boats disappear into the night. He lit a cigarette.
He recalled Takuya's silhouette standing by the floor-to-ceiling window and shivered involuntarily.
One hand wielding legal docunts as a lawyer, the other orchestrating black-market deals—this young Managing Director was far more cunning than he'd imagined.
In April, Tokyo's air already carried the scent of cherry blossoms. By 7 PM on Friday, this atmosphere reached its peak with the debut of a new ani on TV Tokyo.
Countless young people, their appetites whetted by posters and trailers, had been eagerly awaiting this mont. Even many middle-aged n who usually only watched baseball found themselves forced to stare at the screen as their children snatched the remote control.
As the stirring trumpet fanfare erupted, the instantly recognizable the of Charge! Imperial Assault Force seized the attention of every viewer.
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