Richard looked at Makoto Yamashina and raised an eyebrow slightly.
The Bandai President's decisiveness and cooperation in betraying his own allies far exceeded his expectations.
"Very good. Executive Director Nakayama of Sega has demanded that the balance sheet after the merger must be absolutely clean. All bad debts, non-performing loans, and funds of unknown origin must be completely stripped out. Sega will not pay for your stupidity." Richard snapped the folder shut with a loud thud.
"Mr. Richard, when can the formal valuation of Bandai begin?" Makoto Yamashina licked his dry lips, asking the only question he cared about right now.
"After this round of detailed audit and review is complete, McKinsey's team will immediately move in to conduct the asset appraisal." Richard picked up the folder and gave him a deep, piercing look. "However, based on the numerous holes we've uncovered so far... Bandai's actual value will likely be far lower than what you previously anticipated."
Makoto Yamashina's eyelid twitched violently. His heart bled, but he forced himself to nod.
"I understand. Handle it according to the rules."
Richard turned and walked to the door. His hand gripped the doorknob when he suddenly stopped.
"Mr. Yamashina. Executive Director Nakayama asked me to pass a message to you."
As if struck by lightning, Makoto Yamashina immediately snapped to attention, holding his breath.
Richard turned back and relayed the words of the young man who had ascended to power: "The Managing Director said your recent 'cleaning' efforts... have been quite satisfactory. Sega likes a clean house."
Richard pulled open the door and strode out.
Makoto Yamashina froze in place for a full half-minute before his tense shoulders finally slumped. He let out a long, ragged breath of relief, as if he had just escaped death.
It's settled.
As long as Takuya Nakayama acknowledged his attitude, Makoto Yamashina's own future was secure.
As for how much Bandai would ultimately sell for, that was no longer something he could—or wanted to—control.
Downstairs in the main office area, the rank-and-file employees of Bandai showed no signs of panic, despite the violent upheavals among the upper management and the supervisors being hauled away by the police.
On the contrary, the air was thick with an unprecedented sense of relief and celebration, as if a holiday were underway.
"Did you hear? General Manager Ota's been taken away! They say he embezzled at least several hundred million yen!"
"Pah! Serves him right! Last time I tried to expense a two-thousand-yen taxi fare, he held it up for half a month!"
"This is great. Now that Sega's taken over, do you think we'll finally get bonuses for projects on the scale of Pokémon?"
Over the past few years, Bandai's internal corruption had severely crippled its operations. Amateurs led experts, and factional infighting caused projects to sabotage one another. The real workers never saw a cent of resources, while those who flattered their superiors and picked the right sides climbed the corporate ladder.
Now, Sega had intervened with a massive influx of capital and a ruthless, modern management style, tearing out the cancerous tumors that had been bleeding the rank-and-file employees dry.
For these ordinary staff members, who worked overtime every night for a fixed salary, getting a new, wealthy, and generous boss—and a fresh start—was exactly what they had been praying for.
One week later.
Richard returned to the top floor and slammed a hundred-page preliminary audit report onto Makoto Yamashina's desk.
"Mr. Yamashina, this is the final comprehensive review report of all Bandai's current business lines." Richard pointed to the organizational chart on the report's cover page, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Per Sega's mandatory requirements, Bandai's existing management structure must be completely dismantled. The Planning Department, Overseas Business Department, and IP Management Committee are all to be abolished immediately, with their personnel taken over by Sega. After Bandai's merger into Sega, only the operational departments for product R&D, production manufacturing, and distribution will be retained."
Makoto Yamashina flipped open the report.
It listed, in dense detail, the departments to be abolished and the long list of personnel to be laid off.
They were all his former political rivals from the conference table, and those conservative old fossils who had been coasting through the company, abusing their seniority.
Without a moment's hesitation, Makoto Yamashina pulled the Montblanc fountain pen from his breast pocket, flipped directly to the last page of the report, and signed his name without mercy.
The nib scratched across the paper, producing a sharp, rustling sound.
Bandai, this once-mighty titan that had dominated the Japanese toy industry, had, in this moment, completely fulfilled its historical mission.
Bandai had been ruthlessly stripped of its brain, reduced to a hollow shell, its guts eviscerated, waiting for Sega to refill it with a new will.
Makoto Yamashina capped his pen and pushed the report back to Richard.
"Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Richard. Bandai will fully cooperate with the remaining handover work. We will not cause any delays."
Richard withdrew the report, gave a slight nod, and turned to leave.
Makoto Yamashina slumped into his chair as if all his strength had vanished. He turned his head to look at the grey, overcast sky outside the window.
The rain had finally stopped.
August in Tokyo was a furnace of rolling heatwaves, so intense that even the asphalt roads seemed to warp.
Inside the top-floor conference room of the Sega Headquarters Building, the air conditioning was cranked so high it felt almost chilling.
Seated around the large oval conference table were Kiyoshi Hattori, a supervising director of Sega Galaxy; Matsushima, the vice president of Sotsu, which had just been merged into Sega; and Eiji Yamaura, the president of Sunrise.
These three titans, whose every footfall could trigger an earthquake in the industry, sat with rigid posture, their gazes unconsciously converging on the young man in the main seat.
Takuya Nakayama sat in that seat, flipping through several thick project proposals.
He wore a light-colored shirt of exquisite quality today, its sleeves rolled up to his forearms, giving him a sharp and composed look.
"Proceed with the Gundam follow-up plan as we just decided," Takuya Nakayama said, placing the documents on the table. "Sotsu, get the resources integrated as quickly as possible. I don't want to see any delays."
Matsushima nodded repeatedly, a thin layer of sweat already beading on his forehead. "Rest assured, the entire Sotsu team is on standby. We will absolutely guarantee the schedule."
Takuya Nakayama picked up another document, his gaze sweeping over the cover. "Next, let's talk about another IP. Macross."
At the mention of the name, Eiji Yamaura shot upright, a strange glint flashing in his eyes.
That was a monument in the history of mecha anime—a perfect blend of variable fighters, interstellar warfare, and idol singers. Whether it was the work itself or its various derivatives, its value was no less than Gundam's.
"The past two years' Macross Plus and Macross 7 were joint productions by Sunrise, Big West, and Studio Nue," Eiji Yamaura quickly organized his thoughts and reported. "These two works have received an extremely positive response, especially the stunning musical performances by Yoko Kanno and Yoshiki Fukuyama, as well as the cool mecha designs of the variable fighters. The audience stickiness is incredibly high. The profits from merchandise, models, and audio-visual products are also very considerable—it's practically a money-printing machine."
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