Udagawa Nao was in a terrible mood lately.
It wasn't just because her quasi-boyfriend Kariya Matou had been constantly traveling for work since the latter half of last year, but also because her job wasn't going smoothly at all.
Logically, as the mastermind behind the successful Fate project and the person who facilitated the collaboration between Bandai and Type-Moon, her career trajectory should have been a dream come true. She should've been promoted to CEO, married a wealthy and handsome man, and enjoyed a perfect balance of love and success.
However, reality was far from ideal.
Negotiations for subsequent Fate merchandise rights were not progressing well. No matter how she tried to persuade Shinji Matou, he refused to budge, and the two sides were at an impasse.
Bandai was fully aware that as the Fate franchise grew larger, it wouldn't be able to handle the entire merchandise market on its own. Keeping their priority of "selling toys above all else," Bandai was willing to relinquish exclusive rights for other merchandise categories, as long as it could retain exclusivity over toy and model kit merchandise.
But Shinji had no intention of allowing Bandai exclusive rights anymore.
Renewing the contract? No problem.
Negotiating revenue shares? That could be discussed.
Exclusive rights? Absolutely not.
Even when Bandai offered a higher revenue share to secure exclusivity, Shinji remained unmoved.
Having been deeply involved with collectibles in his past life, Shinji understood a fundamental truth: exclusivity often led to monopoly, which in turn led to complacency.
When a company had exclusive rights, no matter how frustrating its sales tactics or how poor the quality of its products, fans were forced to buy because there was no alternative.
Whether it was Bandai, Kotobukiya, Hot Toys, or Hasbro, franchises with exclusive merchandise deals typically left fans increasingly dissatisfied over time.
From a business perspective, such strategies were aimed at maximizing profit.
But Shinji's goal was to manage Fate as a long-term venture, aiming for at least a decade of stable fan goodwill.
With that in mind, he preferred to earn less from merchandise rather than grant Bandai a monopoly.
After negotiating with Shinji for so long, Udagawa Nao fully understood his rationale.
And it was precisely because she understood Shinji's perspective that she felt cornered.
The upper management at Bandai seemed to have attributed the unfavorable negotiation outcomes to Udagawa Nao herself.
"If this really bothers you, Nao-san, how about I talk to your company and have them assign someone else to handle this?" Shinji offered.
"Switching someone else in won't solve the problem. Those people already think I'm incompetent," Nao said with a wry smile. "By the way, Shinji, are you okay?"
Noticing Shinji grimacing and rubbing his shoulder for the umpteenth time during their conversation, she couldn't help but show concern.
"I'm fine, just a muscle strain from overexertion," he replied.
"Muscle strains that leave fist-shaped bruises? That's a first for me," Nao joked awkwardly, though her frustration kept her from probing further. Instead, she shifted the topic back to the negotiations between Type-Moon and Bandai.
"So, we really can't secure exclusive rights?"
Shinji nodded. "I won't give Bandai exclusivity—no amount of negotiation will change that. It's a matter of strategic importance for the company."
"I see..."
Nao hesitated, unsure of how to respond.
After a long pause, she sighed and said, "This means my evaluation within the company is bound to decline."
Hearing the dejection in her voice, Shinji smiled inwardly.
He said, "Nao-san, you're friends with my uncle. I'll explain things to your company clearly."
Nao gave a faint, bitter smile. "It won't make a difference. I'm a woman. As a middle manager, I'm not allowed to fail."
The Japanese workplace wasn't known for gender equity; in fact, gender discrimination was pervasive. Female mid- and upper-level managers often had no margin for error—one failure could derail their entire careers.
"I had thought that signing with you and entering Bandai's headquarters would offer greater opportunities for growth, but who knew it would turn out like this? Blessings and curses are two sides of the same coin..."
Shinji sipped his tea leisurely and said, "Since you've hit a ceiling at Bandai, why not consider switching companies? With your abilities, you could easily become an executive at another firm."
Shinji was testing the waters.
Realizing this, Nao fell silent, her sharp eyes fixed on him.
Seeing no need to mince words, Shinji said directly, "Have you ever considered joining Type-Moon?"
Nao looked at him, confirming he wasn't joking, and said, "No wonder you started calling me 'sister.' Shinji, you're bold—not only refusing to sign with Bandai but also trying to poach from them."
Hearing her stop using "we" to refer to Bandai, Shinji felt his proposal might have a chance.
"Nao-san," Shinji said earnestly, "Type-Moon is expanding rapidly and desperately needs talented managers like you."
This was no exaggeration. While Shinji could handle directing movies and planning large-scale projects, his practical management skills were limited—he would barely qualify as a team leader.
To manage Type-Moon's rapid growth, Shinji needed a professional, and that person had to be free of affiliations with other magi families.
After much consideration, he found Nao to be the most suitable candidate.
The fact that she had managed to become a professional manager at Bandai as a woman was evidence of her exceptional abilities.
Udagawa Nao had never considered switching jobs before, and Shinji's invitation left her at a loss.
"Resigning and changing jobs is not something I've thought about," she said.
Unlike in Western countries, job-hopping wasn't a casual matter in Japan. Unless circumstances were extreme, it was rarely part of anyone's career plans.
For someone like Nao, it was even more significant. If she failed to thrive at Type-Moon, there would be no third chance for her.
In the workplace, she harbored her own ambitions. If she were truly content with mediocrity, she would never have climbed to the heights of Bandai's management.
But now, due to Shinji and Type-Moon's actions, her prospects within Bandai have become increasingly bleak.
"This is too sudden, completely unexpected."
After contemplating for a long time, Udagawa Nao still couldn't make up her mind.
Shinji didn't push her. The fact that she hadn't outright refused meant there was still hope.
"Nao-san, I understand that Type-Moon may not be as large a platform as Bandai at the moment," Shinji continued. "But internally, Type-Moon isn't as convoluted as major corporations like Bandai, Toho, or Times Group. You'd have far more room for growth here than at Bandai."
Nao gripped her teacup tightly and asked, "Shinji, what's Type-Moon's goal?"
"I can't claim we'll rival global entertainment giants like Times Group in the future," Shinji said pragmatically. "But within three years, Type-Moon will surpass Bandai's film division, and within five, we'll overtake Toho to become Japan's top film company."
This was an extremely conservative estimate.
If 3D films became as popular as they were in Shinji's previous life, he was confident Type-Moon could topple Toho within three years and become a world-class film company within five.
Whether it could one day dominate Hollywood or outshine European studios would depend on future developments—there were too many variables for Shinji to guarantee.
Shinji added, "Even if Bandai doesn't leave you sidelined forever, how many years will it take for you to rise again? If you join Type-Moon, you'd become its president right away."
Nao was visibly moved, though she concealed her emotions well.
Managing one's expressions was a survival skill every seasoned businessperson had to master.
In the end, Udagawa Nao left without finalizing Bandai's exclusive rights agreement with Type-Moon. However, she departed Fuyuki City more conflicted than when she had arrived. Her next decision would have a profound impact on her life.
"Shinji, you're such a schemer," she remarked before leaving.
After she left, Shiki Ryougi, who had been observing their conversation the entire time, teased him.
"Even if that woman doesn't jump ship in the end, you've messed with her enough that she probably won't have the focus to negotiate properly anymore."
Shinji's face twitched. "Hey, hey, that's not what 'messing with someone' means in this context."
"Shinji-kun, do you think she'll agree?"
"There's a good chance. After all, Bandai's upper management is notoriously difficult to deal with," Shinji chuckled.
He finished the last sip of tea in his cup and popped the final piece of a tea snack into his mouth.
"Alright, time to call it a day. Thanks for the snacks, Shiki-senpai."
With that, Shinji started heading toward the door.
Unfortunately, just as he stepped out, his path was blocked.
"Hold on, Shinji-kun." Shiki narrowed her eyes. "Are you seriously going home this early today?"
"Of course," Shinji nodded. "Work's done; naturally, I'm heading home."
But Shiki shook her head. "Not happening. Tonight's the viewing party for HF Episode 4, isn't it? You, as the protagonist, can't leave early."
Standing with her hands on her kimono sash, Shiki wore an adorable yet firm expression that left no room for argument.
Shinji gave an awkward laugh. "I just felt like watching it alone for once. You all can have your appreciation party without me; I'll head home first."
With that, Shinji stepped to the right, attempting to sidestep Shiki.
"Oh dear, I was planning to make a lot of homemade snacks for the viewing party tonight," Shiki said nonchalantly, twirling a lock of her hair.
"..."
Shinji hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath before resuming his path toward the door.
"Shinji-kun, this won't do," Shiki said, crossing her arms as her gaze turned icy.
Shiki-senpai, you're forcing me to watch myself force myself on my sister—are you trying to get me killed?
"By the way, Sakura specifically told me to bring you along. She wants to try out her newly mastered Flying Screwdriver and Iron Grip moves on you."
Oh, it's Sakura? That's fine then.
"Shiki-senpai," Shinji said with a resigned sigh, "can't you let me off the hook? I'd like to live to see tomorrow's sunrise."
Shiki turned to face him, her expression breaking into a bright, cheerful smile.
"Sorry, no can do."
<+>
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