On the phone, Hironobu Sakaguchi gasped.
He had initially just been concerned about a simple production delay, but he hadn't realized that even the "delay" itself was a masterful move in Takuya Nakayama's grand strategy.
"I... I understand," Sakaguchi said, his voice tinged with admiration.
"Don't rush to understand yet," Nakayama's tone turned cheerful again. "I have another idea, consider it advance compensation for the mental anguish you're about to endure."
Sakaguchi chuckled. "Please go on. I'm all ears. Let's see what kind of 'torture' you've cooked up this time."
"When the Sega Mega Drive cartridge edition of Chrono Trigger is released, let's host a concert."
"A concert?"
"Yes, we'll call it the 'Square Enix Game Music Concert.'" Nakayama's voice was clear and forceful. "We'll invite Nobuo Uematsu to perform the Final Fantasy opening theme, and Yasunori Mitsuda will take the stage to let the world hear the ticking of Chrono Trigger's pendulum. With a real symphony, we'll show everyone that Square isn't just a company that makes top-tier RPGs—it's a temple of top-tier artists."
"We want talented, ambitious young people to know that if they want their work to be heard around the world, they should come to Square—come to Sega's stage!"
A long silence stretched over the phone line.
This time, Hironobu Sakaguchi felt neither surprise nor praise.
After a long pause, he spoke softly, his voice almost dreamy: "Mr. Nakayama... I... I really don't know what to say. I just wanted to check on the progress of the watch—"
He had thought he was holding a golden bowl of rice, but now he realized that Takuya Nakayama had given him a map to the altar of the gods.
"Then share this good news with Mr. Uematsu and Mr. Mitsuda," Takuya Nakayama said with a laugh. "I'm sure they'll be delighted."
"Delighted is an understatement—" A barely perceptible tremor ran through Hironobu Sakaguchi's voice. "I speak for them, and for all of Square, when I say thank you."
After hanging up, Takuya Nakayama swiveled his chair, his gaze settling on the calendar on the wall.
November was almost here.
November, Tokyo, Akihabara.
At the game sections of every major electronics store, a massive black box exuding an aura of luxury occupied the most prominent position.
The golden letters "Chrono Trigger" shimmered on the box under the store lights, accompanied by the Sega CD logo.
"Is this the work of that RPG Dream Team? It's so massive!"
"Of course! Didn't you read the description? The game itself, a vinyl record, the CD soundtrack, a hardcover artbook—my God, Sega is selling you an entire museum!"
The crowd buzzed with chatter, their eyes gleaming with desire. But when their gazes fell upon the price tag—11,800 yen—their longing quickly turned to gasps of disbelief.
And that didn't even include the cost of a Sega CD, which ran 45,800 yen—a price tag that put it far out of reach for most gamers.
"11,800 yen... That could buy three brand-new games!"
"Crazy! This is insane!"
Yet, there were always a few whose resolve never wavered from the moment they laid eyes on the box.
A young man in a jacket pushed through the whispering crowd, his path to the counter unswerving. He pulled two 10,000-yen bills bearing Yukichi Fukuzawa's portrait from his wallet and slapped them onto the counter.
"One set of Chrono Trigger, please."
The clerk's face lit up with a beaming smile. He carefully retrieved the massive box from behind the counter, handling it as if it were a precious work of art.
Amid countless envious, jealous gazes, mixed with looks that seemed to say "Is this guy a fool?", the young man picked up the box and turned to leave, his steps firm.
Similar scenes played out in every corner of Japan.
When the sales figures came in, many at Sega broke into a cold sweat.
"Managing Director, the initial sales... they can't compare to the million-sellers on the Mega Drive," Manager Tanaka said, standing before Takuya Nakayama's desk, his expression complex. "But the feedback from buyers is astonishing—practically 100% positive. They're calling it a 'work of art'."
"Art requires time to appreciate," Takuya Nakayama said, gazing out the window, his voice unnervingly calm. "Let the word of mouth ferment for a while."
Jeff, an American college student studying in Tokyo, was among those "fools."
He even prepared a small ritual for the unboxing, changing into clean clothes and washing his hands.
As the Sega CD tray slowly slid out, he placed the beautifully designed CD inside.
He pressed the power button.
The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the console reading the disc.
Suddenly, a crisp, melodious chime resonated, striking Jeff's heart.
On the TV screen, Chrono, as drawn by Akira Toriyama, was being woken up by his mother in bed. The bells of the millennium festival rang from outside the window—
This was no longer the pixelated figure from the Super Famicom, but a nearly full-screen animated character with fluid movements and rich expressions.
Yasunori Mitsuda's Celtic-inspired soundtrack poured out from the CD source, every note clear, full, and brimming with narrative depth.
"Oh my—god—"
Jeff slumped to the floor, nearly dropping the controller from his hand.
He felt like he wasn't playing a game, but watching a top-tier animated film.
This money was worth every penny!
As he controlled Chrono to walk out of his house and into the grand millennium festival square, he became completely immersed in this world.
The bustling crowds, the rich interactions, the hidden mini-games and secrets tucked away in every corner—
He forgot the time, forgot to eat, his mind consumed by the endless joy of exploring this world.
A week later, when the first batch of dedicated players finally completed this grand, time-spanning story and tearfully scrolled through the credits, the gaming community's sentiment truly exploded.
The players who had finished the game reappeared before their peers, babbling incoherently about their admiration, even reverence, for the game. In short, it was "too good to be a game of this era."
The real bomb that detonated all the pent-up anticipation was the latest issue of Famitsu.
"40 points! A perfect score!"
In an Akihabara bookstore, a high school student flipped open the magazine, and the pitch of his voice changed the moment he saw the score page.
The surrounding crowd instantly swarmed around him, countless heads craning to stare at the flawless score composed of four "10s."
"Is this for real? A perfect score for a Sega CD game?"
"Chrono Trigger? The one that's super expensive?"
"A perfect score... When was the last time that happened? I have to try it!"
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