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 meticulously detailed backgrounds, even when using recycled footage. The budget was always generous enough to keep viewers satisfied.
On the TV screen, a rousing orchestral theme suddenly blared, its brassy trumpet melody instantly capturing the attention of passersby.
It was the opening theme, "Charge! Imperial Assault Force."
The scene showed steam billowing from the joints of the bulky yet mechanically elegant Kōbu mechs as they stomped through Ginza's streets, their gears grinding with a solid, mechanical rhythm.
The camera 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, Mecha Combat.
These seemingly unrelated elements, 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 transformed into pilots clad in sleek, era-appropriate mechs, leaping into action to slay demons and vanquish evil.
This stark contrast between their glamorous and heroic identities, paired with a theme 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 mere tens of seconds in this trailer had already raised anticipation to its peak.
Gamers 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 games, and his expression was even more unpleasant than if he'd just bitten into a fly.
"Mr. Tanaka, this drink is on me, 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 methods. 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 become easier to navigate."
Tanaka then laid out the "leasing plan" Takuya had entrusted him with.
From hardware repurposing, to mainland factory counterfeiting, to Chinese game 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 game 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 some 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 men.
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 document, 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 game 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 meal 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 documents 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 anime on TV Tokyo.
Countless young people, their appetites whetted by posters and trailers, had been eagerly awaiting this moment. Even many middle-aged men 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 theme of Charge! Imperial Assault Force seized the attention of every viewer.
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