Sega Managing Director's Office.
Takuya Nakayama, with a smile on his face, extended his hand, motioning for Hideo Kojima to sit on the sofa opposite him. Hideo Kojima gave a slightly reserved bow, a contrast to Takuya's relaxed demeanor.
The office was simpler than he had imagined, without excessive luxurious decorations, instead exuding a practical atmosphere.
"Kojima-san, I've heard much about you. Suzuki-san has often mentioned you to me." Takuya's voice had the clear brightness characteristic of youth, yet it also carried a composure that belied his age. He personally picked up the teapot on the table and poured a steaming cup of Sencha for Hideo Kojima, his movements natural and fluid, completely devoid of any airs of a superior.
Hideo Kojima quickly took the teacup with both hands, feeling the warmth on his fingertips. "You are too kind, Executive Director Nakayama." He spoke, his voice slightly hoarse from days of travel and suppression. This young Managing Director was even more approachable than rumored, which allowed his taut nerves to relax slightly.
Takuya's gaze fell on the original metal gear script, which Hideo Kojima had placed on his lap and was already somewhat curled at the edges, its cover worn from the owner's long-term, repeated handling. "May I take a look?"
Hideo Kojima hesitated for a moment, but still handed over the script.
Takuya took it and carefully flipped through the pages. For a moment, the only sound in the office was the rustling of paper. He read intently, occasionally nodding slightly, and sometimes his eyebrows would unconsciously rise. Hideo Kojima held his teacup, feeling a bit uneasy; this script had been deemed worthless at Konami.
"Stealth espionage, anti-war themes, a complex web of character relationships, and a deep exploration of technological ethics and human nature—" Takuya put down the script, looked up at Hideo Kojima, his voice filled with sincere admiration, "Kojima-san, you are a true genius. This script, even by my most critical standards, is a masterpiece. Especially the characterization of this 'Solid Snake,' it's very three-dimensional."
Upon hearing this, Hideo Kojima's hand, holding the teacup, paused almost imperceptibly, and a long-lost glimmer finally appeared in his previously dim eyes. This was the first time he had heard such direct and specific affirmation of his work from someone truly knowledgeable and in a high position. At Konami, he had heard more doubts and denials like "the market doesn't need something so complex" or "players won't like such heavy themes."
"Executive Director Nakayama—" He was a bit emotional, his throat tightening.
"Kojima-san, if you don't mind, just call me Takuya-kun." Takuya smiled and interrupted him, trying to create a more relaxed atmosphere, "At Sega, we value talent and creativity more than those cumbersome hierarchical titles."
"I am an example, although it's undeniable that I am the president's son, if there were no substantial achievements, the executives would not have put me in this position."
This statement caused Hideo Kojima's tightly pursed lips to relax slightly.
"The promise we conveyed earlier through Suzuki-san is still valid, and I will personally oversee its execution." Takuya's smile faded, his eyes becoming particularly serious, "Sega will grant you a high degree of creative freedom. Your ideas, your concepts, will be fully respected here. Funds, technology, personnel—as long as they are reasonable, Sega will fully support you."
Hideo Kojima's heart was genuinely soothed by these words. Creative freedom—this was what he had longed for, but had been cruelly deprived of at Konami. He took a deep breath and nodded solemnly. "I understand, Takuya-kun."
When discussing the specific project arrangements, Takuya's expression became slightly more serious. "Kojima-san, regarding the metal gear project, I personally like it very much and am very optimistic about its potential. However, there is a realistic problem that we need to face together."
Hideo Kojima's heart tightened, and the hope that had just ignited seemed to be doused with cold water. He had a premonition. "Please speak, Takuya-kun."
"Although the original metal gear script is the crystallization of your hard work, its copyright currently carries certain risks," Takuya stated frankly, "Konami, despite shelving your original concept, is very likely to use this IP to release a heavily modified version, launching it first on the FC platform.
After all, they still hold some rights."
Hideo Kojima's brows furrowed; this was what he worried about most.
"If we immediately launch your original metal gear now, once Konami makes a move, it is very likely to trigger protracted legal disputes," Takuya continued his analysis, "This could have adverse effects on you, having just joined Sega, on our cooperation, and on Sega's reputation. As you know, legal matters can sometimes be more tormenting than developing the game itself."
Takuya's tone was calm, but his analysis was clear and logical, full of business prudence. Upon hearing this, the light that had just ignited in Hideo Kojima's eyes dimmed a few shades. He naturally understood Takuya's meaning. It was a work into which he had poured countless efforts, a part of his soul, yet now, due to the constraints of these business rules, he temporarily could not realize it according to his own wishes. A deep sense of powerlessness welled up in his heart, and he instinctively clenched his fists.
But he quickly adjusted. Takuya's frankness made him feel respected, not perfunctory. This open and honest attitude was far better than Konami's hypocritical smiles and behind-the-scenes tactics.
"I understand, Takuya-kun." Hideo Kojima nodded, his voice a bit low, "This is the reality of business operations, and I can accept it." The knot in his heart had not completely dissipated, but his trust in Sega, and in this young Managing Director before him, grew by another measure. At least, he had not been deceived or belittled.
Takuya keenly noticed the subtle change in Hideo Kojima's emotions. He smiled slightly, knowing that it was not appropriate to dwell further on the metal gear copyright issue at this moment. "Kojima-san, I know you have poured immense emotion into metal gear. Temporarily not being able to launch it doesn't mean giving up forever. I believe that one day, it will be released in the way you most hope for. Moreover, we can also simultaneously make legal preparations to see if there's a chance to fully reclaim the copyright."
"However, before that," Takuya stood up and made an inviting gesture, "I hope you can see some things Sega is secretly working on. Perhaps you will discover a broader sky, and it might even make you temporarily forget the unpleasantness brought by those Nintendo bastards."
His tone carried a hint of mystery, successfully piquing Hideo Kojima's curiosity.