Ajal.
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Chapter 185: The Undercurrents of the SFC
🕑 Added 2025-10-31 10:30:51 +0000 UTCNintendo Hardware Development Division.
“Kamitani-san, Takeda-san,” Ken Kutaragi leaned slightly forward, fingers interlocked on the table as his gaze shifted between the two men. “NEC’s PC Engine has already launched a CD-ROM add-on, and it’s getting massive coverage. That’s Sony’s technology being used. Even Yu Suzuki from SEGA personally came to ask about the licensing details. Are you really not considering a CD-ROM expansion for the Super Famicom?”
His tone carried impatience — almost like an accusation.
“You’re still clinging to those pitifully small cartridges? Times have changed.”
“Kutaragi-san,” replied Masayuki Uemura with a weary shake of his head. “We’ve already submitted two formal proposals to the president based on the technical documentation you provided. You know how the president is — his decisions have their own rhythm. We can’t just stand outside his office every day, demanding an answer.”
Takeda Genyo added politely, “The president has his concerns. The SFC’s design isn’t finalized yet; a lot can still change. We’ll bring it up again, but we need a little more time, Kutaragi-san.”
Kutaragi’s jaw tightened. He could tell these two were like walls coated in oil — any pressure he applied just slipped off without effect. He drained his coffee in one gulp, the cup landing with a sharp clink.
“Fine then,” he said curtly, rising to his feet. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands. Sony values our partnership with Nintendo, and personally, I’d like to see us take that relationship further.”
“Of course,” Uemura replied, standing as well. “We, too, want this partnership to continue for many years.”
Takeda followed suit, bowing slightly. “And thank you again for the support from your engineers. We’ll need their continued help with the audio chip integration tests.”
Kutaragi straightened his suit, confidence returning to his face. “No problem. When it comes to sound—hardware or software—if Sony says we’re second-best, no one dares claim first.”
He turned and strode out of the room, his posture radiating pride.
Uemura watched from the parking lot as the new Mercedes blended into the traffic, then turned back inside.
As he reentered the office, he noticed Takeda standing by the window, still looking out.
“Well?” Takeda asked without turning around.
“Well what?” Uemura replied, picking up his half-cooled coffee.
“The Sony engineers.”
“Oh.” Uemura sighed. “They’re skilled, no doubt. Technically excellent. But… they’re not exactly discreet. The head of our audio division reported that they’ve been asking questions about the SFC’s GPU specs and CPU structure — things that have nothing to do with sound testing.”
Takeda’s faint smile vanished, replaced with open disdain.
“Hmph. A pack of wolves that can’t be tamed. SEGA’s gotten them hungry — they’ve had a taste of the arcade business, and now they think they can run their own show.”
“You can’t say that for sure,” Uemura replied, sipping his coffee. “We don’t have proof yet. And we still need Sony’s help — our own hardware capabilities aren’t enough on their own. If we push them away too soon, the SFC’s development will suffer. That’s still our top priority.”
Takeda crossed his arms and sank into the sofa. “You’re right. Sony’s not stupid enough to leave clear evidence behind. But we can’t relax either. We need to finish SFC as soon as possible. SEGA’s MD is surging — sales are rising fast. By year’s end, they could hit five million units worldwide. If we fall too far behind, catching up will be tough.”
“I’ll keep the development on track,” said Uemura. “You should mention Sony’s behavior to the president when you get the chance.”
“I will,” Takeda nodded, a faint grin returning. “He’ll like this story.”
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As soon as the Mercedes left Nintendo headquarters, Kutaragi’s confident expression melted away. He tugged at his tie and exhaled deeply.
Back at Sony HQ, he didn’t even wait for his secretary’s greeting before pushing open the president’s office door.
“President Ohga.”
Norio Ohga was wearing headphones, eyes closed, hand moving rhythmically in the air as if conducting an invisible orchestra.
Hearing the door, he removed his headphones and smiled. “Ah, you’re back, Kutaragi. I take it Kyoto’s tea wasn’t to your liking?”
“‘Not to my liking’ is putting it mildly,” Kutaragi said, collapsing into the guest sofa — his slouched posture a stark contrast to his sharp suit. “Those two — Uemura and Takeda — are like walls coated in oil. Push them, and they just slide aside, never giving a straight answer.”
He mimicked Uemura’s polite shrug: “‘The president has his own rhythm, we can’t rush him.’”
Then, adopting Takeda’s overly respectful tone: “‘We’ll advise him again, but please give us more time.’”
He let out a humorless laugh. “Time and rhythm? They just want our audio engineers as free labor!”
Ohga calmly handed him a glass of water. “And our engineers? Did they find out anything useful?”
“Don’t ask,” Kutaragi grumbled after taking a big gulp. “Takahashi and the others tried everything. They even took Nintendo’s top programmers to an izakaya, brought out the best sake they could find. By the end, those guys were hugging pillars and singing. And what did we learn? That Nintendo’s dev cafeteria serves premium bento boxes on Fridays. That’s it. Not one detail about the SFC’s architecture. Those people guard their secrets tighter than a bank vault.”
Ohga chuckled. “That’s the best information you could’ve brought back.”
Kutaragi blinked. “Huh?”
“Their secrecy means hesitation,” Ohga explained, leaning forward. “They’re afraid to lose you. They know they can’t finish the SFC without our tech. But they’re also afraid we’ll use the CD-ROM to control them—or worse, that we’ll join the console war ourselves.”
He walked to the window, gazing down at the traffic below. “NEC has already paved the road. SEGA’s followed. Let them test the waters first. We’ll wait.”
Kutaragi’s frustration faded as he followed the president’s reasoning. Slowly, a new light flickered in his eyes.
“Nintendo’s a vast empire,” Ohga continued. “But every empire has factions. The SFC is being led by Uemura’s second development division—they guard their tech like treasure. But what about Yokoi Gunpei in the first division? He’s been loyal to Yamauchi for years and never got the recognition he deserves. In a company ruled by a family that started with playing cards, there’s no such thing as perfect unity.”
Kutaragi’s eyes sharpened. His lips curved upward again.
“Find the ones who feel underappreciated,” Ohga said, turning back with a knowing smile. “Sometimes, the key to a fortress’s gate isn’t a battering ram—it’s a rusted key from the inside.”
“I understand.” Kutaragi rose, adjusting his tie. The exhaustion and irritation were gone—replaced by the thrill of a hunter spotting new prey.
“I’ll handle it, President Ohga.”
