That afternoon, Masayuki Uemura boarded a train bound for Osaka.
Sharp's headquarters were located there.
The train sped along the tracks, the scenery outside the window rushing past. Uemura flipped through the documents in his hands, his mind constantly churning with strategies on how to coax information out of the old foxes at Sharp.
Sharp's dominance in the liquid crystal display field was unquestionable, and Nintendo had partnered with them for many years. But in business, there were no eternal friends, only eternal interests. Sega was flush with cash right now, so it was only natural for Sharp to side with them.
After arriving in Osaka, Uemura didn't go straight to Sharp's headquarters. Instead, he headed to an izakaya.
He had arranged to meet a Section Chief from Sharp's Display Division there. The two were old acquaintances.
After a few cups of sake, the conversation gradually got on track.
"Sharp has been stealing all the spotlight lately," Uemura said, filling the other man's cup. "The whole industry is watching that HR-TFT screen."
The Section Chief lifted his glass and chuckled awkwardly.
"The technology is sound, but the production ramp-up has been a nightmare."
Uemura picked up a piece of sashimi.
"I heard Sega has already received the finalized batch?"
The Section Chief paused mid-drink.
"Mr. Uemura, you're well-informed," the Section Chief said, setting down his glass and lowering his voice. "This is top-secret, even internally."
So it's true, Masayuki Uemura thought, his suspicions confirmed. "How much production capacity did Sega secure?"
The Section Chief shook his head.
"I don't have the exact numbers. But I heard Sega paid an astronomical advance for this screen. They've practically booked the entire first production line."
Masayuki Uemura tightened his grip on his chopsticks.
"What about the screen size?"
The Section Chief glanced around cautiously, then pulled a crumpled slip of paper from his pocket and slid it across the table to Masayuki Uemura.
"I knew you'd ask that. I copied this from the testing workshop."
Masayuki Uemura unfolded the paper.
It bore a few numbers: 3.0 inches, 240x160.
He stared at the figures, his mind racing through the calculations.
A 3.0-inch screen wasn't particularly large. But a resolution of 240x160 meant an incredibly high pixel density.
Sega was sacrificing the visual impact of a larger screen in favor of extreme image clarity.
"What about the power consumption?" Masayuki Uemura pressed.
"Extremely low." The Section Chief held up two fingers. "They brought an engineering sample here for testing once. Two AA batteries could run it for nearly twenty hours."
Masayuki Uemura gasped.
Twenty hours.
That number was enough to crush every other handheld console on the market.
The GBC could never achieve this level of performance without Sharp's screen.
"Those bastards," Uemura cursed under his breath.
Sega was determined to use Sharp's production capacity to hold Nintendo back.
Uemura tucked the sticky note into his inner pocket.
"Thanks."
He stood up, paid the bill, and strode out of the izakaya.
Outside, the sky had already darkened. Osaka's neon lights flickered in the night.
Uemura found a public phone booth and dialed Hiroshi Yamauchi's number.
The call connected quickly.
"President, I've confirmed it," Uemura said, his voice urgent as he covered the mouthpiece. "Sega is indeed using Sharp's new screen. 3.0 inches, 240x160 resolution. The most terrifying part is the battery life—they've achieved twenty hours."
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end.
"And the production capacity?" Yamauchi's voice was devoid of emotion.
"They've practically monopolized the first production line. Our GBC will likely have to wait for the second line to go online."
"Understood." Yamauchi hung up.
Uemura stepped out of the phone booth.
An autumn breeze blew past, bringing a chill.
Sega's new handheld was proving to be far more formidable than they had ever imagined.
Nintendo's comeback battle was going to be a hard-fought one.
At Nintendo Headquarters in Kyoto, the air conditioner in the conference room hummed loudly.
Masayuki Uemura pushed several photocopied documents to the center of the long table. The papers displayed Sharp's preliminary production schedule.
"Osaka has finalized their plans," Uemura said, leaning back in his chair, his voice hoarse from a sleepless night. "Sega has thrown a massive amount of money at this. They've bought out the entire capacity of the first HR-TFT production line for the first half of the year. If we want those color screens for the GBC, we'll have to wait for their second line to go online."
Gunpei Yokoi snatched the documents, glanced at them, and tossed them back onto the table in frustration.
"When will the second line be operational?"
"The most optimistic estimate is mid-next year," Uemura said, taking a sip of warm water from a paper cup.
Yokoi rubbed his face hard and slammed his hand on the table.
"Mid-next year! Sega's new machine will have already taken over the entire market by then! The GBC is already a step behind them in terms of specs, and now its launch will be delayed by half a year. How are we supposed to win this battle?"
Shigerer Miyamoto, sitting beside them, was doodling circles in his notebook with a pencil.
"Inferior specs, delayed launch," Miyamoto said, stopping his pencil. "Players have limited patience. Sega's GamePocket..."
"We've suppressed the Game Boy too much these past few years. If the GBC doesn't make a huge splash, we'll never sell those old, stockpiled cartridges."
At the head of the table, Yamauchi Hiroshi remained silent.
He flipped through the document in his hand, the crisp rustle of paper echoing sharply in the meeting room.
"Falling behind is falling behind," Yamauchi said, closing the folder and pushing it aside.
Gunpei Yokoi turned to look at him.
"The GBC project is being downgraded," Yamauchi declared, leaning back into his large leather chair, his tone unyielding. "Cut the marketing budget in half. And don't bother with new molds for the casing."
Yokoi froze, then leaned forward abruptly.
"No new molds? President, are we just giving up on the GBC? We were planning to use it to make a comeback!"
"With what?" Yamauchi's voice was low and dangerous. "A release date that's over six months late? A screen that's a leftover nobody else wanted? Or do you think players won't care about the difference in display quality?"
Yokoi was speechless, his lips parting but no words coming out.
"Learn from Sega," Yamauchi said, lifting his teacup. "How did they handle the Game Pocket? They just changed the plastic shell's color and released a few limited editions. They reused the old Game Boy molds, making transparent shells and colors like red, yellow, blue, and green. They stuffed a color screen inside and ensured backward compatibility."
Gunpei Yokoi quickly ran through the costs in his head.
By reusing the old molds, they could save a fortune on research, development, and manufacturing.
"The main goal is to clear out the inventory," Hiroshi Yamauchi said, taking a sip of tea before setting his cup down. "The GBC is just a stopgap. Use it to write off the bad debts in our warehouses. It's unrealistic to expect it to go head-to-head with Sega's next-generation handheld."
Gunpei Yokoi clenched his fist, then slowly relaxed it, noting the point in his notebook.
"You wrap things up with the GBC," Yamauchi said, looking at Yokoi. "Once you're done, go over to the N64 team and help them out. Lead a team to make a couple of games. When the time is right, we'll launch the development of the next-generation handheld directly."
Gunpei Yokoi's head snapped up.
"The next generation?"
"32-bit," Yamauchi tapped the table. "Sega took a big leap this time, so we'll just leapfrog right over them. The focal point for our handheld will be 32-bit hardware. We'll crush them with a generational gap."
Gunpei Yokoi drew a heavy line in his notebook, the pen tip nearly tearing the paper.
The GBC had become a sacrificial pawn.
But the project for a 32-bit handheld had reignited his passion.
The meeting room fell silent for a moment.
Yamauchi turned to Shigeru Miyamoto and Masayuki Uemura.
"Put the handheld on hold. Let's talk about the home console."
Yamauchi Hiroshi pulled a fresh market research report from his drawer and tossed it onto the table.
"The N64's situation is all in here."
Masayuki Uemura didn't reach for the report. Everyone in the room already knew the sales figures from the past few months.
Sega's Jupiter and Sony's PlayStation were locked in a fierce battle. The N64, caught in the middle, had a presence that was far from fading, yet remained severely limited.
"The hardware gap isn't wide enough," Yamauchi said flatly. "And Square's Final Fantasy VII is a massive hit on PlayStation. The landscape for this generation's console war is set in stone. Making any major shift in market share now would be nearly impossible."
Silence fell over the room.
Everyone knew that Nintendo had completely lost its lead in this console war.
"The N64's scheduled games will still be released. But the Hardware Department cannot remain idle." Yamauchi pointed at Masayuki Uemura. "Uemura, you will lead the preliminary research for the next-generation console. Gather intelligence on everyone's hardware and software, and set the research direction."
Masayuki Uemura managed a wry smile and waved his hands in a frantic gesture of refusal.
"President, I can't take this on."
Yamauchi Hiroshi frowned.
"I'm fifty-four this year," Masayuki Uemura said, pointing to his hair. "My energy isn't what it used to be. Pulling a few all-nighters reviewing blueprints, and my brain just can't keep up. Even with the N64, I felt I was at my limit. If Mr. Takeda hadn't stepped up and shouldered the core architecture, I don't even know if the N64 would have been delivered on time. I only got it started in the preliminary research phase and put my name on it."
Uemura leaned back in his seat.
"A project that will decide Nintendo's next ten years should be left to the younger generation to charge ahead with. Mr. Takeda is more than capable of carrying this burden."
Yamauchi Hiroshi stared at Uemura for a few seconds.
"Fine," Yamauchi said, not pressing the matter further. "The preliminary research for the next-generation console will be handed to Genyo Takeda."
He turned to Shigeru Miyamoto.
"Miyamoto, you will assist Takeda."
Miyamoto stopped writing. "Me? Involved in hardware research?"
"No matter how high the hardware specs are, if no one plays it, it's just a piece of scrap metal," Yamauchi said sternly. "How the new console should be designed, how the controller layout should be changed, and what new features need to be added—you need to make those demands from a game development perspective. Takeda will be responsible for building the hardware, and you will be responsible for ensuring it's actually suitable for making games."
Miyamoto nodded solemnly.
"Hardware must serve the games. Making players feel the fun is Nintendo's core," Yamauchi said, standing up and straightening the hem of his suit jacket. "Now, get to work."
After work, Gunpei Yokoi opened the door of the old Toyota Crown that had been with him for years and sat heavily into the driver's seat.
The door closed, shutting out the wind from outside.
He inserted the key into the ignition and turned it.
The engine roared to life with a dull, heavy rumble.
The car pulled out of the Nintendo Headquarters' underground garage.
Streetlights flickered across the windshield, casting a strobe-like light inside the cabin.
Gunpei Yokoi gripped the steering wheel, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.
His mind was still trapped in the meeting room.
Masayuki Uemura had leaned back in his chair, deflecting the responsibility.
"I'm fifty-four this year. I can't keep up the energy anymore."
The words stung.
Uemura was two years younger than him.
Even Uemura was ready to hand over the reins to Genyo Takeda and step back into the second line.
What about him? What about Gunpei Yokoi?
He felt he still had fight in him.
He could still create new things.
Yamauchi Hiroshi had asked him to help with the N64, to lead a team in game development, and had even thrown him the proposal for a 32-bit handheld.
It should have been an exhilarating challenge.
But the downgrading of the GBC was a bitter pill he couldn't swallow.
No new molds. No marketing. Just clearing out old stock.
It was a weapon he had poured his heart and soul into, intended to crush Sega. Now, it had become a mere transitional pawn.
Yokoi stepped on the gas.
The car surged forward.
An unnamed fire smoldered in his chest.
Sega's tactics were ruthless. They had simply thrown money at Sharp to buy out the entire production capacity of the new screens, backing the GBC into a corner.
The car pulled onto the highway.
Traffic was light at night.
The road ahead stretched into the darkness.
Suddenly, a jarring metallic screech tore through the chassis.
Immediately after, the car shuddered violently, and the steering wheel began to pull uncontrollably to the right.
Gunpei Yokoi slammed on the brakes.
The tires left long, black streaks on the asphalt, and the acrid smell of burning rubber filled the cabin.
The car came to a crooked halt on the shoulder.
The engine died completely.
He slapped the steering wheel and pressed the hazard lights.
Pushing open the door, he was met by the cool night wind.
Gunpei Yokoi walked to the front of the car and crouched down.
By the dim light of a streetlamp, he leaned in to inspect the chassis.
Behind him, two blinding beams of high-beam headlights tore through the night, closing in fast.
Accompanied by the screech of brakes.
Thud.
The dull sound of the impact echoed across the empty highway.
Broken parts scattered all over the ground.
Nintendo Headquarters, President's Office.
Yamauchi Hiroshi sat behind a massive desk.
On the desk lay the GBC Downgrade Proposal.
The black landline phone rang.
Yamauchi Hiroshi picked up the receiver.
"President," the General Affairs Manager's voice came through the line, thick with suppressed panic. "General Manager Yokoi... something happened."
Yamauchi Hiroshi gripped the plastic casing of the telephone receiver.
"Go on."
"Mr. Yokoi's car broke down on the highway," the General Affairs Manager said, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "He got out to check the vehicle and was struck by a car behind him. He was rushed to the hospital, but... they couldn't save him."
Only the static of the line remained.
Yamauchi Hiroshi placed the receiver back on the cradle with a gentle touch.
A few minutes later, the office door was pushed open.
Shigeru Miyamoto and Masayuki Uemura walked in, one behind the other. Uemura was holding a stack of freshly organized documents.
"President, you called for us?" Miyamoto pulled out a chair and sat down.
Yamauchi Hiroshi clasped his hands on the desk.
"Yokoi is gone."
Uemura's hand jerked, and the papers scattered across the floor. The rustle of paper filled the silence.
"You're joking, aren't you?" Uemura froze, his body half-bent as he reached to pick up the documents.
"Half an hour ago," Yamauchi said, his voice steady. "A car accident. He didn't make it."
Shigeru Miyamoto took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
A deathly silence fell over the office.
Just a few hours ago, Gunpei Yokoi had been slamming his fist on the conference table, arguing for the GBC, and sketching out the plans for a 32-bit handheld console in his notebook.
Now, he was gone.
"General Affairs is handling the arrangements," Yamauchi Hiroshi said, standing up and walking to the floor-to-ceiling window. He gazed out at the Kyoto nightscape. "Miyamoto, you'll take over wrapping up the GBC."
Miyamoto nodded in agreement.
Masayuki Uemura placed the documents he had picked up on the table.
"What about the 32-bit handheld research—" Uemura's hand gripped the edge of the table.
"Put it on hold for now," Yamauchi said, turning around. "The Hardware Department cannot fall into chaos. Uemura, you will temporarily take over Yokoi's responsibilities. Keep the staff steady."
Uemura opened his mouth to object, but swallowed the words.
"Understood."
Please Support me by becoming my Patreon member and get 30+ chapters.
[email protected]/Ajal69
change @ with a
Thank You to Those who joined my Patreon