This was a classic case of the typical Japanese creator's mindset. Their vision was confined to the domestic anime and manga circles, leaving them completely oblivious to the industrial assembly-line approach of the American film and television industry.
"You should take a look at ER and NYPD Blue," Takuya Nakayama said, naming the two shows. "These were rating juggernauts in the United States. Their defining characteristic is incredibly high narrative density, with multiple parallel storylines and frequent scene cuts. When people watch them, they don't even have time to go to the bathroom for fear of missing a single line of dialogue and losing the thread of the plot. You're trying to compress over a dozen episodes' worth of content into a shorter timeframe—this kind of fast-paced storytelling is highly valuable as a reference."
Seeing that the two of them were still a bit bewildered, Takuya added, "Don't worry if you can't find any copies. I'll call Sega of America later and have them airmail over a few original tapes. You can set aside some time to break them down."
"Fast-paced storytelling... will the Gundam audience be able to handle that?" Shinji Takamatsu asked skeptically. "The combination of mecha battles and complex political intrigue is already a lot of information. If we speed it up even more, won't the audience find it too exhausting?"
"That's exactly the effect we're aiming for." Takuya tapped his knuckles on the table, explaining his business logic.
"A tight narrative will keep the audience glued to their screens. They'll be hanging on every detail. If they miss a clue or a stunning mecha battle because of the fast pace, it creates a sense of regret. And regret, as you know, is a powerful driver for consumption."
He looked the two animation veterans in the eye, laying his cards on the table.
"The TV broadcast is just a teaser. Viewers who didn't get enough or didn't fully grasp everything on TV will buy the videotapes and LaserDiscs to study them repeatedly. Besides, all those slice-of-life scenes and character monologues you're forced to cut to compress the episode count? You can add them back into the physical discs as 'unreleased footage' or a 'Director's Cut.'"
The conference room fell silent.
Hiroyuki Kawasaki was scribbling furiously on a notepad.
Shinji Takamatsu stared at the table, his mind racing to process this completely new commercial strategy.
"We'll drive up the show's discussion value, giving fans something to dig into and argue about. Isn't that exactly what Gundam fans love most?" Takuya Nakayama raised his hands and made an explosive gesture in the air. "Boom. We blow up the buzz."
"After that, we just sit back and collect the money."
This slightly exaggerated gesture, paired with his bluntly commercial description, swept away the last remnants of the meeting's formal atmosphere.
The Dentsu representative couldn't help but burst out laughing.
Takuya Nakayama seized the moment, clapping his hands twice to bring the sponsors' attention back.
"Time is of the essence," he said. "Representatives, we'll call it a day. Please report back to your companies immediately and expedite the approval process. Sega's legal team will follow up on the contract details tomorrow."
"Understood. Executive Director Nakayama, you're a man of action. We won't hold you back." The Dentsu representative gathered his documents, and he and the Asahi Television representative rose to take their leave.
Once the outsiders were gone, only Sunrise's own people remained in the conference room.
Takuya Nakayama dropped his businessman persona and began assigning specific tasks.
"Kawasaki-sensei, Director Takamatsu. We've cleared the path at the top, but the ground-level morale is your responsibility. The animation staff outside are practically rotting from boredom."
He gestured toward the door.
"Communicate the next steps clearly. Tell the key animators and storyboard artists that even if their work was cut from the TV broadcast due to the reduced episode count, none of it will go to waste. Everything will be restored in the subsequent LaserDisc release. The quickest way to kill morale is to let creators feel their hard work will never be seen. Give them this guarantee so they can let loose and get to work."
The two men agreed immediately.
Just as they were speaking, the conference room door swung open.
Eiji Yamaura, the president of Sunrise, burst in, panting for breath.
The president, now over fifty, had been out securing sponsorships. Upon hearing that Executive Director Nakayama from Sega had personally arrived at the company, he had rushed back without even stopping for a sip of water.
The moment he stepped inside, Yamaura sensed something was off.
There was none of the expected gloom and despair, nor the chaotic mess of a sponsor slamming tables and cursing.
Though Shinji Takamatsu and Hiroyuki Kawasaki had bloodshot eyes, their spirits were high as they organized the storyboards on the table.
"Executive Director Nakayama," Yamaura said, stepping forward quickly. He grasped Takuya Nakayama's hand with both of his and shook it vigorously. "My sincerest apologies for my absence. I've heard the situation from my assistant. Sega has truly saved Sunrise this time."
"You're too kind, President Yamaura. Sega is a major shareholder in Sunrise. We're all family here." Takuya let his hand be held, making no move to pull away.
He then rose to his feet, walked to the conference room door, and pushed it open.
In the animation area outside, many employees had already heard the news from the assistants.
The project, which had been stalled for three weeks, finally had a resolution. It wouldn't be cut in half, and Sega had stepped in to settle things with the sponsors.
Dozens of gazes fixed on the conference room door.
Takuya Nakayama looked at these animators, artists who earned their living with brushes and pens, and raised his voice.
"Everyone."
The chatter died down.
"Regarding the episode adjustments for Gundam X, the direction has been finalized. There will be cuts, and the pacing will change. I know some people will find this unsettling, and some viewers might even write letters to complain."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the faces—some young, some no longer so.
"Gundam is a great series. It can be shortened, and its interpretation can be debated. But it cannot be anything less than a masterpiece. We cannot deliver a fragmented, half-baked product just because of scheduling pressure. Giving the audience a complete story is Sunrise's promise to all Gundam fans."
Takuya Nakayama spoke slowly, his words clear and deliberate.
"Only a meticulously crafted work can carry the emotions and imagination fans invest in it. Focus on the quality. Sega will handle the money. Sega will always support Sunrise and the creators who are willing to make a truly great anime."
After a brief silence, a young key animator in the corner slammed his hand on the table and started clapping.
The applause spread rapidly.
The applause grew from sparse claps to a thunderous roar.
From the light tables to the hallways, and from the breakroom to every corner of the office, the entire workspace erupted in fervent applause.
Eiji Yamaura stood aside, watching the scene unfold.
He had helmed Sunrise for so many years, growing accustomed to investors dictating terms and amateurs trying to direct professionals. There were plenty of wealthy backers, but shareholders who were willing to both spend money and respect the creative process were all too rare.
Takuya Nakayama waved his hand toward the animation department, then turned to Eiji Yamaura.
"Alright, President Yamaura. Now that the follow-up production for Gundam X is settled, let's talk about something else."