Just then, Professor Jun Murai suddenly spoke.
His voice wasn't loud, but it was enough to make the entire office fall silent.
"Takuya Nakayama."
"Please, Professor," Takuya replied with an easy smile.
"I've seen the efficiency," Murai said, withdrawing his gaze from the relaxed office staff. His expression sharpened as his eyes locked onto Takuya. "But I want to know—what SEGA sees in all this… is it only efficiency?"
The question made Director Yoshikawa tense all over again, his nerves snapping back like a pulled wire.
"Of course not."
Takuya's smile didn't waver, but his eyes grew serious. "What we see is a standard."
"A standard?"
"Yes." Takuya met Murai's scrutinizing stare head-on, without backing down. "Today, it's only SEGA's logistics department becoming more efficient. But tomorrow, when our software is adopted by more companies, countless logistics departments will become more efficient. When everyone gets used to confirming orders by email, cross-checking data electronically—then a new business standard is born."
"And when that happens… the companies still clinging to fax machines and manual checking won't just be outdated. They'll likely be eliminated outright by the new standard."
When he finished speaking, the conference room was silent.
Murai looked at the young man before him for a long, long moment.
He said nothing—no praise, no encouragement—just gave a slow nod.
Yet that simple nod carried more weight than any words.
—
When it was time for them to leave, Takuya personally carried out a large box of floppy disks he had prepared in advance and placed it beside Murai's car.
"Professor Murai, this is a small gift from us," he said with a smile. "The first batch of installation disks for our newly completed email client. We sincerely invite the WIDE Project to become our first external test users."
Murai looked at him.
On that usually stern face, a faint smile appeared—rare and meaningful.
He didn't say much.
Just nodded, and lightly patted the box.
"I'll accept these. Whatever extras there are, I'll give them to other professors to try. And I'll be waiting to see the rest of your Internet software go online."
Such a direct gesture—personally helping him promote it—was worth more than any verbal compliment.
—
After seeing Murai's team off, Takuya returned to his own car.
On the passenger seat lay another neatly packed box of floppy disks.
He drove straight to the Tokyo Institute of Technology.
This time, he met his mentor—Professor Yonezawa—in the professor's office.
"You brat, you still remember to visit an old man like me."
Yonezawa laughed as he scolded him, though his eyes drifted immediately to the box Takuya was carrying.
"What's this? SEGA's new game? Trying to bribe your teacher?"
"Sensei, this is the software I asked you to help with before."
Takuya set the box down and opened it, revealing twenty neatly packaged sets of floppy disks.
"Our first test-production batch of the email client. I brought you a box to try."
"Oh?"
Yonezawa perked up, taking a set out himself and examining the packaging with interest.
"Looks decent," he muttered, tearing it open and sliding the disk into the drive of the computer on his desk.
He didn't ask Takuya a single question.
Instead, he picked up the thick user manual that Nohara's team had stayed up late to write and began following it step by step.
Install.
Register.
Configure.
Smooth, flawless.
"The interface is good. Clean. Much better than those American monstrosities," Yonezawa murmured as he clicked around. "The features are logical. Not cluttered. Very nice."
Less than ten minutes later, he had successfully sent and received a test email.
Takuya simply watched quietly.
He knew—
For someone of Yonezawa's level, the product would speak for itself.
"Alright, talk."
Yonezawa leaned back in his chair and turned toward him.
"You even got Murai to personally endorse you. Don't tell me this software is just for sending emails."
Takuya chuckled and recounted everything—the internal trial run data, the surprise inspection Murai conducted, and the near-impossible efficiency improvements.
When Yonezawa heard "a 320% increase in workflow efficiency," his eyebrows rose.
When he heard that Takuya gave another entire box to Murai and told him to "give them away freely," he finally burst out laughing.
"You sly fox!"
He laughed so hard he nearly doubled over.
"I get it now! You're not giving away software—you're casting a net! Using free 'keys' to turn Japan's top scholars and engineers into your users. Instant, top-tier reputation! And you didn't spend a single yen on PR!"
When his laughter subsided, his expression grew serious.
He tapped his finger lightly on the desk—tok tok tok.
"Murai is a pillar of academia, a banner of the tech world. Getting him on your side is a beautiful move."
Then he shifted his tone.
"But he alone isn't enough."
"What do you mean, Sensei?"
"You've won over the road-builders and the car experts. But you've forgotten—who actually controls the road? Who decides who gets to drive on it, and how much the toll costs?"
Yonezawa's gaze deepened.
"You handed Section Chief Eikura at the Ministry of International Trade and Industry your proposal, and he approved it—that was only the first step. Now you have concrete proof of massive industry-wide efficiency gains. Tell me—shouldn't you be giving that achievement to him as well?"
Takuya froze—then it hit him like a bolt of lightning.
Of course!
He'd been so focused on academia and tech that he'd forgotten the origin of policy itself!
He'd been too caught up celebrating.
Eikura needed political results.
And the blazing-hot report and software in his hands was exactly the kind of achievement the man needed.
"Sensei—"
Takuya shot to his feet and lowered into a deep bow.
"I understand!"
Yonezawa nodded, pleased.
"Go, strike while the iron is hot. Remember—sometimes, a single floppy disk carries more weight than tens of millions of yen in PR spending."
—
Leaving the Tokyo Institute of Technology, Takuya sat in his car, watching the flow of people and traffic outside.
In his mind, the blueprint of his plan grew clearer than ever.
He picked up his phone, found a number, and dialed.
"Section Chief Eikura? This is Takuya Nakayama from SEGA. I have some good news regarding the next stage of the 'Information Superhighway.' I'd like to report it to you in person."
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