"It's more or less how I imagined it. A console and handheld hybrid."
Airi Hayasawa couldn't help but ask, "But if that's the case, its performance won't match a proper home console, right? Are you planning to abandon home consoles, Takayuki?"
"Of course not. Home consoles are for large-scale, graphically intense games. There are still plenty of players who care about visuals—we can't ignore them."
"But then, those high-graphic games won't be able to run on the Switch, right?"
Takayuki nodded. "That depends, but to bring them to the Switch, we'll definitely have to scale back the visuals significantly."
The Switch would focus more on gameplay innovation, using relatively low development costs to explore fresh and experimental game ideas.
Even if they lost $30–50 million on a title, it wouldn't be too painful.
Besides, Takayuki already had a long list of Switch-style game concepts. Supporting a hybrid console with both handheld and home functionality wouldn't be a problem.
...
As for the home console space, that would be reserved for high-budget, industrial-grade productions—top-tier visuals like in football games, Need for Speed, and the upcoming Assassin's Creed.
Since the vision was already set, Airi didn't ask further. She simply followed up, "So, Takayuki, when do you plan to announce the console?"
"We can start leaking some info now—subtly. It'd be great if Myron Case caught wind of it."
Yuki Uesugi raised an eyebrow nearby. "President, you're hoping to catch Myron's attention so he'll stop focusing on Facebook's phone?"
Takayuki shook his head. "No way—Myron isn't that dumb. I just want him to realize… the same way he took over the handheld market, I'll take it back."
Takayuki was full of confidence.
Facebook was just the beginning. The real goal was to let more players experience truly fun games.
His long-term vision was still a bit hazy to those around him, but as long as they followed his instructions, they knew everything would fall into place.
He then turned to Airi and said, "Don't rush development. In time, some chip manufacturers will probably come to us. When they do, we can name our price."
Airi nodded. "Understood. We'll focus first on the console's functional design and system integration."
With that, she left the fifth dev division, sketch pad in hand. Takayuki, meanwhile, returned to overseeing the development of Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core.
This game was a classic of its time and considered one of the top five must-plays on the PSP.
Looking at the feedback online, fans of Final Fantasy VII were already beyond excited to learn more about the Crisis Core prequel.
The story wasn't too complex: it was the life and death journey of a soldier named Zack.
But within that tale were rich emotional threads—family, love, mentorship, betrayal. And through it all, players would witness Final Fantasy VII's main villain Sephiroth's fall into darkness.
When Takayuki handed the story draft to Uesugi, he was blown away. He said it perfectly captured the tone and soul of the Final Fantasy series.
The game itself also evolved on top of traditional turn-based mechanics.
Just from the story alone, Uesugi predicted Crisis Core would sell at least as well as NieR: Automata. Both had emotional depth and meaningful themes—solid contenders as modern classics.
While Takayuki immersed himself in development, outside the studio, a quiet storm was brewing thanks to a leaked rumor from Gamestar Electronic Entertainment.
On Facebook, an anonymous "uncle insider" account posted a blurry image—one that looked like a handheld console. In one corner, the Gamestar logo was faintly visible.
At first, no one believed it. People thought it was just another fake leak for attention.
After all, Gamestar was notoriously secretive. Rarely did anything leak from them.
Only massive companies like Surry Electronics had the resources to maybe sniff out clues about Gamestar's projects.
And even then, Surry wouldn't spill anything. Not only was there no benefit, but it could actually boost Gamestar's hype and hurt their own console sales.
So the leak was mostly dismissed as a daily internet rumor.
But shortly after posting, the image was deleted.
The account that posted it? Gone too.
Soon after, a new Facebook account appeared and claimed to be the same "uncle insider." He said he'd been warned by Gamestar and even received a legal letter demanding deletion.
He couldn't say much more. Within 30 minutes, that account and message vanished as well.
But this back-and-forth drew even more attention.
"Wait… Gamestar sent a cease-and-desist letter? That's serious."
Could it be? Was Gamestar really working on a new handheld?
The excitement was palpable across the gaming community.
Players had never stopped loving handhelds.
In recent years, Gamestar hadn't given handhelds the same attention—no longer delivering yearly masterpieces like before. Some handheld fans had grown frustrated.
But with the rise of smartphones, most players understood Gamestar was avoiding direct conflict.
It seemed the smartphone era had arrived—and Gamestar might permanently exit the handheld space to focus on home consoles.
So just as fans were starting to accept that reality… boom. This rumor hit.
Of course they were excited.