The more Chromatron sets they made the greater their losses. Pouring any more funding into the development of Chromatron seemed concomitant to  shinju or double suicide.
 This is all my fault. As president, Ibuka blamed himself for the Chromatron fiasco. Nonetheless, Ibuka had his pride -- not so much as a businessman, but as an engineer. Now, if ever, was the time to back up his dejected engineering staff.
Start looking for a process to replace Chromatron. This time I will act as team leader from start to finish. This was Ibuka's way of taking responsibility.
Morita provided vital support. He told Ibuka, Don't worry about funding. I will take care of it. Develop the project exactly as you wish. From that day fourth, Ibuka went to the laboratories daily to oversee the new project.
In the summer of 1966, Yoshida went to the U.S. to research the market and to inspect the portable color television which General Electric had announced the previous year. This 13-inch set used a shadow mask system with three electron guns in-line. Yoshida received some inspiration from it, but decided that its technology could not easily be applied to sets larger than 13 inches. Yoshida found RCA's advances even more startling. The brightness of their picture had greatly improved. This was due to the switch in fluorescent material from sulfide to rare metals. In addition, RCA was producing about 20,000 sets per month. Yoshida was amazed, especially considering the production rate of 1,000 a month at Sony. In his consideration, RCA's set was a perfected product.
If we can't begin mass production by 1966, then we'll have to give up the Chromatron and switch to the shadow mask system. Upon receiving Yoshida's report, Sony top management reluctantly gave the okay to consider the switch to the shadow mask process.
Yoshida, however, could not bear the thought of bowing to RCA's technology. Nor did he intend to let the five years of hard work that the staff had devoted to Chromatron amount to nothing. There had to be some solution to this dilemma. Just when everyone else had given up hope, Yoshida offered a gamble of an idea in sheer desperation.
Taking a hint from GE's portable TV, Yoshida suggested reforming the electron gun. See if you can run three electron beams through a single electron gun. The Sony staff was cool to the idea. It seemed from the beginning nothing more than an experiment to prove the futility of the idea. Miyaoka was among those who wondered whether Mr. Yoshida had gone nuts. Miyaoka grudgingly ran the experiment, in part, simply because it was an order from the top.
Common sense said it was impossible. But the results contradicted this. Upon hearing the results, Ibuka thought, This sounds as though it'll work! I think we should go with it. Ibuka immediately called Miyaoka to ask whether he considered the new gun viable. Miyaoka really was not sure. On this day, however, he had a special reason to reply in the affirmative. Miyaoka was an avid cellist, and it was his rehearsal day. Any answer other than yes would have tied him up answering Ibuka's questions and make him late for practice. So Miyaoka answered yes and left for practice.
In December 1966, the prototype of the new electron gun was completed. The test results on a seven-inch Chromatron set were startling -- it gave the sharpest picture yet. With this, future prospects finally brightened.
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