By late September, Hokkaido's wind had turned as sharp as a knife.
The sky over the Tokachi Plain was lead-gray, the clouds hanging so low they looked ready to crush the endless black soil beneath them.
Rumble—
The roar of massive engines tore through the desolate silence.
Twelve John Deere heavy combine harvesters, painted dark green, were arranged in a long, single-file line. They devoured the earth voraciously. Their enormous metal cylinders churned, wrenching potatoes from the frozen soil and sending them up conveyor belts into the waiting truck containers.
Mud splattered. Thick black smoke billowed.
Against this industrial harvest, traditional manual farming looked like a child's game.
Otsuka Kouhei stood on a ridge of the field embankment, walkie-talkie in hand. His grease-stained baseball cap snapped in the wind.
"Number Three! Watch your row spacing! Don't crush the next ridge!"
He roared. His voice crackled through the walkie-talkies to every operator.
Watching the endless stream of brown tubers pour from the ground, this tech fanatic's face broke into a look of genuine satisfaction. His theoretical models were real now. And the first results were overwhelming.
This year's cold snap had cut harvests for ordinary farmers by 20%. But S-Farm, using deep-plow techniques and custom fertilizer blends, had forced out a bumper crop anyway.
And the quality and unit cost of these potatoes blew traditional agriculture out of the water. As tech improved and scale increased, costs would only fall further.
Beep—!
A sharp air horn cut through his commands.
At the farm's exit, three white vans marked "JA Okawara" had appeared, blocking the previously clear gravel road.
Over a dozen members of the Agricultural Cooperative's "Inspection Team" in green uniforms jumped out. They held red batons and megaphones. They completely blocked S-Farm's convoy of heavy trucks, which had been preparing to head for the port.
"Stop! Everyone stop!"
The lead Agricultural Cooperative cadre shouted through his megaphone, spittle flying.
"According to the 'Hokkaido Agricultural Product Distribution Adjustment Law,' any fresh agricultural products not inspected by the Agricultural Cooperative distribution center are strictly prohibited from unauthorized cross-regional transport! You are disrupting market order! This is a crime!"
The truck drivers weren't having it. They laid on their massive air horns. The blaring shook your chest.
Dozens of local reporters who'd caught wind of this, plus curious farmers, raised their cameras. Flashbulbs strobed in the gloomy light, capturing the explosive scene: "Agricultural Cooperative versus capitalists."
"Get out of the way! This is our private road!"
S-Farm security raised riot shields and pushed forward. Both sides shoved each other in the muddy water. Shouts, curses, and horns merged into chaos, teetering on the edge of a riot…
---
Less than fifty meters from the center of the chaos.
A black Nissan President sat quietly in the shadow of a windbreak forest.
The windows were up, tinted with dark privacy film. The noise and cold outside were completely sealed off. The heater kept the interior at a comfortable 24 degrees Celsius. The air carried the faint scent of Shizuoka roasted green tea.
Satsuki sat on the rear leather sofa.
Today she wore a tailored dark houndstooth wool coat with a beige cashmere scarf around her neck. In her hands was a delicate bone china teacup.
Across from her sat a plump, gray-haired old man.
Iwamura, Chairman of the Okawara Agricultural Cooperative. This "local emperor" who wielded immense power in Hokkaido's Tokachi region was perched on the edge of his seat, the handkerchief in his hand already crumpled into a ball.
"Miss Saionji, what do you think… is the show outside convincing enough?"
Iwamura forced a smile. Sweat beaded on his forehead, glistening under the car's interior light.
"That man leading the shouting is a nephew from my main family. Big voice, perfect for playing the hothead. Once these photos run in tomorrow's papers, every farmer in Hokkaido will know our Agricultural Cooperative dares to stand up to even a major financial group like the Saionji Family to protect their interests."
Satsuki gently blew on the tea leaves floating on the surface. She didn't answer immediately.
She turned her head and looked through the one-way glass at the "hothead" outside, his face red, neck bulging, even trying to lie down under the truck wheels.
"The acting is a bit overdone."
Satsuki set down her teacup. Porcelain clicked softly against the saucer.
"However, it's sufficient to fool those voters who only believe in 'tragic narratives.'"
Iwamura gave a dry laugh and hurriedly pulled a thick manila envelope from his jacket, presenting it with both hands.
"This is what you requested."
Satsuki took the envelope and untied the cotton string.
Inside was a stack of documents stamped with bright red seals.
"Special Agricultural Product Processing Raw Material Transport Permit."
"Non-Edible Grade Starch Raw Material Quarantine Certificate."
Each sheet bore the Agricultural Cooperative's highest-level "Special Approval" seal.
With these, the thousands of tons of premium-grade potatoes outside — which should have been subject to layer upon layer of price exploitation, or even forcibly destroyed for "price protection" — were magically reclassified as "industrial waste." No quotas.
They would move unimpeded to the port, be loaded onto the roll-on/roll-off ship already waiting, and arrive at Chiba Prefecture's Central Kitchen by tomorrow evening.
"Chairman Iwamura, this is serious 'dereliction of duty' on your part."
Satsuki's slender fingers tapped the document lightly. A playful curve touched the corner of her mouth.
"Selling premium-grade produce as waste… if the farmers who still have to queue to deliver their public grain found out, they'd probably tear your house down."
"Ah, Miss Saionji, you jest."
Iwamura rubbed his hands together. His expression turned ingratiating, with a trace of fear.
"In today's world, who doesn't know the weight the Saionji Family carries in Nagatacho? Last month, even people from the Takeshita Faction were invited by the Special Investigation Department for 'tea,' yet Councilor Osawa… oh, no, now the leader of the 'Osawa Faction' — his star is rising like the midday sun."
He lowered his voice, as if speaking something taboo.
"I hear… next month, the Diet will deliberate on the 'Agricultural Reform Bill.' Councilor Osawa seems to have some… immature ideas about the clause regarding the 'Agricultural Cooperative's compulsory purchasing rights' in that bill?"
At this, Iwamura's shrewd little eyes fixed on Satsuki, full of pleading.
This was the real reason for his groveling today.
Since the Recruit scandal exploded, Osawa Ichiro — backed by the Saionji Family — had risen rapidly under the banner of "clean government." He was now a key figure influencing the LDP's internal dynamics. If Osawa whispered one word in the Diet, the Agricultural Cooperative's cash cow could be uprooted.
Compared to that, letting a few truckloads of potatoes pass was nothing. Even if he had to carry sacks for the Saionji Family himself, he'd do it gladly.
"Mr. Osawa is a reasonable man."
Satsuki neatly put the documents away and handed them to Fujita Tsuyoshi in the front seat.
"As long as our friends in the Agricultural Cooperative understand the meaning of 'coexistence,' I don't think Mr. Osawa would do something as extreme as wiping everyone out. After all, we're all working for Japan's future."
Hearing "coexistence," Iwamura looked like he'd been granted amnesty. His whole body relaxed, slumping back into the seat.
"Yes, yes! Coexistence! It must be coexistence!"
He wiped the cold sweat from his face, nodding repeatedly.
"From now on, all of S-Farm's operations in Hokkaido — you say the word, and it's our Agricultural Cooperative's own family business! If anyone dares set up roadblocks, I'll be the first to skin them alive!"
Satsuki gave a slight nod.
"Then I'll trouble you, Chairman Iwamura."
She glanced out the window.
"The show has run long enough. Clear the way."
"Right away!"
Iwamura pushed the car door open and plunged into the cold wind. He straightened his collar and instantly put on a look of righteous indignation and deep grief, waving toward the confronting crowd.
"Everyone, disperse! Disperse!"
He raised the megaphone. His voice was full of sorrow and anger.
"After difficult negotiations! To prevent these potatoes from rotting in the fields and polluting the environment! We reluctantly agree to let them be transported away as 'industrial waste'! But this is the last time! It won't happen again!"
"Make way—!"
Amid the performed protests of the Agricultural Cooperative members, the roadblocks were removed.
The Saionji security personnel lowered their riot shields. The people who'd been rolling on the ground got up "indignantly."
S-Farm's convoy started moving again.
Massive diesel engines belching black smoke, the trucks loaded with "Hokkaido's amber" rumbled over the road where people had just been lying, heading into the distance…
---
Late at night, Rumoi Port.
This wasn't a major international port. Only a few dim streetlights swayed in the cold wind.
A massive roll-on/roll-off ship — the Sunflower No. 5 — was moored quietly at Berth 3. Its hull doors were wide open, swallowing truck after truck as they arrived.
The sea wind was strong, carrying snowflakes.
Satsuki stood beneath a dock crane, holding a steaming baked sweet potato she'd bought from a roadside stall earlier.
"Young Mistress."
Fujita Tsuyoshi draped a heavy coat over her shoulders while another guard held an umbrella.
"The first batch of twelve hundred tons is fully loaded. Expected to arrive in Chiba tomorrow evening."
"Hmm."
Satsuki broke the sweet potato open. Golden steam rose in the cold wind.
She watched the trucks.
Under the dim yellow lights, the mud-caked potatoes and onions visible through the crate slats gleamed with a simple, solid luster.
These ordinary agricultural products would become raw material for millions of curry rice bowls, nikujaga, and croquettes in S-Food's Central Kitchen. They would flood Tokyo's convenience store system at 30% below market cost, breaching every competitor's defense line.
This was a war without gunpowder.
"Is everything arranged?"
Satsuki took a bite of sweet potato. The sweet, starchy warmth melted on her tongue.
"Everything is arranged," Fujita replied quietly. "In Chiba, Mr. Shimomura has already debugged and launched that system. Once this batch enters the warehouse, every single potato will have its own 'Identity ID.'"
"Good."
Satsuki nodded.
She raised her wrist and glanced at her Jaeger-LeCoultre Reverso.
Eleven PM.
"At this hour…"
Satsuki gazed toward Tokyo, her eyes softening slightly.
"She should already be sitting in the University of Tokyo's study room, shouldn't she?"
Fujita paused for a second before realizing who she meant.
"Yes. As you instructed, Miss Suzuki has been placed in the University of Tokyo Faculty of Science's 'Special Research Program.' I hear Professor Tanaka is very strict with her. He assigned three books as thick as bricks on day one."
"It's good to be strict."
Satsuki gave a light laugh. Her breath formed a white cloud that vanished into the night.
"If her mind isn't kept fully occupied, she'll have time for wild thoughts. Only in that suffocating academic hell can she be forged into the shape I need most."
"Tell the people there to keep close watch. Aside from sleeping and eating, she is not to leave the laboratory for even a moment. Any equipment she needs — even if it means dismantling a supercomputer — buy it for her immediately."
"Understood."
A ship's horn sounded.
Woo—
The low, drawn-out blast echoed across the empty harbor, making your chest vibrate.
The massive hull began to tremble. Mooring lines were cast off. The propeller churned the black seawater, foaming white.
The Sunflower No. 5 slowly pulled away from the berth, carrying the Saionji Family's ambitions into the dark Sea of Japan.
Satsuki stood at the edge of the dock until the stern light became a distant speck.
The wind grew stronger.
She swallowed the last bite of sweet potato and brushed the crumbs from her hands.
"Let's go, Fujita."
She turned. Her black hair flew in the wind.
"We have the raw materials. Next, to Chiba."