October 3, 1988, early morning.
Tokyo, Akasaka-mitsuke.
The Akasaka Prince Hotel rose above Kioicho like a folded silver fan.
Designed by Kenzo Tange, this building was one of Tokyo's most famous landmarks of the bubble era — and a totem of Seibu Group's power.
Its exterior was made entirely of jagged glass curtain walls, reflecting the cold morning light on this late-autumn morning.
Inside the executive suite on the fortieth floor, the air was dry and warm.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi stood before a floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at Tokyo spread out below him.
He wore a dark gray silk dressing gown and held a red-and-blue pencil instead of a glass. Taped to the glass in front of him was a large map of the Kanto region.
"The expansion in Karuizawa needs to be even faster."
He drew a red circle in the northwest corner of the map.
"Naeba doesn't have enough guest rooms. We need to build two more towers next year. And Hakone… has that land by Lake Ashi been secured?"
Standing behind him, Secretary Shimada held a notebook. A thin sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead.
"Chairman, the land ownership in Hakone is a bit complicated. There are a few holdouts…"
"Buy them out."
The red-and-blue pencil in Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's hand tapped heavily against the glass. Thud.
"No matter the cost, throw money at it. Land prices are still rising. As long as we can build a hotel, we'll make double back next year."
There was an unquestionable fever in his voice.
This was Yoshiaki Tsutsumi in 1988.
He was the world's richest man on the Forbes list, the "Seibu Emperor" who owned one-sixth of Japan's land. In his eyes, there was only land, hotels, and the grand plan to take Seibu Land Development public.
Everything else was a minor detail.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang.
Shimada glanced at his watch. 7:30 AM.
"Chairman, Miss Saionji has arrived."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi stopped what he was doing, turned, and casually tossed the pencil onto the table.
"Let her in."
He walked to the sofa area, sat down, and picked up the black coffee on the table.
"Coming here so early, I hope the news she brings is more interesting than that bottle of Romanée-Conti she sent last time."
---
The door opened.
Satsuki walked in.
Today she wasn't in a school uniform. She wore a sharply tailored beige Chanel tweed suit and carried an inconspicuous black cooler box. Behind her, Fujita Tsuyoshi carried a thick stack of documents.
"Good morning, Uncle Tsutsumi."
Satsuki bowed slightly, giving a standard junior's greeting. The smile on her face was gentle and appropriate — like a well-behaved niece visiting an elder.
"I'm sorry to disturb you so early."
"Not at all."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi set down his coffee cup. A kind smile typical of an elder appeared on his face — though his eyes held a trace of caution.
"S-Collection is doing incredibly well in Shibuya. My niece begs to buy clothes there every day. I hear Uniqlo is also very popular in the suburbs lately? The Saionji Family has truly produced a remarkable heir."
"It's all thanks to you."
Satsuki walked to the coffee table and set down the black cooler box.
"If the Seibu Department Store hadn't provided such a great location back then, S-Collection wouldn't be where it is today. My father has always asked me to express his gratitude to you on his behalf."
"Haha, Shuichi-kun is too polite."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi glanced at the cooler box.
"What's this? Pastries from some famous shop again?"
"No."
Satsuki shook her head.
She unlatched the cooler box.
A rich steam, mixed with spices and fat, surged out instantly, filling the suite scented with expensive cologne.
Five neatly arranged disposable plastic food containers were revealed.
"This is freshly made beef curry with rice."
Satsuki took out a container, peeled back the film, and placed a disposable spoon beside it.
"The first batch of samples produced at four o'clock this morning at the S-Food Chiba factory. I'd like you to try it."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's brow furrowed imperceptibly.
Eating a boxed lunch in the presidential suite of the Akasaka Prince Hotel? It was practically performance art.
But he didn't lose his temper.
Because the person sitting across from him was Saionji Satsuki.
The monster who had swept up hundreds of billions in the Plaza Accord exchange-rate storm, harvested greedily from the ruins of Wall Street during Black Monday, and even single-handedly wove the great power web of "The Club"…
She usually had a reason for everything she did.
"Curry rice?"
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi picked up the spoon and stirred the thick brown sauce.
The beef was cut into standard 2.5-centimeter cubes. The carrots and potatoes were exactly the same size, as if measured with a ruler.
He scooped up a spoonful and put it in his mouth.
He chewed.
The beef was tender and flavorful, the spiciness carrying a hint of onion sweetness. The rice grains were distinct, neither too soft nor too hard.
The taste… was very standard. Nothing to complain about, but no surprises either.
But… it seemed a bit better than the average chain store? Maybe the ingredients were slightly different? Yoshiaki Tsutsumi rarely ate such cheap food and couldn't really tell.
"It's alright."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi put down the spoon and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
"However, if it was just to treat me to breakfast, there was no need for such trouble. FamilyMart shelves are full of these kinds of bentos."
"Yes, there are indeed many."
Satsuki also picked up a container but didn't open it, just tapped the plastic lid gently with her finger.
"But, Uncle Tsutsumi, do you know the cost of the bentos currently on FamilyMart's shelves?"
She didn't wait for his answer and took a document from Fujita Tsuyoshi, spreading it out on the coffee table.
It was a comparison chart.
On the left was FamilyMart's current fresh-food supply chain cost structure. On the right was S-Food's quote.
"Uncle Tsutsumi, if I may be blunt."
Satsuki's voice changed. The gentle disguise gradually faded, revealing a merchant's fangs.
"FamilyMart's current fresh-food supply relies on dozens of scattered small and medium-sized OEMs. Standards aren't unified, distribution efficiency is low, and the loss rate remains high."
She moved her finger to the red number on the right.
"S-Food has built the most advanced central kitchen in Japan. Combined with the latest data systems, we can achieve three deliveries a day. Most importantly, the cost is 20% lower than it is now."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi glanced at the number, then chuckled and leaned back on the sofa.
"Niece Satsuki, you've calculated this well."
He pulled a cigar from the humidor, playing with it in his hands. His gaze became somewhat playful.
"But you've come to the wrong person. As you know, FamilyMart is a property of the Saison Group — Seibu Distribution. That's in the hands of my 'poet' brother."
When mentioning the word "brother," Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's tone carried undisguised contempt.
Although the outside world collectively called it the Seibu Group, the cold war between Yoshiaki Tsutsumi of the Railway faction and his half-brother Tsutsumi Seiji of the Distribution faction was common knowledge. The two brothers didn't interfere with each other and even competed secretly in certain fields.
"That fellow Seiji has always thought highly of himself. He probably wouldn't like me interfering in his business, and he certainly wouldn't accept my 'suggestions.'"
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi toyed with the cigar, seemingly prepared to see her out.
"It is precisely because it's in Uncle Seiji's hands that I need you to act."
Satsuki didn't move. Instead, she leaned forward slightly. Her voice lowered, with a hint of seduction.
"The Saison Group has been on an overseas acquisition spree lately. I hear that to buy the InterContinental Hotels Group, Uncle Seiji's capital chain is currently very tight."
She extended her finger and drew a line on the table.
"The banks have been re-evaluating the risks lately. Uncle Seiji now desperately needs new financing guarantees, and the banks… only recognize your land."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's movement to clip the cigar stopped.
He looked up. His sharp gaze fixed on Satsuki.
"Go on."
"If you, on the grounds of 'overall group financial health,' demand that FamilyMart undergo supply chain reform to cut costs and increase profit margins, Uncle Seiji will have to bow his head for the sake of his global hotel dream and to get your land guarantees."
Satsuki pointed at the quote.
"This 20% cost reduction is the perfect reason for you to pressure him. No shareholder could refuse such an increase in profit."
"And…"
Satsuki's voice became even softer, like a witch's poison seeping into the most secret desires of Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's heart.
"If you can control FamilyMart's procurement channels and real-time data through S-Food, it will be like seizing the throat of the distribution group. When that time comes, whether Uncle Seiji's performance is good or bad will be up to you, won't it?"
A brief silence fell over the room.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi looked at the girl before him, only fifteen years old.
She was clearly wearing the most elegant suit and speaking the most appropriate words, but her schemes were more ruthless than any old fox's.
Exploiting a sibling rivalry to profit from both sides.
"Hahahaha!"
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi suddenly burst into laughter. He lit his cigar, took a deep drag, and looked at Satsuki through the swirling smoke.
"Good! A fine move!"
"Shuichi-kun has truly raised a terrifying daughter."
This wasn't just a business deal. This was a blade delivered to him to stab his disobedient brother, and a honey-coated one at that.
He could make money, teach Tsutsumi Seiji a lesson, and plant one of his own nails in the distribution group.
Why wouldn't he do it?
"Fine."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi picked up the red-and-blue pencil and signed the document heavily.
"I'll have Shimada send a letter to Seiji. Tell him this is a decision made by 'Headquarters' for the sake of the Seibu brand image. If he doesn't want to jeopardize Saison's financing, he'd better sign."
He pushed the document back to Satsuki, his eyes gleaming.
"Go. Get your factory running. I want to see what kind of expression that 'poet' makes when he sees this bill."
---
Ten minutes later.
Outside the Akasaka Prince Hotel.
The late autumn noon sun pierced through the clouds, hitting the jagged glass curtain walls without reservation.
The entire building was silver-white, its reflection so intense it was blinding, like a giant silver needle plunged into the heart of Tokyo.
"Miss."
Fujita Tsuyoshi opened the car door, resting his hand on the roof. He hesitated for a moment before asking.
"Giving up 20% profit means S-Food's net profit for the next two years will be almost zero. Just to help Yoshiaki Tsutsumi control his brother… is this deal worth it?"
He had recently been learning from his grandfather about the points to note as the Saionji Family butler. His grandfather had said a lot, but one key point was to learn more from the Young Miss.
Satsuki stopped.
She didn't answer directly but raised her hand to shield her forehead, squinting at the towering building.
"Fujita."
Her voice still carried the gentleness of a junior.
"If a whale cuts out its own stomach just to swim faster, how much longer do you think it can live?"
Fujita was stunned, subconsciously looking up at the arrogant headquarters of the Seibu Empire. A sudden chill ran down his spine.
"Let's go."
Satsuki climbed into the back seat, smoothed her skirt, and didn't look back.
"Notify Shimomura that the interface is open. Prepare to receive all of FamilyMart's traffic."
The car door closed, sealing out the noise.
The black sedan slipped into the flow of traffic, heading toward Ikebukuro.
In the rearview mirror, that silver skyscraper still shone brilliantly in the sun, greedily reflecting the most dazzling light of the bubble era.