October 16, 1988.
Akasaka, Tokyo.
After nightfall, Akasaka becomes a labyrinth of desire and power. Black luxury cars glide like deep-sea fish into the private recesses of ryotei, where wordless lanterns hang above unmarked doors.
The ryotei Tsuruya.
In the innermost private room, "Matsu-no-ma," the air was dry and warm, steeped in the scent of burning pine and the mellow aroma of aged whisky.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi sat cross-legged in the seat of honor. The man known as "The Emperor of Seibu" showed none of his usual overbearing arrogance tonight. In a loose kimono, he idly turned an Edo Kiriko glass in his hand.
Opposite him sat a burly old man with eyes sharp as a hawk's.
Isao Nakauchi.
Founder of Daiei Group, the "Price Butcher" of Japanese retail, and the force behind Lawson. Ignore the tailored suit and you wouldn't see a zaibatsu elite — you'd see a veteran who'd crawled back from a battlefield, still ready to tear out an enemy's throat.
"Tsutsumi-san, that little guest of yours certainly knows how to keep people waiting," Nakauchi said. He picked up the shochu before him and drained it in one go. The liquor burned down his throat, and he exhaled, his breath thick with alcohol. "Making two old men with a hundred years between us sit here — is that the Saionji family's idea of manners?"
Tsutsumi just smiled and poured himself another drink, unbothered. "Nakauchi-san, be patient. Young people today hold more chips than we ever did back then." He glanced at the wall clock. "Besides, she's bringing exactly what you want most."
"What I want most?" Nakauchi sneered, tapping the table heavily with his fingers. "Right now I only want the Nankai Hawks. Pity those stubborn railway fossils won't budge."
As a survivor who'd eaten human flesh to stay alive in the Philippine jungles during World War II, Nakauchi had a pathological hunger for expansion. Land, hotels, department stores — he bought them all. He even wanted a professional baseball team, a crown jewel to prove Daiei's success.
But behind that frantic expansion was a capital chain stretched to its breaking point.
Swish—
The paper door slid open, cutting off Nakauchi's complaints. A gust of late-autumn chill swept into the room.
Satsuki stood in the doorway.
She wasn't in her school uniform tonight. Instead, she wore a dark gray Chanel suit, her long black hair tied back to expose the clean line of her neck. She carried no bag, only a slim folder.
Fujita Tsuyoshi stood guard outside like an iron tower, silently sliding the door shut behind her.
"Apologies for keeping you both waiting," Satsuki said as she stepped lightly into the room. That trademark, measured smile was on her face. "I had to clear up a small misunderstanding with Sumitomo Bank on the way. It delayed me a few minutes."
She approached Nakauchi and gave a slight bow. "It's a pleasure to meet you, President Nakauchi. I'm Saionji Satsuki."
Nakauchi narrowed his eyes, sizing up this legendary "Witch."
She was too young. Absurdly young. Yet the composure and aristocratic poise radiating from her forced him to swallow his contempt. And the casual way she'd dropped "Sumitomo Bank" — a name that currently had his own creditors hounding him — set his teeth on edge.
"Sit," Nakauchi said, gesturing to the cushion across from him. "Tsutsumi-san says you came with a gift. I'm a blunt man. I don't like games. What has the Saionji family's eldest daughter set her sights on in my house?"
Satsuki settled into a graceful seiza, her posture impeccable.
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she drew a report from her folder and slid it gently toward Nakauchi.
"President Nakauchi, Daiei Group's recent expansion has been breathtaking," Satsuki said softly. "Acquiring Holiday Inn, bidding for the Nankai Hawks, opening Daiei supermarkets across the country. Your boldness is unmatched in Japan."
Nakauchi snorted, a flicker of pride crossing his face. It froze at her next words.
"But boldness doesn't put food on the table. And it doesn't pay the bank's interest."
She extended a slender finger and tapped a line of figures on the report.
"Daiei's interest-bearing debt now exceeds one trillion yen. Your cash flow is still moving, yes — but only on the premise of high turnover. If a single link jams…" She looked up, her black-and-white eyes clear and direct. "For instance, if Lawson's expansion stalls, or if profits dip because supply-chain costs are too high… do you think Sumitomo will still sign off for you?"
Bang!
Nakauchi slammed the table. Wine sloshed over the rim of his glass.
"Little girl, are you threatening me?"
The air in the room turned to ice. Tsutsumi kept sipping his whisky as if none of this concerned him, but his peripheral vision never left Satsuki.
After all these years, Nakauchi's composure still fails him, Tsutsumi thought.
Faced with the fury of the "Overlord of Distribution," Satsuki didn't even blink.
"How could I? I'm discussing business," she said calmly. "Lawson is number two in the industry. Crushed from above by 7-Eleven, chased from below by FamilyMart. It can't be easy."
"Mr. Suzuki Toshifumi's Item-by-Item Management is brilliant, but he's too proud. He insists on building his own factories and bearing high operational costs. That's his moat, and it's also his burden."
"And you…" The corner of Satsuki's mouth curved into a playful arc. "You're the Price Butcher. You hate middleman markups and inefficiency more than anyone. In that, we're alike."
She pulled a second document from the folder. It was a Supply Chain Outsourcing Agreement.
"S-Food can take over all fresh-food supply for Lawson in the Kanto region. Our central kitchen is 30% more efficient than your current contractors, and our waste rate sits at 0.6%."
Nakauchi glanced at it and sneered. "Costs? I can cut costs by building my own factories. Why should I answer to you?"
"Because you don't have the money to build factories," Satsuki said, cutting straight to the bone. "Daiei's capital is locked in real estate and acquisitions. You can't spare the funds to upgrade Lawson's back-end systems and cold chain right now. As for S.A. Group…" She tilted her head slightly, glancing at the glittering Akasaka nightscape beyond the window. "We're so poor that all we have left is cash."
She pushed the third document — the critical one — across the table.
"This is S-Food's sincerity."
Nakauchi looked down.
The instant he read the terms, this battle-hardened madman's pupils contracted.
It was blatant financial support.
In retail, cash flow is lifeblood. A three-month delay meant Lawson could use that massive pool of cash to turn inventory, open new stores, or plug holes Daiei had elsewhere.
This was an interest-free loan worth billions.
"In addition," Satsuki continued, "S.A. Logistics will take over Lawson's distribution. By optimizing routes and mixed loading, we can cut your transport costs by 15%."
"90-day terms. 15% lower logistics costs."
Satsuki closed the folder and rested her folded hands on her knees.
"President Nakauchi, you're a man of action. You know what this money means."
Nakauchi fell silent.
The cigarette in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth. Ash dropped onto his expensive suit pants, and he didn't notice.
He was doing the math.
As a man who'd started by flipping goods on the black market, he had a predator's instinct for numbers.
This deal could double Lawson's net profit overnight. It would let him stand tall before the banks again. It might even give him leverage to renegotiate with that damn team owner.
But the price?
The price was Lawson's lifeblood — the supply chain — placed in this girl's hands. From now on, Lawson might not truly be his.
"What if I refuse?" Nakauchi asked, his voice raspy.
"Then I'll have to offer this money to Mr. Tsutsumi Seiji," Satsuki said with a smile, glancing at Yoshiaki Tsutsumi, who was enjoying the show. "FamilyMart is number three right now, but with this funding and S-Food's tech… I don't think it would take long to pass Lawson."
"And I've heard Mr. Suzuki at 7-Eleven has been losing sleep over logistics costs lately."
This was a hunt.
7-Eleven's quality squeeze from the front, FamilyMart's capital chase from behind. If Lawson didn't take the bait, it would be pincered and starved.
Nakauchi looked up and met Tsutsumi's eyes.
Tsutsumi shrugged and raised his glass. "Don't look at me. I'm in railways and hotels. I don't understand your rice-ball business. But… if someone showed up at my door offering cash, I wouldn't say no."
Old fox, Nakauchi cursed inwardly.
He knew the tide had turned. No — the outcome was decided.
In an era where capital is king, whoever holds cash is god. And right now, the Saionji family was the god waving the checkbook.
Nakauchi understood this was poisoned bait. But he still believed he could swallow the funds and deal with the hook later. Let the little girl hold Lawson for a while.
"Fine."
Nakauchi ground his cigarette into the ashtray like he was crushing his own resentment.
"I'll sign."
He was a pragmatist. What was pride worth? What did control matter? If he could survive and expand, he'd make a deal with the devil — let alone a centuries-old kazoku family like the Saionji.
These kazoku cared about face and reputation, didn't they?
And once he had the money and the capital was flowing, everything would work out.
"But I have one condition," Nakauchi said, staring at Satsuki. "I want S-Food to guarantee Lawson's purchase prices are lower than FamilyMart's."
"Of course," Satsuki answered without hesitation. "You're our strategic partner. FamilyMart is 'poverty alleviation.' With you, it's 'joining forces.'"
She took a Montblanc fountain pen from her bag, uncapped it, and handed it to Nakauchi.
"Pen and ink are ready, President Nakauchi. Please."
Nakauchi took the pen.
He signed his name with broad, forceful strokes that nearly tore through the paper.
Thud.
The seal came down.
With that crisp sound, two-thirds of Tokyo's convenience store market fell into the Saionji family's web.
"A pleasure doing business," Satsuki said, collecting the contract without lingering.
She stood and gave the two titans a slight bow. When she raised her head, that faint smile was still there.
"Then I won't disturb you gentlemen further. S.A.'s trucks are already waiting at Lawson's warehouse doors."
She turned and left.
As lightly as she'd arrived, elegant and unhurried, taking nothing with her — except half of Lawson's life.
Watching the paper door slide shut again, Nakauchi exhaled slowly and slumped onto his cushion.
"Tsutsumi-san," he said, pouring himself a drink with a hand that felt slightly numb. "This girl… what kind of monster is she?"
Tsutsumi swirled his glass, watching the crystal-clear liquid turn.
"I'd like to know too," he said softly. "Maybe she's what this crazy era gave birth to."