Saturday, November 12, 1988
7:00 AM
Bunkyo Ward, Saionji Main Family Residence
The late autumn morning mist had not yet lifted, and crystal-clear dew clung to the red leaves in the courtyard.
Compared to the turbulent waves in Kasumigaseki last night, this place was so quiet it felt like another dimension.
Inside the study, the handset of the black encrypted telephone rested on the desk.
Satsuki wore a loose white morning robe, her bare feet on the thick carpet. She held a cup of black coffee, her gaze fixed on the old pine tree in the karesansui garden outside the window.
From the other end of the line came English with a distinct California accent, spoken rapidly and laced with hyper-anxiety.
"Miss Saionji, are you serious? Clearing out the entire Asian inventory? Do you know how many AGS routers that is? That's all the stock we have in our Singapore and Hong Kong warehouses, which was originally intended for..."
That was Sandy Lerner, co-founder of Cisco.
Even across the Pacific, her shock was palpable.
Satsuki took a sip of coffee. The bitter taste spread across the tip of her tongue.
"Sandy, I don't want to hear that inventory management routine."
"Listen."
"Last night, I just pried open the door to the most closed, stubborn market in the world for you. That door has only opened a crack, and it could close at any moment."
"I need the goods. Immediately. Right now."
"I don't care if they're floating at sea, gathering dust in a warehouse, or are semi-finished products fresh off the line. As long as they can power on and run the TCP/IP protocol, ship them all to Tokyo for me."
There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, followed by the rustling of paper.
"But... the specific procurement contracts and payment methods..." Sandy was still hesitating. For a startup seeking an IPO, such a large-scale international transfer of goods was extremely risky.
"There is no contract."
Satsuki cut her off.
"I'll have Frank from S.A. Investment wire you the funds right now. Full payment, in cash."
"Is a five-million-dollar advance enough to make your logistics supervisor shut up?"
"...It's enough." Sandy's voice instantly became crisp and decisive. "I'll arrange it now. Also, Len Bosack asks — since the quantity of equipment is so vast and involves the construction of a backbone network... is Miss Suzuki Emi still at school? Does she need to handle the coordination?"
"She's in seclusion."
Satsuki glanced at the corner of the desk, where a copy of the 'Saionji Information System Network Topology Architecture Draft' that Shimomura Tsutomu had rushed out overnight lay covered in red revision marks.
"Right now, I only have Shimomura Tsutomu as my CTO. He's a genius, but he only has one pair of hands."
"So, Sandy."
Satsuki's voice turned serious.
"I don't just want the goods. I want people."
"I want your headquarters' top system integration team. Take the engineers who know best how to connect thousands of machines together and stuff them all onto flights to Tokyo."
Satsuki's fingers tapped lightly against the desk.
"The people at NTT are watching us. If something goes wrong on the day the system goes live, they will tear us apart. So I need the best technical support. I want American engineers sitting in Tokyo's server rooms themselves, showing those Japanese bureaucrats what a 'world standard' looks like."
The sound of Sandy taking a deep breath came through the phone.
"Understood. I'll have Len lead the team personally. This is Cisco's first battle in Asia. We can't afford to lose."
"Very good."
A satisfied curve formed at the corner of Satsuki's mouth.
"Send them over. All expenses paid, staying at the Akasaka Prince Hotel, with a five-hundred-dollar daily stipend per person. Tell them this is a war, and I am their sole commander."
"Pleasure doing business, Saionji."
"Beep—"
The call disconnected.
Satsuki put down the receiver and let out a long sigh of relief.
She walked to the desk, picked up a deep blue Montblanc fountain pen, and began writing a long list on stationery embossed with the Saionji Family crest.
Cisco, Sun Microsystems, Oracle, IBM... every name was a tech giant that would rule the world in the coming decade.
But at this moment, they were still just barbarians lingering outside Japan's gates.
"Fujita."
Satsuki called out softly.
Fujita Tsuyoshi, who had been waiting at the door like a shadow, walked in.
"Young Miss."
"When this group of American engineers arrives, the reception standards should follow the highest specifications."
Satsuki folded the stationery while giving instructions nonchalantly, her tone laced with a sugary danger.
"I want them to feel that one day in Tokyo is more exciting than a year in boring Silicon Valley. Give them the best wine, the softest beds, and the highest praise."
"By the time the project ends, I want half of them to voluntarily submit their resignations and stay here to work for me."
"In addition, tell Shimomura Tsutomu to pick a few bright youngsters to follow these Americans, even if they're just serving tea and water. Have them 'devour' all their technology, processes, and even their habits for debugging machines."
Satsuki tossed the folded envelope onto the desk with a soft thud.
"We are buying 'teachers,' not 'nannies.' Once we've learned everything, we'll kick the teachers aside."
Fujita Tsuyoshi felt a chill in his heart and lowered his head deeply. "Yes, I understand what to do."
"Very good."
Satsuki turned around and looked at herself in the mirror.
"Please ask Father to come here. Prepare the car. We're going to the US Embassy."
"Ambassador Mansfield helped us a great deal yesterday. Today, it's time to return the favor."
2:00 PM
Minato Ward, Akasaka
U.S. Embassy in Japan
The sky after the rain presented a transparent cerulean blue, and the Stars and Stripes fluttered loudly in the wind.
The lawn in the embassy's back garden was neatly trimmed, with several white wrought-iron round tables scattered under the shade of the trees. This was one of the few "enclaves" in Tokyo absolutely exempt from Japanese legal jurisdiction.
Ambassador Mike Mansfield was not wearing formal attire but a dark blue wool cardigan, looking like a kindly grandfather one might see anywhere. He was sitting by a round table, holding an English newspaper, with a silver tea set placed beside him.
"Mr. Ambassador."
Saionji Shuichi walked into the garden, guided by Marine Corps guards.
He wore a well-tailored dark grey pinstripe suit, holding a black dress hat, and walked with a steady pace. After the experiences of the past few years, this once somewhat indecisive head of an Old Kazoku family had now developed a convincing air of authority.
"Oh, Shuichi-san."
Mansfield put down the newspaper, took off his reading glasses, and stood up with a smile.
"I'm glad to see you. Did you sleep well last night?"
"Thanks to you, I slept very soundly."
Shuichi bowed slightly, shook the ambassador's outstretched hand, and then sat in the opposite chair.
"I heard the Ministry of Posts and Telecommunications has withdrawn the administrative penalty and issued that special license." The ambassador personally poured a cup of black tea for Shuichi. "It seems Mr. Yeutter's phone call was very effective."
"It wasn't just effective. It was like a bolt of lightning."
Shuichi took the teacup but did not drink, instead placing it gently on the table.
"But, Mr. Ambassador, I know there is no such thing as a free lunch in this world."
He looked up, staring directly at this veteran diplomat who had navigated politics for decades.
"The reason the US government was willing to step in was not to protect a small Japanese convenience store, but to protect American interests. It was to open up Japan's closed market."
The smile in Mansfield's eyes deepened. He appreciated this bluntness.
"You are very smart, Shuichi-kun. Or rather, the 'advisor' behind you is very smart."
The ambassador leaned back in his chair, fingers interlaced.
"The people in Washington have reached the limit of their patience with Japan's 'non-tariff barriers.' They need a breakthrough, a Trojan Horse that can allow American technology to drive straight in."
"The Saionji Family is willing to be that guide."
Shuichi took a white envelope from his breast pocket and pushed it toward the ambassador.
"This is our sincerity."
Mansfield picked up the envelope, opened it, and pulled out the stationery.
He scanned it, and his eyebrows rose slightly.
It was a procurement list.
It included not only Cisco routers but also IBM mainframes, Motorola communication modules, and Sun Microsystems workstations.
And at the bottom of the list was a commitment:
The ambassador looked at the number.
One hundred million dollars.
In this era of intense Japan-US trade friction, this order was a certificate of allegiance.
"A grand gesture."
Mansfield put down the list, his fingers lightly tapping on the paper.
"But, Shuichi-san, just buying things is not enough. Japan's large sogo shosha can also buy, and perhaps even buy more. Why should we support you?"
"Because they buy them to dismantle, imitate, and then produce cheaper alternatives, eventually driving American goods out of the market."
Shuichi's voice was calm, repeating the words Satsuki had taught him.
"NEC does this, and Fujitsu does it too. This is the way of survival for Japanese enterprises."
He leaned forward, his refined eyes flashing with light.
"But we are different."
"The Saionji Family does not produce hardware. We don't make routers, and we don't manufacture chips. We are merely an applier."
"What we need is the best, fastest, and most stable technology to support our commercial empire. As for whether this technology is made by Americans or Japanese, I don't care."
"But..." Shuichi paused, "regrettably, in this field, American technology is indeed ten years ahead of Japan's."
"Therefore, we will always use American goods. Furthermore, we will establish a set of standards."
Shuichi held up one finger.
"S-Food, Lawson... the backend systems of these enterprises that control the Tokyo convenience store market are now held by 'Saionji Information System.'"
"If we stipulate that this system's interfaces are only compatible with Cisco protocols and only support IBM data formats..."
"Then this is no longer just my personal procurement."
"This will force the entire Japanese retail industry, logistics industry, and even the financial industry to follow these standards."
"Mr. Ambassador."
Shuichi looked at Mansfield and said in a low voice,
"I am helping you... set the rules."
Silence fell over the garden.
Occasionally, the sound of birds chirping came from the treetops.
Mansfield looked at the man before him. He had seen countless politicians, businessmen, and lobbyists, but rarely had anyone played the role of a 'comprador' with such confidence, even possessing a grand sense of strategy.
What he wanted to do was become the gatekeeper for Silicon Valley in Asia.
Any American high-tech company wanting to enter the Japanese market — if they didn't want to be toyed with by Kasumigaseki bureaucrats, and if they didn't want their technology stolen by Japanese zaibatsu — could only take his path.
Mansfield remained silent for a long time.
He picked up the cup of red tea that had already gone cold, took a sip, and then placed it back on the table.
"Very well."
A satisfied, even admiring smile appeared on the old man's face.
He folded the list neatly and placed it in his coat pocket.
"Shuichi-san, I will have someone fax this list directly to Representative Yeutter in Washington."
"I imagine seeing this should calm his anger somewhat."
"Additionally..."
The ambassador stood up and extended his hand to Shuichi.
"Next month, the US Chamber of Commerce will host a 'Japan-US High-Tech Cooperation Forum' in Tokyo. The President of IBM and several Silicon Valley investors will be attending."
"I hope you can attend as a specially invited guest."
"I'd like to introduce a few friends to you."
Shuichi also stood up and shook the wrinkled hand.
"The honor is mine."