January 11, 1989, early morning.
Akasaka-mitsuke.
The Akasaka Prince Hotel's silver, serrated exterior walls gleamed with a cold metallic sheen under the gloomy sky.
This skyscraper, designed by Kenzo Tange, was once Tokyo's most bustling landmark during the bubble era. At this hour in the past, the lobby would have been packed with foreign dignitaries checking out and wealthy youths still hungover.
But today, it was as quiet as a massive ice cellar.
Restricted by the jishuku order, all the hotel's banquet halls were closed, bars were shut down, and even the lobby background music had been cut off. Only uniformed waitstaff glided silently like ghosts across the polished marble floors.
Top floor, Royal Suite.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi sat on a leather sofa, holding a cup of black coffee. Unlike his usual busy self with phones and documents, he was in a rare state of idle emptiness.
For this emperor of Seibu, who owned one-sixth of Japan's land, this society-wide forced silence was both a rare respite and a suffocating annoyance.
"Chairman, Mr. Saionji has arrived," Secretary Shimada's voice sounded at the door, tinged with respect.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi immediately turned and set down his coffee cup. His face showed no displeasure at the interruption. Instead, it revealed a genuine smile upon seeing a kindred spirit.
"Please, show him in. At a time when all of Tokyo is pretending to sleep, only they are awake," he said.
The door opened.
Shuichi walked in, with Satsuki half a step behind him. Both father and daughter wore solemn black formal attire, with white mourning flowers pinned to their chests, but their spirits were exceptionally vibrant.
"Chairman Tsutsumi," Shuichi said, giving a slight bow. "It's somewhat presumptuous to disturb you on such a special day."
"Not at all, Shuichi-kun," Yoshiaki Tsutsumi said as he strode forward. He proactively extended his hand and firmly shook Shuichi's. "I feel reassured to see you at this time. The air outside is too stifling. Those politicians and bureaucrats are busy performing grief. Only you would come to discuss business with me."
He turned slightly and nodded at Satsuki, his eyes showing an elder's appreciation for a younger generation, and even a hint of barely perceptible wariness.
Tokyo's upper echelons were well aware that the recent, forceful rise of the Saionji Family was driven by this young lady of the Saionji Family.
Faced with such a monstrously talented genius, other families could only helplessly remark on the Saionji Family's good fortune, while urging their own descendants to look at the Saionji Family.
"Miss Satsuki, it's been a while. I heard Uniqlo and S-Collection recently sold out of black clothing? Even my picky daughter went to queue up. Truly insightful," Yoshiaki Tsutsumi said.
"That's thanks to your blessings," Satsuki said as she bowed gracefully, her tone humble and appropriate. "Without Seibu Department Store's initial support, we couldn't have achieved today's scale."
"Please, have a seat," Yoshiaki Tsutsumi said, guiding them to the sofa area by the window. He even personally poured a glass of water for Shuichi. Such treatment was almost unimaginable within the Seibu Group.
"What's your take on the current situation, Shuichi-kun?" Yoshiaki Tsutsumi asked, returning to his seat. His tone was casual but his eyes were sharp.
"It's the darkness before dawn," Shuichi said as he picked up his water glass, gazing out at the gray sky. "Although everyone is in jishuku now, with commercial activities halted, this is just a suppressed spring. Once the funeral ends, once that new tax law is implemented, the rebound will exceed everyone's expectations."
"Great minds think alike," Yoshiaki Tsutsumi said with an approving nod. "Unfortunately, many can't see through this. My board members these past few days have been urging me to cut expenses and delay investments." He sneered. "A bunch of short-sighted fools."
"Precisely because others are fearful, now is the best time for greed," Satsuki interjected at the right moment.
She opened the black briefcase Fujita Tsuyoshi handed her, took out an unbound document, and gently pushed it toward Yoshiaki Tsutsumi.
"Uncle Tsutsumi, this is Saionji Industries' financial brief from last month. Though somewhat presumptuous, I thought you might be interested."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi glanced at it.
That eye-catching net profit figure — 6.5 billion yen — made his hand holding the cup pause slightly.
In this bubble era where all of Japan was frantically taking on debt and everyone was playing with inflated asset values on paper, they could still extract such terrifying real cash flow through industry.
"Impressive," Yoshiaki Tsutsumi said as he set down the paper. He leaned forward, the smile in his eyes deepening. He knew Shuichi hadn't come today just to show off. "Shuichi-kun, with so many bullets, which prey are you aiming for?"
"We want to paint a picture," Shuichi said with a smile. "Chairman Tsutsumi, Seibu Land Development is going public this year. You need a grand enough story to support the stock price. And we have money, but lack a canvas large enough."
"We want to paint a picture on the sea with you," Satsuki said.
She stood up and walked toward the huge floor-to-ceiling window. She reached out, her fingertips touching the cold glass, pointing toward the vast expanse of Tokyo Bay.
"Odaiba," she said. "That No. 13 Reclaimed Land."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi was taken aback, then frowned. As the god of land, he knew every inch of Tokyo like the back of his hand.
"There?" he asked, walking to Satsuki's side and looking at the gray sea surface. "There's nothing there now but reeds and seabirds. Although the Metropolitan Government has development intentions, it's to address the landfill issue. Commercial development there would have astronomical infrastructure costs. And..."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi pointed at that isolated island cut off by the sea.
"There are no roads. For real estate, land without roads is dead land."
"Precisely because there are no roads, how the roads are built is up to us," Shuichi said, standing up and walking to Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's side. He took out a folded map from his pocket and spread it on the coffee table.
It was a planning map of Tokyo Bay, with large areas already circled in red by Satsuki.
"Chairman Tsutsumi, you hold vast land reserves around Odaiba. If that area remains wasteland, your land can't be monetized. But if we join forces..."
Shuichi's finger tapped heavily at the center of the map.
"The Saionji Family is willing to fund the construction of 'Saionji Tower' on No. 13 plot. We'll move all S.A. Group headquarters there, bringing thirty thousand employees, bringing Tokyo's most concentrated consumer power."
"We want to build a 'city within a city' on that sea."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi looked at the map on the table, his fingers lightly tapping the circled No. 13 plot.
Not rushing to excitement, he lifted his eyelids, his gaze deeply scrutinizing Shuichi before him.
"Shuichi-kun, this is where I don't understand," Yoshiaki Tsutsumi said as he leaned back on the sofa. His tone carried a hint of playful inquiry. "In terms of funds, you're now as rich as a country. In terms of connections, The Club is filled with big shots from Nagatacho. Even Osawa Ichiro now has to watch your expressions."
He pointed toward the direction of Kasumigaseki outside the window.
"Logically, securing approval from the Ministry of Construction shouldn't be difficult for the Saionji Family now. Why share this pie with me?"
This was the intuition of a top predator. He didn't believe in free lunches. He had to know where the other's weakness lay.
Shuichi wasn't flustered. He even smiled wryly, openly spreading his hands.
"Chairman Tsutsumi, as you said. We have many friends in Nagatacho," Shuichi said. "But sometimes, having too many friends becomes a burden."
"The Recruit Incident just passed not long ago. We were... somewhat active during that turmoil," Shuichi said, his tone implicit. "Now, the bureaucrats in Kasumigaseki get nervous at the sight of the three characters 'Saionji.' They're afraid of being targeted by the Special Investigation Department, afraid of getting dragged into factional struggles."
"Even for legitimate applications, they don't dare stamp my documents now. They're afraid it's a hot potato."
Shuichi sighed, his gaze sincere.
"The Saionji Family now is too sharp a political blade. Good for killing, but for construction, it's too intimidating."
"So, we need a safe face," Satsuki took over the conversation at the right moment. "Uncle Tsutsumi, you are the stabilizing anchor of Japan's construction industry. The officials at the Ministry of Construction trust you, or rather, they are accustomed to giving the Seibu Group the green light."
"If you step forward, this won't be a political conspiracy. It will be national infrastructure."
"We need to borrow your influence to thaw our freeze."
After listening, Yoshiaki Tsutsumi fell into a brief silence.
His fingers unconsciously tapped on the tabletop.
Tap, tap, tap.
He was calculating. But this wasn't simple addition, subtraction, multiplication, or division.
As an old hunter who had navigated the political and business worlds for decades, he naturally sniffed out the scent of 'using someone else to do the dirty work' behind this proposal. The Saionji Family would provide the money and land, but they were pushing all the toughest tasks — securing government approvals, building the cross-sea bridge, and bearing the infrastructure risks — onto Seibu.
That little girl sitting across from him wanted to use him as a bulldozer to clear the obstacles on her path to wealth.
However, he knew better than anyone the weight this seemingly desolate landfill site carried in the secret files of Kasumigaseki.
Three days ago, he had drinks with the Vice-Minister of the Ministry of Construction at a traditional Japanese restaurant. The government wanted to develop the waterfront subcenter but lacked funds. The Metropolitan Government wanted to do it but feared taking responsibility.
The Saionji Family had money but was politically immobilized.
And he, Yoshiaki Tsutsumi, had connections and approvals, but lacked a grand enough story to support Seibu Land Development's IPO.
'Marine City.' 'Heisei Capital.' 'The Heart of 21st Century Tokyo.'
What could be a more enticing theme than this?
Mutual exploitation, that's all, Yoshiaki Tsutsumi judged in his heart.
Since the Saionji Family was willing to invest tens of billions in real money as fuel, he didn't mind being the captain piloting this giant ship. When the bridge was completed and land prices increased tenfold, who would be the master and who the subordinate remained to be seen.
If you want to use Yoshiaki Tsutsumi, you must be prepared to pay the price.
Having figured this out, the muscles at the corner of Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's mouth relaxed, gradually curling upward into a smile brimming with ambition, even carrying a hint of ferocity.
"Heh... I see," he let out a short laugh and picked up the cigar placed beside him. "Since Shuichi-kun has been forthright, I won't beat around the bush either."
"I'll handle the bureaucrats. They wouldn't dare refuse Yoshiaki Tsutsumi," he said.
He pulled a red-and-blue pencil from his pocket and drew a thick line on the map.
The line extended from Shibaura Pier, crossed the sea, and plunged straight into the heart of Odaiba.
"Good," he said. "If we're going to play, let's play big."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's voice carried a boldness, the confidence of someone who saw wasteland as his own.
"I'll get the Ministry of Construction to build this Rainbow Bridge."
"And here," he said, drawing another line connecting Shinbashi and Toyosu, a transportation artery he had long eyed but never committed to. "The New Transit Yurikamome. I'll have Seibu Railway bid for it. We need to connect this isolated island to the heart of Tokyo."
He looked up at Shuichi and extended his hand.
"Shuichi-kun, since you have the guts to burn money at sea, I, Yoshiaki Tsutsumi, will join you in this madness."
"We'll split this sea in half."
Shuichi reached out and firmly grasped the hand that held the fate of Japan's land prices.
"Pleasure doing business, Chairman Tsutsumi," Shuichi said.
"No," Yoshiaki Tsutsumi corrected, his gaze sincere. "Allies."
Half an hour later.
The black Nissan President drove out of the underground garage of the Akasaka Prince Hotel.
Outside, sleet began to fall, the wipers scraping a monotonous rhythm on the windshield.
Shuichi sat in the back seat, loosened his tie, and let out a long sigh. Even he had broken a slight sweat on his back during that seemingly friendly but undercurrent-filled game.
"What an appetite," he gazed at the gloomy streets outside the window and sighed. "Not only does he want to build roads, but he also wants exclusive rights to operate the railway. He's turning Odaiba into Seibu's backyard, not willing to let even a grain of rice pass without a toll."
"If he weren't greedy, he wouldn't be Yoshiaki Tsutsumi," Satsuki said, leaning against the leather seat and toying with the black lace gloves prepared for the funeral. "He thinks he's grabbed the steering wheel, that he's the one in control of this project. After all, whether it's the bridge, the roads, or even the future trains, they're all in his hands."
"But he forgets that in this world, the one holding the steering wheel is often also the one locked in the car," she said.
"Locked in the car?" Shuichi asked.
"Hundreds of billions in infrastructure investment — that's the lock," Satsuki said, her voice soft yet carrying a bone-chilling coldness. "He thinks he's claiming land, but he's actually loading himself with weights. Odaiba is a bottomless pit. Filling that sea and building those roads requires a continuous cash flow."
"When all his funds turn into concrete buried at sea, into immovable rails..." Satsuki extended her slender finger and lightly drew a horizontal line on the foggy window. "Once the tide recedes, he'll be the one deepest in the mire. By then, this massive asset will be the anchor dragging him down."
Listening to his daughter's calm analysis, Shuichi felt slightly reassured, but his brow remained slightly furrowed.
"But Satsuki, the Seibu Group is too massive. Just Odaiba alone probably isn't enough to seriously hurt him. Yoshiaki Tsutsumi holds one-sixth of Japan's land. His health bar is too thick," he said.
"Of course. I don't expect to win all his chips with this one hand," Satsuki said, withdrawing her gaze and pulling a new project progress report from her briefcase. The title on it read: . "A lion is strong. One shot might not kill it. So, we need a second bullet."
She handed the progress report to Shuichi.
"Mr. Kurokawa sent word that the main structure of the glass dome has been topped out. At this pace, the world's largest artificial tropical rainforest will definitely be completed before the first snowfall this winter," she said.
"The winter of 1989..." Shuichi said, looking at the grand rendering — a glass palace glowing with golden light on the icy wilderness of Hokkaido. "That will be when the bubble is at its most dazzling."
"Exactly," Satsuki said, a hunter's glint flashing in her eyes. "By then, Odaiba's infrastructure will be straining his cash flow. And we'll light up the most luxurious lamp in all Japan in Hokkaido."
"For Yoshiaki Tsutsumi, who has a mountain-collecting obsession and absolutely won't allow anyone to surpass him in the resort domain, a 'Gokurakukan' in Hokkaido, completed at its peak, will be an irresistible temptation," she said.
"Then, we'll sell him this bigger bomb at a once-in-a-lifetime sky-high price."
The corner of Satsuki's mouth lifted slightly, revealing a sweet yet cruel smile.
"In his left hand, the mire of Odaiba. In his right, the dream of Hokkaido."
"Drink both cups of poison, and even the emperor of Seibu will probably have to cough up decades of family wealth."
Shuichi looked at his daughter.
The passing streetlights outside the window cast mottled shadows on her delicate face.
He suddenly realized that today's seemingly thrilling negotiation was just the opening move in this grand game.
"Let's go, Father," Satsuki said, putting her gloves back on and covering the chill at her fingertips. "The rain is getting heavier."
"We need to hurry back. After all, the funeral has just begun," she said.
The black car accelerated, breaking through the rain curtain, heading toward the already arrived, frenzied and cruel Heisei era.
And behind them, the silver Akasaka Prince Hotel still stood in the wind and rain, arrogantly overlooking all beings.
The black car ran over the puddles on the road, and in the turbid water, the silver reflection of that towering building instantly shattered, scattering into Tokyo's cold rainy night with the mud kicked up by the wheels.