On the right side of the long table, Saionji Masato pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, his expression grim.
"If the precious capital of every major Japanese commercial bank is forcibly locked into those traditional zombie enterprises that exist only to draw their last breaths…"
"This will create a terrifying crowding-out effect. You have to remember: bank credit lines have a physical upper limit. When funds are completely drained by that quagmire, semiconductors, internet communications, advanced manufacturing…"
"These high-growth emerging industries — the ones that truly need massive financing to compete globally — will face a credit crunch. To plug the holes in old ledgers, the big banks will inevitably become reluctant to lend to new industries."
"The innovative firms that actually represent this nation's future will be starved to death because they can't get a single drop of financial nourishment."
The air in the strategy room turned oppressive.
Guided step by step by Satsuki, the scattered pieces of economic logic clicked into place for Shuichi, Endo, Eguchi, and Tadashi Yanai.
A bleak vision of nationwide desolation unfolded in everyone's mind.
What would become of Japan's future?
Satsuki set the black marker back into the tray beneath the whiteboard.
Click.
She turned, hands resting on the armrests of her leather chair.
"The Ministry of Finance wants to trade time for space. What they'll get instead is decades of structural stagnation in the country's 'total factor productivity'."
"Non-performing loans will never be cleared, zombie enterprises will become permanently entangled with the political Iron Triangle, and deflationary expectations will harden. That will permanently change the consumption habits of the next generation."
"Once we sink into the quagmire with this country…"
Satsuki's voice dropped.
"While Western capital sprints toward next-generation IT and high-end manufacturing, Japan's blood will keep flowing to sustain rotting zombies."
"This once-dazzling economic fortress will be left behind by the global wave of industrial upgrades — boiled alive like a frog in warm water. We'll suffer an irrecoverable loss of ten, twenty, even thirty years of national fortune."
A chill ran through the room.
The delay strategy the Ministry of Finance was whitewashing was, in reality, a slow-acting poison — a death by gradual exsanguination.
"Short-term pain is better than long-term suffering."
Satsuki settled back into her wide leather swivel chair.
"Choosing to delay for the sake of superficial stability means we rot with these foul-smelling zombies in the quagmire for decades."
She interlaced her fingers.
"There must be a hard landing."
"We use the most violent avalanche to shatter everyone's illusions in an instant. Destroy the fake balance sheets. Let the companies that should go bankrupt do so immediately. Lance the abscess of hidden bad debts in one stroke and dismantle the old political Iron Triangle."
"The old order will clear itself through a hard landing. The old zaibatsu will be purged. Only then can the Saionji Family, armed with massive cash reserves, take over the foundations of this country's emerging industries from the rubble and build a new order that belongs to us."
At that, the executives sat up straighter, their energy shifting.
"Since the authorities want to hide the macro-crisis and deceive the public…"
Satsuki began issuing orders.
"We'll tear the fig leaf off ourselves."
"First, we wake the people."
"Uncle Masato. Mobilize every hidden media asset under Saionji Media — gossip weeklies, financial tabloids, the works. Fully expose the true identities and debt chains of those four who died at the Keio Plaza Hotel."
"Make public the high-interest leverage at Matsuura Construction, the liquidation of foreign investment banks' wealth-management products, and the frozen option trades."
"Frame that fatal fall as the first death knell of the Japanese financial system's collapse. Make it clear to Japan's retail investors: even the top elites with core resources are being strangled. The chips in their hands are already waste paper."
Satsuki picked up the cup of slightly cooled Darjeeling on the side table.
"Once market panic is ignited and the broader market avalanches," she said, looking at the tea, her tone level, "the implied volatility of the $300 billion in notional put options we've hidden in the Cayman Islands will spike abnormally. Our offshore accounts will reap astronomical profits in a very short window."
"At the same time, the sell-off will crush the valuations of domestic firms. It will turn the old zaibatsu's stock prices to waste paper, physically destroying their ability to resist us."
She set the teacup back on the red sandalwood tray with a soft click.
"When the ice age arrives, the Saionji Family will use overseas funds to legally acquire those high-quality bankrupt industries and major commercial banks at fire-sale prices. We'll prepare the perfect hunting ground in advance." Note: The above describes an ideal outcome only.
Silence fell over the strategy room.
Shuichi, seated at the head of the left side, folded his hands on the table. He studied the deductions on the whiteboard, his thumb slowly rubbing the back of his hand.
"Satsuki. Igniting panic can indeed maximize profit," Shuichi said slowly, his gaze crossing the black lacquered glass table. "But you understand… if we become the trigger, we're declaring total war on every vested interest in Japan."
"After Takeshita Noboru fell, Osawa Ichiro finally consolidated the faction. He craves political stability above all else right now. If we force him to open the lid in the Diet and drag him into this, he'll bite back hard."
Shuichi leaned forward slightly.
"Once the Big Three zaibatsu and the Kasumigaseki bureaucrats realize we're deliberately smashing the foundation, they'll set aside their differences and unite to besiege the Saionji Family. One clan against the entire state machine… the odds are too low."
Satsuki sat quietly in her swivel chair.
She lowered her eyes to the amber tea in her bone china cup.
The cool LED light on the ceiling reflected on the surface.
"Father is right."
Satsuki's voice was steady.
"The Saionji Family isn't big enough yet to openly overturn the old ruling class. Being the one who smashes the plate first would be unwise."
She reached out with her right hand, index and middle fingers pinching the handle of the cup. With a small turn of her wrist, she set it back on the red sandalwood tray.
"We don't have to go to war with anyone."
Satsuki raised her eyes, sweeping them across the long table.
"Look at our 'allies' around us. At our suggestion, Mitsubishi's Iwasaki Hiroya signed the Rockefeller Center deal and is frantically issuing corporate bonds in Europe to hoard US dollars. Mitsui's President Yoshino has also been obedient — he's already pulling loans from high-risk clients like Matsuura Construction."
"More than a few people have smelled the rot in the air."
She interlaced her fingers again, elbows resting lightly on the armrests.
"Transferring assets, cutting credit, hoarding cash. Everything they're doing is textbook capitalist self-preservation before a crisis."
"When the oxygen in the room gets thinner, all the smart people will instinctively crowd toward the exit."
"We just need to join them."
"Use the most common-sense, unimpeachable business moves to make the hypoxia worse."
Endo looked at Satsuki, his expression grave.
"You mean we hide our true intent and contract along with the market trend, Young Miss?"
"It's a drain."
Satsuki met Endo's eyes.
"Managing Director Endo. Cut all payment term extensions to outside firms across every Saionji Group subsidiary. Demand that all downstream supply-chain partners settle in cash immediately. Halt all bridge financing to external parties."
"Uncle Masato. Cancel every aggressive short-sell order in the SIS system. Have our overseas shell funds merge completely with the Wall Street capital flows smashing the market. Like parasites, quietly absorb those dumped option contracts."
"President Eguchi. Saionji Construction will keep praising economic prosperity publicly. You can even attend a few land auctions to maintain the appearance of long-term expansion. But in actual settlements, delay every cash outflow we owe."
The air pressure in the room dropped.
The executives breathed quietly, running the implications in their heads.
While Mitsui pulls loans, Mitsubishi moves dollars, and Saionji claws back cash, the top three capital reservoirs in Japan will all have their one-way pumps running.
Market liquidity will evaporate in a shockingly short time.
SMEs and real estate developers loaded with debt — the ones surviving on rolling new loans into old — will collapse in silent waves because they can't borrow even ten thousand yen to stay alive.
The Matsuura Construction tragedy will repeat itself in countless corners of Tokyo.
But the outside world won't find a single culprit.
They'll only see that, from some unknown day onward, bank doors are shut, payment demands are flooding in, and the land in their hands won't convert to cash.
Everything will look logical. Reasonable.
Satsuki stood. Her hands fell naturally to her sides as she straightened the hem of her deep blue sweater.
"Since this avalanche is already unavoidable…"
"Then let us be the quietest, and heaviest, snowflake in it."