March 1, 1990.
The House of Representatives Budget Committee Plenary Session. Live national television broadcast.
The flashbulbs in the media gallery were like a frantic thunderstorm.
Representative Miyamoto stood before the microphone at the interpellation podium.
This junior representative, a rising star in the Osawa faction, gripped the edges of the wooden lectern with both hands. Today he wore a well-tailored dark gray suit, his tie in a meticulous Windsor knot.
Facing the hostile glares of the Commerce and Industry Caucus conservatives surrounding him — men who represented the interests of millions of small and medium-sized businesses — Miyamoto's Adam's apple bobbed almost imperceptibly.
He understood exactly what role he was playing right now.
Two hours ago, in that Nagatacho office with the curtains drawn tight, Osawa Ichiro had slid an interpellation draft across the desk. The man behind the scenes had given a death order with no room to refuse.
As a newcomer being groomed inside the faction, Miyamoto knew the cruel rules of politics. Refuse the order and his career ended today. Execute it, detonate the bomb, and he'd get a flood of political resources and a fast track up.
He was a politician. In seconds, he crushed the flicker of instinctive fear about enraging powerful interest groups.
I want to climb up…
Miyamoto drew a breath of stale air. He steadied his breathing, looked straight at the cabinet seats, and his voice rang out across the hall through the microphone.
"Regarding the ongoing Structural Impediments Initiative negotiations between Japan and the United States, the American representatives have repeatedly stated that our complex distribution system and strict retail restrictions constitute extremely serious non-tariff trade barriers."
Miyamoto's pace was steady, his diction clear, with the sharp edge typical of a young representative.
"Faced with these outdated regulations that hinder free trade between our nations and drag down macroeconomic vitality, the Cabinet has taken no substantive action."
He paused, his eyes sweeping the conservative representatives whose faces were already paling, and delivered the final ultimatum.
"On behalf of my colleagues in the party who answer the call for reform, I publicly demand that the Cabinet state its position here and now, before the entire nation, and immediately begin the substantive legislative process to repeal the Large-Scale Retail Store Law."
The words echoed under the dome through the speakers.
An eerie, heavy silence held for several seconds.
Many of the older conservative representatives didn't react at first. They looked at each other, as if checking whether they'd misheard.
Repeal the Large-Scale Retail Store Law?
After the dead silence came a dense buzz, like a swarm of bees. The murmuring spread and swelled through the seats.
"Are you kidding me…"
"Has he lost his mind? This will destroy the livelihoods of millions!"
Suspicion fermented fast into shock and rage.
A veteran representative of the Commerce and Industry Caucus in the front row shoved himself up by the armrests. He stood too fast and his knee slammed into the wooden desk with a dull thud. He didn't notice. His age-spotted face was flushed purple with rage.
"Take that back! You lackey of the Osawa faction!" The old representative pointed at Miyamoto on the podium, his voice cracking. "You're selling out the foundation of our country! You're handing domestic commerce to foreigners! Traitor!"
He grabbed the thick agenda on his desk and hurled it forward.
The papers scattered in the air, falling like snow.
That roar lit the powder keg.
The Liberal Democratic Party's core voting base split open in public.
Dozens of conservative representatives for small shopkeepers had bloodshot eyes. They shoved back their chairs, pushed out of the narrow rows, and surged toward the podium, shouting curses. Some tried to storm the stand and grab the young representative who had spoken.
The young Osawa faction members on the other side were ready. They stood as a group and flooded into the central aisle, forming a human wall to block the enraged old guard.
"What are you doing! This is Parliament. Show some decorum!"
The Osawa faction shouted back, refusing to yield.
The two sides collided violently in the central aisle.
At first it was chests bumping and fingers jabbing, but as the shouting rose, control collapsed.
Expensive suits were yanked. Silk ties were pulled askew. Curses, roars, and the thud of leather shoes on wood tangled together. Guards blew whistles, sweat-soaked, forcing their way into the mass to pull apart brawling representatives, only to be thrown around by the frenzy.
The Speaker stood on the dais, pounding his gavel, forehead drenched.
The sharp wooden cracks rang through the speakers, but they couldn't touch the boiling noise below.
Miyamoto stood on the podium. He looked down at colleagues who were usually dignified now clawing at each other like street fighters, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Phew… my job's done.
He gave a slight bow, kept his posture proper, then turned and stepped down, vanishing into the protective ring of Osawa faction members.
The live TV camera shook violently, broadcasting the farce inside Parliament uncensored to every household in Japan.
---
Marunouchi, Tokyo. Saionji Industries Headquarters, Underground Core Strategy Room.
The giant LCD screen on the wall was broadcasting the Parliament brawl in real time.
Managing Director Endo stood before the screen.
His face, tense for days from managing the massive capital chain, finally relaxed. His furrowed brow eased, and a satisfied smile touched the corner of his mouth.
He turned to look at Saionji Satsuki in the main chair, his tone full of open praise and admiration.
"Young Lady, it seems Osawa Ichiro really does know how to read the room."
"When you ordered the cut-off of Osawa's funding, I was… nervous. I truly feared that cornering that old fox would trigger uncontrollable political blowback."
He adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose and couldn't help a short laugh as he watched the representatives brawling over the Large-Scale Retail Store Law.
"Looking at it now, your judgment was spot on. This old man's will to survive… is remarkable."
Endo walked to the table and picked up a cup of warm black coffee.
"He's willing to abandon the Commerce and Industry Caucus vote base, risk a ruling-party split, just to push this bill…" He sipped the coffee, savoring the sweetness after the bitter, his brow completely smooth now. "If S-Mart is to expand nationwide, that legal shackle had to be broken eventually. Him playing the villain now saves the Group at least three years of PR work. And at least several billion in lobbying fees."
"With loyalty like this, it seems Mr. Osawa has accepted reality and is ready to wholeheartedly clear the political path for the Saionji Family."
The strategy room was quiet except for the server lights blinking red and green.
Satsuki sat upright in the large leather swivel chair.
Today she wore a minimalist dark blue flannel dress with a turnover collar, fair wrists showing from slightly rolled sleeves. Her long hair was tied low at the back of her head with a plain black velvet ribbon.
Faced with Endo's praise and optimism, Satsuki showed no joy.
She lowered her eyes slightly, looking at a blank memo on the red sandalwood table.
"Charging forward for us?"
"That might not be the case…"
The smile on Endo's face faded.
He caught the abnormality in her tone. He set the coffee cup back on its saucer, his weight shifting forward slightly.
"Young Lady?" Doubt flashed in Endo's eyes. "You're saying… there's another motive behind him pushing this bill?"
Satsuki didn't answer.
She turned her head slightly and looked at Shimomura Tsutomu, who sat in the corner of the console chewing gum.
"Shimomura."
"Got it, Boss."
Shimomura blew a bubble and his fingers flew across the mechanical keyboard.
Click.
The giant screen switched instantly. The noisy Parliament feed vanished, replaced by several high-definition black-and-white photos with visible grain.
The shots were from hidden angles, clearly taken from a distance with a telephoto lens.
Endo stepped forward, eyes locked on the screen.
First photo. In the cold rain of early spring, a plain black Crown sedan with no markings was parked discreetly in the back alley of Shoto-tei, a high-end private teahouse in Minato Ward. The door was ajar, and a man in a dark trench coat walked quickly toward the back door, head down. The umbrella hid most of his face, but the clear side profile was unmistakable. Osawa Ichiro.
Second photo. Ten minutes later, another gray sedan with civilian plates stopped at the same alley entrance.
Third photo. A tall, blond Caucasian man stepped out of the gray sedan. Wearing a low-key dark blue wool coat, he entered the teahouse flanked by aides.
Endo saw the figure clearly.
His brow furrowed, and his weight shifted forward.
The U.S. Economic Minister to Japan, William.
"Shoto-tei. Osawa Ichiro. U.S. Minister William."
Endo's voice held obvious bewilderment.
"What is Osawa doing meeting the Americans privately at a time like this?"
Satsuki leaned back against the leather chair, fingers interlaced over her knees.
"Think about it, Managing Director Endo."
Her voice carried smoothly through the climate-controlled room.
"A while ago, we drained the bottom-tier liquidity, directly cutting off the oxygen to his faction's financial backers. With Osawa's ambition, pushed to the cliff by us, would he sit and wait to die?"
Endo adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his mind racing to follow.
"He would definitely look for new funding. But…" Endo hesitated. "The Americans can't give him domestic votes or donation channels."
"The Americans indeed can't give him domestic votes."
Satsuki glanced at the photo of Minister William on the screen.
"But unfortunately, in politics, Japan and the United States are not equals. At the SII negotiating table these past few years, politicians in Washington have been pushing for the abolition of the Large-Scale Retail Store Law as a core demand."
The words hit like lightning, clearing the fog in Endo's mind.
He turned and looked at the black-and-white photos on the screen.
"So…" Endo's speech quickened. "His attack in Parliament today had nothing to do with S-Mart's expansion. He's using the livelihoods of all Japan's small and medium retailers to make a deal with Washington?"
"It's called a pledge of loyalty."
"Just like when he betrayed Takeshita to join us."
Satsuki leaned forward slightly.
"A politician desperate for power in a hopeless situation, a high-ranking American official met in secret, plus an extreme bill that perfectly caters to core American interests, even at the cost of tearing apart the domestic camp to force it through."
"When you put these pieces together…"
Satsuki looked up, her gaze fixed on Endo.
"There's a high probability that Osawa Ichiro has already defected. He plans to sacrifice Japan's entire retail economic barrier to Washington, and what he wants in exchange is far more than just political asylum."
"He also needs the Americans to help him remove the noose around his neck. That is, us."
"He's trying to get the Americans to use administrative power to deal with the Saionji Family. In today's world, the only thing that can forcibly break through our legal firewalls is a superpower's long-arm jurisdiction. Washington will very likely use national security reviews as an excuse to reverse-strangle our overseas funding channels."
The air in the strategy room dropped fast. The dull hum of the exhaust fan sounded especially clear.
After hearing this, Endo's brows knitted tight.
"Milady."
Endo took a deep breath, slowing his speech.
"Our offshore capital pools in the Cayman Islands and Luxembourg have already completed legal isolation through umbrella trusts. Even if the Americans want to seize them, facing that level of multinational jurisdictional dispute, Frank's legal team is enough to delay their administrative review for years. It's hard for them to cause us substantive physical harm in the short term."
"Your perspective is limited by legalities, Managing Director Endo."
Satsuki looked at the photos on the screen.
"In the face of absolute hegemony, a court subpoena is worth less than a pulled network cable. Washington doesn't need to go through a long hearing process at all. They just need one call to the Wall Street clearing center to pull the plug on the underlying settlement routing in the name of national security."
"Our funds would still legally belong to us, but physically, they would instantly become a pile of dead numbers that cannot be transferred."
Endo's back tightened, and a thin layer of sweat broke out on his forehead.
That's right. The Americans' credibility was basically worth as much as toilet paper. They were absolutely capable of doing that.
He looked at Satsuki's calm face. Doubt grew like weeds in his heart.
"Milady…" Endo's voice was a bit dry.
"Since you already expected him to betray us and guessed he would seek help from the Americans to attack us…"
He couldn't understand this decision that went against basic risk-avoidance logic.
"Why did you deliberately apply pressure and push him toward the Americans? We could have stabilized him first to avoid this risk…"
Knowing it would drive him away, yet still doing it. Based on his understanding of Satsuki, she would never make such a low-level mistake.
Satsuki didn't answer immediately.
She turned her gaze back to the giant display on the wall.
Shimomura had already switched the feed back to the live broadcast of Parliament. The pushing and shouting continued, with shredded documents flying through the air.
"Stabilize him?"
Satsuki watched the chaos on the screen, her tone level.
"And then slowly sink along with this riddled, broken ship?"
"Managing Director Endo. This economic hard landing that is about to sweep across Japan was orchestrated by us. The valve to drain market liquidity is in our hands."
Satsuki withdrew her gaze.
"When the avalanche truly comes and the market crashes, countless companies operating on high leverage will instantly go bankrupt, factories will close, and a massive wave of unemployment will sweep the country. Those middle-class people who were squandering money in Kabukicho yesterday will be lining up to jump off buildings tomorrow."
"Once this kind of despair, which affects the entire nation and ruins countless families, spreads, it will turn into man-eating rage."
Satsuki's eyes were deep, with a hint of indifference.
"The Saionji Family is going to harvest all the high-quality assets of this country with U.S. dollars on the ruins. If you were one of those citizens who lost everything, what would you think seeing us make a fortune at a time like this?"
Endo stood still.
"They would tear us to pieces…" Endo murmured softly.
"Exactly."
A faint smile played at the corners of Satsuki's mouth.
"If we want to build a new order on the ruins, we cannot be tainted by even a hint of suspicion that we caused the economic crisis. We need a firewall. A target that can attract all of Japan's rage."
"We are the killers, but we cannot be the killers."
The massive outline of the scapegoat gradually became clear in Endo's mind.
"Osawa Ichiro thinks he has found a backer in Washington to break the deadlock."
"He colluded with the U.S. Minister in private. For his own political gain, he personally smashed the legal barriers protecting domestic small and medium enterprises, inviting Wall Street's foreign capital into the house to short Japan."
Satsuki's voice was very soft.
"Is there a more perfect national traitor of the century than this?"
"The moment the Great Depression arrives, righteous citizens will naturally take evidence provided by righteous individuals to expose this hypocritical politician who colluded with foreign capital for personal gain and harmed national interests."
"At that time, the rage of all Japanese citizens, the despair of those bankrupt shareholders and unemployed workers, will all be poured onto the head of this politician who sold out the country's economic barriers for political gain and invited Wall Street capital in to short Japan."
"As for us…"
Satsuki picked up the cup of black tea on the side table.
She looked at the reflection in the murky tea, her mouth curving into a cultured, gentle arc.
"Naturally, we will be the sole saviors who come to rescue Japan."
Endo stood before the screen.
He looked at Representative Miyamoto on the screen, who was still being protected by the Osawa faction in the center despite having left the interpellation stand, and thought of Osawa Ichiro hiding behind the scenes.
"This… truly…"
He once again felt that his young lady was an extremely brilliant strategist. Everything, whether good or bad, could be utilized by her to ultimately achieve her goals.
"Alright, one shouldn't disturb a bad man while he's doing bad things."
Satsuki reached out her right hand and picked up the remote control sitting on the red sandalwood table.
"Next, it's showtime for our villain, Mr. Osawa."
Her thumb pressed the red power button.
Click.
The noisy Parliament scene on the wall instantly shrank into a blinding white dot, then returned to pure darkness.