The overseas call was disconnected.
Osawa Ichiro slowly placed the receiver back onto its base.
He walked over to the coffee table and picked up the cigar that hadn't gone out yet. He stuck it in his mouth and took a deep drag.
For the past half-month, he had seen reports in the newspapers every day about the Saionji Family's predicament of being bogged down overseas.
One billion dollars locked away. The evaporation of pure cash equivalent to 140 billion yen. This level of combat damage was a heavy blow, like a severed carotid artery, even for a conglomerate of the Saionji Group's scale.
Holding his cigar, Osawa Ichiro looked through the swirling smoke at the bustling Tokyo streetscape outside the window.
He certainly knew what a loss of one billion dollars meant, but he knew even better that the Saionji Family would never collapse just because of a mere billion dollars.
The Saionji Group's physical footprint within the country was simply too vast. There were S-Mart hypermarkets all over Tokyo, the S-Food central kitchens that monopolized the fresh food supply for the three major convenience store chains, the Saionji Logistics fleet that permeated every corner of the city like blood vessels, the currently top-selling affordable clothing chain Uniqlo, and even Saionji Entertainment — he'd heard several of its artists had become explosive hits recently.
These entities generated a terrifying amount of cash flow every day and maintained the livelihoods of hundreds of thousands of people throughout Japan.
Bringing down the Saionji Group was unrealistic. Even if the Saionji Family did nothing and let themselves be slaughtered, the people in their subsidiary companies would fight you to the death.
If he, Osawa Ichiro, wanted to sit securely in his position as the actual controller in Nagatacho and continue to receive a steady stream of political donations and local votes in future general elections, he could not bypass the Saionji Family's massive physical money-printing machine no matter what.
He had never been naive enough to expect that a single ban from Washington could completely destroy the Saionji Family. Driving the Saionji Family to a dead end would be equivalent to smashing his own future political purse.
That was never the logic of a mature politician.
His true purpose was taming.
He wanted to use the administrative hegemony of a superpower as a whip to lash the back of this arrogant beast. To beat them into pain and weakness, thereby forcibly reversing the master-servant relationship in their alliance.
Over the past half-month, Osawa Ichiro's public performance had been practically perfect.
Not only had he expressed strong regret and condemnation in public regarding the U.S. government's crude interference in legitimate business, but he had even personally made a half-hour condolence call to Managing Director Endo the day before yesterday.
On the phone, Osawa's tone was concerned and distressed. He vowed to Endo that he was already using all channels of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to pressure Washington, attempting to unfreeze the funds through diplomatic mediation.
He pretended to be completely unaware that he was the mastermind behind these sanctions.
The public alliance still maintained an extremely harmonious facade.
But facing the indefinite quagmire of U.S. litigation, the Saionji Family had no choice.
They had to bow their heads and seek political asylum from him, Osawa Ichiro — the ruling party leader who had established direct ties with Washington.
"Shuichi-kun… and that proud little girl."
Osawa Ichiro took the cigar out of his mouth and looked at the dark red sparks flickering on the tip.
"When you've beaten your heads bloody in Manhattan, you'll naturally understand who really has the final say in this political jungle."
From now on, the leadership of this alliance would be held firmly in the hands of Osawa Ichiro.
Osawa Ichiro leaned back against the deep red leather chair.
He exhaled a thick smoke ring, enjoying the slight intoxication of power that came from stepping on a top-tier zaibatsu while simultaneously masquerading as its savior.
"Once I've completely taken over the leadership of the alliance…"
Osawa looked at the blue-gray smoke slowly diffusing in mid-air, a hint of calculation flashing in his eyes.
"That girl from the Saionji Family who's always in the way is about at the age to get married. When the time comes, I'll just pick a local political family dependent on me and arrange a marriage for her."
With the fingers holding his cigar, he lightly tapped the leather armrest of the sofa.
"Send her far away to be a wealthy housewife content with supporting her husband and raising children, so she doesn't stay on the Tokyo chessboard and cause me more trouble."
Knock, knock.
Two light knocks at the door interrupted his fantasy.
Chief Secretary Hirano pushed open the heavy oak soundproof door, walked quickly to the coffee table, and bowed slightly.
"Osawa-sensei."
Hirano's voice was very low, and his expression carried a hint of obvious anxiety.
"The special hotline at the faction headquarters just received several emergency calls for help. Several core real estate financiers in the Kanto region were suddenly hit with a coordinated mandatory loan recall by city banks today."
Osawa Ichiro's fingers holding the cigar paused slightly.
"Loan recall?" He frowned. "What's the specific situation?"
"Since March is the end of the fiscal year, the banks are citing the decline in collateral net value and the avoidance of year-end bad debts as reasons to reject all their loan extension applications." Hirano swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty. "The capital chains of those financiers are facing a total collapse. They said if they can't raise the cash to cover their positions by tomorrow morning, their ongoing construction projects and headquarters buildings will be directly seized by the court."
Hirano's fingers gripped the hem of his clothes tightly, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.
"They implore you to immediately intervene with the Ministry of Finance and the Banking Bureau to forcibly pressure the banks to release funds. Otherwise…"
Hirano didn't dare say the rest.
The donations for faction operations, the election funds for junior lawmakers, and even the massive expenses for Osawa himself to maintain his political status all relied on the support of these few core financiers. Once they went bankrupt, the base of the Osawa Faction would vanish overnight.
After hearing the report, the wrinkles on Osawa Ichiro's brow smoothed out instead.
He reached out, picked up the bone china teacup on the table, and took a small sip of the tea that had long since gone cold.
"I thought it was some world-ending crisis."
Osawa gave a light chuckle. He didn't even change his posture in the slightest because of this emergency call for help.
He leisurely set down the teacup and leaned back into the deep red leather sofa.
"The March fiscal year-end — banks closing their umbrellas to settle accounts for the Ministry of Finance's report audits is standard operation for decades. Those financiers are getting more pathetic as they get older, getting spooked by a little year-end credit tightening and running here to wail."
Osawa pulled a solid gold lighter from his pocket and relit the cigar that had slightly gone out with a click.
Blue-gray smoke rose.
"Besides, the Saionji Family is currently mired in a legal quagmire in the U.S. That 140 billion yen cash gap is enough to give them a hard time. How could they have the energy to stir up trouble in the domestic financial market to suppress my financiers?"
Osawa didn't look at Hirano's face, which was soaked in cold sweat.
He turned around and picked up a draft of the Annual Special Fiscal Budget just submitted by the Ministry of Finance from his desk. His thick fingers tapped twice heavily on the paper representing the flow of trillions of national funds, producing a crisp rustling sound.
"Hirano, go give them a call back."
Holding his cigar, Osawa waved his hand very casually in the air.
"Tell them the sky isn't falling. Let them find a way to raise money themselves and hold on for another half-month."
"When the repeal of the Large-Scale Retail Store Law passes smoothly next month, I will fully take over the Cabinet and party affairs. The Ministry of Finance's money-printing machines and credit gates will be opened directly for them. At that time, they can have as many low-interest loans as they want."
Osawa Ichiro flicked off a bit of ash.
"Tell them not to spoil my mood at a time like this."
Hirano stood frozen in place.
Looking at Osawa's face full of confidence, the shirt on his back was completely soaked with cold sweat.
As the secretary responsible for handling specific affairs, Hirano knew the cold reality at the bottom much better than the high-and-mighty Osawa. This wasn't some year-end account settling. What he had heard on the phone just now were the desperate howls of the financiers, the death signal of total liquidity exhaustion in the entire interbank lending market.
Those financiers wouldn't last until next month at all.
However, facing Osawa's unquestionable arrogance, Hirano opened his mouth, but ultimately could only force that fear back into his stomach.
"Yes… I understand."
Hirano bowed deeply and exited the room.
Osawa Ichiro watched Hirano's departing back and took a satisfied drag of his cigar.
Inside the warm office, the blue-gray cigar smoke slowly circled and diffused in the air.
The thick smoke completely blurred the massive floor-to-ceiling window.
It separated the politician sitting on his warm throne from the dying financiers outside the door and the streetscape below being ruthlessly washed by the early spring cold rain, into two disconnected worlds.