Early June. Tokyo, Chiyoda Ward. Daiei Group Headquarters.
Inside the president's office, the heavy blackout curtains were half-drawn. The dense plum rain drummed against the wide glass curtain wall. Rain snaked down the glass, blurring the gray city skyline into smears of color.
The air was thick with Cuban cigar smoke and the faint acid bite of black coffee.
Isao Nakauchi, founder of Daiei Group, stood before a massive map of the Tokyo metro area.
After the Ministry of Finance's "total volume regulation," plus the panic from major zaibatsu quietly pulling liquidity, the city banks that once looked the other way had gone skittish.
They'd cut all extensions on real estate bridge loans Department Store used for offline expansion. They'd also slashed its daily commercial paper credit lines.
Add the damage S-Mart had done to Department Store's base — no more massive cash flow cover — and every morning Isao opened his eyes to hundreds of millions in interest from spiking short-term rates. Department Store's cash chain was a steel wire stretched to breaking.
In reality, Daiei still had a year of prosperity left; 1990 was even their peak. But in this timeline, a certain little butterfly changed everything.
Bang. The heavy oak door slammed open.
The head of Market Expansion hurried in, sweat-soaked. He didn't take off his dripping coat. He clutched a rain-stained kraft paper file.
"President!"
The Expansion head's chest heaved. He strode to the marble desk and dumped several stacks of lists from the file onto the surface.
"Our core informant in the underground asset market paid a high price to some junior Saionji Construction salesmen. Top-secret list."
He swallowed hard and pointed at pages covered in coordinates. "This is Saionji Group's original acquisition list for Kanto retail. Two thousand mid-size stores in prime locations."
Isao Nakauchi turned. Cigar clamped between his teeth, he walked to the desk and grabbed the list. His eyes scanned fast.
Shinjuku. Shibuya. Core subway exits in Setagaya Ward. All prime spots hitting tens of thousands of local residents.
"The Saionji Family would leak this?" Isao frowned, eyes on the coordinates.
"The informant confirmed it." The Expansion head panted. "Those salesmen were drunk at an izakaya, complaining. That billion dollars Saionji had in Manhattan was frozen by Washington too long. Their domestic payment rhythm is wrecked."
The department head wiped sweat. "Plus Ministry of Finance cut loans, and Odaiba infrastructure burns cash daily. They can't raise large liquid cash domestically. Can't even scrape down payments to talk to landlords. The guys below aren't getting commissions, so they copied the list to sell."
In Isao's head, recent financial news flashed — "total volume regulation," Saionji Family under New York investigation. The billion-dollar freeze. The Odaiba deep-sea black hole. Even grassroots employee resentment. It all formed a perfect closed loop.
Isao stared at the list, fingers pausing on the cigar. Hmm, very good. Let's just acquire based on this list… Just kidding. He sneered.
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the expensive top-secret list into the wastebasket by the desk. Paper hit plastic with a soft thud.
The Expansion head froze, eyes widening. "President? This is…"
"Idiot." Isao walked to his leather executive chair and sat, resting the cigar on the crystal ashtray. "That Saionji girl is vicious. How many zaibatsu has she buried these last years?"
Isao crossed his hands over his stomach. Mockery flashed in his eyes. "If she really wanted this land, she'd sell the Ginza buildings to keep it secret."
"Anything that leaks through a few grassroots employees is definitely a trap."
Isao leaned forward abruptly, hands on the desk, staring at the Expansion head. "Department Store will never use intel that's touched the Saionji Family."
"Activate Department Store's own network immediately. Go to major credit unions and bankruptcy courts. Check every high-quality retail store in Kanto that failed from broken cash chains."
He pointed toward the door. "Also, put people on the Saionji acquisition team 24/7. I want to know exactly which contracts they're signing right now."
The Expansion head shivered under Isao's gaze. "Yes! I'll get it done immediately!" He bowed deep, turned, and ran out.
…
Four hours later. The sky had darkened. Wall lamps were on. The Expansion head pushed the door open again. His expression was strange — shocked, disbelieving.
He held two thick cross-comparison reports, walking to the desk with stiff steps. "President…" The Expansion head's voice was tight.
"Find out?" Isao picked up black coffee.
"I found out." The department head laid the first report flat. "We screened the total pool — three thousand bankrupt retail stores in Kanto with best locations and highest investment value."
He opened the second report. "Front-line informants confirmed. Tadashi Yanai's team from Saionji Family is in the market, settling with full-amount cashier's checks from Daiwa Bank."
"But…" The department head's finger rested on the paper. "Their scope… is extremely small. They're only signing about thirty percent of the total pool."
Isao's fingers paused on the coffee cup. "Go on."
"We split the total pool screened by Department Store from the thirty percent Saionji is signing." The department head took a breath and aligned the two charts. "The remaining seventy percent — prime locations, larger areas…"
"…ninety percent overlaps with the 'leaked list' you threw away this morning."
Isao looked at the department head and set the coffee down. "Exactly the same?"
"Basically, yes." The Expansion head nodded hard.
Isao's brows knitted. He grabbed the reports and flipped fast. "Did Legal do deep penetration on these seventy percent?" Isao's voice sped up. "Why isn't Saionji touching these better locations?"
The Expansion head wiped sweat with a handkerchief. "Legal checked secretly. These listed bankrupt merchants, besides official Ministry of Finance bank mortgages, have shady bad debts underneath."
"Bridge funds from local credit unions. And… private finance companies set up by several Kanto yakuza organizations hold secondary mortgage contracts on these stores."
The office went dead silent. The exhaust fan hummed faintly.
Isao held the report, leaning back in the leather chair. His eyes fixed on "Yakuza organization secondary mortgage."
The billion-dollar freeze breaking payment rhythm. The cash black hole of Odaiba. Yakuza usury bad debts. The leaked list. The small-scale cash settlements. Scattered intel collided and clicked together in Isao's head.
Suddenly, light crossed Isao's eyes. He sat up straight, rough hand slapping the marble desk. "So that's it… So that's it!"
Isao burst into low laughter. It grew louder, echoing in the empty office.
"President?" The Expansion head was lost, bewildered by the sudden laugh.
"I should have seen it sooner!" Isao laughed, wrinkles at his eyes smoothing. He pointed at the reports, eyes full of superior insight.
"The Saionji Family's billion was held by the Americans too long, plus Ministry of Finance cut loans. Their cash flow is severely damaged!"
"That girl simply doesn't have enough liquid cash. So she can only scrimp and buy that small portion of clean assets."
Isao picked up the cigar box, pulled one out, and bit down.
"As for the remaining seventy percent of better locations. Why leak the list?"
"Because these stores have yakuza usury on them! Saionji can't produce the massive cash to pay the yakuza's 'relocation settlement fees.' She's afraid of those Kanto local bullies!"
"She released this poisoned list on purpose. She wants to kill with a borrowed knife. Use these prime locations as bait to lure Wall Street foreign capital and Department Store into fighting Kanto yakuza for territory. Let us burn cash in grassroots disputes."
Isao struck a match and lit the cigar. Blue-gray smoke rose, obscuring his bloodshot eyes.
"President." The Expansion head stepped forward anxiously. "Then, are we still grabbing this batch of poisoned stores?"
"Grab them! Why wouldn't we!"
Isao ripped the tie off his neck and threw it on the sofa.
"That Old Kazoku daughter raised in a greenhouse is afraid of yakuza. But I, Isao Nakauchi, am not."
He sneered.
"She doesn't understand underworld rules. Does she think a few loan-shark thugs can stop a great zaibatsu's expansion?"
Isao grabbed the intercom.
"How much is left in the reserve fund?"
"About forty billion yen. That's set aside to settle final payments for Kansai suppliers next week…"
"Withdraw it all." Isao stared at the Tokyo map on the wall. "Avoid the thirty percent of clean properties Saionji is signing. No need to waste cash in a price war with them."
"Take Department Store's reserve fund. Sweep up all seventy percent of those prime locations she can't afford and is too scared to touch!"
The Expansion Manager gasped.
"But… what if Kanto yakuza forcibly obstruct construction…"
"Those yakuza only want money and face." Isao crushed his cigar into the ashtray. "Once property rights are secured, I'll personally call several bosses in Kansai. Have them talk to these Kanto local snakes. A little 'travel expense' will settle these messy accounts."
"We must not let Wall Street get ahead."
Isao slammed both hands on his desk.
"Go!"
"Yes!"
The Expansion Manager grabbed the report, turned, and ran out.
Isao turned his head and looked at the light rain outside.
A curve of arrogance pulled at his mouth.
He'd perfectly avoided competition and secured the best land at an extremely low price.
In this game, Department Store had won the future.
…
At the same time. Minato Ward, Hotel Okura. Top-floor luxury suite.
Before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, two senior partners from a Wall Street "Special Opportunities Investment Fund" sank into soft leather sofas.
Blues jazz played softly. On the coffee table, a fresh bottle of bourbon sat open. Ice melted in glasses, cracking faintly.
The blonde partner sat with legs crossed, holding half a glass of whiskey.
Opposite them stood three high-paid local senior lawyers. All from one of Japan's "Big Four" top corporate law firms — Nishimura Sogo.
For this asset grab, Wall Street had paid astronomical consulting fees.
But these legal elites, who ruled Marunouchi in dark suits, had fine cold sweat on their foreheads.
Lead lawyer Watanabe held a thick hundred-page English due diligence report in both hands, bowing slightly.
"Mr. Smith, Mr. Davis."
The Japanese lawyer's English was perfect, but his tone carried anxiety.
"Our legal team did the most thorough bottom-up investigation on this asset list. Ministry of Finance and Legal Affairs Bureau files are very clean, showing only first-priority mortgages from legitimate commercial banks. However…"
The lawyer took a breath and handed over on-site photos.
"When we did site visits, we found these shops already occupied."
The blonde partner, Smith, glanced at the photos. In one, a broken wooden table sat in a dilapidated shop. Several tattooed men played cards around it.
"Go on." Smith's voice had a hint of nonchalance.
"This is a gray industry derived from Japanese yakuza. They're called 'Occupation Houses.'" The lawyer pointed at the men in the photo, speeding up. "Beyond official mortgages, they hold private second-mortgage contracts signed by the original shop owners."
"Sir, this isn't simple hooligan squatting."
The lawyer dutifully opened the legal analysis section, pointing to bold text.
"Japan's Land and Building Lease Act has special clauses extremely biased toward actual tenants. These yakuza have disguised themselves as legitimate tenants with historical lease disputes."
"Once we buy the property rights and apply to Tokyo District Court for a forced eviction order, the judge, citing 'social stability,' will absolutely not issue immediate enforcement. Instead, they'll start round after round of mandatory pre-trial mediation."
The lawyer's intuition screamed danger. He desperately wanted these arrogant employers to understand.
"The scheduling for mediation courts is extremely long. These yakuza don't even need force. They just drag things out endlessly in court. This tug-of-war usually lasts three to five years."
"Before final settlement and astronomical relocation fees are paid, these assets will be frozen, and we will have no right to develop. This will completely crush the fund's Internal Rate of Return model."
The suite was silent for a few seconds. Only the female voice in the blues jazz crooned softly.
Smith held his whiskey glass. He looked at the Japanese lawyer, who was shaking from nerves, and showed no retreat or fear.
On the contrary. "Hahahaha…" Smith suddenly burst out laughing, echoing through the spacious suite.
The brown-haired partner, Davis, also chuckled, shook his head, and sipped his glass.
The Japanese lawyers looked at each other, frozen.
Smith stopped laughing. He set his whiskey glass steadily on the marble coaster.
"Mr. Lawyer." Smith leaned forward slightly, crossing his hands on his knees.
"Your due diligence is excellent. This precisely proves why the asking price for these assets has fallen below forty percent of historical lows. Because they're flawed, they're cheap. This is our favorite kind of prey."
"But sir, the time cost of judicial mediation…" The Japanese lawyer tried urgently to add.
Smith raised his hand unceremoniously, rudely cutting off the lawyer's rambling about "Japanese social connections and judicial efficiency."
"Sir. In New York, we can clear union territories controlled by the Italian Mafia within a week using court injunctions."
Smith's voice was full of confidence. "Those tattooed thugs sitting by broken tables are no different from sewer rats when faced with absolute capital and top-tier litigation teams."
He stood, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and looked down at the massive city in the rainy season.
"You think mediation is long because the clients you represented before didn't pay expensive enough legal fees to push court efficiency."
Smith turned, staring at the Japanese lawyers with burning eyes.
"Listen. There is nothing the U.S. dollar cannot accomplish. If there is, then use more dollars."
He walked to the coffee table, picked up the due diligence report, and closed it casually.
"Use our U.S. dollar reserve account at Citibank. Hire the most expensive, most aggressive litigation legal team in all of Tokyo."
"Get out there and grab the assets. Squeeze out all those local retailers scouting land. As long as we get legal property rights, remaining obstacles can be handled by court eviction orders."
"Go execute this."
The Japanese lawyers looked at their employer's unquestionable face, knowing further persuasion was futile.
"…Yes, sir." The lawyers bowed deeply, picked up briefcases, and hurried out.
…
3:00 PM. Tokyo District Court, Bankruptcy Liquidation Center.
Benches on both sides of the hallway were filled with small and mid-size business owners facing bankruptcy, miserable expressions on their faces.
Daiei Group Legal Section Chief Miyamoto, carrying a black briefcase, walked hurriedly through the hallway. He'd just been at No. 3 liquidation window, following President Isao Nakauchi's "reverse avoidance" instruction, precisely avoiding the list Saionji Family was signing.
His briefcase was now full of property confirmation certificates for that seventy percent of prime locations.
As he passed a corner, Miyamoto brushed past a group.
Leading was a foreign-affairs lawyer in an expensive custom suit, cold and hard temperament. Behind him followed several assistants holding thick stacks of U.S. dollar cashier's checks stamped with the Citibank seal.
Both sides slowed simultaneously in the narrow corridor.
Miyamoto pushed up his glasses. His gaze swept the English liquidation documents in the assistants' hands, and he guessed their identity.
Agents for a Wall Street distressed asset fund.
The foreign-affairs lawyer also caught the Daiei Group logo on the side of Miyamoto's briefcase.
The two men's eyes met for an extremely brief moment in the murky air.
A cold glimmer of mockery flashed in Miyamoto's eyes.
These Americans don't even know how deep Japanese society runs. They dare to step blind into the yakuza's minefield. When they get dragged into endless court mediation by those 'Occupation Houses,' they won't know how they died.
The foreign-affairs lawyer's mouth also curled into an imperceptible sneer.
These local traditional retailers are laughably rigid. To avoid a tiny bit of bottom-level physical disputes, they're handing over prime assets below the floor price. Once Wall Street's eviction order is issued, these bumpkins will know what capital efficiency means.
No one spoke. Both, holding contempt for the other as a sucker, passed each other in the hallway.
Everyone was a smart person.