A late summer breeze moved through the dense mountain forests, carrying a cool chill laced with the scent of earth and pine resin.
This was the Saionji Family's villa, "Chosho Sanso Villa."
The villa lay hidden deep in the forests of Karuizawa. Built in the early Showa era, the single-story wooden structure followed the rolling terrain of the mountain. After more than fifty years of weathering, the cypress planks of the exterior walls had faded from their original brightness to a dull, weathered gray.
Staying in character to the end, Satsuki had brought Shuichi straight to Karuizawa to relax after sending Emi back to the laboratory.
Inside the spacious living room, a brass-based floor fan in the corner oscillated slowly. Its blades cut through the air with a rhythmic, low whoosh, and the breeze skimmed over the rush-grass tatami mats with a trace of coolness.
The wide glass sliding doors had been pushed fully open. Outside, the steady chorus of summer cicadas rose and fell across the vast green mountainside, blending into a dense blanket of white noise.
A large Sony Trinitron color television dominated the center of the room. The screen showed an NHK international news special, and the anchor's voice carried the tense gravity of breaking news.
"According to the latest commercial satellite imagery from Reuters, the Republican Guard's heavy armored columns in Baghdad have completed large-scale tactical formations on the highway south of Basra."
The broadcast cut to several grainy black-and-white aerial photographs. Across the vast yellow sands, the steel outlines of hundreds of tanks were barely visible, and deep tracks scarred the desert highway for dozens of kilometers.
"The lead elements of this armored unit are now less than thirty kilometers from the Kuwaiti border. Skirmishes along the border have surged in the past forty-eight hours."
"Facing mounting military pressure, the Emir of Kuwait has urgently called for the Arab League to intervene and mediate. Meanwhile, a White House spokesperson held an emergency press conference in Washington early this morning, stating they will closely monitor developments and warning against any unilateral armed action that could destabilize the Middle East."
Satsuki, dressed in loose cotton loungewear, lay quietly in a rattan rocking chair by the floor-to-ceiling window, paging through a thick foreign-language book. As she shifted her weight, the rocking chair creaked faintly against the wooden floor. Her eyes stayed lowered on the dense print, and she didn't spare a glance for the looming war clouds on the television.
Shuichi sat nearby at a long solid wood desk. He wore a dark gray, lightweight cashmere cardigan today, and both hands rested on the keyboard of a portable computer, a Toshiba T5200.
Under his fingers, the mechanical keyboard gave off a crisp, steady clatter as he reviewed a macro briefing on global capital flows sent back by the Saionji Information System, or SIS, through an encrypted network.
The news broadcast continued.
"...The White House spokesperson stated..."
At those words, Satsuki's slender fingers paused mid-turn on the page. Her fingertip pressed against the rough edge of the paper. She closed the thick book and set it casually on the side table.
The rocking chair stopped moving.
"Father. Is the wrap-up of the recent plans going smoothly?" Satsuki asked casually. Her tone was even.
Shuichi stopped typing. He stared at the plasma screen's dim orange glow, where a long string of complex offshore trust structures and capital flow codes scrolled slowly.
"Yes. Everything in Washington has been smoothed over," Shuichi said, his gaze sweeping the lines of code. "The equivalent of over two hundred billion yen has been funneled into the underlying shares of several military-industrial private equity firms on K Street. The capital network is already deeply intertwined with theirs."
He smiled. "Next, as soon as things move in the Middle East and oil prices spike, the politicians on Capitol Hill and in the Pentagon who took our dividends will be anxious enough about their own wallets to work themselves to death protecting our crude oil positions."
He pressed the page-down key. The screen switched to dense rows of options trading details.
"As for Wall Street, the OTC betting agreements for crude oil call options have also been placed. The proprietary trading desks at Goldman Sachs and Lehman were very eager. Frank had his people break the position-building instructions into small pieces, so the books look clean."
"Domestic progress is about the same. Endo is finishing the debt delivery for the last two semiconductor companies. The executives at Fuji and Sumitomo are cooperating well to cover their bad debts. The mortgage certificates for those special optical glass production lines and multi-axis machine tools will be in Daiwa Bank's underground vault by tomorrow evening at the latest."
Satsuki listened quietly. Her gaze crossed the room and settled on Shuichi's face. Early autumn light filtered through the shoji doors onto the solid wood desk, highlighting the bloodshot eyes, the deep bags under them, and the gray pallor of chronic sleep deprivation.
Ever since Satsuki had collapsed in the underground strategy room from sheer exhaustion, Shuichi had taken full control of the operation. For the most critical stretch of days, he had handled both his own workload and hers.
Whether it was deflecting the major domestic zaibatsu or coordinating the allocation of tens of billions of dollars overseas, Shuichi, who normally just kept things stable, had forced himself to carry it all so Satsuki wouldn't burn out.
Without a word, Satsuki stood from the rattan rocking chair. Barefoot, she crossed the polished wooden floor and came up behind Shuichi.
He was still leaning forward, eyes locked on the harsh orange glow of the plasma screen, still reciting debt data about domestic non-performing asset restructuring.
Satsuki lifted both hands and, reaching from behind, covered Shuichi's eyes with her palms. Her fingers were cool and soft.
His vision went dark. The piercing orange screen vanished, replaced by warmth.
Shuichi stiffened for a second, and the keyboard went silent. Satsuki's thumbs found his temples. Applying gentle pressure, she began to massage the tense spots in a slow, steady rhythm.
"Father, you've been exhausted lately, haven't you?" Satsuki said, her voice soft by his ear.
Shuichi's rigid back slowly relaxed under the comfortable pressure. He leaned into the solid wood chair, letting it take his full weight.
"What do I have to be tired about?" Shuichi kept his eyes closed and smiled. "These past few months have been busy, sure. But at my age, this is exactly when I should be pushing myself. The Saionji Family's foundation is expanding. I can't be the one holding us back."
Satsuki didn't stop. Her fingertips kept circling his temples.
"Father, you're not young anymore, you know," she said, her tone soft and teasing. "Don't play the hero. You're already an ojisan, after all."
Shuichi chuckled. Eyes still closed, he let his face go slack and enjoyed his daughter's massage.
"You silly girl. Nonsense," he said, his breathing evening out. "At least until you're grown, I won't get old."
The room fell silent. The brass floor fan kept up its tireless oscillation, and the occasional bird call drifted in from outside.
After a moment of quiet, Shuichi spoke again, eyes still closed, as thoughts he'd pushed down resurfaced.
"Satsuki," he said suddenly. "That Suzuki Emi seems to be up to something strange lately."
His tone grew more serious. "The SIS internal briefing said that last week she used her authority to have the Hokkaido S-Farm biolab purchase five live rhesus monkeys from overseas at a high price. The order also included a dozen boxes of obscure microelectrode probe materials."
He frowned. "Security reported that she's been locking herself in the underground server room all day for months, reviewing nothing but dense medical literature on neurophysiology and motor cortex electrical stimulation."
"And," he added, "the last few times she visited you, I noticed her attitude. Her dependence on you seems beyond normal. It's crossing a line. Is that alright?"
Satsuki's massage never faltered. The pressure of her fingertips stayed even.
"Emi is fine," Satsuki said, turning her head slightly to look at the green mountains outside. "I meant to guide her in this direction anyway. Her talents in certain areas aren't to be underestimated."
"Though there have been some interesting deviations," she added with a faint smile. "Overall, it's still within the expected range."
Shuichi listened and trusted his daughter's judgment with people. If Satsuki felt confident, he let the doubt go and didn't press further.
Satsuki slowly withdrew her hands. She walked to the side of the long desk and reached out to snap the Toshiba's screen shut with a click. The thick plastic case closed, and the cooling fan inside wound down to silence.
"Rest for a while," Satsuki said, looking at Shuichi. "Let's take a walk in the woods behind the house."
Shuichi looked at the closed computer and rubbed his aching eyes. He stood and straightened his cashmere cardigan.
"Okay. I'll follow your lead."