"I wonder what Mr. Zenkichi came here for?"
After a tense silence, one of the senior officials finally spoke. His voice was calm on the surface, but his eyes betrayed unease as they fell on the intruder. He would have preferred to lash out—after all, Zenkichi had trespassed into their most secure base without permission. It was a humiliation for their nation.
But humiliation was nothing compared to survival. In front of this man's overwhelming power, they had no choice but to endure.
"I'm a little short on money," Arakawa Zenkichi said casually, as though asking for tea. "So, I came to borrow some."
The officials froze.
Deep in his heart, the leading executive burned with rage. He wanted nothing more than to order Zenkichi's death. But he had seen the reports—he had seen with his own eyes what this man had done, casually leveling an island with his power. That alone had silenced even the most hawkish voices among them.
Swallowing his anger, the official asked stiffly, "How much money does Mr. Zenkichi need?"
Zenkichi's gaze sharpened, boring straight into the man. "Not much. Just one trillion."
The words landed like thunder.
"What did you say!?" The official's composure broke instantly. He slammed his palms against the table, his voice echoing across the chamber.
He had expected a ridiculous request, but not this. A trillion? That wasn't a few hundred million. It wasn't even a few billion. It was an astronomical demand, one that would shake even the wealthiest nation on Earth.
He stared at Zenkichi, searching for mockery in his eyes. There was none.
"You heard me correctly," Zenkichi replied with complete seriousness. "I want a trillion."
The chamber erupted. The top officials shouted at once, their voices filled with disbelief.
"Did you make a mistake? You're asking for a trillion from us, in one go!?"
"It's outrageous! Even our military budget doesn't throw around numbers like that!"
No matter how they tried to hide it, frustration and fear cracked through their voices.
Zenkichi's brow furrowed slightly, his tone calm but absolute. "It will take that much to rebuild S.H.I.E.L.D."
"This has nothing to do with us!" one of the executives barked, unable to contain himself. "We didn't destroy S.H.I.E.L.D.—why should we pay for it?"
Zenkichi tilted his head slightly, as if considering the words. His expression remained indifferent. "That's true… but I only know you."
His tone was simple, but his meaning was heavy. These men had opposed him again and again. Their relationship was already fractured. Why shouldn't they pay the price now?
The officials stared at him, speechless. His logic was unreasonable, but what could they say? If he demanded it, what power did they have to stop him?
"This is too much…" the leading official muttered, his voice thick with fury. His hands clenched into fists, his teeth grinding together. Rage burned in his chest like fire. Never before had he felt so insulted, so powerless.
Zenkichi's eyes narrowed. He stepped forward once, and in that instant, the air in the room changed.
An invisible pressure rolled outward from him, heavy and crushing. It was not a mere aura—it was killing intent honed to perfection, a suffocating force that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room.
The officials felt it like a mountain pressing down on their shoulders. Their legs buckled. Their bodies trembled.
One by one, they fell to their knees.
It was not obedience. It was not respect. It was pure instinct, the reaction of fragile human bodies in the presence of something that eclipsed them entirely.
The scene was absurd—leaders of the most powerful nation in the world, kneeling before a single man. But there was nothing they could do. Zenkichi's presence made resistance impossible.
He regarded them coldly, his voice calm as ever. "Are you saying you won't give it?"
The officials dared not answer. The silence itself was their response.
_____
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