March 31, 1989, Friday.
The night sky over Tokyo was stifled by thick, low-hanging clouds.
Even though it was 11:00 PM, this massive city still hadn't gone to sleep.
On the contrary, an air of pre-battle anxiety spread along the neon signs of the streets, seeping into every shop that still had its lights on.
This was the final night of the old tax system.
After twelve o'clock, the consumption tax bill would officially take effect.
Koto Ward, Daiei Supermarket's Higashi-Ojima branch.
The rolling shutter was halfway down, leaving only a narrow gap for employees to enter and exit. Inside, the lights were blazing, and white fluorescent tubes emitted a faint electric hum, illuminating a messy sales floor.
"Hurry up! Clear out the canned food shelves over there!" the store manager held a megaphone, his voice raspy. His uniform collar was open, revealing the sweat-soaked edge of his undershirt.
Over thirty employees were scattered in front of various shelves like a swarm of busy worker ants. Beside them were piles of price tag rolls like small mountains, and the air was thick with the pungent smell of cheap adhesive.
Click, click, click.
The sound of price guns rose and fell, as dense as a rainstorm.
Old red tags were torn off and thrown on the floor, quickly becoming filthy from being stepped on. New yellow tags were stuck on.
The numbers on every new tag became extremely awkward.
98 yen became 101 yen.
198 yen became 204 yen.
What were originally clean integers were forcibly given a 3% tail, turning into a string of irritatingly fragmented numbers.
"Manager, do we still need to tag the soy sauce here?" a young female clerk held up a bottle of Kikkoman soy sauce, her eyes dull and her fingers stained with black ink. "The system doesn't seem to have updated this barcode yet."
"Tag it! Tag everything!" the manager scratched his hair irritably, dandruff falling on his shoulders. "Headquarters said that before opening tomorrow morning, even if it's just a needle, we have to add that 3%! If we miss one, the tax bureau will fine us!"
The checkout counters were even more of a disaster zone.
Two technicians in gray work clothes were crawling on the floor, dismantling those bulky Toshiba POS machines. Black cables were tangled together like a mess of hemp.
"Have the change boxes arrived?" the manager turned and roared.
"Just arrived! Unloading at the back door!"
Several male employees rushed in carrying heavy wooden crates, their steps staggering.
Thud.
The crate hit the floor with a muffled metallic clang.
The manager walked over and pried open the lid with a crowbar.
Inside were rolls of brand-new 1-yen aluminum coins.
The silver-white metallic luster looked exceptionally cold under the pale fluorescent lights, even carrying a hint of mockery. To cope with the change-making demand that would explode tomorrow, the Daiei Group had mobilized tons of coins from banks.
"Replace all the coin slots," the manager wiped the greasy sweat from his forehead, looking at the coins. "The old five-slot ones aren't enough. We have to switch to these with a dedicated 1-yen slot. Also, give every cashier a calculator. If the system freezes, calculate by hand! You absolutely cannot get a single cent wrong!"
An older female cashier squatted on the floor, looking at the rolls of coins scattered everywhere, and sighed.
"How are we supposed to do business like this... Just counting the money will take forever."
"Stop talking nonsense! Get to work!"
The store's PA system suddenly crackled, and along with a sharp squeal, a rousing mobilization order from headquarters came through: "For the future of the company, to protect our market share, everyone works through the night! This is the soul of Daiei!"
The clerks listened numbly, their hands never stopping.
Rip.
Stick.
Rip.
Stick.
Countless +3% tags, like greedy little mouths, covered the shelves, waiting to gnaw at customers' wallets tomorrow.
At the same time.
Nerima Ward, Hikarigaoka.
This was a famous satellite city in Tokyo, gathering a large number of middle-class families.
S-Mart, Saionji Supermarket Nerima flagship store.
Unlike the battlefield-like chaos of Daiei, it was eerily quiet here.
The massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows were polished spotless, revealing the warm tones of the interior.
3000K color temperature track lights replaced the pale fluorescent tubes, and soft halos bloomed on light-colored natural wood shelves, creating a quiet atmosphere like an art gallery.
The store was paved with beige micro-cement flooring, reflecting the blurry shadows of the shelves.
The employees were also busy, but their movements were gentle and orderly.
No one was holding a price tag gun.
Because they didn't need to calculate that 3% value-added amount.
A young male employee wearing a dark gray apron was standing in the fruit section. He held a clean white cotton cloth, carefully wiping an Aomori apple that had just been put on the shelf.
After wiping it, he gently placed the apple back into a wicker basket, adjusting the angle so its reddest side faced the aisle.
On the price tag behind him, a large number was handwritten in black marker:
100 Yen (Tax Included).
Integers without decimal points looked so beautiful.
On the nearby shelf, onions from Hokkaido were packed in kraft paper bags, neatly stacked into a pyramid shape.
200 Yen.
A female clerk was pushing a ladder, adjusting the angle of a track light. She reached out, testing with her hand in front of the light to ensure the beam perfectly outlined the rounded contours of the onions without creating harsh shadows.
"The light here is a bit too strong. Tilt it a little to the left," Store Manager Noguchi stood in the middle of the aisle with his hands behind his back, his voice very low, as if afraid of disturbing the peace.
"Yes."
"How's the preparation in the deli section?" Noguchi turned and looked toward the large island counter in the center of the sales floor.
S-Kitchen.
Several chefs wearing tall white hats were wiping down stainless steel counters. The large glass warming cabinets were empty, but the oil in the fryers had already begun to preheat, rippling slightly.
"The oil temperature control system has been calibrated," the head chef made a gesture. "We'll start frying the first batch of croquettes at 4:00 AM. I guarantee that when the doors open at 7:00 AM tomorrow, the aroma will reach the subway station."
Noguchi nodded.
He looked up at the massive banners hanging from the ceiling.
On the deep blue fabric, white Mincho-style characters were printed, looking exceptionally solemn under the warm light:
Consumption Tax? 0!
Reducing your burden.
"I really want to see tomorrow soon," Noguchi adjusted the badge on his collar. The S.A. Group's red square logo flashed a faint light.
Ding-dong.
At that moment, the automatic doors slid open to both sides.
The cold wind outside swirled in with a few fallen leaves, but it was quickly neutralized by the indoor heating.
"Welcome," Noguchi reflexively bowed, then realized the store was already closed.
The people who entered weren't customers.
Two security guards in black suits and headsets walked in first, quickly occupying positions on both sides of the entrance, their eyes alertly scanning the floor.
Next, a pair of black flat leather boots stepped onto the micro-cement floor.
Saionji Satsuki walked in.
She was wearing a cream-colored cashmere coat with a dark gray scarf around her neck, holding that iconic black thermos that had already appeared in advertisements.
Shuichi followed behind her, still in a proper double-breasted suit, carrying a briefcase.
"Young Lady! President!" Noguchi and the clerks immediately stood straight and bowed in unison.
Satsuki waved her hand, signaling for everyone not to be formal, and walked straight toward the shelving area.
Her fingers lightly brushed against those natural wood shelves. Not a speck of dust touched her fingertips.
"Very clean," she said.
She picked up the apple the male clerk had wiped and weighed it in her hand.
"A red apple in a light wood basket does look much better than in a green plastic crate," she said.
The male clerk's face turned red instantly, and he was so excited he was a bit flustered.
Satsuki put down the apple and continued walking forward.
She passed through the fresh produce area and arrived at the warehouse-style shelving area at the back.
Unlike the boutique area in front, the shelves here were sky-high, reaching the ceiling.
They were stacked with cases of toilet paper, detergent, rice, and canned goods. Although it was a warehouse-style display, the cuts on the boxes were trimmed neatly, and the labels all faced outward, forming a wall of goods that was both imposing and filled with orderly beauty.
"This is our ammunition depot," Satsuki stopped and looked up at the wall.
"Father, look," she said.
Shuichi walked to her side.
"These things will become the scarcest resources in all of Tokyo after the sun rises tomorrow," Satsuki turned around and looked at Store Manager Noguchi. "How much is left in the warehouse?"
"Reporting to the Young Lady, the back warehouse is full. Even the employee break room has been cleared out to store a hundred bags of rice," Noguchi replied. "According to your instructions, we have stocked five times our usual inventory."
"Five times..." Satsuki pondered for a moment and shook her head. "Not enough."
Noguchi was stunned. "But... this is already the limit. There's no more room to put anything."
"Before noon tomorrow, this five-fold inventory will be cleared out," Satsuki said. "I've already had the logistics center prepare. The S.A. Logistics fleet will be parked in a nearby parking lot tonight on standby. Once the front desk is out of stock, it must be replenished within twenty minutes."
She walked to the checkout counter.
A state-of-the-art IBM POS machine sat there, with a black body and a simple keyboard. Beside it, there wasn't one of those bulky coin-sorting boxes, only a drawer for bills.
"Try it," Satsuki pointed at the machine.
Noguchi immediately stepped behind the counter and operated it skillfully.
He picked up a bottle of mineral water and scanned the barcode.
Beep.
The number popped up on the screen: 100.
Below was a line of small text: Tax Included.
"Check out," Satsuki commanded.
Noguchi pressed the settlement key.
The screen image switched instantly.
Due: 100
Received: 1000
Change: 900
Consumption Tax: 0 (Paid by S.A. Group)
The drawer popped open.
Inside, stacks of 1,000-yen bills and 100-yen coins were arranged neatly.
Due to the zero-rounding strategy, those annoying 1-yen aluminum coins or 5-yen copper coins weren't needed here.
Instead, there were silver-white 100-yen and 500-yen coins, shimmering with a clean luster under the lights.
"The speed is acceptable," Satsuki evaluated.
She looked at the open drawer.
"While Daiei's cashiers are still rummaging through boxes to find those 3 yen, I want our customers to have already walked out the door with their items," she said.
Satsuki looked up, her gaze sweeping over every employee present.
"Everyone," she said.
"Tomorrow, this place will become a battlefield."
Although her voice was youthful, it carried a convincing authority.
"I know you will be very tired. Tomorrow, people might complain, push, or even get angry because they can't grab a box of those 10-yen special eggs."
"But I hope you can continue to provide high-quality service to every customer as always."
Satsuki paused, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"Because, we are bound to win."
"This will be a one-sided massacre."
"The opponent's gun has no bullets."
"Their prices are a mess, their hearts are in a panic, and their systems are slow. But we..."
She pointed to the quiet POS machine and then to the orderly wall of goods.
"We have prepared for a whole year."
"Just for this moment."
The employees' eyes lit up. The fatigue from preparing through the night seemed to dissipate quite a bit at this moment.
Satsuki glanced at the watch on her wrist.
23:59.
"It's time," she said.
She walked out from behind the counter to the large floor-to-ceiling window.
Outside, the streetlights were a dim yellow.
Across the road, the light box of a SunKus convenience store was still lit. Through the glass, the clerks there could be seen frantically changing price tags.
The red 100 tags were being torn off and replaced with an 103 that had a remainder and looked exceptionally awkward.
Every movement seemed so clumsy, so helpless.
Dong—
The midnight bell rang from a distant clock tower.
Once. Twice.
The sound was dull and distant, penetrating the night sky of Nerima Ward.
April 1, 1989.
Exactly midnight.
The consumption tax bill officially took effect.
Beep.
S-Mart's in-store PA system automatically announced the time.
Store Manager Noguchi took a deep breath and pressed the system switch key on the POS machine.
The screen flickered.
A line of green text appeared:
System Ready. Tax Free Mode Activated.
Satsuki didn't leave.
She stood by the window, watching the old-fashioned convenience store across the street that was still struggling with 3-yen coins.
Her calm face was reflected in the glass, along with the clean, bright, and orderly sales floor behind her.
She unscrewed the lid of her thermos, and white steam rose, blurring her vision.
"It's started," she took a sip of hot tea, her gaze still fixed on the chaotic night outside.
The aroma of black tea slowly drifted through the air.