May 1989, Tokyo.
Marunouchi, Saionji Industries Headquarters Building.
In the signing room on the top floor, the air was dry and heavy with solemnity. The thick curtains were half-drawn, shutting out the chaos of Tokyo beyond the glass. The entire city was still in an uproar over Prime Minister Takeshita Noboru's resignation.
Eguchi Tokuhiro sat before a massive mahogany conference table.
His fingers gripped a fountain pen while the nib hovered over a document nearly a hundred pages thick.
The title on the cover read Corporate Merger and Asset Restructuring Agreement.
Once he signed his name, "Eguchi Real Estate" would vanish from the commercial registry forever. He had built that company from nothing at the start of the bubble, and it had scrapped like a stray dog for every inch of Tokyo's real estate.
But his hand didn't shake.
On the contrary, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. He felt relief. He even felt pleasure.
"President Eguchi, please," Sasaki, the legal advisor across from him, reminded him softly while adjusting his glasses.
Eguchi set the pen to paper. Ink bled into the fibers with a soft scratch.
He was signing away his independence, and he did it willingly. In truth, he was eager for it.
That night two years ago still felt like a thorn lodged in his throat. It was the night he had walked through the doors of "The Club" in Azabu-Juban.
Back then, he had worn a two-million-yen suit and a gold Rolex. He had sat in the corner of a lounge that reeked of old money while nursing a glass of Hibiki 21. From there, he had watched Saionji Shuichi from afar. Shuichi had been surrounded by Mitsubishi managing directors and MITI officials, and they had been talking and laughing like they owned the air.
No one had spared Eguchi a glance. When their eyes swept past him, they looked straight through him as if he were furniture. Or empty space.
That was the moment he understood the truth. In this country, money was just the entry ticket. To actually sit at that table, you needed a surname. Or you needed to become part of one.
"Independence" was a fairy tale for the poor and the naive.
Being the captain of a dinghy that could capsize in the next wave was far less glorious than being a single rivet on the deck of the aircraft carrier called Saionji.
Thump.
The final seal came down.
Eguchi Real Estate was dead.
Saionji Construction was born.
At that exact moment, the conference room doors swung open.
Saionji Shuichi walked in.
He wore a dark gray double-breasted suit. His steps were measured, and the sound of his leather shoes on the floor was dull and heavy. Each step seemed to land directly on Eguchi's heartbeat.
Eguchi shot to his feet. His chair screeched against the floor. He didn't bother with the scattered documents. He bowed deeply and bent at a full ninety degrees until his forehead nearly touched the tabletop.
"Patriarch."
Shuichi didn't answer right away. He walked up to Eguchi, then took another half-step forward. He deliberately stepped into Eguchi's personal space.
The pressure made Eguchi hold his breath.
"Eguchi-kun, you've worked hard," Shuichi said. His voice was gentle, but it carried an authority that allowed no question. He held a small velvet box and cradled it like it was unusually heavy. He stroked the lid lightly, as if it contained a rare treasure.
Click.
The box opened.
Inside lay a single badge.
The badge was made of pure silver and shaped into a mitsudomoe, the left-facing three comma swirl. The silver had been treated with a matte finish. Under the lights it gave off a cold, hard sheen like an unsheathed dagger. The three swirls themselves were hand-polished and inlaid with solid black onyx.
The two colors were deep black and cold silver.
Together they radiated a chilling, lethal intent.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Shuichi lifted the badge, and his fingertip traced the cool surface of the onyx. "Eguchi-kun, do you know why the construction company's badge uses black and silver?"
Eguchi lifted his head a fraction and trembled. He shook it. "Your... your subordinate does not know."
"Silver is the blade. Black is the soil."
Shuichi stepped forward and personally pinned the badge to Eguchi's lapel. His movements were slow and meticulous. He acted like he was decorating a general before battle.
"The old vassals in the family are too clean. They are too concerned with appearances. Their hands are meant for holding teacups, not shovels."
Shuichi adjusted Eguchi's tie. His voice dropped so only the two of them could hear it.
"But I need a pair of hands. I need hands that dare to reach into the mud. I need hands that will fight devils for the sake of the Saionji family."
He patted Eguchi's shoulder. His eyes showed the kind of trust and burden that only men understood.
"Those old fogies look down on your background. They think you're just an upstart who only knows how to scavenge."
"But that hunger of yours is exactly what I value."
The words hit Eguchi like lightning. They struck straight through his deepest insecurity.
"From today on, you're not a guerrilla fighter anymore."
Shuichi stepped back half a pace and studied the man before him.
"You are the President of Saionji Construction. You are my proxy."
"You will represent the will of Saionji."
"You will gnaw through the toughest bones for the family. Whether it's obstruction from Seibu Group or rats underground, if they stand in our way, you'll use this badge to crush them."
Eguchi lowered his head and looked at the silver swirl on his chest.
The cool metal pressed against him through his shirt. But instead of making him flinch, that cold felt like a shot of adrenaline. It gave him a sense of security and belonging he had never known.
He wasn't the upstart shivering in the corner of a club anymore.
He was the chosen one. He was the sharpest blade in the Patriarch's hand.
The pleasure of being needed made his blood run hot.
"Yes," Eguchi's voice trembled, but it was loud. There was even a sob in it. "I am willing to die for the family."
"Even if I have to go to hell, I will pave the road for you."
Shuichi nodded, satisfied.
This trick of bestowing a sense of mission was something he had learned from his daughter. It worked far better than just handing out money.
"Go, then," Shuichi waved a hand. "Let Tokyo Bay see how the Saionji family's Black Legion reclaims the sea."
---
One hour later.
Saionji Construction, First Conference Room.
The interior here was nothing like the warm, bright S-Mart in Ginza.
Everything was black.
The walls were dark gray acoustic panels. The conference table was black lacquered glass. Even the blinds were black. The room looked like something out of Arasaka Tower.
This was a rule Saionji Satsuki had set. She believed light industry should be white so it felt approachable and light as a cloud. She believed heavy industry should be black so it felt solemn and heavy as iron.
Eguchi Tokuhiro sat at the head of the table.
His gaze swept the twenty-odd people along both sides.
Some were his trusted men from the old days. Others were engineering heads who had been scattered across S.A. Group until now.
In the seat to his left sat the former president of Daito Construction. His name was Gondo.
Gondo wore a dark gray bespoke suit. It was the same armor he had worn as president. The tailoring was still exquisite, but it hung loose on him now. The ordeal of the last six months had stripped the weight from his frame.
Eguchi remembered clearly how high-spirited President Gondo had been at that cocktail party two years ago at "The Club." Back then, Gondo had held court on the center sofa while discussing multi-billion yen projects. He hadn't spared a glance for Eguchi, who had been drinking alone in the corner.
But now things were different.
Gondo's hands rested properly on his knees. He tried to keep his back straight, but he couldn't hide the dejection seeping from his bones. His eyes stayed lowered. He didn't dare meet Eguchi's gaze.
Eguchi let his eyes rest on Gondo for two seconds.
He had no intention of making things difficult. He would never do anything that harmed the company's interests.
In this room, past seniority and status were worthless. There were only winners and losers.
Gondo had lost. He had been swallowed by the Saionji family and had become a subordinate. Eguchi had won. He had become Saionji's blade. He had become president.
That was the whole truth.
"Everyone," Eguchi Tokuhiro said.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried through the empty black conference room. Everyone immediately straightened up.
He didn't need to shout. The weight of power never came from volume. It came from the silver badge inlaid with black onyx on his chest, and from what he was about to show them.
Thud—
He tossed a thick, rolled blueprint onto the black lacquered tabletop. It rolled with momentum and stopped only when it hit the water glass in front of Gondo.
"The Patriarch has given us our first task."
Eguchi reached out and slowly unfurled the blueprint.
The air seemed to vanish from the room.
The blueprint showed a corner of Tokyo Bay. It was the area known as Odaiba, Reclamation Area No. 13.
In the center of the drawing, on contour lines representing desolate reclaimed land, stood a black, monolithic architectural elevation.
This industrial megatower used the most cutting-edge "Super Frame" structure of the era. Four giant steel-reinforced concrete pillars at the corners supported the entire skeleton like pillars of heaven. On the exterior, massive X-shaped steel braces crisscrossed like an exoskeleton and encased a pitch-black bulletproof glass curtain wall.
There was no superfluous decoration. The design used only cold, hard lines and black metallic luster.
The building looked like an unsheathed greatsword. It also looked like an obelisk meant to suppress Tokyo Bay.
On the right side of the drawing was the number that made everyone dizzy.
The listed height was 500.0 meters.
The building would have 100 floors above ground and 5 floors below.
"Five... five hundred meters?!"
The chief engineer on the left shot to his feet and his chair crashed to the floor. He stared at the number while his eyes bulged.
"That's impossible! President! That's absolutely impossible!" His voice cracked with terror.
"The Sears Tower in America is only 442 meters! Even Tokyo Tower is only 333 meters! Building a 500-meter structure on reclaimed land like Odaiba is insane! Below that is nothing but silt and garbage! It's like sticking a steel needle into pudding. It'll collapse with the slightest disturbance!"
Gondo's lips trembled. His face was pale. "And... and that's within Haneda Airport's flight path! Aviation Law caps heights at 150 meters in this area! Planes need clear airspace for takeoff and landing. The Ministry of Transport will never approve a crazy plan like this!"
Facing the doubt and terror, Eguchi Tokuhiro's expression didn't change.
He just looked coldly at this group of mortals who were bound by common sense.
"Soft foundation?"
Eguchi tapped a finger hard against the base section of the blueprint.
"Then we'll use money to fill it until it's hard."
"We'll use the Pneumatic Caisson Method. I don't care if there's silt or garbage down there. Dig. Drive dozens of meters through the soft soil and anchor the roots of these giant columns straight into the hard bedrock deep beneath the seabed."
"To counter typhoons and earthquakes, we'll install two Active Tuned Mass Dampers weighing eight hundred tons each at the top. If Japanese tech isn't enough, we'll buy from America. We'll buy from Germany."
Eguchi leaned forward over the table. His silver badge flashed cold under the lights.
"As for the Aviation Law you're worried about..."
His mouth curved into a mocking smile. He pulled a document stamped with a red official seal from his briefcase and tossed it lightly onto the table.
"Those are rules made for the weak."
Gondo's hands shook as he picked up the document.
It was the Special Approval Regarding the Adjustment of Haneda Airport Approach Routes. The Aviation Bureau of the Ministry of Transport had just issued it.
The stated reason was to coordinate with the Waterfront Subcenter development and the process of internationalization.
At that moment, Gondo felt a chill run from his feet straight to the crown of his head.
To build this tower, the Saionji family had actually forced the government to move flight paths.
This wasn't commerce anymore. This was privilege. This was power that transcended the rules.
"If the planes are in the way, then make the planes take a detour."
Eguchi's voice was low, but it exploded in everyone's ears.
"Everything here, including the air, is under the management of the Saionji family."
"We will erect here the tallest black monument in all of Japan. No, we will make it the tallest in the entire world. We will make the Americans, the Kasumigaseki bureaucrats, and everyone in Tokyo have to look up at the will of the Saionji family whenever they raise their heads."
"On this project, there is no budget ceiling."
He held up a finger. His gaze raked over every person present.
"There is only a time floor."
"The people from Seibu Group are right next door. Yoshiaki Tsutsumi wants to build gardens and hotels there. But what we're going to build is a throne that can look down on them."
"This is war."
Eguchi Tokuhiro slammed the table. The black onyx on his hand looked like an open eye in the vibration.
"I want you to drive this black nail firmly into the heart of Tokyo Bay before Seibu Group can react."
"This flag must be planted."
Gondo looked at the black tower on the blueprint. It resembled a demon lord's castle. Then he looked at Eguchi's bloodshot eyes.
He understood, suddenly. In this crazy era, only those crazier than the madmen were qualified to carve their names onto the Tokyo skyline.
"Yes! President!"
A synchronized, fanatical roar erupted in the meeting room. The sound was ignited by money, ambition, and the fear of absolute power.
---
Three days later.
Tokyo Bay, Odaiba, Reclamation Area No. 13.
The May sea breeze carried a salty dampness and kicked up dust from the ground. This was still desolate reclaimed land. It was overgrown with reeds, and seagulls were circling low overhead.
Only a temporary gravel road connected the land to this isolated island.
"Beep— Beep—"
The piercing sound of horns broke the wasteland's silence.
At the entrance of the temporary bypass, a long queue had formed.
It was Seibu Construction's convoy. Dozens of concrete mixer trucks and pile transport trucks painted in blue and white stripes were blocked at the intersection. Their engines were idling and belching black smoke.
Several inspectors in Ministry of Construction uniforms stood in front of the lead vehicle. They held clipboards and were slowly examining documents.
"The date on this permit is incorrect," an inspector said while adjusting his glasses and pointing to a line of small print.
"According to the new Waterfront Subcenter Construction Management Regulations, heavy vehicles entering the site must be reported 48 hours in advance. Yours was only reported 24 hours in advance."
"Are you kidding me!"
The Seibu field manager was sweating and trying to offer a cigarette.
"Officer, it's always been like this! This is a project Chairman Tsutsumi is overseeing personally. The schedule is tight. Could you make an exception..."
"Chairman Tsutsumi?"
The inspector didn't take the cigarette. He let out a cold laugh.
"Even if the Emperor came, he'd have to follow the rules. These are extraordinary times. The higher-ups are checking strictly."
He waved a hand and looked impatient.
"Go back. Re-file the report."
"But everything behind us is blocked solid! How can we go back!" the manager shouted. He sounded desperate as he looked at the long line behind him.
Just then, a low rumble came from the other side of the road.
The sound was heavy and powerful. It made the ground tremble slightly.
The Seibu drivers all stuck their heads out.
On the horizon, a black steel torrent appeared.
It was a uniform fleet of heavy engineering vehicles.
The bodies were painted in light-absorbing matte black, and only a white mitsudomoe crest was printed on the doors.
It was Saionji Construction's convoy.
The vehicles looked like chariots from hell as they thundered over the gravel road with an aura of solemn slaughter.
The Seibu manager froze. He watched as the convoy drove straight toward another blocked auxiliary entrance.
Several Ministry of Construction officials stood there too.
But the moment those officials saw the black convoy, their businesslike expressions vanished. They quickly pulled aside the roadblocks and even took off their hats. They bowed slightly toward the lead vehicle.
There was no inspection. There were no questions.
That gate, marked "No Entry," was wide open for the black convoy.
"Hey! This isn't fair!"
The Seibu manager ran over in a rage and pointed at the convoy that was rolling straight in.
"Why are they allowed in? Their vehicles are even heavier than ours! Why aren't you checking their reporting?"
The inspector who had been stone-faced a moment ago turned and gave him a look of pity.
"You want to get in too?"
The inspector pointed to the windshield of the black lead vehicle.
A red special pass was posted there. It was stamped with the seals of the Secretary-General of the Liberal Democratic Party and a special approval from the Ministry of Finance.
"If you can get an Emergency Disaster Prevention Project special permit personally signed by Mr. Ozawa Ichiro, I'll let you in too."
The Seibu manager opened his mouth, but his throat felt like a stone was stuck in it.
He watched those black behemoths roar into the site. The dust they kicked up hit him in the face.
He understood, suddenly.
Even though Seibu and Saionji were in joint development at Odaiba, on the political chessboard the pieces held by the Head of the Saionji Family were much harder than those held by Chairman Tsutsumi.
This was the road right that Shuichi had spent a billion yen to buy.
---
Deep within the construction site.
Eguchi Tokuhiro stood on a dirt slope that had just been leveled.
He wore a white hard hat and a black work jacket embroidered with the silver badge. The sea breeze made the corners of his clothes snap loudly.
He watched the black trucks roll in one by one. He watched the pitch-black pile drivers raise their tall crane arms like a black forest.
Not far away, outside the fence, the blue and white Seibu convoy still sat like a flock of abandoned sheep. They were stuck at the intersection.
"This is... power."
Eguchi took a deep breath. His nostrils filled with the scent of diesel and seawater.
He checked his watch.
It was five o'clock in the afternoon.
The setting sun sank in the west and stained the black construction site blood-red.
"Begin," Eguchi said into his walkie-talkie.
"Boom—!"
The first loud crash rang out.
A diesel hammer weighing several tons slammed onto the top of a steel pipe pile.
The massive shockwave made the ground under his feet vibrate and startled birds from the reeds.
"Boom—!"
"Boom—!"
Dozens of pile drivers started up at once.
The dull impact sounded like the heartbeat of this massive zaibatsu empire. The sound pounded with power.
With every strike, the machines proclaimed sovereignty over this desolate beach.
With every strike, the machines mocked the stalled rivals outside the fence.
Eguchi lowered his head and looked at the pure silver badge on his chest.
The setting sun hit the silver emblem and reflected cold light. The light wasn't dyed gold. Instead, it looked even colder and even harder.
He reached out and touched the badge. Coolness met his fingertips.
"This is the Master's will," Eguchi murmured to himself, and a fanatical smile appeared on his lips.
"And... my glory."
The roar echoed across Tokyo Bay.
The first pile belonging to the Saionji family was driven deep into the seabed of Odaiba.