Late May, 1989.
Summer had arrived in Tokyo.
In the courtyard of the Akasaka ryotei "Kouetsu," a few early cicadas clung to the tree trunks. They let out one or two tentative cries that cut through the afternoon silence.
In the innermost private room, the air conditioning was running at full blast.
Saionji Shuichi sat in seiza at the head of the table. A pot of warm sake rested on the black lacquered surface in front of him.
Osawa Ichiro sat opposite him and clutched a sake cup with a deep frown. This "Kingmaker," who now wielded immense power in Nagatacho and effectively controlled the operations of the Liberal Democratic Party, did not show the majesty he displayed in the Diet. In front of Shuichi, he seemed agitated instead, and his tie hung loosened haphazardly.
The aftershocks of Takeshita Noboru's resignation announcement were still echoing through Nagatacho. Although the budget bill had narrowly passed, the prime minister's seat was now like an electrified iron chair. Whoever sat in it would have to face the public's overwhelming fury over the consumption tax and the Recruit scandal.
"Abe Shintaro, Miyazawa Kiichi…"
Osawa Ichiro's fingers rubbed the rim of his sake cup. His voice was low and unreadable.
"The names of these party bigwigs are all on the Special Investigation Department's list. None of them are clean. If we let them step up to succeed now, the Liberal Democratic Party's election next year will be completely ruined."
Shuichi did not respond. He merely lifted the sake pot and refilled Osawa's cup. The clear liquid poured in and created tiny ripples.
"Since the great trees are infested with worms, then find a weed," Shuichi said.
His voice was calm, as if he were discussing the vegetation in the courtyard.
"At this critical juncture, what the people need is not a leader, but a punching bag. What the party needs is an insulator — someone with no foundation, who is obedient, and who can be discarded at any time."
Osawa Ichiro raised his eyelids. His gaze met Shuichi's across the table.
"You mean… Uno Sōsuke?"
Shuichi nodded slightly.
"He is a man of the Nakasone Faction with no factional base, and he never took any Recruit stocks. No one thought he had any investment value. He is as clean as a blank sheet of paper, and he is just as light."
Osawa Ichiro was silent for a moment. A playful, cold sneer curled at the corner of his mouth.
"Uno… he's just a nice old man who only knows how to play the piano and write haiku. Let him be Prime Minister? I'm afraid he won't even be able to speak clearly in the Diet."
"That he can't speak clearly is exactly the point," Shuichi said as he picked up his sake cup and swirled it gently.
"If he were too assertive, Oosawa-kun, how would you manipulate him from behind the scenes? How would you let the reformists take over actual power?"
Shuichi lowered his voice and leaned forward slightly.
"Furthermore, when a new Prime Minister takes office, he usually passes a batch of Emergency Economic Measures to stabilize the economy and curry favor with the financial world. For instance, he might approve special appropriations for certain large-scale infrastructure projects."
Osawa Ichiro understood.
He looked at Shuichi and remembered the file envelope filled with one billion yen in cashier's checks.
The final link of this transaction had been closed.
"Fine."
Osawa Ichiro drained his cup in one gulp.
"Let Uno take the position. I will have the Secretary-General's Office draft the list to hollow out the Cabinet. As for those infrastructure budgets the Saionji family needs in Odaiba…"
He slammed the empty cup down heavily on the table.
"Before this summer ends, I will make the Ministry of Finance spit out the money."
---
Tokyo Bay, Odaiba Reclamation Area No. 13.
The scorching sun baked this artificial island that had just emerged from the sea. The air was thick with the scent of salty sea breeze and hot asphalt.
A white armored Mercedes was parked on a temporarily constructed rise.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi stood beside the car. He wore sunglasses and had his hands on his hips.
Within his line of sight was a chaotic yet clearly demarcated battlefield.
To the left was the hotel construction site managed by the Seibu Group. Several yellow excavators sat idle, and workers were smoking in the shadows. Progress had stalled.
"What's going on?" Yoshiaki Tsutsumi pointed over there. His voice was tight with suppressed anger. "Why has work stopped?"
Secretary Shimada stood beside him and wiped away sweat. His expression was grim.
"Chairman, the field inspector from the Ministry of Construction just came by again. He said there's an anomaly in our foundation settlement data and demanded a re-survey. Also… the fleet transporting sand and gravel from Chiba was detained by the Bureau of Port and Harbor. They cited waterway control as the reason."
"Waterway control?"
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi snorted coldly.
He turned his head and looked to the right.
That was the Saionji Construction site.
The scene was entirely different.
Hundreds of heavy construction vehicles, painted matte black and bearing the white hidari mitsu tomoe crest, were moving like army ants. They continuously transported materials into the site from a dedicated pier. Massive pile drivers emitted a deafening roar that even drowned out the sound of the waves.
At the main entrance of the site stood a massive, brand-new sign:
****
****
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi took off his sunglasses and stared fixedly at those lines of text.
"500 meters… air traffic control exemption…"
He muttered to himself.
This area sat directly under the approach path for Haneda Airport, and the height limit had always been 150 meters. He had spent six months negotiating with the Ministry of Transport just to get it relaxed to 200 meters, and he had gotten nowhere.
Yet the Saionji family had directly obtained a permit for 500 meters. The stated reason was the absurd claim of "special disaster prevention use as a maritime beacon tower."
"Chairman…" Shimada looked at the sign, and his voice was a bit dry. "The approval date was yesterday. It bears the red seal of Special Ministerial Approval. It bypassed the entire review process of the Administrative Vice-Minister."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi looked at the massive pit.
In that black forest of steel, he saw something harder than money. He saw power.
The Saionji family had exploited the political vacuum created by Takeshita Noboru's fall and Osawa Ichiro's rise. They had bypassed regular procedures and rewritten the rules.
On this reclaimed land, he was a nominal ally and the landlord who owned the property. But at this moment, he felt more like a mere backdrop.
"How ruthless."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi put his sunglasses back on and concealed the trace of frustration in his eyes.
"Tell the people below not to worry about those procedures anymore."
He turned around and climbed into the car, greeted by a blast of cold air.
"From now on, all infrastructure applications regarding Odaiba are to be filed under the name of Saionji Construction. Since they have the connections, let them clear the path."
"Stay close to them. If we fall behind now, we won't even get a sip of the soup."
---
Dusk.
Kagurazaka.
In this old district that preserved the atmosphere of the Edo period, the stone-paved roads had been sprinkled with water. They gave off a moist coolness.
Deep inside an inconspicuous geisha okiya, the reception room was narrow and the light was dim. Several dust-covered shamisens hung on the walls, and the air held the lingering scent of old rouge.
Satsuki sat on a slightly yellowed cushion and held a cup of coarse tea. She was wearing her Seika Academy uniform with her schoolbag on her lap. She looked like a young lady who had lost her way after school.
Opposite her, an elderly proprietress was prostrate on the ground. Her hands trembled as she handed over a small bundle wrapped in a purple furoshiki cloth.
"Mi… Miss Saionji, everything is here."
There was fear in the proprietress's voice.
"That geisha… Nakanishi Hiroko. The diary she left behind, and the photos taken at the time. They are all here."
Satsuki set down her teacup and reached out to take the bundle.
It was very light.
But the contents within were enough to instantly destroy a Prime Minister-elect.
The bundle contained the secret regarding Uno Sōsuke. This "clean" politician who was about to be pushed onto the stage was, in private, an extremely stingy patron of geishas. He had once kept a geisha for thirty thousand yen a month, but he refused to give her even a bit of severance pay when they broke up. He had even insulted her by saying, "A woman like you is only worth this much." This was historical fact. He became the shortest-lived Prime Minister in history.
Such a sex scandal was lethal poison for the Japanese political world, which prized decorum.
"Fujita."
Satsuki did not open the bundle. She stuffed it directly into her schoolbag.
Fujita Tsuyoshi, who had been guarding the door, walked in. He pulled a thick envelope from his coat and placed it before the proprietress.
"This is hush money. Take the money and go retire in the countryside. Tokyo doesn't suit you."
The proprietress grabbed the envelope and kowtowed repeatedly.
The two of them walked out of the okiya.
The setting sun dyed the stone-paved streets of Kagurazaka blood-red.
Fujita Tsuyoshi followed behind Satsuki. His gaze swept over the schoolbag as he asked in a low voice, "Young Lady, this bomb… should we detonate it now? If we ruin Uno's reputation now, wouldn't Mr. Osawa be able to directly…"
"Of course not."
Satsuki stopped in her tracks.
She looked at a utility pole by the roadside.
Posted there was a campaign poster for Uno Sōsuke. The man in the poster had slicked-back hair and a righteous expression. The slogan "Clean Politics, Hand of Trust" was written beside him.
A cicada clung to the poster, right on Uno's forehead. It emitted a piercing zhi-liao, zhi-liao sound.
"Even though they are all consumables, consumables have different values."
"Our tower is already being built, but the bridge leading to Odaiba hasn't been settled yet."
Satsuki looked at the cicada, and a cold smile curled her lips.
"Although the Ministry of Construction approved our building, the Ministry of Finance is still blocking the infrastructure budget for Tokyo Waterfront City. Those misers don't want to shell out money to build the Rainbow Bridge and the light rail."
"We need Uno to take office. To secure that position and please the financial world, this weak Prime Minister will not hesitate to sign the Rinkai Development Special Financial Appropriation Bill."
"I want him to use the nation's money to pave the way for our tower."
She reached out, intending to catch the cicada.
Sensing danger, the cicada flapped its wings and flew away. Only the sanctimonious smile on the poster remained.
"Lock these things in a bank safety deposit box. On the day that appropriation bill passes the Diet, the moment the budget for the Rainbow Bridge is allocated…"
Satsuki patted her schoolbag. Her eyes were filled with indifference.
"This cicada can stop its chirping."
A black sedan glided over and stopped beside her.
Satsuki got in, and the door closed. The sound of the cicadas was cut off.
Outside the car window, the poster of Uno Sōsuke gradually blurred in the twilight.
Even in summer, there can be freezing cold currents.