June 5, 1989.
Nagatacho, Prime Minister's Official Residence.
Early summer sunlight filtered through the thick bulletproof glass and cast a weak glow onto the deep red carpet. Though the air conditioning was running, the air remained thick with a suffocating, dry heat.
From outside the window, the faint roars of megaphones and the slogans of protesters could be heard. Civic groups were opposing the consumption tax and demanding accountability for the Recruit scandal.
Despite the separation of several walls and the Metropolitan Police Department's Riot Police Unit, the waves of anger still crashed against this island of power like a rising tide.
Uno Sōsuke sat behind the large mahogany desk.
He had been in office for only three days.
This "interim" Prime Minister, selected by the Takeshita Faction, was currently trying to sign his name on a document. But the Parker fountain pen in his hand hung in mid-air. He hesitated to let it descend.
His fingers gripped the pen tightly, yet a fine layer of sweat had already broken out on his forehead. The sweat trickled down past the white hair at his temples.
Across the desk, Osawa Ichiro was sunk into a leather sofa. He wasn't looking at Uno. Instead, he focused on trimming the cap of the Cuban cigar in his hand.
Snip.
The crisp sound of the cigar cutter closing felt exceptionally piercing in the deathly silent office.
Uno's hand trembled.
"Oosawa-kun," Uno's voice was dry, as if his throat were filled with grit. "Is this budget… perhaps too rushed?"
He pointed at the thick document in front of him. It was the Emergency Fiscal Appropriation Bill for the Development of Tokyo's Waterfront Subcenter.
"Fifty billion yen in Special National Bonds, all for infrastructure construction in Odaiba. At this critical juncture, the public is already very dissatisfied with the Liberal Democratic Party's fiscal discipline. If we launch such a massive civil engineering project now…"
Uno looked up, and a hint of pleading showed in his eyes.
"Can we slow it down? Wait until the autumn Diet session…"
"No."
Osawa Ichiro lit the cigar and blew out a puff of blue-gray smoke.
He stood up, walked to the desk, leaned his hands on the surface, and looked down at the nominal leader of the country.
"Prime Minister, you don't seem to understand the situation."
Osawa's voice was low.
"Do you hear the shouting outside?"
He pointed out the window.
"The people are angry. They are angry because of the consumption tax. They are angry because of the scandals. They feel the Liberal Democratic Party only knows how to take money from their pockets but doesn't know how to work."
"At a time like this, we need a grand story. We need a story that allows them to see the future, to see hope, and thus forget their current pain."
Osawa's finger tapped heavily on the cover of the document.
"Odaiba is that story."
"It's the future of Tokyo. It's the engine for expanding domestic demand. Only by starting such a massive project on the scale of tens of billions can we prove to the business world and the public that the new cabinet is capable of leading Japan out of the mire."
"But…" Uno still wanted to argue.
"This is the consensus within the Party." Osawa interrupted him, and his tone was cold. "It was also the expectation of the elders when they recommended you for this position."
"You only need to sign. The Secretary-General's Office will handle the rest."
Uno Sōsuke looked into Osawa's cold, emotionless eyes.
He understood, suddenly. He was in this position not because of any outstanding political talent. He was here simply because he was a clean sheet of paper.
And the purpose of a blank sheet of paper is to be written on or stamped.
He lowered his head and stopped looking at the specific terms in the document. The details about the Rainbow Bridge, the underground utility tunnels, and the flow of tens of billions of yen were not important.
What was important was that he had to stamp it.
If he didn't, he wouldn't last even three days as Prime Minister.
The tip of the pen touched the paper.
The ink bled into the fibers and made a scratching sound.
"Uno Sōsuke."
The four characters were written neatly, yet they appeared utterly weak.
He pulled the Prime Minister's official seal, symbolizing the highest executive power, from his jacket pocket and pressed it into the bright red ink pad.
Thump.
The seal descended.
The bright red mark looked like a wound branded onto the white paper.
Osawa Ichiro looked at the seal, and a satisfied curve appeared at the corner of his mouth. He reached out quickly and snatched the document away. His movements were as practiced as someone sweeping up chips from a gambling table.
"A wise decision, Mr. Prime Minister."
Osawa placed the document into his briefcase and snapped the latch shut.
"The people from the Ministry of Construction and the Tokyo Metropolitan Government are already waiting. By tomorrow morning, this budget will turn into concrete and rebar."
He bowed slightly and turned toward the door.
Reaching the door, Osawa stopped and looked back at Uno, who was still sitting frozen in his chair.
"By the way, Prime Minister. I heard you're still writing haiku? How elegant."
A flicker of mockery flashed in Osawa's eyes.
"In this position, it's good to write more poetry. Leave the mundane affairs to us common folk."
The door closed.
Uno Sōsuke sat alone in the empty office. The protests outside seemed to grow louder, like waves intending to completely swallow this broken ship.
He looked at his finger. It was stained with a bit of red ink, and he felt as though that spot of red could never be wiped away.
---
Kasumigaseki, Ministry of Finance Budget Bureau.
This was the heart of Japan's national budget, and the busiest, most arrogant government office in all of Japan. But today, the efficiency here was startlingly fast.
The fax machine in the Budget Bureau Director's office was frantically spitting out thermal paper.
"It's here! The Official Residence approved it!"
A Section Chief rushed into the office holding the still-warm document. His face was flushed with excitement.
"The Emergency Appropriation Bill for the Waterfront Subcenter Development Project has been signed by the Prime Minister himself! The special national bond limit is fifty billion, and it is effective immediately!"
Saionji Shuichi sat on the leather sofa and set down his teacup.
The Ministry of Finance Vice-Minister opposite him took off his glasses. He wiped them with a cloth, and a relaxed smile appeared on his face.
"Mr. Saionji, congratulations."
The Vice-Minister took a pre-prepared appropriation voucher from his drawer and signed his name on it.
"Since there is special approval from the Prime Minister, we won't follow the usual process. According to the agreement, Mitsui Bank and Sumitomo Bank are already prepared with the funds as underwriters for this round of national bonds."
The Vice-Minister pushed the voucher toward Shuichi.
In the recipient column, several names were clearly written:
Tokyo Metropolitan Government Bureau of Port and Harbor
But below that name was a note:
Designated Payees: Saionji Construction Co., Ltd., Seibu Railway Co., Ltd., Shimizu Corporation…
Shuichi picked up the voucher. His gaze scanned the numbers on it.
Twelve billion yen.
This was the first advance payment. It was the startup capital for the Rainbow Bridge's Shibaura-side approach bridge project and the underground utility network laying project for Odaiba's Reclamation Area No. 13.
Three days.
From the moment Osawa Ichiro walked into the Prime Minister's Official Residence with the draft to the moment this massive sum was transferred into Saionji Construction's account, only three days had passed.
Under normal procedures, this budget would have been debated in the Diet for at least half a year.
"National efficiency can be quite high sometimes."
Shuichi folded the voucher and placed it into his inner suit pocket.
"Of course," the Vice-Minister smiled meaningfully. "As long as someone is pushing from behind, even rusted gears can turn lightning-fast. After all, this is for the nation's century-long plan."
Shuichi stood up and straightened his clothes.
"Well then, I'll take my leave. There are thousands of mouths at the construction site waiting for this money to eat."
"Please, go ahead."
Shuichi walked out of the heavy doors of the Ministry of Finance.
The rain outside had stopped, but the sky remained gloomy. The black Mercedes was already waiting at the bottom of the steps, and Fujita Tsuyoshi quickly approached while holding a large black umbrella.
"Master."
"Back to the company."
Shuichi climbed into the car and sealed out the damp, cold air.
The car started and merged into the heavy traffic of Kasumigaseki.
Shuichi pulled the voucher out of his pocket once more and looked at it by the light of the reading lamp.
Just half an hour ago, this money was the people's tax revenue. It had been numbers sitting in the national treasury.
And now, with a single stamp from that puppet Prime Minister, it had become an asset of the Saionji family. It had become blood injected into the wasteland of Odaiba.
"Using the nation's money to build the road we want to walk."
Shuichi muttered to himself as he watched the street scenery fly by.
"Making the citizens pay taxes to build our own private back garden. Satsuki… your game is being played on a grand scale."
---
Shinbashi, Minato District.
Saionji Information System (SIS) headquarters, core server room on the second basement floor.
The temperature here was kept at twenty-two degrees Celsius year-round. The air was dry and clean, and only the low-frequency hum of countless servers could be heard.
Shimomura Tsutomu was sunk into a black leather ergonomic chair with his feet propped up on the console.
"Open up."
A gentle voice came from beside him.
Shimomura Tsutomu didn't take his eyes off the screen and instinctively opened his mouth. A peeled and seeded Kyoho grape was gently fed to him.
Sayuri, dressed in a dark uniform, knelt on a small round stool nearby. She held a silver tray and gently wiped the juice from the corner of his mouth.
"Is it good? These were just flown in."
"Mmh… it's okay," Shimomura Tsutomu chewed indistinctly while his fingers danced rapidly across the keyboard.
On the other side of the server room, the cold Eri stood beside Satsuki. She held an encrypted file box and kept her posture upright.
Satsuki sat on a sofa in the corner and held a copy of Shūkan Bunshun. Today she wore a black turtleneck sweater with a gray cashmere shawl draped over her shoulders. She curled up on the sofa like a lazy cat.
"Boss, is that real?"
Shimomura Tsutomu pointed to a news window popping up in the bottom left corner of the screen.
Flash: Uno Cabinet passes special budget for waterfront development; Odaiba infrastructure acceleration in full swing. Rainbow Bridge construction to officially begin tomorrow.
"That's what they're saying on TV."
Satsuki turned a page of the magazine, and her voice was calm.
"But it's true. The money has already been transferred from the Ministry of Finance's account. Tomorrow morning, the first steel beam will be transported to the Odaiba construction site."
"Whoa."
Shimomura Tsutomu clasped his hands behind his head, and his tone was somewhat playful.
"That old man really dared to sign. Fifty billion. Isn't he afraid it'll crush him to death?"
"He won't be crushed to death."
Satsuki closed the magazine and tossed it onto the coffee table.
"Because he's about to step down."
She stood up and walked over to Eri.
Eri expertly entered the password and opened the file box. Cold air puffed out, revealing a black 3.5-inch floppy disk inside.
"Send this out."
Satsuki picked up the disk. It was the bomb she had brought back from the Kagurazaka geisha okiya.
Shimomura Tsutomu took the disk and spun it a couple of times. He looked at the label.
"Is this a parting gift for Uno?"
"You could say that."
Satsuki walked to the console and watched the data flowing across the screen.
"The road has been paved, and the budget has been approved. As a disposable glove, Uno's mission is over."
"If we don't throw him away, these dirty gloves will stain the person we intend to put in power next."
Shimomura Tsutomu understood perfectly.
"Osawa Ichiro?"
"He is the sharpest blade in our hands and the face of the next decade," Satsuki said faintly. "Good steel should be used for the blade, not for wiping one's backside. For that kind of dirty work, Uno is the most suitable."
She pointed at the disk slot.
"Do it. Send that short-lived Prime Minister his final goodnight kiss."
Shimomura Tsutomu inserted the disk into the drive.
An encrypted folder popped up on the screen. Inside were those blurry black-and-white photos and the recording of "A woman like you is only worth this much."
"Who am I sending it to?"
"The social affairs department of the Mainichi Shimbun, and the tip-off email for Shūkan Bunshun."
Satsuki took a business card from Eri and placed it on the desk.
"Use overseas proxy servers. Don't leave any traces."
"Got it. This kind of dirty work is my specialty."
Shimomura Tsutomu's fingers clattered across the keyboard.
Sayuri silently handed him a cup of warm water and placed it by his hand. Her eyes were full of admiration.
A green progress bar appeared on the screen.
Sending… 10%… 30%…
Satsuki watched the progress bar, and her eyes showed no emotion.
Uno Sōsuke was a pawn on the chessboard used for a piece exchange. Once the pawn crosses the river and breaks the opponent's defense, it can then die.
Ding.
A green dialog box popped up on the screen: Sent Successfully.
Shimomura Tsutomu pulled out the disk and casually tossed it to Eri behind him.
Eri caught the disk, walked over to the degausser in the corner, and expertly shredded it.
"Done. We've got next Tuesday's front-page headline."
Shimomura Tsutomura stretched, and his joints popped.
Satsuki turned and picked up her shawl from the sofa.
"Let's go. Time to go home."
She looked at the pitch-black basement walls, as if she could see the sky outside through the thick concrete.
"Tomorrow, Tokyo will be very noisy."
---
Dusk, June 6, 1989.
Tokyo Bay, Odaiba Reclamation Area No. 13.
The heavy rain had just ceased, and a crack appeared in the clouds at the horizon. The opening let through a few streaks of blood-red setting sun.
A cluster of massive pile drivers was roaring. They were driving thick reinforced concrete piles into the seabed. Mud churned, and seabirds were startled into flight.
On the sea not far from the shore, several engineering vessels were at work. Massive caissons were being slowly lowered by crane arms. Those were the pier foundations for the Rainbow Bridge.
Rumble—
The caisson hit the water and kicked up massive white sprays of foam.
Satsuki stood on a temporary observation deck by the shore. The sea breeze mussed her long hair. She wore a black trench coat and held a copy of the newly released Mainichi Shimbun evening edition.
The front-page headline was a massive line of bold characters. It was shocking to the eye:
Prime Minister's "Solicitation" Scandal: A Monthly 300,000 Yen "Mistress" Contract
Accompanying it was a blurry photo and the sentence that was enough to ruin a politician: "A woman like you is only worth this much."
Public opinion had already exploded.
Women's groups were protesting, the opposition parties were pressuring him, and even voices from within the Liberal Democratic Party were calling for the Prime Minister's resignation.
Uno Sōsuke was finished.
On the same day the first foundation stone of the Rainbow Bridge sank to the bottom of the sea, this Prime Minister's political life also sank.
"Young Lady."
Fujita Tsuyoshi stood behind her and looked at the newspaper. He hesitated to speak.
"Do you think I'm cruel?"
Satsuki didn't look back. Her gaze remained fixed on the bridge pier rising from the sea.
"No… I just feel that the human heart is fickle."
"The human heart has never changed, Fujita."
Satsuki let go.
The newspaper was swept away by the sea breeze. It looked like a white bird with broken wings as it tumbled through the air and drifted down into the murky seawater.
A wave rolled over, and the black headline was instantly swallowed. Only Uno's blurry face bobbed in the water before it disappeared.
Fujita Tsuyoshi chewed on Satsuki's words and was lost in thought. His grandfather had once instructed him to listen more, watch more, and think more. He needed to keep up with the Young Lady's thinking.
The Young Lady was the absolute core of the Saionji family, and since he was fortunate enough to serve by her side, he had to become a qualified butler to assist her.
"I understand."
Fujita Tsuyoshi lowered his head.
Satsuki turned around with her back to the surging sea.
The last glimmer of the setting sun burned out at this moment and dyed the sea a deep, profound black.