October 25, 1989.
[Nikkei Average Index: 35,820 points]
Bunkyo Ward, Saionji Main Family Residence.
The cold late-autumn wind swept through the courtyard, rustling yellowed leaves against the wooden engawa. Deep in the garden, the bamboo shishi-odoshi filled with icy water, tilted, and struck a mossy boulder with a sharp thump.
Inside the Ohiroma*—the great hall—the scent of fresh rush mats mingled with Old Mountain Sandalwood. Nearly fifty people sat in silence. To the left were the elders of the Old *Kazoku, dressed in black haori hakama. To the right sat the core executives of the S.A. Group, wearing sharp wool suits and gleaming mechanical watches.
Saionji Shuichi broke the silence, setting his teacup down with a soft click.
"Endo, let's begin. Review the sectors."
Managing Director Endo bowed a perfect ninety degrees. He opened a black leather ledger and spoke with steady authority.
"The Real Estate sector: Ginza's 'Crystal Palace' and Akasaka's 'Pink Building' maintain one hundred percent occupancy. Monthly net rental income exceeds two billion yen. Odaiba's 'Saionji Tower' has passed its first phase of deep-sea pressure inspection.
"Retail and Logistics: Uniqlo and S-Collection have one hundred twenty stores in Kanto. Inventory turnover has reached an extreme four hundred percent, with gross margins in high fashion above eighty percent.
"Food and Technology: S-Food handles three million daily meal portions with a waste rate of just 0.6%. SIS has laid independent fiber-optic lines to the Tokyo Stock Exchange, generating 1.2 billion yen in monthly rental income from firms like Goldman Sachs."
The tension in the room evaporated. Saionji Kensuke, a high-ranking elder, stroked his white beard with satisfaction.
"0.6% waste? 400% turnover?" He scoffed. "Those upstarts flipping land think they can compete with our heritage? They overestimate themselves."
Low murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. The air was thick with the arrogance of the invincible.
Shuichi tapped his fingers twice on the rosewood table. Tap, tap.
The room went cold.
"Endo," Shuichi said calmly. "Report the final summary for Hokkaido."
Endo's breathing hitched. He turned to the red bookmark.
"First week of Gokurakutenshu in Niseko," Endo announced, his voice rising. "Total revenue from villas and tickets: 2.74 billion yen. Mid-level boxes, gold-leaf spa, and dining: 3.8 billion. Ground-floor casino net intake: 18.2 billion. Top-floor Sotheby's auctions: 26.5 billion."
He took a sharp breath.
"Total first-week operating revenue: 51.24 billion yen."
The hall exploded into a frenzy. Elder Kensuke struck his palm with his fan until it cracked.
"Ancestors above! Fifty billion in seven days! The Saionji family is a god in this world!"
Eguchi Tokuhiro, President of Saionji Construction, leaned forward with predatory hunger. "Head of the family! We must take this statement to Mitsui Bank and get another hundred billion! We'll build ten more Gokurakutenshus! Karuizawa, Okinawa, Kyushu—we'll take it all!"
The room was boiling with feverish greed. Shuichi raised his right hand and pressed it down slightly in the air.
The silence that followed was absolute.
"51.24 billion. It is a figure for the annals," Shuichi said, his voice echoing. "Every stake we've driven over the last two years is now a fountain of gold. Our cash flow makes the banks tremble with awe."
The executives beamed. The elders straightened their backs.
"However."
The word hit like a bucket of ice water. Shuichi pushed a red-covered document across the rosewood table.
"Before we buy more beaches, look at this."
Shuichi's voice became as cold as well water.
"That glass dome in Niseko burns a hundred tons of heavy oil every day just to keep the trees alive. The electricity bill alone could light half of Shinjuku.
"And Odaiba? We are pouring anti-seepage concrete and special steel into the sea every day without hearing an echo. Its daily cost would bankrupt a mid-sized construction firm in twenty-four hours."
The temperature in the hall plummeted. Shuichi closed the report with a dull thud.
"The group's next strategy: halt all new expansion. We must signal to the outside world that we are slowing down to digest our results."
Shock and confusion filled the room. These men, who had felt like gods moments ago, were suddenly mortal again.
In the shadows, Saionji Satsuki watched them.
She was exhausted, having spent the night drafting this "fake fatigue" narrative.
The bubble was ending. She needed a reasonable excuse to explain why the Saionji family was suddenly "short on cash."
Under the guise of "capital pressure," she would sell off the peripheral plots, the junk land, and even the heavy assets like the Crystal Palace.
She would cash out at the absolute peak.
The billions of yen would be moved to the Cayman Islands and Liechtenstein, converted into U.S. Treasury Bills and Swiss gold.
While the world thought the Saionji family was struggling under the weight of Niseko and Odaiba, Satsuki would be hoarding the ammunition to destroy the market once the collapse began.
"To alleviate capital pressure," Shuichi continued, "the group will sell off all non-core land and peripheral plots acquired over the last two years."
The room erupted.
"This is madness!" Elder Kensuke screamed, slamming his cane. "Land in Tokyo is a priceless treasure! Selling now is cutting off our own flesh! We must not sell the goose that lays the golden eggs!"
"The Board will never approve!" an executive shouted. "Land prices will rise for another year! We're losing billions in potential profit!"
The great hall became a noisy wet market, with elders rising from their cushions to roar at Shuichi.
Ding.
The sound was faint. It was the sound of a bone china teacup touching a rosewood tray.
Satsuki stood up.
She didn't move fast. Her dark blue sweater looked deep and somber in the shadows. Her white socks made no sound on the rush mats.
Managing Director Endo caught the movement from the corner of his eye.
His mouth, open to shout a rebuttal, froze. He swallowed hard and quickly lowered his gaze, straightening his back until he was rigid.
The silence spread like a virus. One by one, the executives on the right noticed the girl standing in the shadows and shrank back into their cushions, clutching their knees.
The elders on the left, realizing they were the only ones still screaming, looked toward the end of the table.
The rosewood cane paused mid-air. The anger on their faces turned to stone.
Fans were closed silently. The room was deathly quiet, save for the faint trail of smoke from the incense burner.
Satsuki walked to Shuichi's side.
Her gaze was like a calm, deep lake, sweeping across both sides of the table—seeing every face filled with greed and forced submission.
"Everyone," she asked softly. "Have you argued enough?"