Late November 1989
****
Kioicho, Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo — Akasaka Prince Hotel, New Wing Penthouse Royal Suite
Early winter wind, laced with icy rain, slammed against the silver skyscraper. Kenzo Tange's jagged facade made the thickened bulletproof glass vibrate at low frequency.
Inside, the climate control held the suite at exactly twenty-four degrees Celsius.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi sat upright behind a marble desk, wearing a dark gray flannel suit.
A lit cigar rested between his fingers. His eyes, cutting through blue-gray smoke, were locked on the document that had just landed on his desk.
Akasaka 1-Chome Commercial Building (Formerly "Pink Building") — Title Transfer Confirmation
At the bottom, the Legal Affairs Bureau's bright red registration seal was stamped clean.
Tsutsumi picked up his bone china coffee cup and sipped. The bitter heat spread on his tongue, and the triumph in his chest swelled.
The Saionji family's cash cow in Minato Ward—uprooted, replanted in Seibu Group soil.
Knock, knock.
The dull sound broke his thoughts.
Shimada, his secretary, pushed open the heavy walnut double doors and crossed to the desk with light steps. He bowed slightly, voice low.
"Chairman. Miss Saionji Satsuki requests a meeting."
Shimada glanced at Tsutsumi's face before adding, "Her motorcade is already in the drive outside the main entrance."
Tsutsumi's fingers paused on the cigar.
He set it on the crystal ashtray's edge and leaned back into the leather. A cold smile curled his mouth.
"Send her up."
His voice held undisguised satisfaction.
"Seems the Saionji family's farce is finally over."
Shimada withdrew.
Tsutsumi looked out at the cold gray sky. His fingers drummed the marble.
From the day old Kensuke came with the Pink Building deed to now—less than a month.
He'd expected it. The Saionji girl was monstrously competent. She wouldn't let a pack of rigid elders keep the steering wheel. She'd counterattack, fast and hard, and crush the old men who tried to seize power through the infrastructure funding gap.
Her coming here proved it. Power was back in her hands.
But…
Tsutsumi's eyes dropped to the title transfer.
No matter how clean her coup, internal war leaves scars. To plug holes, the elders had panic-sold peripheral assets—even core buildings. That chaotic liquidation must have ripped a hole in Saionji Group's cash flow.
Kensuke was useless. Even with Seibu's premium cash, he couldn't last a month.
Tsutsumi lifted his coffee.
Not his problem. Kensuke's fate meant nothing.
What mattered were the bleeding assets Saionji threw out. Now the proud girl had retaken control, but she faced a wrecked ledger. She had no choice but to come to him to clean up.
Footsteps sounded on the thick carpet—steady, light.
The double doors opened.
Saionji Satsuki stepped into the Royal Suite.
She wore a dark gray haute couture winter coat. The cashmere draped perfectly, the cut severe, wrapping her slender frame. Her long black hair was pinned back with a plain silver clip. No jewelry.
Fujita Tsuyoshi, in a black tailcoat, followed half a step behind with a black briefcase. Silent as a shadow.
"Uncle Tsutsumi. Good afternoon."
Satsuki stopped three paces from the desk. She bowed slightly—perfect junior etiquette.
Tsutsumi stood and came around the desk. His face showed elder-like kindness as he offered his right hand.
"Niece Satsuki. In this cold, why come yourself?"
Satsuki extended her right hand, black leather glove thin, shook lightly, and withdrew.
As their eyes met, Tsutsumi caught the details.
The Old Kazoku daughter always presented flawlessly. Today her makeup was precise, but it couldn't hide the faint shadows under her eyes. Her clear, deep eyes held a bone-deep exhaustion she couldn't fake.
Tsutsumi laughed inside.
Suppressing a family coup and cleaning the old men's mess must have drained her.
For Miss Saionji to show fatigue—rare.
"Please, sit."
Tsutsumi led her to the guest sofa by the floor-to-ceiling windows.
They sat across the marble coffee table. An attendant set down two cups of fresh black tea and vanished.
Satsuki sat on the leather sofa.
The moment she settled, her left hand lifted almost imperceptibly. Fingertips massaged her temple twice. Her brow furrowed, as if suppressing a deep ache.
It wasn't all acting.
Nights in the SIS core server room, syncing with Frank's Wall Street team, building offshore trust short matrices—data floods and tension had pushed her seventeen-year-old body to its limit.
But showing that fatigue to Tsutsumi was also part of the play.
"Niece Satsuki, you look unwell," Tsutsumi said, picking up his tea. Concern in his tone, calculation in his eyes.
"I heard Saionji internal affairs have been… complicated. Mr. Kensuke visited days ago. Something about asset optimization. As an outsider, I didn't ask."
He sighed, performing worry for an ally.
"Young people running a century-old house—elders don't always understand. Internal friction is exhausting. If Seibu can help, say so."
Satsuki lowered her hand from her temple.
She picked up her bone china cup. Steam brushed her lashes and made them tremble.
She didn't deny his probe. She leaned into it, letting bitterness and helplessness show.
"I've embarrassed myself before Uncle Tsutsumi."
Satsuki sipped. Her voice was tired, half a beat slower than normal.
"Lord Kensuke and the others… made some irrational choices. To 'invite' the disobedient elders to step down and clean their mess, I've spent two weeks at full stretch."
She set the cup down.
"The infighting is over. But…"
Satsuki's gaze met Tsutsumi's across the table.
"During the power grab, the conservatives sold assets recklessly to plug infrastructure holes. That damaged the group's reputation and left our cash flow management in extreme passivity."
Tsutsumi leaned forward slightly.
Here it comes.
He set down his cup, folded his hands on his knees. Listening pose.
"Cash flow passivity? With Saionji's monthly turnover, how is that possible?" He played dumb, nudging her to lay cards.
Satsuki was quiet.
She looked down at her folded hands. Like she was fighting herself.
Five full seconds.
She looked up. Eyes showed resolve after being cornered.
"Given current finances, we cannot fund both major projects."
Satsuki's voice carried humiliation forced into submission.
"Odaiba—Saionji Tower—is in critical deep-sea caisson stage. That's our future HQ. Our Tokyo Bay anchor. I cannot abandon it."
She turned to Fujita Tsuyoshi.
Fujita stepped forward, opened the briefcase, and placed a thick bound document on the marble with both hands.
Cover text: "Hokkaido · Niseko Gokurakukan — Full Property Transfer Agreement"
Tsutsumi's pupils contracted. His heart thudded.
Gokurakukan.
The glass dome glowing blue and gold in blizzards. The ultimate resort—Japan's peak luxury and desire. Massive daily cash flow.
The sweetest fruit he'd wanted but never had a pretext to take.
"So I'm forced to let it go," Satsuki said, voice strained. She reached out, fingertips brushing the document's cover. The gesture held reluctance, like losing something loved.
"Sell Gokurakukan—all of it, plus supporting facilities. Recover funds. Protect Odaiba."
Her eyes returned to Tsutsumi.
"Given Gokurakukan's profitability and irreplaceable heavy-asset nature, normal zaibatsu can't swallow it fast."
"I came to ask Uncle Tsutsumi."
A note of pleading entered her tone.
"Is Seibu Group interested in acquiring?"
Silence dropped over the suite.
Early winter wind hit the bulletproof glass harder.
Tsutsumi sat upright. Breathing steady. Thumbs rubbed together hard.
Ecstasy.
Indescribable ecstasy flooded his veins.
The girl was too young. To save a future HQ still on paper, she was handing over a cash cow already printing gold.
Fatal misjudgment from family infighting.
No, don't smile yet.
Tsutsumi forced down the greed. He relaxed back, swapped his expression for earnest, magnanimous concern.
"Niece Satsuki. Saionji and Seibu are the strongest allies."
"Naturally I won't watch Saionji fall into financial crisis. Since you've decided, Seibu will take this burden."
He didn't open the thick document. No haggling.
For the emperor of Seibu, backed by unlimited bank credit, nickel-and-diming looked weak. He wanted a clean all-cash close to show Seibu's absolute dominance in real estate.
Tsutsumi pulled a Citibank checkbook from his inner pocket.
Uncapped his pen.
Tip flew across the paper.
350,000,000,000 yen.
An astronomical number with a massive premium, written in two seconds.
Rip.
He tore the check. Right hand extended, he slid the light, priceless paper toward Satsuki.
"This is full payment. Cash."
Tsutsumi looked at her, eyes full of concern.
"I hope this helps Saionji through this hard time."
Satsuki stared at the check.
She bit her lower lip. Conflict flashed in her eyes.
After a moment, her right hand moved. She picked up the prepared fountain pen.
Uncapped it.
Tip touched the final signature line of the Property Transfer Agreement.
Scribble, scribble.
The iridium tip dragged on rough paper. Her signing was slow, heavy.
Last stroke.
She capped the pen. Both hands on the heavy document, she pushed it across the marble to Tsutsumi.
"Thank you for your generosity, Uncle Tsutsumi."
Satsuki stood. Her face looked pale. Fatigue deeper.
"Handover will be handled by Legal with Secretary Shimada. I won't disturb you further."
She bowed slightly.
Turned for the door. Fujita took the briefcase and followed.
At the walnut double doors, her steps paused.
She turned her head, glanced back at Tsutsumi still on the sofa.
"Uncle Tsutsumi."
Satsuki's voice was soft, submissive, like she'd accepted fate.
"After handover, Saionji will exit real estate competition with Seibu."
She lowered her eyes. Faint smile.
"This vast territory… I leave it to you from now on."
Tsutsumi held his coffee. Smile widened.
Saionji admitting defeat? Can't compete with Seibu in real estate?
He sat like a lord, taking the loser's tribute as due.
"Rest and recover, Niece Satsuki. I'll manage this territory well for you."
Satsuki nodded once, gave him a last look, and faced forward.
The double doors opened.
Satsuki stepped out.
Elevator lobby at hall's end.
She entered the private car. Fujita turned to face the hall.
Ding.
Doors began to close.
In the final second before the gap sealed—
From deep in the suite came Tsutsumi's laughter. No longer hidden. Arrogant, triumphant.
"Hahahahaha…"
He laughed wildly.
Like he'd shake the building down.