Early February 1990. Tokyo.
[Nikkei Average Index: 36,920 points]
At the West Exit of Shinjuku Station, the winter rain had finally stopped.
Municipal street sweepers had passed through that morning. Their high-pressure water jets blasted the black-and-white crosswalk, scouring the asphalt.
Two weeks earlier, a radial spray of dried blood had stained this exact spot. Now the pavement was clean, cold and reflective in the rinse water.
On the giant electronic billboard above the intersection, a joint press conference by the Metropolitan Police Department and the Ministry of Finance was playing.
"Regarding the incident last month at the Keio Plaza Hotel involving four fatal falls, the Metropolitan Police Department has completed its full on-site investigation and background checks," said the police spokesperson, standing at the podium in a crisp navy uniform, hands flat on the lectern.
"The deceased were all carrying massive debt. Our investigation found that some had illegally embezzled corporate funds, while others were trapped by loan sharks. The core of this incident is a group suicide caused by personal financial collapse, driven by extreme greed and moral failure among speculators who misused funds for reckless investments."
He gave a slight bow, finished the statement, and stepped aside for the Ministry of Finance official.
The Ministry official adjusted the microphone.
"Certain high-leverage speculators exiting the market have sparked false rumors. The Ministry of Finance assures all citizens that Japan's real economy remains strong and land prices are fundamentally sound. The recent technical correction in the stock market is a healthy self-adjustment. The fundamentals have not deteriorated in any way."
His voice boomed from speakers across Shinjuku's busy streets.
Pedestrians pulled their coats tighter and hurried past. Most glanced up at the screen, then kept walking toward their offices.
Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo. Marunouchi.
Inside Mitsui Bank headquarters, the heat was cranked high in the Credit Department Manager's office.
Manager Nakanishi sat in a leather chair, holding lukewarm black coffee. Through the blinds, he watched the press conference playing on the building across the street.
He sipped, set the porcelain cup down, and tapped his index finger twice on a red-marked list of high-risk clients.
"Matsuura Construction" sat at the very top.
On the screen, the official kept reciting lines meant to calm the market. Nakanishi frowned, irritated.
That Kansai upstart Matsuura had jumped. His dramatic, public death was creating a media circus and making Mitsui's bad-debt recovery a PR headache.
As secondary lender to Matsuura Construction, the Credit Department had flagged the default risk two weeks ago and drafted a full asset seizure plan. Nakanishi's drawer was full of clients like Matsuura — over-leveraged, one bad day from collapse.
Normally, this was routine risk control. But Matsuura was different.
Honestly, couldn't he have picked a quiet place to die? Now he's making work for the rest of us…
Nakanishi picked up the phone.
"Connect me to Legal and Asset Recovery."
The line clicked.
"This is Nakanishi. Start forced recovery against Matsuura Construction now."
"Chiba Bank is the primary lender, and they're swamped with media and suppliers demanding payment. While they're tied up, take our mortgage contracts to court and file for asset preservation. Lock down all the Minato Ward land Matsuura pledged to us, and freeze the related accounts."
The section chief on the other end hesitated.
"Manager, the Ministry of Finance just went on TV saying they want to keep credit stable. If we're the first to move aggressively, will that…"
"Just do it," Nakanishi cut him off. "Matsuura made his own mess. We're not letting Mitsui's assets go down with him. Get what we're owed. Move fast and beat Chiba Bank to the best properties."
He hung up and set the receiver down firmly.
He pulled Matsuura Construction's page from the red-marked client list and dropped it into the "Executed" tray on his desk.
Another routine job done. Just messier than usual.
---
Saionji Industries Headquarters, B4, Core Strategy Room.
The air felt heavy.
Around the black glass conference table, the group's top leadership was assembled.
Saionji Satsuki sat quietly at the head of the table in a large leather swivel chair. She wore a soft beige cashmere turtleneck. Her black hair was pinned up simply with a tortoiseshell clip. Her hands rested lightly on the armrests as her clear eyes watched the room.
Family Head Saionji Shuichi sat first on her left. He wore a dark gray cashmere cardigan, hands folded on the table.
Next to him was Eguchi Tokuhiro, president of Saionji Construction. He wore a tailored black suit, and the silver-inlaid onyx company pin on his chest caught the overhead light. His thick arms lay flat on the table, back straight as a board.
Farther down sat Tadashi Yanai, head of retail for Uniqlo and S-Mart. His eyes were bloodshot from late nights — he'd been tapped to run S-Mart on top of everything else, though it wasn't his strong suit — but his expression was serious.
First on Satsuki's right sat the group's CFO, Managing Director Endo, posture perfect.
Beside Endo, Saionji Masato, president of Saionji Information Systems, adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and stared calmly at the table.
At the far end, Dojima Gen, head of Security, sat like a statue in his black suit, silent.
The executives had been called in urgently. This wasn't the scheduled monthly meeting.
So everyone was guessing what massive plan the Young Lady was about to drop.
No one spoke. They waited.
Managing Director Endo broke the silence first. He laid his briefcase on the table and took out a fax stamped with the Metropolitan Police Department's internal mark.
"Young Lady, Family Head," Endo said, his voice clear in the quiet room.
"Regarding the Keio Plaza Hotel incident, the police have filed their internal debt report. They've classified it as self-destruction due to personal moral failure."
"Public reaction is minimal. People have accepted the official story."
"As for finance circles, no one's made a formal statement. The impact on markets is small, even if the optics were bad."
He flipped to page two.
"Also, in the asset appendix for the deceased, there's a complicated but valuable item. It concerns one of the victims, President Matsuura."
"With Matsuura dead, Matsuura Construction has no leadership and its cash flow is cut off. He left two billion yen in high-interest bad debt at Chiba Bank. However, in core Minato and Shibuya wards, the company still holds seven prime properties and active construction projects — these are genuinely valuable assets, not bubble-era paper value."
Instinctively, Endo's eyes flicked between Eguchi and Satsuki.
"Chiba Bank's risk department is in disarray right now. Young Lady, should we use the confusion to start acquiring these distressed assets?"
Eguchi's eyes lit up at "Minato Ward construction projects." He leaned forward, clearly interested.
Satsuki leaned back in her chair, eyes scanning the fax.
"We won't consider it for now, Director Endo."
Her voice was calm.
Endo nodded and closed the folder, expression neutral. "Understood. We'll leave these assets off the watch list."
Satsuki sat up straight.
"Right now, Chiba Bank and the Ministry of Finance are blind with overconfidence," she said, hands on the armrests as she looked around the table. "Even with the market correcting, as long as land prices haven't dropped, they still believe the 'land myth.'"
"On their books, those seven plots Matsuura left are still valued near ten billion yen. They think seizing and auctioning them will more than cover the two billion in bad debt. They might even expect a profit."
She leaned forward slightly.
"If we show up with cash today, they won't discount a single yen. They'll see the Saionji Family as fools eager to pay Matsuura's debts and overpay for the privilege."
Eguchi immediately sat back, fiddling with his pen like he was taking notes.
Did the Young Lady notice me?
"Besides, we can't treat four bodies on the asphalt as a simple debt case," Satsuki said, ignoring Eguchi. Her tone turned cold.
"We need to see what's behind this."
"The axle under the speeding train of Japan's economy has already snapped."
She glanced at the TV where the press conference was still running.
"The government is scrambling to cover it up, using the media to sanitize this. The Ministry of Finance wants a 'soft landing' — slow the pressure, tighten credit a little, and hope the train coasts to a smooth stop on its own momentum."
The air in the room grew heavier.
Here it comes. The Young Lady's about to lay out the real plan.
The executives held their breath. They could feel that whatever came next would upend their business assumptions.
Satsuki clasped her hands in front of her.
She lifted her chin slightly, her gaze sweeping every face at the table. Her dark eyes were sharp, cold.
"The government wants this train to stop slowly."
"They want breathing room."
"They want a 'soft landing.'"
She paused a beat, letting the words land.
"But we will not give it to them."
"Not only will we not give it — we're going to push."
"We will accelerate the fall of Japan's economy."
"We'll give it… a hard landing."
Boom.
The words hit like a bomb in the sealed room.
The air went still.
Endo's brow furrowed. His flat hands curled, fingertips pressing the table. Eguchi's back went even straighter, his face grave. Yanai's eyes showed doubt under the weight of it.
Force a hard landing for the national economy.
Accelerate the collapse of Japan's financial markets.
The scale was staggering. This wasn't normal zaibatsu profit-seeking. This was touching the third rail of national finance.
The room was heavy. The executives' breathing slowed. Doubt and tension churned in their chests, but years of absolute trust in Satsuki's methods kept anyone from objecting.
They controlled their faces, buried their questions, and all looked to Shuichi at the left head of the table.
Shuichi felt the confusion radiating off his executives.
He picked up his water glass, took a sip, and set it down. Then he turned to his daughter.
"Satsuki."
His voice broke the silence, asking the question everyone was thinking.
"If Japan's economy hard-lands and industries wither, companies go bankrupt, and consumers lose spending power…"
Shuichi's brow locked.
"For our retail chains, Uniqlo and S-Mart, our convenience stores, our commercial real estate — that's catastrophic. Doing this… aren't we smashing our own rice bowl?"
The executives mentally nodded. The Family Head had voiced their core fear.
When the nest falls, how do the Saionji's businesses survive?
Satsuki listened quietly.
She didn't answer right away.
She glanced at the executives — curious, uneasy.
Were these elites short-sighted?
No. They were some of the most forward-looking people in Japan.
But even foresight couldn't predict that the government's "soft landing" would lead to decades of stagnation.
And even if someone saw it coming, they wouldn't have the nerve to light the fuse and speed up the destruction.
Satsuki placed her hands on the armrests and stood. She walked to the whiteboard at the front of the room and uncapped a black marker in one hand.
Fine. Time to dismantle their financial common sense.