January 18, 1991, Osaka South Port.
The sea breeze blew from the grey-white water, carrying snow that fell to the ground, only to be crushed by tires into a layer of dirty, thin mud.
Shipping containers were stacked in rows along the shore—red, blue, and grey—like giant building blocks piled up at random.
The Section Chief of Foreign Trade at Sumitomo Chemical stood in the wind, clutching a phone, his expression even uglier than the black seawater in the harbor.
The batch of cargo before him had already been packed into containers.
The customs declaration documents were also ready.
There was only a day and a half left before the ship was scheduled to depart.
But the Legal Department had temporarily withheld the final document.
The reason was simple.
The Compliance Office of the Sumitomo Bank Osaka Main Branch had sent a risk confirmation letter.
"What else is there to confirm?" the Section Chief of Foreign Trade said, lowering his voice into the phone. "The cargo has already arrived at the port, and the deadline for the customer's letter of credit amendment is tomorrow at noon. You are asking for confirmation now—are you expecting the containers to just wait at the dock while you hold meetings?"
The person on the other end of the line said a few words.
The Section Chief of Foreign Trade closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"I know the Legal Department cannot ignore letters from the bank."
He opened his eyes and looked at the cargo ship docked in the distance.
"But the ship cannot just wait around for three extra days for nothing because of a letter from Sumitomo Bank."
On the dock, the reversing alarms of forklifts beeped one after another.
The containers were supposed to be moved to the designated yard in the afternoon, waiting to be loaded onto the ship the next day, but now they were all locked in place.
Every hour they sat idle, storage fees, demurrage charges, buyer notices, and telegraph exchanges all turned into costs.
Business is just like that.
In the conference room, it is just a piece of paper.
At the dock, it is countless containers.
Paper can be set aside, but containers cannot.
If containers are blocked at the port, the ones behind them cannot come in; if the ship is missed, one has to wait for the next one; if the buyer gets impatient, the price will be driven down; and if the price is driven down, this order, which was originally profitable, will turn into a loss that makes one's scalp numb.
The Section Chief of Foreign Trade hung up the phone and turned to look at his subordinate behind him.
The young employee held a folder, his lips already pale from the cold.
"Section Chief, Saionji Trading has already confirmed that the letter of credit amendment is sufficient to proceed."
"I know."
"Then we…"
The Section Chief of Foreign Trade glanced in the direction of the office building.
"If the Legal Department has not stamped it, who would dare to send the cargo out?"
The young employee stopped talking.
In the distance, seagulls took flight from the cranes, their cries feeling somehow irritating to the ear.
The Section Chief of Foreign Trade suddenly felt a strong urge to curse.
Saionji Trading processed documents very quickly.
So quickly that these people, who had been in the export business for twenty years, felt for the first time that their main correspondent bank was not an idol in a shrine; without it, the cargo could still go out, and the money could still come back.
But now, a single letter had dragged them back to where they started.
Just because someone in some office had written the four words "Risk Confirmation" on a piece of paper.
Four words, and a row of containers was nailed to the port.
The same morning, Kitahama, Sumitomo Bank Osaka Main Branch.
When Yasui received the feedback, the sky outside the window had not yet fully brightened.
Sumitomo Chemical suspended the next batch of documents.
Sumitomo Metal requested additional explanations from Saionji Trading.
Sumitomo Electric was still on the sidelines.
The Legal Department of Sumitomo Light Metal suggested waiting three days before deciding whether to expand the scope of the preliminary audit.
Four reports were laid out on the table.
The paper was very thin.
But the weight was not light.
Umeba sat opposite him, his eyes looking a bit bruised.
These key players of Hakusuikai had not had a good night's sleep in the past few days.
After that rope from Gokurakukan was thrown over from Tokyo, they had been waiting to see if there would be any movement here in Osaka.
Now, the movement had come.
The cargo had really stopped.
"At least two companies have already slowed down," Umeba said.
Yasui did not immediately show a smile.
He folded the reports back up and pressed the edges with his palm.
"Slowing down is enough."
The Sumitomo-affiliated manufacturing companies would not return to kneel at the bank's door just because of one letter.
Those company presidents had already seen the efficiency of Saionji Trading and had tasted the sweetness of bypassing the Osaka Main Branch.
It was unrealistic to expect them to turn back completely now.
But once people start to hesitate, they slow down.
The Legal Department asks a question, the Finance Department waits a bit, and the executive directors discuss it again.
By the time the cargo is piled up at the dock and the customer's phone calls are burning hot, everyone will remember the existence of their main correspondent bank.
Yasui took another drafted letter out of the drawer.
This time, the header was no longer addressed only to the manufacturing companies.
In the carbon copy section, there was an extra line.
Sumitomo Main Family Legal Department.
Umeba saw that line, and his fingers paused slightly.
"Are you sending this to Mr. Yoshio?"
"Yes."
"Would not that be a bit too early?"
Yasui looked up.
"Saionji has already pushed us to this point; can it still be considered early?"
Umeba was silent.
Yasui pushed the letter in front of him.
The body text was still very short.
The group to which the external preliminary audit institution belongs is involved in matters concerning the cost model review of large-scale facility projects. Until the relevant risks are clarified, it is recommended that each company suspend the expansion of the authorization scope.
After reading it, Umeba said in a low voice, "Once this is sent to the Main Family, Mr. Yoshio will have to take a stance."
"Yes," Yasui said.
"What if he stands on Saionji's side?"
Yasui looked at him without answering immediately.
After a while, he said, "Then he will have to explain to all Sumitomo-affiliated companies why the Main Family would continue to expand the authorization when there is a dispute involving an external group."
Umeba understood.
This is what Hakusuikai wanted.
They did not need Yoshio to lean towards the bank immediately.
As long as the Main Family hesitated even slightly, the four manufacturing companies would be even slower.
Slowness is the bank's time.
As time drags on, the shiny outer skin of Saionji Trading will be worn away.
One must know that Saionji Trading, in reality, does not possess true banking qualifications.
Once those company presidents rediscover that bypassing the main correspondent bank is not as simple as they imagined, Hakusuikai will have another chance to reach back in.
Yasui picked up his fountain pen and signed his name in the approval section of the letter.
As the nib touched the paper, it made a slight rustling sound.
The rope was pulled tight once more.
Tokyo, Minato Ward, Seibu Real Estate External Consulting Firm.
After Shimada finished reading the reply from Dai-Ichi Kangyo Bank, the office was quiet for a long time.
Outside the window was Tokyo in the afternoon; the sunlight was so pale it lacked warmth, reflecting a cold light off the glass of the high-rise buildings.
That reply letter was only two pages long.
Dai-Ichi Kangyo Bank avoided talking about the losses of Gokurakukan and did not speak up for Saionji Construction.
It only confirmed that the Loan Management Department had begun to retrieve the catalog of review materials from that year.
The problem lay in the extracts of the catalog.
"Niseko Gokurakukan Winter Stress Test Table."
"Glass Dome Energy Consumption Estimation Description."
"Maintenance Cost Model for Severe Cold Periods."
When Shimada saw these three lines, the ballpoint pen in his hand stopped.
What was more troublesome was the line of small print that followed.
Relevant material recipients: Dai-Ichi Kangyo Bank Loan Management Department, Seibu Acquisition Consulting Team.
The heating in the office was turned up high.
Yet Shimada felt his fingertips were a bit cold.
He certainly knew what this meant.
Seibu now wanted to ask Saionji if they had clearly explained the winter cost risks back then.
But the reply from Dai-Ichi Kangyo Bank told him that those materials from back then had not only entered the bank's archives but had also been in the folders of the Seibu Acquisition Consulting Team.
To put it more bluntly—you had seen those materials, but you did not do anything about them yourselves.
Shimada flipped the reply back to the first page and read it again.
The bank was very smart.
It did not state things definitively.
It just copied out the catalog, letting everyone who saw this paper understand for themselves.
In the bubble era, everyone liked beautiful models; the bank liked them, the seller liked them, and the buyer liked them too.
When Gokurakukan was sparkling on the snowy plains, no one was willing to spend too much time thinking about whether the heavy oil costs would soar like burning paper.
Now that the snow had stopped and the account books were wet, everyone wanted to find medicine.
But this illness was contracted together back then.
Shimada closed the reply and put it into the bottom drawer.
He did not immediately send it to Tsutsumi Yoshiaki.
At least not now.
What Tsutsumi Yoshiaki wanted was a knife that could strike at Saionji.
But this paper told Shimada that there were Seibu's own fingerprints on the handle of the knife.