January 23, 1991, at the Saionji residence.
Winter floral materials are much harder to work with than those of spring.
The branches are too stiff, the water is too cold, and with even a slight misapplication of force, the cuts will split into an ugly mess.
Yet, precisely at times like this, the selections sent from the greenhouse are all the more exquisite: white plum, red camellia, young pine, sacred bamboo, and a few pale yellow chrysanthemums cultivated in the greenhouse.
Laid out on the long table, they looked as if winter and spring had been forcibly stuffed into the same bamboo basket.
Satsuki sat in the center of the flower room, wearing a light gray cardigan over a white turtleneck.
She wore no jewelry, and her hair was tied back with a simple black ribbon, making her look like an Eldest Miss of the old Kazoku receiving instruction from a private tutor.
Of course, that was only how she looked.
Fujita stood outside the sliding door and reported in a low voice, "Miss, Chairman Tsutsumi has arrived."
Satsuki's floral shears paused for a moment before she resumed cutting the white plum branch at an angle and placing it into the water basin.
"Show him in."
"Should I invite the head of the family to join you?"
"No need." Satsuki picked up another branch of sacred bamboo, spun it half a turn between her fingers, and plucked off an extra leaf. "Since Chairman Tsutsumi has come in person at this hour, the one he wants to see is not my father."
Fujita bowed slightly and withdrew.
A few minutes later, footsteps echoed from the end of the hallway.
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki did not bring many people, only Shimada and a secretary.
Shimada remained in the outer room, and the secretary tactfully stopped at the door; only Tsutsumi Yoshiaki himself actually stepped into the flower room.
Today, he wore a dark suit, his tie meticulously knotted.
There was no anger on his face, nor did he possess his usual high-and-mighty composure.
In the past, this man was virtually synonymous with a symbol in the Japanese business world.
Seibu's land, railways, and hotels—mountains built of gold—had hoisted him high above everyone else.
Yet, there had always been someone shaking the foundations of that mountain.
"Chairman Tsutsumi."
Satsuki did not stand up, only looking up to glance at him.
"Is it cold outside? Would you like some black tea?"
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki looked at the wide-mouthed ceramic vase in front of her, then at the scattered flower branches on the table, and suddenly felt an urge to laugh.
He recalled a few years ago, when he first realized what a nuisance this little girl could be; it had been a similar feeling.
Back then, she was even younger, with an innocent smile on her face, yet holding those two meters of garbage land that could completely choke Seibu's development project.
Then came Romanée-Conti, The Club, and that tiny plot of land just a few meters wide that still felt absurd to think about now.
Now, it was even more absurd.
She sat here arranging flowers, as if the banks, warehouses, Gokurakukan, and Hakusuikai outside were nothing more than a passing breeze casually mentioned in a weather forecast.
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki did not sit down.
"I have suffered a defeat this time."
The flower room fell silent for a moment.
Satsuki inserted the sacred bamboo into the ceramic vase and gently adjusted its angle.
"Hearing Chairman Tsutsumi say that actually makes me a little afraid."
"You, afraid?"
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki sneered, finally sitting down across from her.
The tatami was soft, but he sat down heavily, his imposing presence seemingly causing the floor to sink half an inch.
"Saionji Satsuki, let us not beat around the bush today."
"Gokurakukan was your trap."
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki stared intently at Satsuki, as if trying to read something from her movements, but she did not answer.
She took a white pebble from a small bowl nearby and pressed it against the edge of the water basin to keep the plum branch from tipping over.
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki stared at her hands.
"What I fail to understand the most is not Gokurakukan itself."
His voice was very low.
"Something like that, as long as someone is willing to throw money at it, Seibu could build it too."
"A glass dome, hot springs, a membership system, a resort palace on the snowfields—none of these are particularly unique."
"What I truly cannot understand is the timing."
Satsuki's fingers paused on the plum branch.
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki looked at her, his gaze gradually darkening.
"When you started building Gokurakukan, land prices were still rising, banks were scrambling to issue loans, and everyone believed that even the snowfields of Hokkaido could turn into Ginza. Back then, even I believed that Japanese land values would keep climbing."
"Yet, you chose precisely that moment to begin building that absurd palace."
He paused, as if finally voicing a thought so preposterous he had been reluctant to admit it.
"Saionji Satsuki, how on earth did you know all this? As for information channels, I do not believe Seibu is that much inferior to you."
"Or did you know from the very beginning what would happen in the future?"
Silence hung in the air for a few seconds.
Satsuki suddenly let out a soft laugh.
"Chairman Tsutsumi, you were the one who proactively made the offer back then."
"That is why I said I have suffered a defeat."
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki's gaze was frighteningly cold.
"How did you actually pull it off?"
Satsuki finally raised her eyes.
"Chairman Tsutsumi, have you heard the story about the casino?"
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki frowned slightly.
"What?"
"A man sits at a gaming table, and everyone around him is betting on red. If he bets on black and wins, people say he is lucky. If he wins several times in a row, they say he is bold. But when the red streak finally stops, everyone starts asking if he knew the dealer's cards in advance."
Satsuki placed a red camellia next to the plum branch, its color as crimson as a slowly spreading drop of blood.
"But sometimes, the answer is very simple."
"He was simply the only one who did not get drunk along with the others."
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki watched her in silence.
This answer said everything, yet said nothing at all.
Not drunk?
In this era of Japan, how many people could claim they were not drunk?
The Nikkei index had risen to an almost irrational height, where the price of a single square meter of land in Ginza could buy an entire farm in the American Midwest.
Bankers could not wait to deliver loans to people's doorsteps, entrepreneurs mortgaged their land over and over again, and everyone firmly believed that Tokyo would keep rising, Hokkaido would keep rising, hotels would always be fully booked, and tourists would always stand in line.
"So?"
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki placed his hands on his knees, his voice lowering.
"At this point, do not try to deny your hand in this. It was Saionji that brought Seibu to this pass, but now, only Saionji can save Seibu."
He stared at Satsuki, enunciating every word.
"I came here today to ask you: what must Seibu pay for Saionji to stay its hand?"
Satsuki let out a soft laugh upon hearing this.
The laugh was not loud, like a feather brushing lightly over Tsutsumi Yoshiaki's fury, only serving to make the fire burn hotter.
"Do not say that, Chairman Tsutsumi."
As she spoke, she picked up her shears and snipped off an overly heavy cluster of red berries from the sacred bamboo branch.
"Are we not just in a normal competitive business relationship? How can you call this targeting?"
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki closed his eyes.
"So, what are your terms?"
He was in no mood for her banter.
Satsuki's smile grew even wider.
She placed the snipped red berries into her palm, stared at them for a couple of seconds, then suddenly looked up and said in an almost saccharine voice:
"As for me... I want you to die."
The air in the room instantly grew heavy.
Standing in the outer room, Shimada seemed to sense the tense atmosphere inside and instinctively glanced toward the sliding door.
Fujita did not move, merely standing calmly by the door.
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki's face darkened completely.
Looking at Satsuki, who was still smiling, he called her by her full name for the first time.
"Saionji Satsuki, I am serious."
"And I am serious too."
Satsuki slowly stood up, still holding that small cluster of red sacred bamboo berries.
She stepped around the low table, walked over to Tsutsumi Yoshiaki, and leaned down slightly, her smile not fading in the least.
"Think about it, Chairman Tsutsumi. You are currently the richest man in Japan."
She examined the berries in her hand, speaking casually.
"The Japanese archipelago is only so big. If Saionji wants to climb to the top, should we not pull down the person who is currently up there?"
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki's fingers slowly clenched.
"Seibu is not the only company in Japan," Tsutsumi Yoshiaki said coldly. "Why target only me? What about the other zaibatsu?"
Satsuki tilted her head, as if she had heard an amusing question.
"Who says I am not pulling down the other zaibatsu?"
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki froze.
Then, he thought of Osaka, and he thought of Hakusuikai.
So that was it. He suddenly understood.
This young girl's reach did not extend only to Seibu.
Her target had never been a single group, but rather everyone who failed to pull back in time after the bubble burst.
Seibu was merely the most conspicuous, the juiciest, and the easiest piece of meat for the entire country to see.
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki let out a low chuckle.
"Little girl, with such a massive appetite, be careful not to choke."
"You need not worry about that."
Satsuki placed the cluster of berries back on the table, turned back to the ceramic vase, and resumed adjusting the angle of the plum branch.
"If Chairman Tsutsumi has nothing else to discuss, please see yourself out."