June 27, 1991, at 7:19 PM.
In Minato, at a ryotei that had been booked out for the entire night.
This was the place where Saionji had gathered senior executives of major yakuza syndicates for a talk.
A few days ago, Saionji had sent word to Yamaguchi-gumi, Sumiyoshi-kai, and Inagawa-kai respectively, hoping that each of the three groups would send people who could truly represent the organizations' wills to come and meet.
The reason was stated very clearly: the incident triggered by Susumu Ishii could not be allowed to repeat itself, and since the "Organized Crime Countermeasures Law" had already been promulgated, how the Japanese underworld should get along with banks, securities firms, ordinary enterprises, and each other moving forward meant that some boundaries were best talked through clearly once and for all right now.
After the message was sent out, all three groups agreed very quickly.
Therefore, tonight, the three largest underground forces in Japan sat into the room prepared by Saionji for the very first time because of the same invitation.
In addition to the people who could truly make decisions on their own, the three groups also brought several cadres responsible for passing down messages.
After all, the people at the table could sign, but once the agreements were truly sent back to the respective headquarters, the ones responsible for making hundreds or thousands of groups below follow them were still these people sitting in the back rows.
Ryuichi Washio was one of them.
After he walked into the room following the guide, the first thing he saw were the three people already sitting on the other side of the main table.
Watanabe Yoshinori, the fifth-generation head of Yamaguchi-gumi, sat on the far left, with one hand resting on his knee and the other holding the newly served tea.
He was already in his early sixties, and his figure could not be considered robust, yet when he sat there, few people would let their gaze linger on him for long.
Hoshino of Sumiyoshi-kai sat in the middle, turning his face slightly to speak in a low voice with a cadre beside him, an open file folder placed before the table.
Moving further right was Yuhiro Inagawa, who had officially taken over Inagawa-kai just last year.
He was slightly younger than the other two, the tea in front of him was still steaming, and a black business card holder lay beside his hand.
Washio knew them.
Or rather, having mixed in the Japanese underworld to his position, it was hard for anyone not to recognize these three faces.
But after truly placing the three of them at the same table, the first thought that popped up in Washio's mind made even himself feel a bit ironic.
They looked too much like corporate presidents.
Tailored suits, impeccably tied ties, secretaries, documents, tea, and those cadres behind them responsible for recording and passing messages.
How many legitimate companies Watanabe Yoshinori had under his name over the years was something outsiders might not be able to clarify; Sumiyoshi-kai's real estate, construction, and entertainment businesses in Tokyo were similarly intertwined; Needless to say for Inagawa-kai, the reason Susumu Ishii was able to reach his hands into securities, financing, and Tokyu Corporation stocks all these years never relied solely on those knife-wielding men on the streets of Yokosuka.
If all these obviously overly robust entourages around them were driven out and replaced with a plaque for a securities firm or construction company, the three figures sitting before him right now would probably not be much different from the presidents of any major company in Tokyo.
Washio followed the guide to the side of Sumiyoshi-kai and sat down in an aisle seat on the third row.
He was fifty-three years old this year.
He entered the syndicate at seventeen, and thirty-six years had passed until now.
When he was young, he watched gambling dens, later collected debts for others, and subsequently followed the former syndicate boss to do jiage (forced land acquisition).
During those hottest years of the bubble economy, whenever a real estate company took a fancy to a piece of land, it would always encounter a few residents unwilling to move out, and always run into a few old store owners stubbornly defending their storefronts.
The courts could drag out lawsuits slowly, but developers could not afford to wait, so someone would come looking for them.
Washio truly established his footing relying on this business.
Later, he led people himself, and the Washio-gumi under his name gradually expanded to over eighty people.
Those who truly followed him every day numbered over forty, while the rest were scattered across Kabukicho, Saitama, and several shops in eastern Tokyo—some looking after gambling dens, some doing debt collection, and some specialized in "negotiating matters" for companies that found it inconvenient to show their faces themselves.
These people were different from Watanabe Yoshinori, Hoshino, and Yuhiro Inagawa.
They did not have several buildings collecting rent every month, nor did they have washed-clean transport companies that could take financial statements to the bank to apply for loans.
Under Washio's command, there was a man named Abe, who was forty-one years old this year.
He entered the organization at nineteen, served prison time twice, and had been collecting debts for the syndicate ever since he got out.
He did not understand accounting, nor could he read balance sheets, but he was very skilled at making debtors voluntarily scrape together the money by the third day.
There was another one named Ono, who started roaming the streets after finishing junior high school, and the places he was most familiar with were those underground financial companies in Tokyo willing to lend money at high interest rates to small bosses.
Down below, there were even more.
What could these people do after leaving the organization?
Washio could not think of anything.
When the "Organized Crime Countermeasures Law" was promulgated, those at the very top naturally felt nervous as well.
The police would watch more strictly, some companies needed to be re-cut, and some people who could originally openly associate would begin to avoid suspicion.
But when these things fell upon Watanabe Yoshinori and the others, at best it meant cutting off a few businesses that were becoming increasingly troublesome, and spending a bit more time putting truly valuable things further away from the organization.
It was certainly uncomfortable.
But it was still far from making it impossible to survive.
Yet Washio faintly felt that the ground beneath his own feet had already begun to collapse downward.
Just as he was thinking about these things, a cadre beside him suddenly bumped him gently with an elbow.
"Washio."
The other party raised his chin toward the back of the main seat, his voice lowered very much.
"Dojima Gen."
Washio looked along his gaze and quickly saw the man standing near the front of the room.
Dojima Gen was dressed very ordinarily today, in a dark suit, and his tie used only the most common style.
Compared to several cadres in the room whose hair was combed impeccably and whose cufflinks and wristwatches were carefully chosen, one could not even see much sophistication regarding attending a formal meeting on him.
Yet Washio still recognized him at a glance.
This name was simply too famous in the underworld.
Many years ago, Dojima Gen still belonged to the 1st Airborne Brigade of the Ground Self-Defense Force, and it was said he had already achieved the rank of First Lieutenant.
Later, because he broke several ribs of his direct superior at the cocktail party after the US-Japan joint exercises, he was directly driven out by the Self-Defense Force.
Regarding why he struck, there were many rumors circulating outside, and Washio only remembered the most widespread one—that after that superior got drunk, he lost all face in front of the U.S. military advisors, and Dojima Gen felt that such a person was not worthy of wearing a military uniform.
After leaving the Self-Defense Force, he disappeared for a period of time.
When this name was passed back into the underworld again, Dojima Gen was already standing by Saionji's side.
At that time, Saionji was far from being as large as today, and the security department had just set up its framework.
But Satsuki gave Dojima Gen money, equipment, and personnel, allowing this man driven out by the Self-Defense Force to retrain a team according to his own ideas.
From counter-intelligence to VIP protection, and then to special service personnel handling dangerous matters, outsiders for a very long time could not figure out how many people Saionji actually kept, only knowing that the training methods of those people were completely different from the security guards of ordinary zaibatsu.
And then came the annihilation incident of the Black Dragon Society.
Thinking of this, Washio subconsciously glanced at Dojima Gen a few more times.
In the year the Black Dragon Society disappeared, the Tokyo underworld discussed it for several months straight.
Where Onizuka Toranosuke actually died, and where his corpse eventually went, there were still different accounts to this day.
And the person responsible for Saionji's operation back then was Dojima Gen.
Based on this one matter alone, it was already enough for many yakuza figures to remember him.
Yet this was still far from being the most exaggerated segment in Dojima Gen's resume.
After the Gulf War broke out early this year, almost every day within Japan people discussed one matter—what Japan actually did for this war.
The government forked out money.
And it was a huge sum counted in hundreds of billions of dollars.
But what the Americans wanted was clearly not just money.
On television, soldiers of the multinational forces appeared again and again; the British, the French, and the Americans were all in the desert, yet because of constitutional restrictions, Japan could not even send the Self-Defense Force into the combat zone.
How much scolding those politicians in Tokyo took for this matter was known to ordinary people as long as they watched the news for a few days.
Later, the government began to repeatedly promote "human contribution."
Washio still remembered watching that news piece inside his office.
On the television screen was a desert bleached white by the sun, with U.S. military transport vehicles and military aircraft parked in the distance.
A batch of Japanese people wearing sand-colored clothes were carrying supplies from beside vehicles printed with English logos.
The announcer called them the "S.A. Global Engineering and Logistics Rescue Group," saying that this team composed of Japanese civilian personnel was undertaking transportation, engineering, medical, and personnel evacuation missions in the Gulf region, making it the most important "human contribution" besides financial aid from Japan.
The Chief Cabinet Secretary had also mentioned them at a press conference.
The government always called them civilian rescue personnel.
Washio had been sitting in front of the television at the time, but he found this explanation somewhat laughable.
Having spent his entire life in the yakuza, he was far more sensitive than any news anchor to whether an object could be used to hurt someone, or whether a person had truly seen blood.
When the television camera occasionally panned over those so-called "rescue personnel," he could see the protective gear they wore, the spacing between their vehicles, and the almost instinctive formation they maintained when moving.
Later, newspapers even photographed them appearing alongside U.S. military personnel at a base in Saudi Arabia, which the government still explained away as a necessity for logistics and security.
Washio did not understand how they were classified under the law.
He only knew that while the Self-Defense Forces remained in Japan, this group had gone to the battlefield.
A place with actual artillery shells, missiles, and where people died.
And the man leading them was Dojima Gen.
His face had appeared in the television reports.
He was darker than he was now, dressed in tan clothes, standing near a row of military vehicles for an interview.
Right next to them was a U.S. military base, with people carrying rifles walking past in the background.
The Japanese government had broadcast that footage to show the nation, and the Americans, that Japan did not just sit in Tokyo writing checks.
Washio had even joked with his subordinates at the time.
"If that counts as a regular company employee, then can we rename ourselves the Street Dispute Resolution Company?"
The whole room had laughed.
But now that this man was actually standing before them, no one could laugh.
The man who had come out of the 1st Airborne Brigade, set up the security department for Saionji, personally experienced the purge of the Black Dragon Society, and had just returned from a real battlefield a few months ago, was now only a few meters away.
Dojima Gen was slightly thinner than he had been on television, his tan lines were still very prominent, and there seemed to be a faint, new scar near his brow bone.
Since taking his position, he rarely made eye contact with anyone, keeping his attention fixed on the doors, windows, corridors, and any spots that could approach the head seat.
If someone shifted their posture, his gaze would naturally sweep over them; if a server approached with tea, he would glance at their hands as well.
Washio suddenly realized that since he had walked through the door tonight, this man had probably memorized the position of every single person in the room.
Including himself.
The thought made his back tighten slightly.
Saionji was of course here to negotiate today.
Satsuki would sit down, drink tea, and explain the prepared conditions one by one to the three factions; Watanabe Yoshinori, Hoshino, and Yuhiro Inagawa would also put forward their own demands.
Everyone was dressed in suits, with paper and pens on the table, looking no different from any formal meeting.
Yet Saionji had still brought Dojima Gen along, and specifically right after the man had returned from the Gulf.
Thus, Saionji's stance was very clear.
Matters on the table could be discussed on the table.
But as for anyone who thought Saionji Satsuki was too young and wanted to bring back the old yakuza ways of solving problems from decades ago—
The man who had actually been on a battlefield was standing right behind her.
At 7:27, footsteps echoed from the corridor outside.
Hoshino stopped talking with the executive beside him, Watanabe Yoshinori placed his teacup back onto the tray, and Yuhiro Inagawa pushed the business card case near his hand slightly aside.
Those sitting on the periphery stood up one after another.
Dojima Gen took two steps toward the door.
The door slid open, and Chizuru walked in first, followed by Saionji Satsuki.
Washio had seen photos of Satsuki before.
Only one.
It was a candid photo leaked from who-knows-where a few years ago.
It had been taken from a long distance, and the image was somewhat blurry.
The girl in the photo was about to get into a black sedan, showing only half of her profile, surrounded by several of Saionji's security personnel.
Later, that photo circulated in the underworld for a while.
After all, everyone knew that the person truly making decisions for Saionji in recent years was likely this girl, yet she rarely appeared in the media, and it was difficult to find even a single sufficiently clear front-facing photo of her.
So it was not until tonight that Washio finally saw Saionji Satsuki clearly for the first time.
She was even younger than in that photo.
And far more petite than he had imagined.
If Watanabe Yoshinori, Hoshino, and Yuhiro Inagawa had not stood up at the same time, Washio would have found it hard to connect this young girl in a simple dark dress with the "Saionji" that had become increasingly feared in the underworld over the years.
When she passed by Dojima Gen, Dojima stepped aside half a pace, waiting for her to pass before following behind.
A large crowd of men old enough to be her father or even grandfather stood in the room.
She, on the other hand, was the most inconspicuous one.
At least in terms of build.
Watanabe Yoshinori bowed first.
"Miss Saionji."
Hoshino and Yuhiro Inagawa followed suit, and the rest of the people in the room immediately bowed their heads in unison.
Washio also bent his waist.
Looking at the small pattern on the tatami mat, he suddenly felt the scene was somewhat absurd.
The Yamaguchi-gumi, the Sumiyoshi-kai, and the Inagawa-kai.
Japan's three most influential underworld forces were sitting here tonight, respectfully waiting for an eighteen-year-old girl to come and set the rules for them.
What was even more absurd was that everyone seemed to think this was perfectly normal.
On what basis? Just because she was rich?
"Good evening."
Satsuki returned the greeting, her tone natural.
"I apologize for keeping you waiting."
"We only just arrived ourselves."
Watanabe Yoshinori smiled and invited her to take her seat.
"Since Miss Saionji was willing to come in person, this little bit of time is nothing."
"I am relieved to hear Mr. Watanabe say so."
Satsuki walked to the head seat and sat down.
Chizuru arranged the documents to her back-right, while Dojima Gen stood a few paces away.
Although not all of Saionji's security personnel had entered the room, there were always people guarding the door and corridor outside.
Washio watched this, and remembered what that man had said a few days ago.
"Saionji is actually not as terrifying as you imagine."
When he heard those words that day, he had only thought the other party was trying to instigate him.
But the other sentence seemed to be true.
"Your leaders are planning to sell you out."
Yuhiro Inagawa was the first to speak.
Placing his hands flat on his knees, he bowed to Satsuki.
He did this very formally, with even more gravity than when they had just met.
"Allow me to first apologize to Miss Saionji regarding the matter with Ishii."
Sitting in the back row, Washio's brow twitched uncontrollably.
Yuhiro Inagawa sat up straight again, his tone polite.
"Mr. Ishii has already stepped down. Those past securities and financing transactions were also matters of his own operation."
"Now that problems have arisen, any money that needs to be repaid will be repaid by him personally, and any assets to be disposed of will be handled normally according to the creditor-debtor relationship. The association has already passed down the word; no one will go to the banks or securities companies because of his business."
Satsuki listened, her fingertip gently touching the lid of her teacup, nudging it back to the center.
"That is very good."
Her voice was very soft, and there was a faint smile on her face.
Having reached this point, Yuhiro Inagawa's expression grew slightly more serious.
"There is one more thing I would like to explain to Miss Saionji beforehand."
Satsuki raised her eyes.
"When Ishii first discovered that the banks and securities companies were starting to avoid him, he did not know Saionji was behind it." Yuhiro Inagawa paused slightly. "Following his usual way of handling things, he did indeed harbor other intentions.
"However, at that time, they still thought it was just a few financial institutions suddenly turning their backs on him after the news broke."
He spoke, bowing to Satsuki once more.
"Once they found out it was Saionji, things became completely different. Ishii understands this himself; if he had known it was you from the start, he would never have allowed his subordinates to even think in that direction."
Satsuki's finger remained on the teacup lid, and she only offered a soft "Mhm" in response.
Yuhiro Inagawa continued, "Those words ultimately remained just talk. No one was sent out, and the banks were not harassed in any way, so please rest assured."
"However, the association has already conducted an internal investigation. All the executives who proposed bringing men to the door back then have been disciplined, and the person responsible for passing the message has been dismissed."
By the time he finished, his tone had grown significantly more solemn.
"Regardless of whether they knew it was Saionji at the time, the fact that they almost dared to make a move against you is due to our lack of discipline."
"For this, I must still offer my apologies to you."
"I see."
After listening, Satsuki leisurely withdrew her hand from the teacup lid.
"Since nothing happened and it has already been dealt with, let us leave it at that."
She spoke casually, taking the file Chizuru handed to her.
"However, this matter does happen to prove that today's meeting is indeed necessary."