Rebirth in Japan: The Heiress Who Conquered the World

In mid-October Tokyo, the autumn air had grown thick and heavy. Ginkgo leaves were turning golden, drifting lazily onto the streets of Chiyoda Ward with every breeze. Yet amid the quiet melancholy of the season, Akihabara burned like a cauldron of boiling oil.

The narrow back alley that housed Itakura Trading Company—normally frequented only by stray cats—now hosted a long, restless queue. Elementary school students with backpacks fresh from class stood shoulder to shoulder with anxious salarymen in rumpled suits and even a few housewives clutching their secret savings. Every one of them had come for the same prize: the legendary red cartridge said to be addictive after a single play and now impossible to find anywhere in Japan.

Super Mario Bros.

”Is it really sold out? My child wants nothing else for his birthday!”

”I’ve been waiting three hours! I’ll pay extra!”

”Boss! I heard you still have stock—don’t hide it!”

The clamor filled the alley, threatening to topple the rickety sign above the shop.

A sleek black luxury car glided to a stop in the shadows at the far end of the lane. Satsuki stepped out, dressed today in inconspicuous casual clothes and a dark beret pulled low over her forehead. Suzuki Emi—Amy—followed close behind, clutching the straps of her oversized backpack so tightly her knuckles whitened. She stared at the frantic crowd and shrank back nervously.

”So... so many people,” Amy stammered. ”Saionji-san, is that game truly so incredible?”

”The game itself is impressive, yes,” Satsuki replied, pressing down the brim of her hat. A knowing smile touched the corners of her mouth. ”But what makes it powerful is scarcity.”

Rather than approach the front entrance, she led Amy expertly around to the shop’s rear. A rusty iron door stood slightly ajar. Satsuki pushed it open, and a gust of air thick with the scent of old cardboard and stale sweat washed over them.

Inside the dim warehouse, shopkeeper Itakura sat atop a stack of boxes, calculator in hand, sweat pouring down his face as his fingers flew across the keys. His eyes gleamed with a feverish, almost hallucinatory daze.

”Fifty thousand... one hundred thousand... one million...”

He muttered to himself, utterly unaware of their arrival.

”Mr. Itakura,” Satsuki called, her voice crisp and clear.

Itakura startled so violently he nearly dropped the calculator. When he saw who stood before him, a broad smile split his stubbled face, as reverent as if he were greeting his own mother—or a living deity.

”M-Miss! You’re here!”

He scrambled down from the boxes, ignoring the dust, and dropped to his knees before her in utter devotion.

”It’s a miracle! A genuine miracle! How did you know this thing would explode like this? It’s a money-printing machine!”

He gestured wildly at the mountain of boxes behind him, words tumbling out in excitement.

”My competitors used to mock me for hoarding a thousand units, saying I was courting ruin. Now they’re weeping and begging me for even a handful! On the black market the price has already shot up to twenty thousand yen per cartridge—and even then, they’re nearly impossible to find!”

Twenty thousand yen. More than triple the original price.

Amy’s eyes widened. She remembered the five million yen Satsuki had invested barely two months earlier. At today’s prices, that sum would have grown to fifteen million. Heavens! It was more profitable than her father’s entire factory.

Satsuki, however, showed no surprise. She walked to the stack of boxes and gently stroked the packaging featuring the leaping plumber.

”Are all those people outside asking for individual cartridges?” she asked.

”Yes!” Itakura wiped sweat from his brow. ”I was just about to release a few at twenty thousand yen to pocket some quick cash...”

”No,” Satsuki interrupted.

She turned, fixing him with her signature serene smile.

”Mr. Itakura, you are still too soft-hearted.”

”If they want it so desperately, why not make them pay a higher price?”

Itakura blinked. ”Higher? Twenty thousand is already an astronomical sum...”

”What about those old Famicom consoles gathering dust in your warehouse for two years, and all the unsalable cartridges—Donkey Kong Jr. Math and the rest? How many remain?”

Itakura pulled a face. ”Plenty. At least two hundred consoles and over five hundred rotten games. Dead stock left over from the Atari Shock. No one would take them even as scrap plastic.”

Satsuki’s smile was sweet, yet edged with something sharper.

”Then let us help them clear that inventory.”

She raised one finger.

”From now on, Itakura Trading Company will no longer sell Mario cartridges alone.”

”Anyone who wants one must purchase the ’Mario Super Value Bundle’—bundled with an old console or three designated ’classic’ games from our dead stock.”

Itakura’s jaw dropped.

This was not a sale; it was outright robbery.

”Is... is that acceptable?” he swallowed. ”The parents will curse us.”

”They will curse,” Satsuki agreed calmly, ”but they will still buy. Because nowhere else in Akihabara has stock, and nothing is more unbearable to a parent than a child’s tears.”

She patted his shoulder.

”Remember, we are not selling a game. We are selling peace and quiet. We are selling prestige. We are selling the image of the heroic father in his child’s eyes. That small premium, they can afford.”

Gazing at the twelve-year-old girl before him, Itakura felt a profound awe. This creature who looked human was surely a demon in disguise.

Yet he liked this demon very much—because she could lead him straight to fortune.

”Understood!” Itakura nodded fiercely, a glint of ruthlessness flashing in his eyes. ”I’ll rewrite the price tags right now and drag out every last piece of bottom-shelf trash!”

Watching him rush off as though injected with fresh energy, Satsuki turned to Amy, who had remained frozen in the corner, too nervous to speak.

”Well, Amy?”

She walked over and handed the girl a chilled bottle of Ramune.

”Do you think I am wicked?”

Amy accepted the soda and shook her head honestly.

”No... I think Saionji-san is amazing. If you hadn’t done this, Uncle Itakura’s old stock would have simply rotted away. My father always says inventory is the cancer of any factory. You’re helping him cure it.”

Satsuki regarded the bespectacled girl with mild surprise. Though introverted, Amy possessed an instinctive business sensitivity—unsurprising, perhaps, as the daughter of a factory owner.

She has potential.

”By the way, you mentioned your father’s factory last time...” Satsuki lowered her voice.

Amy glanced around warily, then leaned close to Satsuki’s ear.

”Dad hasn’t been coming home much lately,” she whispered. ”He’s set up a cot inside the factory. He says Nintendo has gone mad—the original order for five hundred thousand units was suddenly raised to two million yesterday.”

”And...” Amy swallowed. ”I overheard him on the phone. Because there aren’t enough chips, Nintendo even chartered a plane to fly them directly from America. The cost... it’s unimaginable.”

Satsuki’s pulse quickened.

Chartering planes for chips. That meant Nintendo’s expectations for the Christmas sales war were sky-high; they were determined to seize the market at any price.

This was no longer merely Mario’s victory—it marked the beginning of the Famicom’s total dominance over Japanese home entertainment.

The intelligence was worth its weight in gold.

”Thank you, Amy.”

Satsuki withdrew a beautifully wrapped gift box from her bag.

”This is a small token of gratitude. The latest Swiss chocolates, and... a lifetime VIP card for Itakura Trading Company.”

Amy accepted the gift with delight. ”Thank you, Saionji-san!”

With that card she would never need to queue again for parts or new games. For a girl who lived for electronics, it was more precious than any designer handbag.

”Go on,” Satsuki said with a smile, gently nudging her forward. ”Watch from the front how Uncle Itakura sells the ’Value Bundles.’ Learn as much as you can—your family’s factory may benefit from it one day.”

Amy nodded vigorously and hurried toward the front hall, clutching her backpack.

Satsuki remained alone in the dim warehouse, listening to the clamor drifting in from outside.

”What? I have to take three garbage games? This is daylight robbery!”

”Stop complaining! If you don’t buy, the people behind you will!”

”I’ll buy it! Give me a set!”

The sound of gold coins raining into the till.

Satsuki leaned against the cool wall, closed her eyes, and savored the moment. The original five million yen, combined with the windfall from clearing dead inventory, would likely return more than twenty million yen in cash.

For the Saionji family, which currently commanded tens of billions in liquidity, twenty million was trivial—barely enough to cover a single day’s renovation costs on the Akasaka building.

Yet this sum carried special significance.

While the family’s main capital was locked into the grand battles of real estate, finance, and textile restructuring under the Two-Faced Janus strategy, those funds formed a cumbersome main army. Mobilizing them required lengthy procedures and the dignified restraint expected of a House of Peers member.

These twenty million yen, however, were wandering ghosts outside the system.

A casual move.

Satsuki murmured the phrase inwardly.

This was capital that required no explanation to anyone, no formal audits, and carried none of the heavy burden of family revival. It could take risks, scheme freely, and roll in the mud that grand capital disdained—whether in the burgeoning game industry or the anime world to come.

Moreover, should an unforeseen black swan strike the main battlefield one day, this invisible fund might become the final lifeline.

”Mr. Itakura,” Satsuki called as the shopkeeper rushed back, face flushed, to fetch more stock.

”Miss! Your orders?” Itakura scurried over at once, eager as a faithful retainer.

”This money must not be deposited into any Saionji family account, nor should you hand it to me in cash.”

Satsuki took a pre-prepared document from her bag and tossed it onto a dusty crate. It was the registration paperwork for an offshore company in the Cayman Islands. Itakura’s name appeared as legal representative, accompanied by an ironclad agreement transferring actual control.

Company name: S.A. Investment.

”Transfer all profits—principal and gains—into this company’s account.”

Satsuki pointed at the document, her tone calm yet carrying absolute authority.

”From today onward, you will serve as the public face of this company. You have only one task—”

She gestured around the dim warehouse filled with electronic components and game cartridges.

”In Akihabara, in this entertainment industry about to erupt, find the ’madmen’ who are short of cash.”

”Whether they make games, draw manga, or design circuit boards—if they are seeds with potential, we will water them. Whether they need one hundred thousand yen or five million, if I see promise, we invest.”

Itakura stared at the English document, hands trembling slightly.

Though he was merely a high-school-educated appliance dealer, he sensed the paper’s weight far exceeded that of the thousand cartridges he had hoarded.

This young lady was asking him to become her shadow.

”M-Miss, I’m only a cartridge seller...” he stammered. ”This kind of big business...”

”It is precisely because you sell cartridges that you can smell the scent of money,” Satsuki interrupted, her gaze sharp as a blade. ”The Saionji name is too conspicuous. There are dirty, tiresome tasks that are inconvenient for us to handle directly. And...”

She paused, a playful smile curving her lips.

”If my father knew I was dabbling in these ’children’s toys,’ he would listen to me, yet he would still worry I was neglecting my proper duties. To avoid distracting him, it is better that this casual move remains in the shadows.”

”What, are you unwilling?”

”I’m willing! Of course I’m willing!”

Itakura straightened like a soldier on parade. He was no fool. Following this girl who could turn stones into gold—even as her shadow—was ten thousand times better than guarding rotting inventory in a dingy alley.

”I’ll sign! Right now!”

He produced his seal and stamped the agreement with decisive force—the contract that, in effect, sold his soul.

”Very good.”

Satsuki tucked the document away and nodded with satisfaction.

”Remember: the existence of S.A. Investment must remain known only to you and me. Not even your wife or children.”

”Understood!” Itakura nodded vigorously, eyes feverish. ”Itakura Trading Company will be your outpost from this day forward. If so much as a fly passes through Akihabara, I will report it to you!”

Satsuki adjusted her beret and pushed open the rusty iron door.

The alley wind was chilly, carrying the melancholy of late autumn, yet it felt refreshingly crisp against her face.

In the distance, a young boy who had just purchased a Value Bundle raced down the street, clutching the red box to his chest. Pure joy radiated from his face, as though he held the entire world in his arms.

Behind him, countless greedy hands already reached toward this Heisei-era bubble.

Play to your heart’s content, she thought softly.

Then she turned and walked toward the black car waiting in the shadows.

The door closed, sealing away the noise and frenzy outside.

The monster stirred once more—quietly, invisibly, yet relentlessly—toward yet another empire.