Rebirth in Japan: The Heiress Who Conquered the World

Hokkaido in April retained winter’s cold in the night wind. The cold was damp and penetrated clothing.

Tomakomai Port was active at night.

The air contained diesel engine noise, the sound of heavy truck tires over speed bumps, and waves contacting concrete breakwaters. The smell was burned heavy oil combined with seaweed.

Clang.

A vending machine dispensed a can of hot coffee.

Satsuki bent and retrieved the hot can from the slot. She did not open it immediately. She held it in both hands for warmth.

She wore a dark cashmere coat tonight, collar raised to cover her jaw. The cut was precise and the fabric expensive, but on the wharf, with the sea wind, it was insufficient.

If safety were not a concern, she would have instructed Fujita and the others to form a line and block the wind.

”Here.” Satsuki inserted another coin, pressed the button, and handed the second can to the person beside her.

Amy took it, shivering. She pulled her scarf up until only her bespectacled eyes were visible. Fog formed on her lenses immediately. She removed them, wiped them on her shirt, and replaced them.

”It is cold,” Amy said, stamping her feet on the concrete. ”Colder than the Bekkai ranch.”

”The sea wind contains moisture. It feels colder than the temperature indicates,” Satsuki said. She opened the tab. Steam emerged.

”Endure it, Amy. We are observing the logistics network of the enterprise. Missing this would be regrettable.”

She drank. The instant coffee was very sweet, but hot.

”This tastes unpleasant. Why are there no cafes here,” Amy said, clutching her coffee and following Satsuki’s gaze.

Moored at the berth ahead was a large white ship.

Red sun emblem on the hull. The name ”Sunflower.” High freeboard, deck lights illuminating the water. A large ramp at the stern extended to the pier, connecting ship to shore.

”Is that a ferry?” Amy asked, narrowing her eyes.

”RORO ship. Mitsui O.S.K. Lines.” The answer came from a middle-aged man in a yellow hard hat standing two steps behind Satsuki. Reflective vest, walkie-talkie in hand. Tamura, head of S.A. Logistics’ Hokkaido region.

He wiped his forehead. Sweat or condensation.

”Roll-on/roll-off. Designed for vehicles. It carries passengers, but the primary function is the vehicle decks. High clearance. Full-size trucks drive directly on.”

As he spoke, a low rumble approached from the port gate.

A convoy of white cold-chain trucks became visible.

New containers. No branding except a black ”S.A.” on the side. Single file, headlights visible in the dark.

”They have arrived,” Satsuki said quietly.

The convoy did not stop. There was no backing up, unloading, or reloading. They proceeded directly to the ship and drove up the steel ramp, one after another, into the vessel.

Efficient. Fast. No wasted movement.

”This is our ’marine highway,’” Satsuki said, tapping the coffee can with a fingertip.

”It departs here, crosses the Tsugaru Strait, travels down the Pacific coast, directly to Oarai Port in Ibaraki.”

She turned, watching red taillights disappear into the hold.

”By land, we would traverse the entire length of Honshu from Hokkaido to Tokyo. Tolls. Fuel. Driver fatigue. Traffic congestion. Each issue costs money and time.”

”But here,” Satsuki indicated the ship, ”we drive the trucks on. Drivers go to the cabins. Hot shower. Hot meal. Bed. Sleep. Wake up tomorrow morning in Kanto.”

Amy observed the disappearing vehicles. ”So the trucks are in transit while the drivers rest?”

”Correct,” Satsuki said, nodding. ”We utilize time.”

She finished the last of her coffee and disposed of the can.

”Mr. Tamura.”

”Yes,” Tamura responded immediately.

”What is in this shipment?”

Tamura did not consult his clipboard. ”Primarily returning engineering equipment, approximately two tons of prototype fresh milk samples, and seed potato samples collected from Tokachi.”

”Testing?”

”Yes. Cold-chain stability during sea transit. Temperature loggers in the containers, recording every ten minutes.”

Satsuki nodded. ”Good. This is a trial.”

She looked at Amy. Amy was holding her half-finished coffee, pier lights reflected in her glasses.

”Amy, does this appear unusual to you? Our potatoes are not in production. Cows are recently in the stalls. Output is minimal. Yet we are operating empty ships. It appears to be an expense.”

Amy nodded. ”Somewhat. For samples, air freight or courier would be less expensive.”

”Because we do not use external routes.” Satsuki’s voice was quiet, audible despite the wind.

”By land, we would use JA-controlled distribution. By rail, we would depend on JR Freight.”

Satsuki stepped to the breakwater and looked down at black water.

”Once production increases, they could disrupt us anywhere in the supply chain. A ’checkpoint’ here. A ’delay’ there. Fresh milk and vegetables would spoil in transit.”

She raised a hand toward the dark sea southward. ”But this sea — they do not control it.”

”This ship docks at Oarai tomorrow morning. Fleet exits, one hour to our facility in Chiba.”

Amy blinked. She recalled that real estate purchase — a disused warehouse in Chiba that seemed illogical six months earlier.

”That site is now Saionji Food’s central kitchen preparation facility.” Satsuki turned, sea at her back, eyes on Amy.

”In the future, nothing from here goes directly to supermarket shelves.

Potatoes are steamed, mashed, become croquette filling. Onions are sliced, fried, become curry base. Beef is sliced, simmered, becomes gyudon topping.

They become rice balls. Bentos. Meal kits.

This is ’de-chefing.’ Industrialized food service.”

A faint smile appeared on Satsuki’s mouth. ”While JA negotiates radish prices at Ota Market, our products bypass their markets entirely. Direct to consumers.”

”Currently, we are establishing infrastructure.”

”Next year, when Tokachi potatoes are harvested and Bekkai milk production increases, what moves through this infrastructure is revenue. Continuous.”

Wooo——

A ship’s horn interrupted her.

Low. Deep. Felt physically.

The massive ramp began to rise, metal producing sound. Gulls on the breakwater took flight through the lights.

The hull vibrated. Stern thrusters agitated black water to white foam.

The ”Sunflower,” loaded with dozens of test trucks, moved away from the pier.

It did not transport Hokkaido’s cold. It transported Hokkaido’s resources.

Amy watched the large vessel recede.

On the black sea, the stern’s red signal light left a long trail, moving with the waves.

”Let’s depart, Amy.” Satsuki pulled her coat tighter. ”Test complete. This wind is causing a headache.”

Amy consumed the last of her lukewarm coffee, disposed of the can, and followed Satsuki.

The black sedan waited roadside.

Heat was present immediately upon entry. Warmth enveloped them and both reacted involuntarily.

Satsuki leaned into the leather and closed her eyes.

”Where to next?” Amy fastened her seatbelt, removed her glasses, and began cleaning them.

”To meet a ’great artist,’” Satsuki said, eyes still closed.

”An artist?” Amy paused, confused. ”Here?”

”Yes. In an environment focused on capital, someone must produce vision.”

Satsuki opened her eyes and looked once more at the shrinking ship.

It was already a small light, disappearing where sea met sky.