Rebirth in Japan: The Heiress Who Conquered the World

December 31, 1988.

New Year’s Eve.

11:30 PM.

Bunkyo Ward, Saionji Main Family Residence.

The snow outside had stopped, its weight pressing down on the old pines in the courtyard until branches snapped with faint cracks. Inside the mansion, the floor heating system operated silently, maintaining the room temperature at a comfortable twenty-four degrees Celsius. The air was thick with the aroma of black tea and the scent of printer ink.

The large mahogany desk in the study was covered in thick stacks of documents.

Those were the final financial reports for the Saionji Group, or S.A. Group, for the year 1988, rushed out overnight by a certain anonymous individual.

Shuichi sat in a high-backed chair, holding the heavy stack of reports. His tie was undone, the top two buttons of his shirt were open, and a fine layer of sweat had broken out on his forehead.

The physiological reaction from an adrenaline surge caused his fingers to tremble slightly.

”Satsuki,” Shuichi said, his voice a bit hoarse and his throat dry. ”Come and take a look at this.”

Satsuki walked barefoot across the thick Persian carpet. She wore a wine-red velvet lounge dress, the hem swaying gently with her steps.

She walked to the edge of the desk but didn’t sit down. Instead, she leaned forward with her hands on the desk, peering closely at the dense rows of numbers.

Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks were flushed with a faint glow.

Over the past year, she had strategized, fought, and plundered. Now, looking at these final aggregated figures, she felt a shiver run up her spine. This sensation made her more intoxicated and joyful than any alcohol or praise could. Power and capital were pulsing in her palms, and she was in control of everything.

”Read it to me, Father,” Satsuki said, her voice light and filled with the anticipation of a child about to open a Christmas present. Her eyes sparkled just like a real little girl’s. ”I want to hear exactly how much we took from the pockets of the people of Tokyo this year.”

Seeing this rare display of Satsuki’s childish side, Shuichi’s excitement calmed down slightly.

Yes, my daughter is truly adorable, he thought.

He put his glasses back on, his finger tracing line after line on the spreadsheet.

”First is S-Food, the Food Sector,” Shuichi said, his voice echoing in the study. ”This is currently our most stable cash flow. Thanks to our absolute control over the supply chains of the three major convenience stores — FamilyMart, Lawson, and 7-Eleven — and the extremely low raw material costs from S-Farm in Hokkaido, the monthly net profit for this sector has stabilized at twenty-five billion yen.”

He looked up at the chandelier overhead.

”Twenty-five billion. That’s equivalent to over eighty million yen flowing in every time I open my eyes in the morning. As long as the people of Tokyo open their mouths to eat, they are paying us.”

Satsuki listened with her head tilted, her expression equally excited.

”Continue, Father. Don’t stop,” she urged.

Shuichi swallowed and flipped to the next page, his emotions rising even higher.

”S-Collection and Uniqlo, the Retail Sector,” he said. ”While S-Collection’s haute couture continues to maintain stable high profits, Uniqlo is even more absurd. That Tadashi Yanai is truly a retail genius. Even with several of our newly built factories running simultaneously, his sales speed can actually keep up, though Yanai is on the verge of burning out.”

Shuichi’s voice rose involuntarily, even cracking slightly.

”The monthly net profit for this sector reached twenty billion yen. Furthermore, in just the past week, that ’Tax-Avoidance Mega Sale’ campaign recovered nearly thirty billion yen in additional cash for us.”

”We can squeeze out a large number of competitors again. Clothes are items with a high replacement cycle. By front-loading a portion of next year’s consumption power now, business will be sluggish for at least the next quarter.”

Satsuki gave a delighted chuckle, her fingers unconsciously scratching the tabletop.

”Though we’ll be slightly affected as well, it doesn’t matter. This money is perfect for getting through the winter. What else?” she asked.

”Next is Technology and Finance, S.A. Investment and SIS,” Shuichi said, looking at this section. His expression became complicated. This was the part he understood the least yet respected the most — the black box created single-handedly by his daughter. ”The ’millisecond’ dedicated line rentals Saionji Information System charges to investment banks like Goldman Sachs, plus the interest generated by our massive cash reserves in overseas accounts, bring in a pure profit of twelve billion yen every month even if we do nothing.”

”And that doesn’t even include the unrealized gains on our holdings in Microsoft, Cisco, and Oracle. That’s an even more astronomical figure.”

Finally, Shuichi flipped to the last page and slapped his palm down heavily on the row of numbers.

”Real Estate and Entertainment, S.A. Real Estate and Entertainment,” he said. ”The Ginza Crystal Palace is fully leased, the Akasaka Pink Building brings in fifty million a day, plus the steady stream of coins from the Karaoke Boxes scattered across every corner of Tokyo.”

”This sector has a monthly net profit of eight hundred million yen.”

Snap.

Shuichi closed the report.

He stood up and walked to the fireplace, looking at his daughter in the firelight. His voice trembled from extreme exhilaration.

”Twenty-five billion from S-Food, twenty billion from Retail, twelve billion from Finance, eight hundred million from Real Estate,” he said.

He held out both hands, tracing a massive circle in the air as if trying to embrace this overwhelming wealth.

”Sixty-five billion yen.”

”Satsuki, do you know what this means? It means the Saionji Family can net sixty-five billion yen every month! And that’s just net profit!”

”We are even healthier than those zaibatsu that own banks, because we either have no debt or an extremely low debt-to-equity ratio!”

Shuichi paced back and forth excitedly, his indoor shoes tapping a rapid rhythm on the floor.

This was faster than the Ministry of Finance could print banknotes.

Once money reaches a certain level, it transforms into power.

It is a power that can buy dignity, buy authority, and buy all the rules of this world.

”It’s truly beautiful,” Satsuki said, reaching out. Her fingertips gently caressed the cold folder as if stroking a lover’s skin.

She closed her eyes, as if she could smell the intoxicating scent of blood and money behind those numbers.

”Father, can you feel it?” she asked, opening her eyes. Her obsidian pupils shimmered with a light of delight that made even Shuichi feel a slight tremor in his heart. ”This is the sound of blood flowing. It’s wonderful. This feeling of my heart almost jumping out of my chest is more intoxicating than any red wine.”

She walked around the desk to Shuichi’s side and took his hand.

”We are no longer the Old Kazoku who need to watch the banks’ expressions,” she said. ”Now, we are the bank.”

Shuichi gripped his daughter’s hand. That small hand was warm and soft, yet it held the helm of this massive empire.

”Yes,” Shuichi sighed. ”Sometimes I wonder, could this all be a dream?”

”You said that last year too, you know?” Satsuki said as she let go and walked to the TV cabinet by the wall.

She turned on the television.

On the screen, NHK was broadcasting a special news program. The imagery was solemn, and the announcer’s voice was low and grave.

On the screen, in front of the Nijubashi Bridge at the Imperial Palace, countless citizens were lining up in the cold wind to sign the guestbook and pray for the Emperor. All of Tokyo was shrouded in an atmosphere of jishuku, making the New Year’s Eve that should have been festive feel somewhat oppressive. It was the self-restraint period of the late Showa era.

”Look,” Satsuki said, pointing at the TV screen. Her excitement slightly receded, replaced by her usual elegant smile. ”That era is about to end.”

”Based on the current situation, it will be within the next few days,” she continued.

Shuichi watched the TV, his excited expression also fading into one of solemnity. As Old Kazoku, he had a natural reverence for the Imperial Family. Hearing his daughter so bluntly predict the Emperor’s death gave him a chill down his spine.

Satsuki didn’t mind her father’s reaction. She walked to the desk, picked up a fountain pen, and wrote two characters on a piece of white paper.

The strokes were sharp, pressing through to the back of the paper.

heisei

”Father, this will be the new era name,” Satsuki said, looking at those two characters. The smile on her lips deepened. ”’Peace on earth and in heaven, peace within and without.’ It sounds like a peaceful era.”

”But believe me, this will be the start of the craziest, most turbulent, and most opportunity-filled period in Japanese history.”

Shuichi looked at those two characters, his expression becoming serious.

”1989... what should we do?” he asked, pointing to the giant map of Tokyo on the wall. ”Land prices are insane now. Even land in Nerima Ward has risen to astronomical prices. The land we got from Ezaki in Odaiba has already tripled in valuation.”

”Should we sell? While the Ministry of Finance is still hyping the ’Waterfront Sub-center’ concept, should we liquidate those plots at their peak? A single turnover would mean billions in pure profit, safely in our pockets.”

”No,” Satsuki said as she turned around and shook her head decisively.

She walked to the map and picked up a red marker.

The tip of the pen drew a heavy circle in the bottom right corner of the map, over the blue waters of Tokyo Bay.

That was Odaiba.

The reclaimed land known as ’Block 13’ floated lonely on the sea, surrounded by a blank planning zone.

”It’s still too early, Father,” she said. ”The banquet has only just reached the main course. It would be a pity to leave now.”

”Not a single tsubo of that land in Odaiba is to be sold.”

She tapped the red circle with the pen tip and then expanded it, circling all the surrounding undeveloped wasteland.

”Not only am I not selling, I want to buy more,” she said. ”I want this, this, and this.”

”I want to turn this entire area of reclaimed land into Saionji Family territory.”

”Buy more?” Shuichi frowned and pushed up his glasses. ”Satsuki, do you know how high the land prices there have been hyped? And if we develop it ourselves, the investment in infrastructure and seawalls alone would be astronomical.”

”With current construction costs, building on that sea is practically burning money. We could easily sell the land to Mitsubishi Estate or Mori Building and let them deal with the headache of construction,” he argued.

”Precisely because no one dares to easily burn that money, we can establish our own rules there,” Satsuki said, turning around and leaning against the map with her arms wide. ”Father, what I want isn’t the profit from land price differences.”

”What I want is a city.”

”An ’Independent Kingdom’ belonging to the Saionji Family.”

”We will build a tower here — Saionji Tower. It will be the absolute hub of the group, with its own power generation system, satellite communication system, and security center.”

”We will move the headquarters of all our subsidiaries like S-Food, Uniqlo, and SIS there, built to surround Saionji Tower. We’ll also build luxury apartments, schools, and hospitals nearby.”

Her voice became increasingly provocative.

”We want our employees to live there, work there, and spend their money there. From their daily needs to their birth, aging, sickness, and death, all activities will be there. We want their families, their property, and everything they care about to be right there.”

”I want my employees to not even know how to live if they leave Saionji.”

”I want my employees to be unable to imagine what a world without Saionji would be like.”

”That will be a ’Noah’s Ark’ that can continue to operate independently even if Tokyo sinks or the Japanese economy collapses.”

Listening to his daughter’s description, Shuichi felt his scalp go numb.

She wanted to build a ’city within a city’ on an isolated island in Tokyo Bay, under the absolute control of the Saionji Family.

”But... this would require pouring all of our profits into it,” Shuichi reminded her.

”Money only depreciates if you just keep it,” Satsuki said as she walked to the window and pushed it open slightly. The midnight winter wind rushed in, blowing her long hair. ”Beyond Odaiba, we must extend our reach even further.”

She held up several fingers.

”First, semiconductors and precision manufacturing. Nikon’s lithography machines, Kyocera’s ceramic materials, Shin-Etsu Chemical’s silicon wafers. Buy their stock, or directly acquire their upstream suppliers. This is Japan’s only current barrier. We must secure our position.”

”Second, technological acquisitions. Let S.A. Investment continue its shopping spree in the US. Whether it’s software companies in Silicon Valley or special effects studios in Hollywood, if they have unique expertise, buy them all.”

”Third, healthcare and elderly care,” Satsuki said, turning her head to look at her aging father. ”Japan is aging. We need to invest in the best medical equipment companies and build the highest-end nursing homes. In the future, life itself will be the most expensive commodity.”

”And...” she said, pointing to the empty vase in the corner of the study. ”Go to Sotheby’s and Christie’s. Buy paintings, buy antiques.”

”Van Gogh, Monet, Picasso. As long as they are authentic, buy them back regardless of the cost.”

Shuichi was stunned for a moment. ”You mean... like those nouveau riche, using art pieces to decorate the facade?”

”No, Father,” Satsuki said with a smile, a smile carrying a hint of calm arrogance. ”Nouveau riche buy paintings to prove they have money. We buy paintings for asset allocation.”

”When currency turns into scrap paper, a Monet hanging on the wall is still a Monet. It is a hard currency that is more portable, more discreet, and better at preserving value than gold. We already have enough gold.”

”Furthermore, as Old Kazoku, only by holding these crystals of human civilization in our hands do we possess the right to define the discourse of ’high society.’”

Dong...

In the distance, the first bell rang out.

It was the Joya no Kane.

One hundred and eight tolls to eliminate the one hundred and eight worldly desires and troubles of mankind.

But in the Saionji household, this bell sounded more like a bugle call to march.

Shuichi stood up and walked behind his daughter.

He looked at the ’Odaiba Kingdom’ circled in red on the map, then at his daughter’s ambitious profile, feeling an unprecedented sense of pride swelling in his chest.

It was a desire to hold the entire world in his hands.

”Father,” Satsuki said, reaching out and catching a snowflake drifting in.

The snowflake instantly melted into a drop of water in her hot palm.

”Are you ready?” she asked, turning her head to look at her father. The light in her eyes was more brilliant than the fireworks outside. ”1989...”

”We will build Our Independent Kingdom.”