Rebirth in Japan: The Heiress Who Conquered the World

At the same time.

Chiyoda Ward, Nagata-cho.

Prime Minister’s Official Residence.

The spacious office felt suffocating.

Thick cumulus clouds outside had swallowed the pale daylight. The room was dim, lit only by a few wall lamps that threw faint halos.

The incumbent Prime Minister, Kaifu Toshiki, sat upright behind the large desk.

Since the APEX unlisted-stock scandal and the previous Prime Minister’s sex scandal exploded last year, toppling cabinets one after another, Kaifu—a man with a clean image but from a weak, peripheral party faction—had been shoved forward by Osawa Ichiro. He was a ”clean signboard” meant to calm public anger.

But while he held the country’s highest office in name, he had no political base of his own. Every decision in this room was made on strings pulled by the Osawa Faction behind him.

He knew better than anyone that he was a transitional puppet, kept around to take the fall.

His hands rested, clasped, on the desk. His face was a mask, betraying nothing.

Osawa Ichiro’s chief secretary, Hirano, stood two meters away.

Hirano’s posture was deferential—waist slightly bent—but his lowered eyes carried the arrogance of borrowed power.

He held a thick document in both hands, stepped forward, and laid it on Kaifu’s desk.

”Draft Speech for the Parliament on the Abolition of the Large-Scale Retail Store Law.”

”Your Excellency Kaifu.” Hirano took a half step back, voice even. ”Secretary-General Osawa hopes you will review this draft. At tomorrow’s plenary session, the Secretary-General requires that you, in the name of the Cabinet’s absolute leadership, personally deliver the speech to the Diet and the public, and push for a vote on the abolition bill.”

Kaifu lowered his gaze to the cover.

He knew exactly what this meant.

With the stock market in free fall and the Ministry of Finance’s ”total volume regulation” strangling small and mid-size firms, public anger was already at a boil. Forcing through the repeal of the Large-Scale Retail Store Law—the one thing protecting grassroots retailers—was throwing a bomb onto a powder keg.

Osawa wanted Washington’s favor and a U.S. political endorsement, and he didn’t care about the cost.

Yet Osawa stayed backstage, demanding that Kaifu—the nominal Prime Minister—stand in front of millions of retail workers and take the rotten eggs, the curses, even the suicide protests.

Once the bill passed, Cabinet approval would crater. Then the Osawa Faction would ride public outrage, call a no-confidence vote, and toss Kaifu aside as the scapegoat.

Use and discard. That was Osawa’s rule.

Kaifu didn’t get angry.

He didn’t slam the desk or tear up the draft. In this arena, rage was weakness.

He unclasped his hands slowly, laced his fingers, and rested his elbows on the chair arms.

”Hirano-kun.”

Kaifu looked up, calm.

”I’ve seen the draft.”

Hirano bowed slightly.

”Since Your Excellency understands the Secretary-General’s intent, I’ll take my leave. I need to report progress to Master Osawa.”

He started to turn.

”Hirano-kun.” Kaifu’s voice cut through the dim room. ”How long have you served Secretary-General Osawa?”

Hirano stopped. Confusion flickered across his face, but he kept his posture respectful.

”In response, Your Excellency, nearly five years. Since Master Osawa was Deputy Secretary-General under the Takeshita Cabinet, I’ve handled all confidential faction matters.”

”Five years. That’s not short.”

Kaifu nodded and leaned back. His gaze turned sharp.

”As chief confidential secretary, you’ve handled the Osawa Faction’s money flows, donor contacts, and off-book meetings yourself, correct?”

Hirano’s back stiffened. He heard the danger in the question.

”That is part of my duty, Your Excellency,” Hirano said carefully.

”Duty.”

A cold, humorless smile touched Kaifu’s mouth.

He picked up an internal briefing and flipped it idly.

”Those core real estate backers under the Secretary-General— the Kanto Real Estate Alliance chairman, the big Chiba construction firms. Their days must be hard lately, yes?”

Hirano’s pupils shrank. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

”Once the Ministry of Finance’s ’total volume regulation’ hit, the banks’ loan recalls came down like a death sentence.”

”Their cash chains snapped. Companies sealed, accounts frozen.”

”I imagine they’ve been calling Secretary-General Osawa nonstop, begging for help.”

Kaifu met Hirano’s eyes.

”How did the Secretary-General reply?”

Hirano’s breathing quickened. The memory surfaced: Osawa in a leather sofa, smoking a Cuban cigar, ignoring wailing donors, refusing to take calls. He’d told Hirano to pass along one message—*’Raise money yourselves. Hold on another half-month.’*

The casual cruelty—treating allies like disposable trash—still made Hirano sick.

”The Secretary-General... is trying to solve it,” Hirano forced out.

”Hirano-kun. In this room, don’t bother with lies.”

Kaifu dropped the briefing on the desk.

”Osawa’s capital chain is broken. His domestic base died in the banks’ withdrawals.”

”He’s a drowning man now. To survive, to keep his power in Nagata-cho, he’ll sell this country’s economic barriers and bow to the Americans.”

Kaifu stood, hands on the desk.

His eyes pinned Hirano, whose face was losing color.

”He’s willing to throw me—the Prime Minister—out as a shield. Let me take the nation’s curses, then plan a no-confidence motion next month to kick me aside.”

”Hirano-kun. When the public’s rage peaks, and the Osawa Faction needs a new scapegoat for dark-money politics and foreign collusion...”

Kaifu’s voice dropped, each word deliberate.

”What happens to you—the chief secretary who did all his dirty work, set up the secret meetings, interfaced with foreign capital?”

Hirano froze. The air felt gone. Cold ran from his feet to his skull.

Osawa’s blank face mixed with the faces of bankrupt donors in his mind.

Would Osawa protect him? Impossible. Osawa would pin every crime on him. Claim the secretary acted alone and colluded with foreign interests.

What waited was a Special Investigation Department warrant, endless interrogation, maybe a ”suicide” staged as a car wreck on a dark road.

Hirano’s chest heaved. He’d served Osawa five years. He knew the man’s reach inside the party. The thought of betrayal made him shake. He searched his memory for one time Osawa saved a subordinate.

He found only Osawa with that cigar, ignoring the desperate calls.

They could have been saved. Why turn away?...What about me? Will I be saved?

His legs felt weak. His hands clutched his coat hem.

”Your Excellency...” Hirano’s voice trembled. ”What do I do? Osawa controls the votes and the media. Even if I know he’ll abandon me, I have no way to fight...”

As expected—a bully who only had power when standing behind someone else.

Kaifu watched Hirano’s pale face and stood.

”Osawa Ichiro thinks he controls everything.”

”But he forgets: in this country, political power isn’t born from nothing.”

Kaifu rounded the desk and stopped in front of Hirano.

”Everything he has was given to him.”

”Without massive funding behind him, could he have toppled the Takeshita Cabinet? Without someone clearing obstacles, could he sit where he sits now?”

Hirano blinked.

”You mean...”

”Go get them.” Kaifu’s gaze was iron.

”The records of Osawa Ichiro colluding with U.S. Economic Minister William—promising to sell out the Large-Scale Retail Store Law. His secret itinerary at Shoto-tei. And those life-saving tapes you recorded for him.”

Kaifu’s voice was low and final.

”Those pieces of evidence are our only bargaining chip to survive.”

He walked past Hirano to the window and stared at the black sky.

”Then prepare an unlisted private car. No Cabinet logs.”

”We’re going to Bunkyo Ward.”

”We’re going to the Saionji Family.”