Rebirth in Japan: The Heiress Who Conquered the World

October 14, 1990. Sunday.

When Satsuki woke up, the electronic clock on the bedside table showed 7:42. It was almost an hour later than usual.

The curtains were not drawn tight, and a thin ray of light leaked through the gap, cutting diagonally across the edge of the tatami and landing on the cover of the Economic White Paper she had left by her pillow.

A handwritten note from Endo was still clipped to the spine of the book.

She lay in the quilt for another thirty seconds before sitting up and stepping barefoot onto the floor.

The wooden floor in mid-October already had a chill, and the moment her soles touched it, her skin contracted slightly.

She reflexively ran through today’s schedule in her mind and realized it was empty, which was rare.

---

In the dining room, Shuichi was already sitting at the table.

A copy of the Nihon Keizai Shimbun was spread out in front of him, and a cup of half-steeped sencha sat on his left.

The newspaper in his hands was turned to the third page, the entire page filled with gray-toned headlines.

When Satsuki entered, he looked up.

”Good morning, Satsuki.”

”Good morning, Father.”

Satsuki sat down in her place.

Fujita had already prepared her black tea. Today’s tea was Ceylon Uva, with the water at 85 degrees and steeped for three and a half minutes.

The teacup was white-based with blue patterns, Wedgwood, with a thin layer of steam condensing on the wall of the cup.

She picked it up and took a sip. The temperature was just right.

Shuichi folded the newspaper and placed it on the corner of the table.

”Three more companies were listed in the paper today.”

”Oh?”

”Bankruptcies. Two are construction companies, and one is in printing.” His tone was flat, as if he had long since become accustomed to it. ”The printing one is in Nerima, over sixty employees.”

”Hmm.”

Satsuki drank her tea, responding casually.

Her gaze fell on the dark brown folder on the side of the dining table.

That was the morning briefing sent by someone dispatched by Endo before 6:00 AM every day. A few thin sheets of paper, A4 size, held together by a paperclip.

She reached out and opened the first page.

Pudong B-07: Geological exploration has completed all borehole sampling. Stratum data has been sent back to the Yokohama Port Authority for confirmation, and the pile foundation construction plan is pending approval.

Jena Office: Gruber has signed the employment contract, and Lange is expected to report for duty next week. Hoffmann’s visa application is currently being processed.

Domestic Harvesting Line: Twenty-one new bankruptcy declarations this week, fourteen in Kanto and seven in Kansai. Endo has marked three as worth following up on after initial screening. Summaries are attached.

Crude Oil OTC Options Positions: Unchanged.

Middle East: No new signals.

Satsuki closed the folder.

Everything was progressing steadily. There was nothing she needed to do.

Shuichi watched her from across the table.

”How have you been sleeping lately?”

”It’s alright.”

”Your dark circles are deeper than last week.”

”I don’t have dark circles.”

”You do.”

Shuichi’s chopsticks paused in the miso soup bowl.

He looked at the cup of black tea by Satsuki’s hand.

”Fujita said the light in your study didn’t go out until two o’clock last night.”

Satsuki put down the teacup and pretended to be angry.

”Hmph, Fujita talks too much.”

Shuichi smiled slightly and didn’t press further.

”Just make sure you know your limits. Don’t force yourself.”

”If there’s anything you need me for, just say so.”

He picked up his chopsticks again and picked up a piece of tamagoyaki.

”Hmm, I know.”

Outside the window in the courtyard, the leaves of the maple tree had already begun to change color.

A few leaves on the top layer were tinged with a faint vermilion from the tips inward, as if they had been dyed from the edges with extremely pale watercolor.

The leaves further down were still green.

Mid-October. The color change had just begun.

The morning sunlight lay diagonally across the wooden floor of the veranda, with tiny dust motes slowly rotating in the light.

”Then I’m heading out.” Shuichi wiped the corners of his mouth and stood up. ”I have a meeting this afternoon. The progress on the Odaiba side needs to be confirmed. Dinner...”

”I’ll be home,” Satsuki said.

Shuichi stood up, took two steps, then stopped and looked back.

Satsuki was stirring the black tea in her cup with a small silver spoon.

Her posture was upright, her spine straight.

The morning light shone on her profile from the side, and the seventeen-year-old contours had already shed the roundness of girlhood. The lines of her cheekbones and jaw were sharp and distinct.

Shuichi opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something.

In the end, he just smiled slightly.

Then he turned, and his footsteps gradually faded away on the wooden floor.

Satsuki sat for another three minutes. The teacup was empty, but she didn’t ask Fujita to refill it.

”Fujita.”

”Yes.” The voice came from two meters behind her.

”Prepare the study.”

”Understood.”

---

The curtains in the study were only half drawn.

Sunlight filtered through the shoji paper, filling the entire study with a uniform, warm white.

Satsuki sat at the desk, with three things spread out before her: Endo’s morning briefing, which she had read, a fax from the Frankfurt office, and an envelope.

The envelope was beige, with the crest of the University of Tokyo Faculty of Engineering printed on the corner.

It was from Emi.

Satsuki opened it.

Inside were two pages.

The first page was a semi-formal progress report. The WIDE project group’s gateway customization had entered the second round of prototype testing, with throughput increased by 47% compared to the first generation, but there were still three known defects in the protocol stack compatibility that needed fixing.

The handwriting was neat, the line spacing was even, and she had even numbered the beginning of every paragraph.

Then the second page. The style suddenly changed.

It was Suzuki Emi’s personal handwriting, scrawled, slanted, and some strokes of characters were simply omitted.

”P.S. The coffee machine in the lab is finally fixed. Two weeks! Satsuki-chan, do you know how we survived?”

”The professors survived on vending machines for a full fourteen days! I feel like every one of them looked like a bank president about to go bankrupt.”

”P.P.S. I tore down and rewrote the branch logic of the protocol stack last week, starting from zero. Third time. The professor even asked me, ’Student Suzuki, are you sure?’ I said I was sure. His expression looked like he’d seen someone demolish a house they’d just finished building. But he didn’t stop me. He’s such a good person.”

”P.P.P.S. By the way, that English original of the MIPS instruction set manual you told me about, the bookstore said it’s out of print. Satsuki-chan, do you have a way to get it? You definitely do, right? Onegai! Please!”

”P.P.P.P.S. When are you coming to play at the University of Tokyo, Satsuki-chan? The curry rice in the cafeteria is terrible, but you can see Tokyo Tower from the roof of the library.”

The last line was written at the very bottom of the paper, the characters pressed very small:

”Don’t be too tired. Although you won’t listen even if I say it.”

Satsuki’s mouth twitched, the movement extremely small.

She folded the two pages, put them back into the envelope, and placed them on the corner of the desk.

She didn’t take out letter paper to reply.

She would tell her in person next time she went to the University of Tokyo.

Putting the envelope away, Satsuki leaned back slightly, resting against the back of the chair, looking up at the ceiling.

The study fell quiet, with only the sound of the shishi-odoshi occasionally coming from afar.

She let her thoughts relax, relax further, and let them drift away.

Rising, rising again, rising high into the sky.

She looked down.

Below was Tokyo in mid-October.

The texture of this city was undergoing a change that was not easily perceptible to the naked eye.

The neon lights of Ginza were still on, the trains were still running on time, and office workers were still squeezing themselves into flat shapes to fit into the carriages during the morning rush hour.

Everything was operating normally in an orderly fashion, looking the same as it always did.

But in reality, some capillaries were already contracting.

French restaurants in Roppongi were pulling down their iron shutters one after another.

The nights in Shinjuku’s Kabukicho had become shorter, and there were more empty spaces than cars in the taxi waiting areas.

People’s consumption habits were changing rapidly due to the bursting of the bubble, and countless budget brands were stirring on this concrete ground.

The completion area data released weekly by the Ministry of Construction was continuously declining, but because the release of the figures was always two months behind reality, the newspapers were still using the phrase ”economic adjustment.”

Everything was slowly changing, and the great hand of the era was gently stirring this city.

And on this slowly receding shoal, the balance sheet of the Saionji Group was expanding in the opposite direction.

Countless construction projects in progress, talent from all walks of life, production capacity from bankrupt companies, crude oil options from the Middle East.

The pieces on the chessboard were each in place, and she didn’t need to move them by hand for the time being.

Wait.

All she needed to do was wait.

The variable was about to happen.

Her thoughts slowly sank, sank again.

Piercing through the clouds, piercing through the roof, returning to Satsuki.

Satsuki slowly opened her eyes, watching the light and shadow move slowly on the shoji paper.