Rebirth in Japan: The Heiress Who Conquered the World

The tour continued.

The archives were lined with rows of bookshelves, and foreign journals were locked in cabinets.

The glass cabinet doors were labeled with numbers, and the keys were kept by an elderly administrator.

She sat by the window, a gray blanket over her knees and a logbook by her side.

Some journals stopped at 1988.

A few went up to 1989.

Beyond that, they were missing.

Emi stood before the cabinet, her eyes sweeping over the spines, her lips slightly pressed together.

Some volumes were clearly worn from frequent use, the edges of their spines rubbed white; others looked as if they had never been opened, just quietly tucked in between, serving the display function of ”international exchange still exists here.”

Deputy Director Belov reacted quickly when the words ”Academic Exchange Fund” were mentioned.

”If the Japanese side has further intentions for exchange, we would certainly welcome it. The specific procedures need to be coordinated through the Academy of Sciences’ foreign affairs department, and the list of researchers must also be submitted according to established procedures.”

Satsuki stood behind Shuichi, looking down at the table of contents of a conference proceedings volume, though her attention was focused on Deputy Director Belov’s words.

Established procedures, lists, submission.

This indicated that this was not the first time someone had come to ask.

She closed the proceedings volume, her fingertips resting on the cover.

Germany? United States?

Or have both sides come before?

Shuichi’s voice sounded beside her.

”If Japan and the Soviet Union can establish long-term trust in the field of basic science, it would be a good thing for young scholars on both sides.”

Deputy Director Belov nodded repeatedly.

”Of course, of course.”

His smile was forced.

Like a person who knows there is a draft behind the door, yet still insists on wiping the door frame clean so that the guests will believe it is warm inside.

By the time they left the computing center, it was nearly noon.

Kozlov saw them to the car, his face still wearing a standard smile.

”The afternoon is scheduled for a visit to the State Historical Museum. If you all need a rest, we can adjust the time.”

Shuichi replied with a smile:

”Your arrangements are thoughtful; we are happy to follow the itinerary.”

The car door closed.

The Volga drove away from the Academy of Sciences building.

Satsuki sat in the back row, silent.

Outside the window, gray buildings retreated one by one.

There was a small kiosk selling newspapers by the roadside, its glass window covered in a layer of white mist.

A man stood in front of the kiosk, counting a few coins three times, before finally buying only a thin newspaper.

Kozlov sat in the passenger seat, still introducing the afternoon’s itinerary.

The State Historical Museum.

Buildings around Red Square.

If time permits, we can also stop by the Alexander Garden.

Shuichi nodded occasionally, responding gently.

”Your country’s historical heritage is indeed profound.”

”We are very much looking forward to it.”

”My daughter has also always been very interested in Russian art.”

All just polite pleasantries.

Satsuki lowered her eyes, as if listening, or perhaps just a bit sleepy.

Emi sat next to her, clutching her notebook, her fingertips tapping unconsciously on the cover.

She wanted to speak several times but held it back in the end.

Satsuki did not look at her, just said softly.

”We will talk about it tonight.”

Emi immediately shut her mouth.

”Yes.”

The State Historical Museum was very cold in the afternoon, even colder than the Academy of Sciences.

Perhaps history had a lower priority than science.

The guide Kozlov invited was a woman around forty, wearing black-rimmed glasses; her Japanese was not fluent, but she was very well prepared.

She spoke from Kievan Rus to the Grand Duchy of Moscow, from Ivan the Terrible to Peter the Great, and then to the Napoleonic Wars and the October Revolution.

Shuichi listened very attentively.

He was very good at being a proper foreign guest.

Admiring when he should, remaining silent when he should, and being sufficiently sincere when expressing respect.

Satsuki followed by his side, occasionally glancing at the sabers, icons, aristocratic clothing of the Imperial Russian era, and propaganda posters from the revolutionary period in the display cases.

History here had been organized into something available for viewing.

The glass was polished very clean.

The labels were written very neatly.

But Satsuki always felt that behind those display cases, there was something heavier, slowly sinking along the walls.

Emi was not very interested in the historical exhibits.

She stopped for a full three minutes in front of a 19th-century mechanical counter and squatted down to look at an early telegraph device for a long time.

Kozlov saw this and said with a smile:

”Miss Suzuki seems very interested in machinery.”

Emi immediately stood up straight.

”Yes! It is very educational!”

Satsuki glanced at her, watching her put her hands behind her back.

This girl probably wanted to take everything inside apart again.

Chizuru stood one and a half steps to Satsuki’s right, her eyelashes slightly lowered.

She had only just come to Satsuki’s side recently, and she had immediately arrived in an environment that could be considered hell for a bodyguard like her.

She felt as if almost everyone around them was there to monitor them; the Soviet people seemed to be everywhere.

The administrator at the entrance of the exhibition hall.

The two men in dark coats following thirty meters behind the group.

The cleaner who stayed too long at the corner.

In the reflection of the glass, certain shadows whose footsteps were too synchronized with theirs.

And the visitors who would naturally turn their faces after three seconds whenever Satsuki stopped.

There were so many that Chizuru once suspected whether her own judgment threshold had been pressed too low by the city of Moscow itself.

Fortunately, there were also Fujita’s security personnel outside.

They did not get too close, always scattered in various places around the group.

Whenever the group entered a new exhibition hall, those positions would silently rearrange themselves.

Thus, for this Japanese delegation of fewer than ten people on the surface, there were at least twenty or thirty people circling around them.

If one were to ignore the backdrop of Moscow, this could mostly be considered a decent piece of performance art.

Dinner was at the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel.

Borscht was indeed served.

The soup was thick, with a distinct sour taste, the beef was sliced very thinly, and some sour cream floated on the surface.

Shuichi tasted a spoonful and said with a smile:

”The taste is very good.”

Kozlov seemed very satisfied with this evaluation.

”This is a very traditional dish of ours.”

He started talking again about Russian cuisine, winter, folk music, and the friendly feelings between the people of Japan and the Soviet Union.

Satsuki did not eat much.

She occasionally chimed in, but mostly just listened.

Emi, on the other hand, finished her bread.

She had been highly focused at the computing center during the day and had resisted taking things apart in the afternoon, consuming too much mental energy.

By the end of the meal, she was a bit wilted, her head nodding off.

Satsuki glanced at her.

”Sleepy?”

Emi immediately sat up straight.

”No!”

Satsuki did not expose her.

After dinner, Kozlov offered to escort them back to their rooms to rest.

Just as Shuichi was about to agree, Satsuki spoke softly.

”Mr. Kozlov.”

”Yes?”

”We would like to take a walk near the hotel; would that be alright?”

Kozlov was taken aback for a moment.

”Now?”

”Yes.” Satsuki smiled. ”We have been riding in cars and touring all day; Father also needs to move around a bit.”

”The night view of Moscow is very beautiful. It is rare to come here, and it would be a pity to just stay in the room.”

Kozlov’s gaze lingered on Shuichi’s face for a moment.

Shuichi nodded gently.

”I would also like to walk a bit. An after-dinner walk is a very good habit.”

Kozlov’s smile returned.

”Of course. However, the temperature at night is very low, so please keep warm. The roads near the hotel are safe, but it is best not to go too far.”

”Thank you for the reminder.”

Satsuki lowered her head and adjusted her gloves.

Fujita had already stood behind her.

”Miss, I will make the arrangements.”

”Yes.”

For foreign guests to go out at night, especially Kazoku and conglomerate representatives with special status, bringing their own security personnel was perfectly normal.

Kozlov had no reason to stop them.

A few minutes later, the group went out through the side door of the hotel.

The cold air outside rushed at them all at once.

Emi shrunk her neck the moment she stepped out.

”Whoa...”

Satsuki helped pull her scarf up.

”It is not too late to regret it now.”

”No regrets!”

Emi immediately followed.

”I am very energetic!”

After saying that, she sniffled a little.

Chizuru handed her a pair of spare gloves.

”Miss Suzuki, please put these on.”

”Oh... thanks.”

Emi took the gloves and muttered softly.

”Chizuru seems to have everything.”

Chizuru did not answer.

The streets outside the hotel were emptier than during the day.

The lights fell from high above, kneaded into a dim yellow mass by the thin mist and snowflakes.

In the distance, one could see a corner of the Kremlin’s red wall, the red star on the tower pinned into the night.

The Moscow River was a bit further away.

The river surface was not completely frozen; black water flowed slowly under the shadow of the bridge.

Fujita walked in front with two security personnel, checking the road and corners.

Others were scattered on the left and right sides, looking like ordinary entourage members, yet naturally separating Satsuki’s group from the pedestrians on the road.

Chizuru remained one and a half steps behind Satsuki on her right.

The Soviet liaison from the hotel followed from afar.

Fujita did not drive them away.

He just had the security personnel maintain a very subtle distance—neither appearing rude nor allowing anyone to hear the low conversation on Satsuki’s side.

Shuichi walked for a while, breathing out a puff of white mist.

”It really is very cold.”

Satsuki looked at him.

”Father, would you like to go back?”

Shuichi smiled.

”Not yet. I just remembered when you were little in Kyoto, you never wanted to wear your scarf properly when going out in winter.”

”That is because Mother always bundled me up like a rice dumpling.”

”That was because she was afraid you would catch a cold.”

Satsuki smiled lightly.

They walked along the river for a while.

The wind blowing from the river was harsher than on the streets.

The buildings on the opposite bank were submerged in the night, with lights sparsely shining from the windows, like a few indicator lights on a huge machine that had not been extinguished yet.

Shuichi slowly slowed his pace.

He glanced at Satsuki, then at Emi.

”You must have been stifled during the day.”

Satsuki did not deny it.

”Father, could you walk ahead a little? I have some technical matters to discuss with Emi.”

Shuichi smiled.

”I would not understand technical matters anyway.”

He walked forward.

Fujita immediately adjusted his position, letting two security personnel follow Shuichi, while he himself remained five steps behind Satsuki’s side.

Chizuru remained by Satsuki’s side.