In June, Tokyo felt as if a hole had been torn in the sky. Since the beginning of the month, a persistent drizzle had wrapped the city in a gray mist. The humidity was oppressive, leaving a sticky, oil-like sheen on the asphalt streets of Marunouchi. Even the sound of passing cars seemed dull and sluggish.
Inside the offices of Saionji Industries, the central air conditioning ran at full strength and the dehumidifiers were set to maximum, yet the bone-deep dampness refused to lift.
Shuichi sat at the head of the conference table, cradling a cup of Darjeeling tea. Steam rose in delicate curls, softening the expression behind his glasses as he gazed out at the endless curtain of rain. His thoughts remained hidden.
A knock sounded at the door. Shuichi set his cup down and turned.
"Come in."
The door opened.
A man in a deep-blue double-breasted suit entered.
Gonda.
Deputy Manager of the Development Department at Seibu Land Development Co., Ltd.
A year earlier, on a tennis court in Karuizawa, this same man had represented the Seibu Group in an attempt to acquire the Saionji family villa.
Shuichi understood well that a colossus like Seibu would never dispatch a fool to conduct business. Gonda's arrogance was not personal rudeness but the natural aura born of overwhelming capital superiority.
"Councilman Saionji, I trust you have been well."
Gonda offered a professional smile and bowed slightly in standard business courtesy.
His manner was noticeably more courteous than it had been a year ago. The Saionji family's recent moves in Ginza and Akasaka had stirred talk in certain circles, and Seibu had also caught wind of their financial activities. In short, the Saionji family had risen in Seibu's estimation from an insignificant ant to a capable wolf—dangerous enough to hunt, yet not yet a serious rival.
"Deputy Manager Gonda." Shuichi remained seated, merely gesturing toward the leather sofa opposite him. "What brings a busy man like yourself here today? If this concerns Karuizawa, I believe we made our position quite clear last time."
"Haha, let bygones be bygones."
Gonda sat down, placing his briefcase on his lap with a relaxed air.
"There are no permanent enemies in business. Chairman Tsutsumi often remarks that the Saionji family possesses an aristocratic heritage that business groups like ours can only envy."
He withdrew a document from his bag and presented it with both hands.
"I come this time on a different matter. Perhaps it can mark the beginning of a friendship between our two houses."
Shuichi accepted the document and glanced at the cover.
*Letter of Intent for the Transfer of Land in Azabu-Juban, Port Area.*
"Buying land again?" Shuichi set the document aside without opening it. "The speed of the Seibu Group's territorial expansion is truly impressive."
"It is not expansion," Gonda corrected with a smile, leaning forward. "It is resource integration."
"Councilman, I understand you recently acquired that notorious 'Ghost Mansion.' While the plot lies in the Port Area, the terrain is irregular and the property carries a stigma, so its commercial value is rather limited."
"Fortunately, Chairman Tsutsumi is planning the second phase of the Tokyo Prince Hotel. The site is not far from our main building. Although unsuitable for the main structure, it would serve perfectly as supporting facilities."
Gonda raised a hand and spread five fingers.
"Five hundred million yen."
His tone was coaxing, as though offering sweets to a child.
"You purchased it for four hundred million, correct? In just one month you could realize a clean profit of one hundred million by flipping it. Moreover, Seibu will cover all transfer taxes and fees. This is immediate cash, and the Saionji family's current expansion requires strong cash flow, does it not?"
Shuichi regarded those five fingers.
A profit of one hundred million yen.
It was sound business logic—buy low, sell high, pocket the difference. Had he been an ordinary merchant, he would have signed without hesitation.
Yet the Saionji family suffered no shortage of liquidity. Even setting aside overseas assets, their current cash reserves were more than ample.
"Deputy Manager Gonda, if I may ask," Shuichi tapped the table lightly, "what does Chairman Tsutsumi intend to do with the old Western-style mansion if you acquire the land?"
"The mansion?"
Gonda blinked, then smiled faintly.
"While we respect the cultural value of old buildings, the house is far too aged, maintenance costs are prohibitive, and the layout is unsuitable for commercial use. The planning department suggests leveling it to construct a multi-story parking garage or converting the site into a landscaped park to enhance the hotel's surroundings."
"Level it… to build a parking garage."
Shuichi repeated the words, the faint smile at the corner of his mouth fading.
That had once been the residence of Count Kyogoku, a living witness to Taisho Romanticism. In the eyes of the Seibu Group, its only value lay in becoming a slab of concrete for parking expensive imported cars.
There was nothing inherently wrong with such pragmatism; it was simply the cold efficiency of capital.
But it was not the way of the Saionji family.
"Deputy Manager Gonda."
Shuichi slowly withdrew a cigar from his pocket, clipped the end, and lit it.
Blue smoke curled upward.
"Please convey to Chairman Tsutsumi that I will not be accepting this one-hundred-million-yen profit."
Gonda's smile froze on his face.
"Mr. Saionji, do you find the offer insufficient? If price is the issue, we can certainly discuss it further…"
"It is not a matter of money."
Shuichi shook his head, his gaze steady.
"I have a purpose for that land. I intend to build a club there."
"A club?" Gonda frowned, his skepticism plain. "On that remote slope? Inside a haunted house? Mr. Saionji, business is not child's play. Do you truly believe your current resources can sustain a high-end club?"
He paused, his tone turning meaningful.
"Furthermore, you should understand that when the Seibu Group sets its sights on a piece of land and fails to obtain it… surrounding municipal planning, road approvals, and even bank financing can become 'slightly' difficult. This is Tokyo, after all, and Chairman Tsutsumi's reputation carries considerable weight."
The words were a thinly veiled threat.
If the Saionji family refused to give Seibu face, conducting business in Tokyo would become markedly more challenging.
Shuichi set his cigar aside.
He looked up. The gaze behind his gold-rimmed glasses did not waver; instead, it sharpened.
"Deputy Manager Gonda, you mentioned that Chairman Tsutsumi's reputation serves as a pass."
Shuichi spoke evenly.
"In my view, reputation is something granted mutually."
"The Seibu Group has its rules, and the Saionji family has its own."
He rose and walked to the window, turning his back to Gonda.
"Not only will I not sell that land, but I will transform it into the address with the highest barrier to entry in all of Tokyo."
"A high barrier?" Gonda sneered, rising as well. "How high? High enough that even our Chairman Tsutsumi cannot enter?"
Shuichi turned to face him.
His expression remained courteous, yet his words carried unmistakable weight.
"That depends on the capacity in which Chairman Tsutsumi arrives."
"If he comes as 'Chairman of the Seibu Group,' seeking to discuss business, acquisitions, or to display his wealth…"
Shuichi pointed toward the door.
"Then I am sorry—the doors here will not open for him."
"But if he sets aside the title of 'Emperor of Seibu' and arrives simply as a guest who appreciates refinement and shows respect for the host…"
"Then the Saionji family will welcome him at any time."
Gonda stood stunned.
The words were not a direct insult, yet the bone-deep arrogance cut deeper than any curse.
The message was unmistakable: Here, our rules outweigh your money. Even if you are Yoshiaki Tsutsumi, on our ground you must abide by our terms.
"Very well… quite the Saionji family you have."
Gonda drew a deep breath, suppressing his anger. He knew the negotiation had ended.
"I will convey your 'lofty sentiments' to the Chairman exactly as spoken."
He picked up his briefcase and straightened his already immaculate suit, resuming his cold professional mask.
"However, Mr. Saionji, Tokyo's rainy season is long. I hope your bones can withstand the rheumatism that follows."
With that, he offered a slight bow, turned, and strode from the conference room.
Shuichi watched the door close, then sank back into his chair and exhaled a long ring of cigar smoke.
His palms were damp with sweat.
He had just asserted sovereignty before the most powerful businessman in Japan.
The door to the adjoining lounge opened.
Satsuki emerged, absently smoothing the fur of a small teddy bear.
"Father, your heartbeat quickened just now."
She walked to the table, picked up the letter of intent Shuichi had rejected, and dropped it casually into the wastebasket.
"I was indeed a little nervous," Shuichi admitted with a wry smile. "After all, that was Yoshiaki Tsutsumi. Although my words left some room for maneuver, they were still a direct slight to his face."
"Face is earned in battle, not granted as charity."
Satsuki gazed at the curtain of rain beyond the window.
"If you had sold the land today for five hundred million yen, or yielded out of fear, then in Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's eyes the Saionji family would forever remain a minor player easily brushed aside."
"But with those words, you told him a simple truth."
Satsuki turned, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly.
"The Saionji family is no one's vassal."
"Even the Seibu Group must first learn how to knock before it may enter our door."
Shuichi nodded. The hesitation in his eyes gradually dissolved.
"Yes. Having chosen this path, I cannot fear offending others."
"Notify Ando."
Shuichi stubbed out his cigar.
"Revise the blueprints according to your vision. Raise the perimeter walls and strengthen security."
"Also, engrave the family crest upon the main gate."
"Since we are establishing rules, let us fly our banner even more prominently."
"I want everyone to know that behind the gate in Azabu-Juban lie things that even Yoshiaki Tsutsumi cannot buy."