Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 162 The Brief Cicada Song

(Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Are you all already preparing a sumptuous dinner? If you're still single, come keep the young lady company~ This morning's 6,000 words were two chapters combined, this is an extra chapter~)

Late May 1989.

Summer has arrived in Tokyo.

In the courtyard of the Akasaka ryotei "Kuchietsu", a few early-rising cicadas clung to the tree trunks, emitting a tentative chirp that disturbed the afternoon's tranquility.

The air conditioning was blasting in the deepest private room.

Shuichi Saionji knelt in the main seat, with a pot of warm sake on the black lacquered table in front of him.

Ichiro Osawa sat opposite him, a wine glass in his hand, his brow furrowed. This "kingmaker," who now wielded immense power in Nagata-cho and effectively controlled the Liberal Democratic Party's operations, did not display the same imposing presence he had in the Diet in front of Shuichi. Instead, he appeared somewhat agitated, his tie loosened slightly.

The repercussions of Takeshita Noboru's resignation are still echoing in Nagata-cho. Although the budget was barely passed, the prime minister's seat now feels like an electrified iron chair. Whoever sits in it will face the overwhelming anger of the people over the consumption tax and the Recruit scandal.

"Shintaro Abe, Kiichi Miyazawa..."

Osawa Ichiro's fingers traced the rim of his wine glass, his voice low and unreadable.

"These party bigwigs are all on the Special Investigation Department's list. No one can clear their names. If they were to step in now, the Liberal Democratic Party would be finished in next year's election."

Shuichi didn't reply, but simply picked up the sake jug and filled Osawa's cup. The clear sake poured into the cup, creating tiny ripples.

"Since even the big tree has wormholes, let's find a weed instead."

Shuichi's voice was calm, as if he were talking about the vegetation in the courtyard.

"At this critical juncture, what the people need is not a leader, but a punching bag. What the party needs is a rootless, obedient, and easily discarded 'insulator'."

Ichiro Osawa raised his eyelids, his gaze meeting Shuichi's in mid-air.

"You mean... Uno Sousuke?"

Xiu Yi nodded slightly.

"The Nakasone faction has no factional foundation and has never held Recruit stock—because no one thinks he has investment value. He is as clean as a blank sheet of paper, and as light as a blank sheet of paper."

Osawa Ichiro remained silent for a moment, then a playful, cold smile appeared on his lips.

"Uno... he's just a nice guy who only knows how to play the piano and write haiku. Make him prime minister? I'm afraid he wouldn't even be able to speak properly in the Diet."

"That's exactly what I wanted—for him to be unable to speak fluently."

Shuichi picked up his wine glass and swirled it gently.

"If he's too opinionated, how will you, Osawa-kun, manipulate things from behind the scenes? How will you let the 'reformists' take over real power?"

Xiu Yi lowered his voice and leaned forward slightly.

"Moreover, when a new prime minister takes office, in order to stabilize the economy and to curry favor with the business community, he usually passes a series of 'emergency economic measures.' For example, special funding for certain large-scale infrastructure projects."

Ichiro Osawa understood.

He looked at Shuichi and remembered the file folder filled with 1 billion yen in promissory notes.

The final link in this deal has been secured.

"it is good."

Osawa Ichiro drank the wine in his cup in one gulp.

"Let Uno take over. I'll have the Secretary-General's office draft the list, effectively sidelining the cabinet. As for the infrastructure budget the Saionji family needs in Odaiba..."

He slammed the empty cup heavily on the table.

"I will make the Ministry of Finance return the money before the end of this summer."

……

Tokyo Bay, Odaiba, Burial Site No. 13.

The scorching sun beat down on the newly emerged artificial island. The air was thick with the salty sea breeze and the pungent smell of scalding asphalt.

A white Mercedes-Benz armored vehicle was parked on a makeshift high ground.

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi stood beside the car, wearing sunglasses and with his hands on his hips.

As far as his eye could see, there was a chaotic yet clearly defined battlefield.

To the left is the hotel construction site managed by the Seibu Group. Several yellow excavators are parked there, and workers are smoking in the shadows, making progress slowly.

"What happened?" Yoshiaki Tsutsumi pointed in that direction, his voice laced with suppressed anger. "Why has construction stopped?"

The secretary beside him, Shimada, was wiping away sweat, his face grim.

"Chairman, the on-site inspectors from the Ministry of Construction just came again. They said our foundation settlement data is somewhat abnormal and they're demanding a resurvey. Also... the fleet transporting sand and gravel from Chiba has been detained by the Port Authority on the grounds of 'navigation channel control'."

"Waterway control?"

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi snorted coldly.

He turned his head and looked to his right.

That was the construction site for Saionji Temple.

The scene was completely different.

Hundreds of heavy-duty construction vehicles, painted matte black and marked with white three-pointed star patterns, flowed in like army ants from the dedicated dock, continuously transporting supplies into the construction site. The massive pile drivers roared deafeningly, even drowning out the sound of the waves.

At the main entrance of the construction site, there stands a huge, brand-new notice board:

【Saionji Future Center - Planned Height: 500 meters】

[Construction of a key provincial-approved project: Haneda Airport air traffic control exemption zone]

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi took off his sunglasses and stared intently at the line of text.

"500 meters... air traffic control exemption..."

He muttered to himself.

This is below the approach flight path at Haneda Airport, where the height restriction has always been 150 meters. He spent a full six months negotiating with the Ministry of Transport to increase it to 200 meters, but to no avail.

The Saionji family, on the other hand, directly obtained the permit for a 500-meter structure. The reason given was the absurd "special disaster prevention purpose as a maritime navigation beacon tower."

"Chairman..." Shimada looked at the notice board, his voice a little hoarse, "The approval date was yesterday. And it was stamped with a red seal that says 'Special Approval by the Minister,' directly bypassing the review process of the Vice Minister."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi looked at the huge, deep pit.

In that black steel jungle, he saw something harder than money—power.

Taking advantage of the political vacuum created by Takeshita Noboru's downfall and Osawa Ichiro's rise to power, the Saionji family bypassed the usual procedures and rewrote the rules.

On this reclaimed land, although he was nominally an ally and a landowner, at this moment, he felt more like an accessory.

"That's ruthless."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi put his sunglasses back on, concealing a hint of frustration in his eyes.

"Tell the people below not to worry about those procedures."

He turned around, got into the car, and was immediately hit by a blast of cold air.

"From now on, all infrastructure applications in Odaiba will be submitted under the name of Saionji Construction. Since they have such connections, let them pave the way."

"Stay close to them. If we fall behind now, we won't even get a bowl of soup."

……

dusk.

Kagurazaka.

This old neighborhood, which retains the charm of Edo, has water sprinkled on its stone-paved streets, giving off a damp and cool feeling.

Deep inside an unassuming geisha house (real estate agency).

The cramped reception room was dimly lit. Several dusty shamisen hung on the wall, and the air was thick with the lingering scent of stale perfume.

Satsuki sat on a slightly yellowed cushion, holding a cup of coarse tea. She was wearing the uniform of Seika Academy, her schoolbag on her lap, looking like a rich young lady who had gotten lost after school.

Opposite her, an elderly proprietress was kneeling on the ground, her hands trembling as she handed over a small bag wrapped in a purple furoshiki (wrapping cloth).

"Miss Saionji, you're all here."

The proprietress's voice was filled with fear.

"That geisha... Hiroko Nakanishi, her diary and the photos taken at the time are all here."

Satsuki put down her teacup and reached out to take the package.

It's very light.

But what's inside is enough to destroy a prime minister about to take office in an instant.

That's a secret about Sōsuke Uno. This seemingly "clean" politician, about to be pushed into power, was secretly an extremely stingy philanderer. He once kept a geisha for 300,000 yen a month, but refused to give her a penny when they broke up, even uttering insulting remarks like, "A woman like you is only worth this much." (Historical fact: the "shortest-lived" prime minister in history)

Such a sex scandal is a deadly poison for the Japanese political arena, which values ​​"decency."

"Fujita."

Satsuki didn't open the package; she simply stuffed it into her schoolbag.

Fujita, who had been waiting at the door, walked in. He took a thick envelope from his pocket and placed it in front of the landlady.

"This is hush money. Take the money and go retire to the countryside. Tokyo isn't for you."

The proprietress grabbed the envelope and kowtowed repeatedly.

The two walked out of the house.

As the sun set, it dyed the stone path of Kagurazaka a blood red.

Fujita followed behind Satsuki, his gaze sweeping over the schoolbag, and asked in a low voice, "Young lady, should we detonate this bomb now? If we ruin Uno's reputation now, wouldn't Mr. Osawa be able to directly..."

"Of course not."

Satsuki stopped in her tracks.

She looked at a utility pole by the roadside.

There was a campaign poster for Sosuke Uno on the poster. The man on the poster had his hair slicked back and looked upright, with the slogan "Clean Politics, Trusted Hands" written next to him.

A cicada was perched on the poster, right on Uno's forehead, emitting a piercing "zhi-liao—zhi-liao—" sound.

"Although they are all consumables, consumables are also divided into expensive and cheap ones."

"Our tower is already under construction, but the 'bridge' leading to Odaiba is still not in place."

Satsuki looked at the cicada, a cold smile playing on her lips.

"Although the Ministry of Construction approved our building, the Ministry of Finance is still holding back the infrastructure budget for the 'Seaside Sub-City Center.' Those misers don't want to spend money to build the Rainbow Bridge and the light rail."

"We need Uno to take office. In order to secure that position and to appease the business community, this weak prime minister will not hesitate to sign the 'Special Financial Appropriation Bill for Coastal Development'."

"I want him to use the country's money to pave the way for our tower."

She reached out her hand, wanting to catch the cicada.

The cicada sensed the danger and flew away, leaving only the sanctimonious smile on the poster.

"Lock these things in a bank safe deposit box. Wait until that funding bill passes Congress, until the Rainbow Bridge budget comes through..."

Satsuki patted her schoolbag, her eyes revealing indifference.

"The cicada can stop chirping now."

A black sedan glided up and stopped beside her.

Satsuki got in, the car door closed, shutting out the annoying cicada chirping.

Outside the car window, the poster of Uno Sosuke gradually blurred in the twilight.

Even in summer, there can be freezing cold snaps.