HPDBC Chapter 13 Desperate Charge
Chapter 13 Desperate Charge
Friday, July 20, 1985.
The sky over Tokyo had a sickly pale white hue. Although the typhoon had passed, the air pressure remained low, and visible dust particles hung in the air, making it difficult to breathe.
Marunouchi, Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo.
This is the heart of Japan's economy, with the headquarters of major conglomerates such as Mitsubishi and Mitsui standing tall, their glass curtain walls reflecting the glaring sunlight.
In the shadow of these behemoths, an old red-brick office building built in the early Showa era appears inconspicuous.
At the end of the third-floor corridor, a door with a bronze plaque bearing the words "Saionji Industrial Co., Ltd." was ajar.
This is a shell company that Shuichi specifically registered for this short-selling operation.
In order to raise that staggering margin, the Saionji family has secretly mortgaged their office buildings in Shinjuku, shops in Ginza, and even several plots of land in Chiba Prefecture to banks over the past two months.
Apart from the main family house, which symbolizes the last vestige of the family's dignity, this office, which is only fifty square meters in size, has become Shuichi's last fortress in the business world.
The office was quiet, with only the hum of the old-fashioned central air conditioning vents.
Shuichi sat behind his desk, holding the day's Nikkei Shimbun in his hand.
The front-page headline boldly proclaimed: "US-Japan trade friction intensifies; Prime Minister Nakasone urges citizens to buy foreign goods." The subheading featured a column by a well-known economist: "A strong dollar serves US interests; exchange rate unlikely to see a turning point in the short term."
Shuichi's gaze swept over the printed words, his face expressionless.
If he had seen such a report two weeks ago, he probably would have torn the newspaper to shreds in anxiety. But now, he simply picked up his coffee cup slowly and took a sip.
Bitter and cold.
"They're all just whitewashing the truth."
He put down the newspaper and tapped his fingers lightly on the eye-catching headline.
"Father, what the public sees is always what those in power want them to see."
On the sofa, Satsuki was kneeling beside the coffee table, skillfully arranging a portable tea set. She was wearing her school uniform today because it was Friday afternoon, and she had asked for leave from school under the pretext of "going to her father's company for an internship."
"Four hours left." Satsuki glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 11 a.m.
"The Tokyo foreign exchange market closes at 3 p.m. Then it's a long weekend." She handed Shuichi a cup of brewed gyokuro tea. "If that 'gathering' really takes place this weekend, then this afternoon is the last window of opportunity."
Shuichi took the teacup but didn't drink it.
His gaze shifted to the black telephone on the corner of the table.
He used all his connections, even going so far as to send away two ancestral Yokoyama Taikan masterpieces, to plant a "line" within the Ministry of Finance.
He is waiting.
Waiting for a definite signal.
Although Satsuki confidently asserted that it would be this weekend, and although all the macroeconomic data pointed to that critical point, as a gambler who had staked everything on it, he still longed to see the cards before finally revealing the dice cup.
"Ring ring—"
The phone rang abruptly.
In the quiet office, the sound seemed particularly jarring.
Shuichi's hand didn't tremble. He steadily put down the teacup, even straightening his cuffs, before picking up the receiver.
"I am Saionji."
The voice on the other end of the phone was low, accompanied by background noise typical of public phone booths.
"Shuichi, that's me. Kijima."
Kijima was Shuichi's classmate in university and now holds an important position in the Ministry of Finance's Directorate-General of Budget, Accounting and Statistics. Although he is not in the core decision-making level, he has a keen sense of the developments within the ministry.
"Kishima," Shuichi's voice was calm, "why are you calling now? Has the drinking party tonight changed?"
"The drinking party will proceed as usual." Kijima's voice was even lower, as if he were covering the microphone with his hand. "However, the ball game this Sunday has been canceled."
Shuichi's pupils contracted slightly.
"A ball game? You mean the one with that..."
"Yes, it's that 'Mr. Takeshita' (referring to Finance Minister Takeshita Noboru)." Kijima spoke very quickly. "We had arranged to meet at a golf course in Chiba. He loves playing golf, it's an unwavering habit of his. But this morning, his secretary suddenly informed him that the minister had caught a cold and needed to rest at home, so all his appointments were canceled."
"A cold?" Xiu Yi raised an eyebrow. "What a coincidence?"
"What's even more coincidental," Kijima paused, "is that my brother-in-law works in the Narita Airport control tower. He just complained to me that a Japan Airlines charter flight with no flight schedule suddenly cut in line and took off today. Its destination was... New York."
"New York?"
"Shh—don't say I told you." Kijima seemed nervous. "Anyway, I think something's strange about this. The minister usually doesn't even sneeze when he has a cold, but this time he even took leave from the cabinet meeting. Think about it yourself."
"Beep—beep—"
The phone hangs up.
Xiuyi slowly put down the receiver.
He turned around and looked at Satsuki.
Satsuki was holding a teacup, looking at him through the rising steam. Her eyes were clear and bright, as if she had already anticipated this answer.
"Golf has been cancelled," Shuichi said softly. "Takeshita Noboru is 'sick'."
"And a mysterious private plane flew to New York."
At this moment, all the puzzle pieces fit together perfectly.
Minister of Finance Takeshita Noboru.
New York, USA.
A secret meeting on Sunday.
Clearly, this was a ruse to deceive others and escape undetected.
Japan's representative, the "fifth person" who will decide the fate of the yen, has already set off.
"Looks like we don't have to wait until Monday."
Shuichi walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked down at the Marunouchi Financial District below.
It was lunchtime, and the streets were crowded with office workers in white shirts. They hurried by, carrying lunchboxes, talking about the evening's baseball game or which company's stock had gone up.
Meanwhile, in the stratosphere at an altitude of 10,000 meters, an airplane is carrying their fate toward the courtroom known as the "Plaza Hotel".
"Father."
Satsuki walked behind him and looked out the window at the crowd of people who looked like ants.
"Now that the dealer is seated, shouldn't we put our last bit of chips on the table?"
Shuichi turned around, a smile playing on his lips.
"certainly."
He walked to his desk and pressed the internal phone line leading to the trading room.
"Connect with Credit Suisse Frank. Also, connect with Mitsui Bank's Shinjuku branch; I need to access that reserve fund."
……
Two o'clock in the afternoon.
The atmosphere in the trading floor of the Tokyo foreign exchange market was somewhat languid.
By Friday afternoon, most traders had lost interest in trading. The market remained calm, with the USD/JPY pair trading in a narrow range around 241.50.
"That's about it for this week."
A young trader yawned, loosened his tie, and said, "I heard the data from the US is pretty good. It might even push to 245 next week."
"Yes, it's always a good idea to go long on the dollar," a colleague chimed in. "As long as Reagan is in power, a strong dollar is the national policy."
Just then, the price quote screen in the center of the hall suddenly flickered.
USD/JPY 241.40
USD/JPY 241.20
USD/JPY 241.00
There were no major news releases, but suddenly a flood of sell orders appeared. And these weren't small orders from retail investors; they were large sell orders one after another.
"What happened?"
The young trader sat up straight. "Which institution is dumping shares?"
"Found it!" another trader staring at the terminal shouted. "It's a seat in Zurich! And... several private accounts in Tokyo! This method... it's so similar to that madman from before!"
"Saionji Temple?"
Someone called out that name.
The Saionji family's frenzied short-selling in the foreign exchange market over the past two months has become a laughing stock in the industry. Everyone says that this declining Chinese family has gone mad with greed, squandering their ancestral assets.
"He's here again!"
The numbers on the screen are still changing.
USD/JPY 240.80
Each sell order was like a bomb dropped without regard to cost, crashing heavily onto the calm surface of the water.
"He's selling off his entire position!" the young trader exclaimed. "Is he crazy? There's no negative news at all! If he shorts at this level and the market opens higher on Monday, he'll be wiped out instantly!"
"They probably didn't have enough deposit, so they're just giving up?"
"Or were you misled by some fake news?"
Laughter and gasps of surprise echoed throughout the trading hall.
Meanwhile, in the office of Saionji Industrial Co., Ltd.
Shuichi gripped the microphone tightly, veins bulging on his forehead, but his voice remained as steady as a rock.
"Sell. Sell all of them."
"Frank, I'm not crazy. I know what time it is."
"Convert that approved 200 million yen quota entirely into short dollar positions. Yes, now, immediately."
Frank on the other end of the phone seemed to be trying to dissuade me, probably spouting nonsense about risk control.
"Shut up!"
Shuichi suddenly yelled, startling his secretary outside the office so much that she almost spilled her coffee.
"Listen, Frank. I'm paying you a commission, not for you to teach me how to do things. All you have to do is one thing—execute!"
"Before the market closes at three o'clock, I'll turn every single penny in the Saionji family's account into bullets for short selling!"
"If you can't do that, I'll switch to another bank on Monday!"
He abruptly hung up the phone, panting heavily.
It was a kind of oxygen deficiency following extreme excitement.
Satsuki sat quietly on the sofa, an English book open on her lap. But her gaze never left her father's back.
She noticed that the back of her father's shirt was soaked with sweat.
This isn't sweat of fear. You can tell from his excited expression; it's the blood of a soldier before the charge.
Go for it... go for it... my dear father...
Satsuki took a sip of tea, concealing the smile on her lips.
Whether it was the previous "dam theory" or the psychological suggestions given to Shuichi over the past few months, it was all the result of Satsuki's deliberate guidance.
Now, Shuichi has almost been brainwashed into Satsuki's most steadfast supporter. That's why he's qualified to be the executor of Satsuki's plan; she detests subordinates who are outwardly compliant but inwardly defiant.
Thankfully, Shuichi is a complete doting father to his daughter; the extent to which she's become so attached to him is even greater than planned…
"Young Miss..."
The old butler, Fujita, stood in the corner, holding a handkerchief. He wanted to go up and wipe Xiu's sweat, but he didn't dare to move.
"Don't go, Grandpa Fujita," Satsuki gently stopped him. "Our father doesn't need a handkerchief these days."
She looked at the clock on the wall.
2:45.
2:50.
2:55.
Time passed by second by second, each second feeling like an eternity.
Xiuichi lit another cigarette and stared intently at the market data terminal on the table.
On the screen, the USD/JPY exchange rate was barely pushed down to 240.50 by his frantic selling. But soon, countless bargain hunters swarmed in, like a group of sharks smelling blood, trying to devour this reckless short seller.
The exchange rate has started to rebound again.
240.60...240.70...
The market is mocking him. Capital from all over the world is mocking him.
"Two minutes left," Shuichi muttered to himself, oblivious to the cigarette ash that fell onto his pants.
He was out of bullets. He had sold everything he could, and mortgaged everything he could. He even considered Satsuki's "secret stash" (which he thought was the change in his daughter's piggy bank, but in reality, the five million yen that Satsuki herself managed did not go through this account) as a form of emotional support.
The Saionji family now owns nothing except the lease for this office and the land deed for their ancestral home (most of it is mortgaged, not all of it has been sold).
If the dollar rises when the market opens on Monday, the Saionji family will be completely removed from the list of ethnic Chinese.
"when--"
The clock tower in the distance chimed the three o'clock hour.
At the same time, the numbers on the market data terminal froze.
USD/JPY 240.85
The market has closed.
everything is over.
The hustle and bustle of the trading hall vanished instantly, as if the whole world had been muted.
The cigarette butt in Shuichi's hand burned out, scalding his fingers. He jerked his hand away as if waking from a dream.
He stared blankly at the frozen number.
Is this the end?
Is this the final moment he risked everything for?
The office was deathly silent.
Suddenly, a cool little hand grasped his sweaty big hand.
Xiu lowered his head.
Satsuki stood beside him, looking up, her eyes showing no panic or disappointment, but rather a reassuring calm.
"Father, you've worked hard."
She spoke softly, a hint of a smile in her voice.
"Did you hear that?"
"What did you hear?" Shuichi asked, somewhat bewildered.
"The sound of dice hitting the ground."
Satsuki pointed out the window.
The sky outside the window remained overcast, with low-hanging clouds.
"The die has already been thrown. No matter how it tumbles in the air, the outcome is already determined the moment it leaves your hand."
She walked to the window and pushed open the tightly closed window.
A damp breeze blew in, dispersing the lingering smell of smoke in the room.
"Next, we only need to do one thing."
Satsuki turned around, her back to the sky outside the window, and opened her arms as if embracing the approaching storm.
"That is waiting."
"Waiting for that butterfly on the other side of the ocean to flap its wings."
Xiuyi looked at his daughter and took a deep breath.
The dizziness from lack of oxygen finally disappeared. He felt an unprecedented exhaustion, but at the same time, something called "ambition" was growing wildly in his blood.
He stood up and walked to his daughter's side.
The father and daughter stood side by side by the window, looking down at the bustling yet aimless city below.
Amidst the endless stream of traffic, countless people are still struggling for a meager salary, and countless companies are still working overtime for that pitiful export profit.
Unbeknownst to them, the train called "Old Times" had completely stopped running at 3 p.m. today.
Meanwhile, the Saionji family has already boarded the first-class cabin to a new world.
"Let's go, Satsuki."
Shuichi reached out and closed the window, shutting out the noise from outside.
"go home."
"I'm going to get a good night's sleep this weekend."
"Because I'll have to wait until I wake up on Monday morning..."
A ferocious and fanatical smile curled at the corners of his mouth.
"This world is ours now."