novelslam Chapter 68 The Gamble, Shield and Spear
Chapter 68 The Gamble, Shield and Spear
(Thanks to "I Want to Become a Cheesecake" for the great master certification! Thank you to "Bai Zhiyong Who Likes Silver Bars" for the great master certification! Thank you to "Looking Forward" for the great master certification! I'm adding an extra chapter today~ To make up for not updating two extra chapters yesterday, the two chapters this afternoon will add up to 11,000 words~ Thank you all for your support.)
February 3, 1988.
Ube City, Hiroshima Prefecture.
The wind here carries the dampness and saltiness unique to the Seto Inland Sea, a stark contrast to the dry, money-laden chill of Tokyo. The sky is overcast and hangs low, as if a freezing rain could fall at any moment.
A black Toyota Crown sedan slowly pulled up in front of an inconspicuous two-story building.
The exterior walls of the small building were covered with cheap white tiles, which had turned yellowish from the sea breeze. A white sign with black lettering hung at the entrance:
【Ogori Shoji Co., Ltd.】
"Is this the place?"
The car door opened, and Endo, the financial director of Saionji Industrial, stepped out. He wrapped his cashmere coat tighter around himself and frowned involuntarily as he looked at the shabby building in front of him.
As the CFO in charge of hundreds of billions of yen in cash flow, he simply couldn't understand why that discerning young lady would take a liking to such a small rural workshop.
"Yes, Executive Director." The assistant behind him confirmed the address. "According to the investigation report, this is President Tadashi Yanai's company headquarters."
"Headquarters..." Endo gave a wry smile and shook his head, "This scale can't even compare to one of our warehouses in Ginza."
He straightened his tie and took a deep breath.
"Let's go. Let's finish this quickly. The young lady is still waiting for our news in Tokyo."
……
The air in the president's office was stuffy and filled with a strong smell of tobacco.
Tadashi Yanai sat behind a desk piled high with documents, a nearly burnt-out cigarette between his fingers. He wore black-rimmed glasses, his hair was a little messy, and his eyes revealed a deep weariness and an extreme sense of suppressed frustration.
Life is tough.
Although his "Unique Clothing Warehouse" in Hiroshima became a hit with its unique self-service shopping model, the ensuing expansion led him into a quagmire.
Banks rejected his business model because they thought it was too aggressive; suppliers kept postponing delivery because his order volume wasn't large enough; even the local garment association banded together to ostracize him because he sold his goods at too low prices.
"A bunch of short-sighted fools..."
Tadashi Yanai shoved the cigarette butt hard into the ashtray.
"Thump, thump".
A knock came at the door.
"Come in," Yanai Tadashi called out impatiently.
The door opened, and the secretary who frequently came to collect payments poked her head in, looking somewhat flustered: "President, there are... there are guests from Tokyo."
"Tokyo?" Yanai frowned. "Which bank? If they're here to sell financial products, tell them to get lost."
"No, not a bank." The secretary turned to the side. "They said it was... people from Saionji Corporation."
Tadashi Yanai paused for a moment.
Saionji Temple?
The mysterious conglomerate that has been frequently appearing in financial news recently, undertaking large-scale construction projects in Ginza and Akasaka?
Before he could react, Endo had already walked in with two assistants.
Their impeccable attire and capable demeanor clashed sharply with the rustic atmosphere of the office. The overwhelming sense of superiority emanating from these "Tokyo elites" made Tadashi Yanai instinctively uncomfortable.
"Nice to meet you, President Yanai."
Endo bowed slightly and handed over a business card.
"My name is Endo. I have been entrusted by the head of the Saionji family to discuss a business deal with you."
Tadashi Yanai did not get up; he simply took the business card and glanced at it.
"What are you doing here at my humble abode, bigwig from the Saionji family?" Yanai Tadashi's voice was cold. "If you're looking to buy a suit, you've come to the wrong place. We only sell cheap stuff."
"We don't buy clothes."
Endo pulled out a chair and sat down. He glanced around the crowded office, a hint of undisguised regret in his eyes.
"We're here to buy this 'temple'."
"Buy?" Yanai Tadashi narrowed his eyes.
"Yes." Endo took a thick letter of intent from his briefcase and pushed it in front of Yanai. "SA Group intends to acquire Ogori Shoji in its entirety, including all your shops, trademarks, and..."
He paused, then looked directly at Tadashi Yanai.
"And you as a person."
"ha!"
Yanai Tadashi let out a short, cold laugh, as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world.
He stood up abruptly, his hands braced on the table, his eyes behind his glasses burning with fury.
"Acquisition? And they want to buy me too?"
"You arrogant bunch from Tokyo, do you think money can buy everything?"
Yanai pointed to the doorway, raising his voice several octaves.
"My company may be small, but it's mine! I have my own dreams; I want to make it the GAP of Japan, or even the Uniqlo of the world! I don't need to be a lackey for some damn conglomerate!"
"Take your money and get out!"
The roar made the office windows vibrate.
Endo wasn't angry.
They didn't leave either.
He simply watched the enraged Yanai Tadashi quietly, as if he were watching a child throwing a tantrum.
"President Yanai, your dream is magnificent."
Endo slowly took out the second item from his bag.
It was a black box.
"However, dreams come at a cost."
He opened the box, took out a neatly folded white T-shirt, and placed it on the table.
"You just said you want to be the Japanese GAP. Then you should know very well what GAP's core competitiveness is. It's the supply chain and cost control."
Endo extended his finger and tapped the T-shirt.
"These are samples produced in our Shanghai factory. They are made of Xinjiang long-staple cotton using a combing process."
"President Yanai, you're an expert, please feel it."
Tadashi Yanai hesitated for a moment. His gaze fell on the garment.
Having worked in this industry for many years, he could tell the quality of the fabric at a glance.
He reached out and touched it.
The sensation from his fingertips made his heart skip a beat. Thick, smooth—it was definitely top-quality fabric.
"What's the purchase price?" Tadashi Yanai asked instinctively.
"This is not the purchase price."
Endo said calmly.
"It's the production cost."
He took a thin strip of paper out of his pocket and pressed it onto his clothes.
It only has one number written on it: 45 Yen.
Tadashi Yanai's pupils contracted sharply.
45 yen? !
Impossible! Absolutely impossible!
His purchase price in Hiroshima, even for the lowest quality blended cotton, is 300 yen! If it's long-staple cotton of this quality, it would cost at least 600 yen!
"Are you... joking?" Yanai Tadashi's voice trembled slightly.
"The Saionji family doesn't joke around."
Endo's voice remained calm, yet carried a suffocating sense of oppression.
"We have the lowest-cost production line in all of Asia in Shanghai. If you'd like, we can have as many garments of this quality as we need."
"and……"
Endo took out the third item.
A floor plan of Seibu Department Store Shibuya Park Street, and a GG delivery agreement from Seibu Railway.
"This shop was personally approved by Chairman Yoshiaki Tsutsumi. Rent-free for three years."
"This is a GG spot covering all of Tokyo. 30% off."
Endo gently placed the two documents next to the T-shirt.
Three sheets of paper.
A single image represents the ultimate cost.
A channel that represents the top level.
A picture representing terrifying traffic.
These are the bargaining chips that the Saionji family has laid out on the table.
"President Yanai."
Endo leaned back in his chair, looking at the pale-faced man with sweat beading on his forehead.
"Our young lady asked me to pass on a message to you."
She said: "You are a talented foreman, and you shouldn't be stuck in a shallow place like Hiroshima, begging those blind bankers for a loan of a few million."
"Is she trying to kill your dream? No."
She wants to give your dreams wings.
Endo's voice turned low.
"If you refuse, that's okay."
"S-Style will be opening a store in Hiroshima next month. Right across from your shop."
"We will sell this T-shirt for 300 yen."
"How long do you think your Unique Clothing Warehouse can survive this price war?"
This is not a negotiation.
This is the verdict.
Tadashi Yanai slumped into a chair.
He looked at the blindingly white T-shirt on the table, then at the note that read "45 yen".
His pride, his self-esteem, and his grand plans for the future were shattered at this moment by these few simple numbers.
But as Endo said...
As he was being shattered, another door opened, leading to a height he had never dared to imagine.
If only he would lower his head and crawl through that door.
silence.
The suffocating silence lasted for a full five minutes.
The sea breeze outside the window was still blowing, rattling against the glass.
at last.
Tadashi Yanai looked up.
He took off his glasses, rubbed his dry eyes, and then put them back on.
This time, the anger in his eyes disappeared. In its place was a gambler's desperate, all-or-nothing resolve when they see a straight flush.
"SA Group..."
Tadashi Yanai spoke in a hoarse voice.
"What's the name of the eldest daughter of the Saionji family?"
"Saionji Satsuki."
"A good name."
Tadashi Yanai picked up the pen on the table.
Tell her I'm selling.
"However, I have one condition."
"Speaking."
"I want absolute control over the operation of this new company." Yanai stared at Endo. "Except for finance and strategic direction, how to sell clothes and how to manage the staff must all be done my way."
"certainly."
Endo smiled victoriously.
"That's precisely why the young lady values you."
……
Tokyo, Shimokitazawa.
Night fell, and fine snow began to fall.
The cold weather didn't dampen the enthusiasm here. Long queues still formed in front of the SA Karaoke Box beside the railway tracks. The yellow containers shone warmly in the snowy night, like shelters.
But in the shadows of the crowd, a few young men in leather jackets with pompadours were sneaking around.
"Hey, is this the store?"
"The leader, a blond-haired thug, asked in a low voice, his eyes darting around."
"That's right, boss. They said the business is booming and it's blocking some people's way."
A younger brother next to him handed him a package.
"This is the stuff we got from 'The Pharmacist.' All we have to do is slip it into the sofa cushions in that private room, and then let those underage girls go in for a couple of drinks..."
"Hehe, when the police storm in and catch them red-handed, this shop will have to close down."
Yellow Hair took the package and stuffed it into his sleeve.
"Walk."
They mingled in the crowd, paid, and received the key to box number 5.
at the same time.
Inside a black sedan not far from here.
An elderly man with a scar on his face was holding a phone, listening to his subordinate's report.
Onizuka Toranosuke.
"Yes, make sure it's clean."
Onizuka's voice was hoarse and had a chilling quality to it.
"The Saionji family has become too arrogant lately. Not only do they refuse to pay protection money, but they also lack the basic courtesy of paying respects to their superiors."
"Let's teach them a lesson. Let them know that in Tokyo, money alone isn't enough."
After hanging up the phone, Onizuka looked at the snowy scene outside the window, a cruel smile appearing on his lips.
He was already imagining the scene where the arrogant head of the Saionji family had to come to him with cash to beg him to settle his troubles.
however.
What he didn't know was.
In the monitoring room of container number 5, Bancang was staring intently at the screen.
"President! Those guys went in!" The security captain pointed at the screen. "Look at that blond guy, he's stuffing something into the sofa cushions!"
Cold sweat broke out on Itakura's forehead.
"Damn it...it's really here."
He grabbed the phone, his fingers trembling as he dialed a number.
"Young lady! This is Itakura! Something's happened! Just as you predicted, someone's planted a landmine!"
On the other end of the phone came Satsuki's calm voice.
"Don't panic."
"Did they also bring a few girls who looked underage?"
"Yes...yes!"
"very good."
Satsuki's voice was completely flat, even carrying a hint of mockery.
"Don't stop them. Let them bury it."
"I've already spoken to Chief Onodera of the Metropolitan Police Department."
"The police will be there in five minutes."
"However, we're not going to arrest you."
"They're going to catch 'criminals who are disrupting business order' in the act."
……
Five minutes later.
"Waaah—waaah—"
The piercing sound of police sirens tore through the night sky over Shimokitazawa.
Just as the blond-haired guy was smugly preparing to "call the police" in box number 5, he suddenly heard hurried footsteps outside the door.
"Bang!"
The iron gate was suddenly pulled open.
It wasn't the local police officer he had expected, but a group of fully armed mobile search team members.
"Don't move! Police!"
The blond-haired man was stunned.
"Officer! I need to report something! There's something here..."
"Shut up!"
A police officer rushed up, pinned him to the sofa, and instantly locked his wrists in cold handcuffs.
"Someone reported you for carrying contraband and suspected extortion!"
"What?!" The blond-haired guy was dumbfounded. "I'm the whistleblower! The stuff came from this store..."
"search!"
The police officer wouldn't listen to his explanation at all.
Soon, the package that had been stuffed into the sofa cushions was found.
"Caught red-handed." The officer sneered. "Take him away!"
"I'm innocent! I'm from the Black Dragon Society..."
"The Black Dragon Society?"
The officer's gaze grew even colder.
"The higher-ups have already said that they're arresting a bunch of scum like you who want to smear law-abiding companies!"
"Take them all away! Interrogate them thoroughly when you get back!"
A meticulously planned trap turned into a farce in just two minutes, with the victim walking right into it.
Outside the shop, the customers in line only glanced at it curiously before continuing to discuss what songs they would sing later.
For them, this was just a minor incident.
But in Tokyo's underworld, it was a deafening signal.
The Saionji family has an "umbrella".
Moreover, the umbrella was much stiffer than they had imagined.
……
Late at night, at the Saionji main residence.
The main hall's prayer room was brightly lit.
Xiu Yi knelt at the head of the table, his expression solemn.
Although the crisis was averted tonight, he did not feel relieved.
Now that Onizuka has made his move, he won't let it go. This time it was a frame-up; next time it could be arson, or an attack targeting people.
In this era of extreme madness, a businessman's life is sometimes not much more valuable than a banknote.
"Father."
Satsuki knelt beside him, holding the folding fan she had bought at the school anniversary auction.
"The police can only handle problems during the day."
"At night, we'll need our own shields."
She clapped her hands.
"Come in."
The sliding door opened.
Seven young men walked in.
They weren't wearing black suits or sunglasses. They were dressed in the most traditional kendo uniforms, barefoot, and standing ramrod straight.
Shuichi was very familiar with the faces of these seven people.
Leading the group was Fujita Takeshi, the grandson of the Fujita family's butler. He grew up in the Saionji family and had won the national kendo championship; his eyes were as resolute as iron.
Following behind were the driver's son and the chef's nephew...
They are all "genealogies".
They are the descendants of retainers who have served the Saionji family for generations. Their fathers and grandfathers have all received favors from the Saionji family. In their blood flows something that is rare in modern society—"loyalty".
"Master! Miss!"
All seven people knelt down in unison, their foreheads touching the ground.
The movements were perfectly synchronized, carrying a moving sense of solemnity.
"From today onwards, they are your 'guards'."
Satsuki's voice echoed in the empty dojo.
"I've made the arrangements. They will be in two shifts, providing 24-hour close protection for you and me. Their driving skills and combat techniques have been specially trained. Most importantly..."
Satsuki looked at those young and determined faces.
"They are the kind of people who would take a bullet for you."
Shuichi looked at Fujita.
The little boy who used to run behind him has now grown into a man as upright as a pine tree.
"Gang," Xiu Yi called softly.
"exist!"
"If something unfortunate happens..." Shuichi's gaze shifted to Satsuki, "Do you know what to do?"
Fujita raised his head, his eyes showing no hesitation.
"If there is any danger, we will die before the head of the family and the young lady."
This ancient vow, in this modern winter night, sounds with a powerful and moving force.
Xiu nodded slightly, his eyes warming slightly.
"Alright. I'm entrusting my life to you."
......
After the ceremony, everyone left.
Satsuki was the only one left in the dojo.
She didn't leave, but instead took out an unsealed manila envelope from her sleeve.
In the upper right corner of the file folder was a dark red stamp that read: "Discipline and Dismissal".
"Having a shield isn't enough."
By the flickering candlelight, Satsuki pulled out the documents inside.
It wasn't a business investigation report like the one used to search for Tadashi Yanai, but rather a personnel record from within the Defense Agency (the predecessor of the Ministry of Defense).
The man in the photo has an extremely short buzz cut and facial features as hard as granite. Even in just a half-body shot, you can see that his back is so straight it's as if steel bars are embedded in his body.
His eyes held neither the bewilderment of a down-on-his-luck person nor the ferocity of a thug; instead, they possessed a chilling, almost deathly calmness.
It was the look of someone scrutinizing a sinner.
Name: Dojima Iwao.
Formerly affiliated to: Reserve of the Special Operations Group of the 1st Airborne Brigade (Narashino Airborne Brigade) of the Ground Self-Defense Force.
Military rank: First Class Lieutenant (former).
In the section on resume, a circle was drawn heavily in red pen.
Satsuki's fingers gently traced the line of text.
To an ordinary person, this might be seen as a crazed thug. But in her eyes, he was simply a seeker of truth who had lost his way in a corrupt world.
The document briefly records the reasons for his "social death":
A year ago, at a celebration banquet for a joint Japan-U.S. military exercise, Iwao Dojima broke three of his direct superior's ribs in public.
The reason was simply that the drunken officer, in an attempt to curry favor with the officers of the U.S. military stationed in Japan, behaved in an almost obsequious and disgraceful manner at the banquet.
In Dojima Iwao's confession, there was only one sentence:
"A samurai's sword is not for cutting steaks for foreigners."
Because of this incident, he was stripped of his military rank and discharged from the unit. In Japanese society, which places great emphasis on "reading the room" and "superior-subordinate relationships," no reputable security company dared to hire him with such a stain of "insubordination."
I heard that he is now working as a laborer at the docks in Yokohama, living a life of asceticism, completely out of step with this restless bubble economy.
"This is a man with obsessive-compulsive disorder about cleanliness."
Satsuki closed the file, a playful smile curving her lips.
"He doesn't need money, and he doesn't need women."
"What he needs is 'order.' An absolute order that does not tolerate any filth."
It's useless to use mad dogs to bite a thug like Onizuka who has no bottom line.
Only a warden with "God" in his heart and "Law" in his hands could establish the iron-fisted order of the Saionji family in this chaotic night.
"Dojima Iwao..."
Satsuki murmured the name softly, as if reciting a spell.
"This world is so dirty, isn't it?"
"If the military can't give you the glory you want, then come to me."
"I will give you a new knife, and a 'righteousness' that no one dares to trample on."
She blew out the candle.
The temple was plunged into darkness, with only a wisp of smoke swirling in the air, lingering for a long time.