RPAGF Chapter 67 Cotton and the Wolf
Chapter 67 Cotton and the Wolf
January 20, 1988.
The cold wind at Chiba Port was much more biting than in downtown Tokyo, carrying a rusty, metallic smell and the damp scent of the sea that seeped straight into your bones through your collar.
The doors to SA Logistics’ No. 1 bonded warehouse were wide open, and several forklifts were struggling to move inside, emitting a piercing reversing alarm.
Shuichi stood on the steel frame of the second-floor corridor, his hand gripping the cold railing, his expensive cashmere coat fluttering in the draft. He paid no heed to the cold, for the scene before him, as congested as the entrails of a giant beast, made him feel a burning heat rising from the depths of his stomach.
It's blocked.
Everywhere you look, there are boxes of that color.
Pale yellow corrugated cardboard boxes were stacked into rickety mountains, squeezing the once spacious forklift aisle into a narrow gap. Even the edges of the fire lane were crammed with goods.
"President, there's really... no more room."
The warehouse manager, an elderly man who had worked for the Saionji family for thirty years, was taking off his hard hat and wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.
"Director Gaoqiao in Shanghai... is incredibly capable. Ever since the 'special workshop' and 'braised pork' incentive system were implemented, their production capacity has gone crazy. Last month, they opened three new production lines, and the shipping date is a week ahead of schedule."
He pointed to the paper wall behind him that almost reached the ceiling.
"This place is full of S-Style basic T-shirts and jeans. The warehouse next door, number two, is full of hoodies. Even warehouse number three, which was originally reserved for fabrics for next spring, was temporarily requisitioned yesterday."
Xiuyi stepped forward and casually patted a cardboard box.
The box made a dull thud.
This isn't filled with air; it's cotton bought with real money, representing the labor, electricity, and shipping costs already paid.
According to Satsuki's previous plan, this "white gold" was to be used to save the market during the harsh winter after the bubble burst. It was a perfect "Trojan horse" plan.
But now, before the Trojan horse even enters the city, the soldiers inside have already caused it to burst.
What is the inventory backlog rate?
Satsuki, who had been standing in the shadows, finally spoke.
Today she was wearing a thick wool scarf and holding a small portable notebook, quickly jotting something down.
"The current inventory is 1.2 million pieces."
Endo, the accompanying financial director, opened the report.
"Based on the current cost of capital tied up, storage and maintenance fees alone are burning through two million yen every day. And..."
Endo paused, glanced at Satsuki, and seemed to be carefully considering his words.
"Furthermore, cotton fabrics have a shelf life. Although we have taken moisture-proof measures, if they are stored in this high-density environment for more than two years, they may turn yellow or become moldy."
Two years.
That damn bubble will keep blowing for another two years.
If they had waited until 1990 to sell them, this batch of goods might have truly become garbage.
"The floodwaters must be released."
Satsuki closed her notebook.
"We can't wait until the bubble bursts. We have to start now, somewhere in Tokyo, quietly opening a breach in this dam."
Shuichi frowned. "Now? But S-Collection's high-end image in Shibuya has just been established. If we start a massive sell-off of these cheap items now, the brand premium will collapse instantly."
"We won't touch Shibuya. Nor will we touch the department stores."
Satsuki turned and walked away, avoiding a truck that was reversing.
"Go to the suburbs. Go to the roadside. Go to those inconspicuous national highways with heavy traffic."
"We want to open a new kind of store. It doesn't need to be like S-Collection, with carpets and perfume. It doesn't need service, or even a decent storefront. It's like a warehouse, with clothes piled up inside, and customers can browse them themselves."
"The brand will use the existing sub-line—S-Style."
Xiu nodded slightly. That's definitely a good idea.
By physically separating high-end and low-end stores, the brand's image can be preserved while simultaneously clearing out inventory.
"Then...who should take care of it?" Xiu asked.
The moment the question was asked, the air fell silent.
Xiu turned around and looked at the group of people following behind him.
The Saionji family is not lacking in talent.
Standing on the far left is the main family's butler team. They are experts in etiquette and can arrange a banquet flawlessly. Ask them to sell T-shirts for a few hundred yen? They might iron the clothes three times, wrap them in silk paper, and then bow to the guests for five minutes—selling them that way would cost more in labor than the clothes themselves.
Standing in the middle were the elites of Saionji Industrial's real estate department. These people deal with land worth hundreds of millions every day, their eyes only on plot ratios and leverage. Asking them to manage the inventory of a roadside clothing store? That's like using a cannon to kill a mosquito.
As for Itakura...
Satsuki glanced at Itakura, who was huddled in a corner trying to make himself inconspicuous.
This guy's good at managing thugs and collecting coins at karaoke bars. Ask him to build a modern retail management system? To manage the inventory turnover of hundreds of stores? To train thousands of shop assistants on how to fold clothes?
He'll go crazy. Or maybe he'll go crazy with the accounts first.
The Saionji family has a rich heritage.
There are master tea masters and flower arranging experts, elites who understand law and finance, and loyal retainers.
But one type of person is missing.
A foreman—greedy like a wolf, precise like a machine, meticulous about even a single yen's cost, capable of perfecting even the mundane task of "selling clothes."
"Father."
Satsuki sighed, and her breath dissipated in the cold wind.
"We have the best swords, but we can't find anyone who knows how to wield them."
"If you let Fujita manage the shop, he'll turn it into a teahouse. If you let Endo manage it, he'll turn off the lights to save on electricity."
"We need a madman."
"A person with a morbid obsession with 'selling clothes'."
……
Back in Marunouchi's office, the warmth dispelled the chill.
Satsuki sat on the sofa and took a thick stack of documents out of her bag. It was a list of all the companies in Japan currently engaged in the retail of casual wear, compiled by private investigators and headhunting firms she had commissioned.
She was looking for prey.
"GAP...no, that's American."
"Hollywood Ranch... is too niche, it's for hippies."
"Beams... is too trendy. That's the logic of boutiques, not mass-market stores."
She flipped through the sheets of paper one by one, only to ruthlessly toss them aside.
Until her finger stopped on an inconspicuous photocopy.
It was a black and white photograph. The photograph showed a middle-aged man wearing glasses, with an ordinary, even somewhat rustic, appearance.
There was something unsettling in his eyes.
That was ambition. It was ambition that had been suppressed to the extreme, ready to explode at any moment.
The company name is printed below the photo:
Xiaojun Commercial Affairs.
Location: Ube City, Yamaguchi Prefecture.
Main business: Men's suits and casual wear.
Note: In 1984, a store called "Unique Clothing Warehouse" was opened in Hiroshima, which opened at six o'clock in the morning and sold clothes like milk.
"Unique Clothing Warehouse......"
Satsuki murmured the name softly.
Fragments of memories from my past life flashed through my mind.
Uniqlo.
That retail giant that will sweep the globe in the future and turn "basic" items into a religion.
Right now, it's just a seed struggling in the soil of rural Hiroshima.
Satsuki carefully examined the data in the documents. This company wasn't doing well. Although their first store in Hiroshima was a huge success, their overly aggressive expansion strategy had strained their cash flow. Furthermore, because they were selling too cheaply, they faced resistance from local competitors, and suppliers were starting to make things difficult for them.
Most importantly, this man named Tadashi Yanai, although he has a head full of advanced ideas—he wants to learn from GAP in the United States and develop the SPA (manufacturing retail) model—he has no cards to play.
He doesn't own a factory. He can only get his goods from the wholesale market, where the quality varies greatly, and he can't keep up with the costs.
He didn't own any land. He wanted to move to Tokyo, but the exorbitant rents there made him hesitate.
He had no money. The bank couldn't understand his business model and thought he was a reckless nouveau riche from the countryside.
"Lack of money, lack of goods, lack of land."
Satsuki's fingers gently tapped the man's face.
"But he has a brain."
"He knows how to sell clothes like hamburgers."
This is precisely the piece of the puzzle that the Saionji family is currently missing.
Endo.
Satsuki threw the document on the table and pushed it in front of the finance director who was compiling reports.
"Look at this person."
Endo picked up the documents and glanced at them: "Ogori Shoji? A small company in Hiroshima? With only a few million yen in capital... Miss, is a company of this caliber even worth our time?"
"worth."
Satsuki leaned back on the sofa, fiddling with the Rubik's Cube.
"Not only do we want to see, we also want to buy."
"Full acquisition".
Shuichi, who was holding a cup of coffee, paused for a moment upon hearing this: "Acquisition? You're going to Hiroshima?"
"Me?"
Satsuki raised her head, a slightly amused expression on her face.
"Father, if the Saionji family wants to acquire a small workshop in Hiroshima, does the head of the family or the eldest daughter need to personally intervene?"
"That would be a demotion of our status and would also give the other party unnecessary illusions."
She turned to Endo.
"Endo, have the investment and legal departments form a team and fly to Hiroshima tomorrow."
"Bring your checks and your lawyer."
"Tell Tadashi Yanai that SA Group has its eye on him."
"We'll invest 1 billion yen to help him open stores all over Japan. We'll open up all the production capacity of our Shanghai factory to him. We'll give him the best seats in Seibu Department Stores and train stations."
"There's only one condition: sell the company to us. 100% of the equity."
"He can stay on as president, earn a high salary, and even have stock options. But he has to be obedient."
Endo swallowed hard, hesitating slightly: "What if... what if he doesn't sell? The information says that this person is very stubborn and an ambitious second-generation entrepreneur."
"Not for sale?"
With a "click," the Rubik's Cube in Satsuki's hand was solved on one side.
"Then tell him that S-Style will open its first flagship store in Hiroshima next month."
"Right across from him."
"The cost of this batch of goods is 45 yen, and with all other expenses, it's only 100 yen in total. We can sell it for 500 yen, or 400 yen. Even if we give it away for free, they can't outlast us."
"Ask him how many days his cash flow can last."
"Yes...yes! I understand!"
Endo felt a chill run down his spine. This was the crushing power of capital. Simple, brutal, and unreasonable.
Negotiation skills? Respect and courtesy?
That was based on the premise that both sides were of equal strength. Although the Saionji family cannot yet be called a zaibatsu (because they do not have a bank), they are by no means something that Tadashi Yanai can contend with.
"Go and do it."
Satsuki stopped looking at him.
"I need to see that person's onboarding signature within this week."
"Also, tell him that the first thing he needs to do after joining the company is to clear out the 1.2 million items of inventory in the Chiba warehouse. Whether it's opening a roadside shop, organizing a special sale, or even setting up a street stall in the countryside."
"As long as I can get cash flow, I don't care about the process."
……
at the same time.
Akasaka, Tokyo.
Not far from the pink building belonging to the Saionji family, in a quiet alley, lies an agency called "Black Dragon Society".
This wasn't an ordinary gang hideout. There were no lanterns with badges hanging at the entrance, and no thugs in floral shirts coming and going.
A low-key black brick building sits there. Several black Mercedes-Benz cars are parked in front, all with consecutive license plate numbers.
The tea room on the third floor was dimly lit and filled with smoke.
A huge calligraphy scroll hangs on the wall: "The Ultimate Way".
An elderly man dressed in a black kimono sat cross-legged in front of a Go board, holding a black Go stone in his hand, hesitating to make a move.
He had a scar across his left eye, but it didn't make him look ferocious; instead, it added a touch of age and dignity.
He is the mastermind behind the largest "Sōkai-ya" (a special yakuza organization in the Kanto region that uses a small number of shares to disrupt or extort companies at shareholder meetings), and also the shadow behind many politicians and zaibatsu—Onitsuka Toranosuke.
"Sir, this is the latest investigation report."
A man in a sharp suit, who looked like an elite lawyer, knelt beside her, presenting her with a document.
Onizuka didn't answer, but gestured for him to read it aloud.
"The Saionji family has been making some big moves lately."
The man opened the file, his voice low and deep.
"SA Investment's overseas profits are immeasurable, but conservatively estimated, its cash flow exceeds 100 billion."
"The Crystal Palace in Ginza 7-chome generates 200 million yen in monthly rental income."
"The Pink Building in Akasaka has a daily turnover of 50 million yen."
"And then there's that karaoke box that's really popular among young people. Although the unit price is low, the cash flow is terrifying, and it's said that they're still acquiring land like crazy."
"Most importantly..."
The man paused.
"They formed a very closed circle within The Club. Even Yoshiaki Tsutsumi frequented it."
"However, according to our records, the Saionji family did not contact anyone 'on this side' during this round of expansion."
"We didn't pay any protection money, we didn't hire any consultants, and we couldn't even get renovation contracts from the construction companies we were associated with in Akasaka."
Snapped.
The black stone in Onizuka's hand finally fell.
On the chessboard, the white group of stones was cut off from liberties.
"It's too clean."
Onizuka's voice was hoarse, like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together.
"Water that is too clear has no fish."
"In Tokyo, no one can live on sunlight alone. Shadows are indispensable."
He raised his head, and a greedy and cold light gleamed in his intact right eye.
"Shuichi Saionji... how did that once bookish, fallen aristocrat suddenly become so amazing?"
"I heard...it's his daughter," the man in the suit added in a low voice, "that little girl named Satsuki, there's something strange about her."
"A little girl?"
Onizuka sneered, clearly not taking it seriously.
"Whoever is in charge, they've eaten too much, and they've done it too blatantly."
"Making so much money but not knowing how to share it is breaking the rules."
He picked up his teacup and blew on it to cool it down.
"Since they don't know the rules, let's teach them."
"Send someone to that karaoke bar to check if any minors are smoking or drinking there, or... maybe slip them something in."
"Also, check SA Entertainment's accounts. I don't believe an entertainment company can be so clean."
"Find an opportunity to send an invitation to Mr. Saionji."
Onizuka grinned, revealing a set of teeth stained yellow from smoking.
"Tell him that some 'consulting fees' cannot be avoided."
"yes!"
The man in the suit accepted the order and left.
The tea room returned to silence.
Onizuka stared at the large dragon that had been strangled on the chessboard, his eyes filled with malice.
In this era of inflated bubbles, it's not just businessmen who are celebrating.
The rats hiding in the sewers, the blood-sucking leeches, and the hungry wolves that devour people without spitting out the bones all crawled out, attracted by the smell of money.
This piece of fat meat from the Saionji family smells so good.
It smells so good that you can't help but want to take a bite.
Even if it means being shattered to pieces.
……
At this moment, in Marunouchi's office.
Endo has already accepted the order and left to assemble the acquisition team.
Satsuki stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the neon lights outside gradually illuminate.
Although the inventory problem has been resolved, the Saionji family's territory is expanding at an astonishing rate.
But for some reason, her right eyelid kept twitching all night.
A feeling of being watched crept up her spine like a cold snake.
"Father."
Satsuki suddenly spoke.
"What's wrong?" Shuichi was looking at a document about the development of Odaiba.
"Have any strange people contacted you recently? Like those claiming to be directors of some organization, or trying to sell you expensive magazines?"
"Strange people?" Shuichi thought for a moment. "No, they're all nouveau riche trying to get into The Club, or politicians looking for sponsorships. What's wrong?"
"It's nothing."
Satsuki shook her head.
But she knew in her heart that when you stand in the spotlight, there must be something watching you from the shadows.
Having money alone is not enough.
Money can move gods, but it can also attract ghosts.
She took the black leather diary out of her schoolbag and turned to a new page.
The pen tip lingered on the paper for a moment.
Then, she wrote down a word:
Security
"It seems that besides a 'foreman' who knows how to make money, we also need a few 'vicious dogs' who know how to bite."
Satsuki closed her diary, a fierce glint in her eyes that seemed out of place for her age.
"Now that we're in the center of the stage, those things hiding behind the curtain will reach out sooner or later."
"Then let's go."
"Let's see if your teeth are harder, or my knife is sharper."
Outside the window, the Tokyo night grew even darker.
Beneath the flowing river of money and desire, undercurrents are surging.
...
(PS: By 1988, the Yakuza were extremely rampant and had close ties with different political factions. So don't ask me why a gang would dare to threaten the Chinese community. These gangs are just the surface; there are many other complex forces behind them.)