Mid-April 1988, Los Angeles.
California sunlight poured down like molten gold, spilling lavishly over Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. The palm fronds gleamed, and the air hung thick with the scent of leather, bitter fresh-ground coffee, and the faint exhaust of passing convertibles with engines too big for sense.
This wasn't just a shopping street. It was a catwalk in a vanity fair.
And today, the catwalk had welcomed a very strange pair.
Up front walked two young Japanese girls. One wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and dark sunglasses that hid most of her face, her cream trench coat swaying with each step as she idly traced patterns in the air like she was sketching out territory. The other wore glasses and a costly Chanel suit, but she carried a beat-up canvas tote and clutched a list covered in model numbers, darting between boutiques like a harried rabbit.
But they weren't the most eye-catching part.
What really made the passing socialites and starlets stare were the four men behind them.
Four broad-shouldered men in tailored black suits, sunglasses on, earpieces in, radiating a professional "do not approach" aura. They looked like they'd stepped straight off the set of a yakuza film, or like Secret Service agents guarding a head of state.
Except right now, their image was taking heavy casualties.
"Fujita, hold that one steady. It's for Father."
Satsuki stopped outside an antique shop called "The Velvet Rope" and issued the order without looking back.
"Yes, Milady."
Fujita Tsuyoshi's expression was cold as steel, as if he were defusing a bomb. But he wasn't holding a weapon. Instead, in a way that clashed violently with his aura, he cradled a giant pink flamingo specimen nearly half his height — something Satsuki had bought on impulse because she decided its "eyes looked wise." The flamingo's limp neck lolled against Fujita's broad shoulder, swaying with each step.
To his left, another guard struggled for balance. His arms were stacked high with shoeboxes, topped by a precarious 19th-century painted glass lamp. He moved like he was walking on eggshells, terrified the three-thousand-dollar antique would explode into shards.
"Hey! Be careful with those boxes!"
Amy burst out of a high-end electronics store, waving a receipt and gasping for breath.
"There's an oscilloscope in there! It's fragile! Latest HP model!"
The third guard had two cardboard boxes labeled with bright FRAGILE stickers. Professional-grade equipment bulged his arm muscles, but he'd still managed to hook several plastic bags of US-edition Nintendo cartridges onto one finger.
The fourth guard looked the most absurd.
On his back: a graffiti-covered longboard fresh from a surf shop. Left hand: two cases of Napa Valley red. Right hand: a cage with a squawking green parrot — Amy had bought it because she thought it was "magical" that it could say "Hello World."
Four elite bodyguards who could make Tokyo's underworld cross the street were now reduced to mobile shelves.
"Saionji-san, aren't we… buying a bit much?" Amy asked cautiously. "That specimen is weird and heavy. Shipping's going to cost a fortune, right?"
She glanced at the four men buried under goods and finally felt a pang of guilt. Her eyes dropped to the long receipt in her hand. The numbers made her wince.
"Too much?"
Satsuki slid off her sunglasses and checked her reflection in the shop window.
"This is just the warm-up, Amy."
"As for shipping? We have our own plane. Shipping cost: zero."
She turned and strode into a shop selling Hollywood movie props.
"Since we're here, we should bring local specialties back. Isn't souvenir shopping a Japanese tradition? And—"
Satsuki pointed at an original Darth Vader helmet from the Star Wars crew, priced at fifty thousand dollars.
"That would look pretty intimidating in the lounge at the Akasaka Pink Building. Buy it. Fujita, you've still got one hand free, right?"
Fujita looked at his left hand, already buried in shopping bags, then at the matte-black helmet. His mouth twitched.
"…Yes, Milady."
Expressionless, he extended his pinky and hooked the exquisite gift bag the clerk handed him.
Satsuki had one rule for souvenirs: if it caught her eye, she bought it. She didn't care about getting ripped off. As long as she was happy.
Naturally, this behavior was single-handedly reinforcing every American stereotype about bubble-era Japanese tourists, and then elevating it to an art form…
4:00 PM. Santa Monica Airport.
The brand-new Gulfstream G4 "Midnight Ghost" sat quiet on the tarmac, its deep-blue fuselage glinting coldly under the California sunset.
Inside the cabin, the minimalist luxury interior had been thoroughly conquered by their spoils.
The Darth Vader helmet sat on the walnut conference table beside Amy's oscilloscope and the still-squawking parrot. The flamingo specimen had its own seat — Amy had even buckled its seatbelt. The carpet vanished under boxes from Chanel, Hermès, and half a dozen electronics stores. There was nowhere to step.
With a surge of acceleration, the plane lifted, leveling off over the Pacific.
Amy kicked off her painful heels and collapsed into a wide leather seat, cracking open an ice-cold Coke with one hand while the other fiddled with a prototype Game Boy.
"Ah… I'm alive again."
She sighed, pressing the cold can to her flushed cheek.
"Shopping's exhausting, but that 'this is mine' feeling is unbeatable."
She turned to Satsuki, who sat across from her flipping through a fashion magazine.
"Satsuki-chan, about that…"
Amy hesitated.
"We've been gone so long… will school really be okay?"
"Hmm?" Satsuki turned a page, unbothered. "What was that?"
"I mean… the entrance ceremony."
Amy counted on her fingers, her face a mix of resignation and dread.
"Today's the 15th. Seika's opening ceremony was on the 8th. We've already missed a whole week."
"When I called Mom, she said the school sent a notice to our house asking why we were absent without leave. My family covered for us — said it was 'important overseas family training' — but still…"
Amy sighed, gaze drifting.
"Freshmen who skip the entrance ceremony… we're probably the first in Seika's history, right? When we go back, we'll be the talk of the school. 'Those two arrogant freshmen who won't even show the chairman respect'… just thinking about it gives me a stomachache."
Despite her words, she shifted to get more comfortable.
"But well, we've already missed it. Nothing to do about it now."
She took a big gulp of Coke and burped.
"Honestly, I don't want to think about annoying stuff while traveling. Now that we're finally heading back, it's kind of reassuring. The teachers will nag, sure, but at least I can sleep on my own tatami and get taiyaki by the school gate…"
After half a month abroad — Silicon Valley's brainstorming and Hollywood's decadence — Amy's tech-geek heart was already homesick for Tokyo's orderly, even rigid, rhythm.
"Reassuring?"
Satsuki set down her magazine.
She lifted her black tea, blew on it, and looked at Amy with a half-smile over the rim.
"Amy, did you misunderstand something?"
"Eh?" Amy froze, Game Boy pausing. "Misunderstand what?"
"Who said we're going back to Tokyo?"
Satsuki's voice was soft, but it cut clear through the quiet cabin.
Amy's movements stopped.
She blinked, sure she'd misheard over the engine noise.
"Not… not Tokyo? But… the plane's flying west. Across the Pacific is Japan, right?"
"It is flying toward Japan."
Satsuki pressed the intercom on her armrest.
"Captain, please confirm our current course and destination."
The captain's steady American English came through with a crackle of static:
"Current heading north-northwest. Destination: New Chitose Airport. ETA: three hours."
"New Chitose… New Chitose?!"
Amy shot up from her seat, nearly hitting her head on the overhead bin. Ignoring the pain, she stared at Satsuki in horror.
"Hokkaido?! Why Hokkaido?!"
She pointed at the mountain of shopping bags, then at her own thin spring clothes.
"We bought all this stuff — shouldn't we go home and put it away first? And… we may have taken leave, but we can't stay out forever! I haven't finished my math homework! There's a physics test next week!"
"I thought we were going back to 'turn ourselves in' and make up classes, but you're taking me to… skip school?"
Amy felt her worldview cracking.
This wasn't "getting back on track." This was flooring the gas pedal straight into delinquency.
"Homework?"
Satsuki raised an eyebrow like she'd heard a foreign word.
"Just have Fujita find a few people to write it for you. As for the physics test… do you need to review?"
"It's not about reviewing! It's about attitude!" Amy clutched her head. "Saionji-san, you haven't forgotten we're still students, have you?"
"I haven't forgotten."
Satsuki stood, waded through the clutter, and pulled out a rolled map.
"But Tokyo's air is too murky right now."
She pushed the helmet aside and spread the map on the table.
"It's April. The cherry blossoms in Tokyo have already fallen. The streets are full of muddy slush from trampled petals. Besides, school just started, so all those high-born ladies will be holding boring tea parties, competing over whose vacation was fancier or whose dress was Paris custom."
Satsuki's finger slid across the map, a trace of weariness in her eyes.
"I don't want to hear that nonsense, and I don't want to smell that fake perfume."
"I want to see snow."
Her finger pressed down on the northern tip of the map.
"Hokkaido. Niseko and Furano."
Amy leaned in, staring at the contour lines, dread pooling in her stomach.
"Are we going skiing? But it's mid-April… the snow should be gone, right?"
"Hokkaido snow doesn't melt that easily."
Satsuki picked up a red pen and drew heavy circles around both names.
"And we're not going for fun. We're going to claim land."
"'Claim land'?" Amy's voice went thin.
"Amy, what's the most expensive thing in Tokyo right now?"
"Land? Stocks?"
"Correct. But Tokyo's land has been carved up already. Yoshiaki Tsutsumi bought some, Mitsui bought some, and I bought some."
Satsuki tapped the map lightly.
"But when people in the city have money, what do they want?"
"Buy more stuff?"
"No. They want to escape."
Satsuki looked at Amy.
"After someone buys luxury brands in Ginza, drinks in Roppongi, and gets beauty treatments in Akasaka, they realize there's nothing left in the city that excites them."
"They start craving nature. They crave that extreme, pure 'wildness' that money can buy."
"The best powder snow, the best hot springs, the freshest milk and sea urchin."
"This is the final luxury of the bubble era — 'experience.'"
Satsuki's finger landed on Niseko.
"Right now, it's just wasteland that only Australian backpackers know about."
"But I'm going to build a kingdom there."
"The best ski resort in Asia. Members-only secret hot springs. And…"
She paused, a sharp glint in her eyes.
"An integrated agricultural farm that produces the highest-grade domestic ingredients."
"An organic farm supplying The Club and all our high-end restaurants directly."
"We control the source."
"In the S.A. Group's territory, 'clothing' has Uniqlo and S-Collection. 'Transportation' has this plane and our logistics company. 'Entertainment' has karaoke and our entertainment firm."
"Now, we're filling in 'food' and 'housing.'"
Amy listened, mouth open.
She stared at the girl across from her, younger than herself.
One second they were talking about school, the next Satsuki was laying out plans for an agricultural and tourism empire in Hokkaido.
And from her tone, this wasn't a whim.
"Saionji-san…" Amy asked weakly, "You didn't… plan this a long time ago, did you?"
"Of course."
Satsuki pulled a file from her briefcase.
"Three months ago, a special team from Saionji Industries' real estate division moved into Hokkaido."
"They don't buy buildings or existing resorts. They buy one thing — wasteland."
"Abandoned farms with bad access. Mountain forests that are just trees."
"We've already acquired nearly five thousand hectares."
Five thousand hectares.
Amy's breath caught.
While she'd been worrying about homework, Satsuki had carved out a small country up north.
"Then… what are we going to do?"
"Inspect."
Satsuki closed the file.
"See my territory. And…"
She pointed to several unopened boxes in the corner.
"Try on some new clothes."
"That box has S-Collection's new winter line, using the latest thermal fibers. We'll be the first testers."
"…"
Amy was defeated.
Even the clothes were prepared. This was a long-planned "kidnapping."
"Attention passengers, we're beginning our descent."
The captain's voice came again.
"Destination: New Chitose Airport. Ground temperature minus three degrees Celsius, moderate snow. Please fasten your seatbelts."
Satsuki turned to the window.
The plane broke through thick cloud.
Below, the world had changed.
No more California gold and azure. No more Tokyo's gray concrete forest.
Instead: endless, boundless silver-white.
Heavy snow blanketed rolling mountains. Conifer forests stood like rows of black soldiers on the snowfields. The last rays of sunset spilled across the frozen Chitose River, reflecting a cold, sacred violet.
"We're here," Satsuki said softly.
With the dull thud of landing gear, the fuselage shuddered.
The huge tires touched down, kicking up compressed snow on the runway, white mist blooming behind the wings.
The plane taxied across the snowy tarmac and slowed to a stop on the empty apron.
The cabin door opened.
Biting, fresh cold poured in, carrying the scent of pine and ice.
The smell of the northern land.
Satsuki stood and tightened her trench coat.
She walked to the door and looked down at the snow-covered earth.
Before Tokyo's heat could burn its way up here,
beneath this silent snowfield,
another giant seed was about to be buried.
"Let's go, Amy."
Satsuki turned back and smiled at Amy, who was frantically wrestling on her down jacket.
"Welcome to my kingdom."
Snowflakes landed in her hair and melted instantly.
In the distance, Hokkaido's mountains stood silent in the twilight, waiting for their young queen to conquer them.