The 10:00 AM sun poured through double-pane glass, spilling across an epoxy floor polished to a mirror shine.
Several black Toyota Crowns rolled up to the Saionji Biotechnology Center, carrying the briny bite of sea wind. Doors opened. Leather shoes hit concrete — click, click.
"Oh my, so this is the famous 'Future Farm'? Seeing is believing."
Chairman Iwamura of the Okawara Agricultural Cooperative led the group. Sixties, portly, gray suit a size too big, sparse hair slicked back to a shine. He tilted his head up at the steel-and-glass dome and whistled.
"Looks like a space station from one of those sci-fi shows."
Section Chief Sato trailed behind, nodding along, eyes vacant. As a Hokkaido Agricultural Bureau official, he had zero interest in getting between a zaibatsu and local power brokers. He just wanted the inspection over with.
Professor Kijima waited for them in a white lab coat, tablet in hand.
"Chairman Iwamura, Section Chief Sato, this way please." Kijima stepped aside, voice flat, professional. "We're currently in Zone A. Full-spectrum automated analysis monitors every plant in real time…"
The group entered the greenhouse.
Iwamura didn't care about "photosynthetic efficiency" or "nutrient solution ratios." His eyes dragged greedily over the equipment. He ran a finger hard along a stainless cultivation rack.
No dust.
"Equipment like this… must cost a fortune, eh?" Iwamura cut Kijima off and turned.
"This hydroponic circulation system alone ran about 150 million yen," Kijima answered, honest.
"One-fifty million…" Iwamura sucked his teeth, wrinkles bunching as he smiled — the kind of smile that calculates. "Tokyo money sure spends easy. Us mud-diggers wouldn't see that in three lifetimes."
He stopped looking at strawberries. Hands behind his back, he strolled toward the VIP lounge on the second floor like he owned the place. The lounge had the view — floor-to-ceiling glass over the whole greenhouse and the sea beyond.
Everyone sat.
"Excuse me."
Amy came in with a tray. Neat uniform, ponytail, heart hammering, fingertips cold. She set tea and a fruit plate down steady anyway.
The plate: freshly picked 'Amaou' strawberries. Gem-red. Huge.
"Chairman Iwamura, Section Chief Sato, please."
Satsuki sat at the head of the table.
Not her usual armor of blazers and boardroom black. Today: pale pink dress, pearl hairpin. She looked like a rich middle-schooler.
"So these are the… two-thousand-yen strawberries?"
Iwamura picked one up, turned it in the light, no rush to eat.
"I hear they sell out in Ginza. Miss Saionji, you're young and sharp. Us old bones can't keep up."
"You flatter me, Chairman." Satsuki smiled, sweet, voice clear. "I thought it'd be fun, so I had Professor Kijima try growing them. Didn't expect people to like them this much."
Iwamura bit. Juice ran.
"Mm. Sweet, alright."
He set the half-eaten berry down, wiped his hands with a handkerchief, and leaned forward. Smile thinned.
"But Miss Saionji," Iwamura's voice dropped, "good things are good things. Some problems can't be solved with good things alone."
Satsuki blinked. Utterly confused.
"What's wrong? The strawberries not sweet enough?"
"No, no, strawberries are excellent." Iwamura waved a hand. "I'm saying… lately, local farmers come to the Cooperative, complaining. Your trucks — coming, going, all day. Noise. Scaring chickens. Hens stopped laying."
Amy, standing to the side, nearly broke.
This whole area was wasteland for kilometers. What farmers? What chickens?
Iwamura sighed, playing the burdened mediator.
"We've cooperated on transport before. I've calmed people down. But you know country folk — once they're riled, they're trouble. Roads get 'blocked.' Pavement 'needs repair.' Unfortunate accidents."
The knife was out.
Previous "toll" wasn't enough. He wanted another "road maintenance fee," using the inspection as leverage.
Section Chief Sato lifted his teacup, pretended to drink, stared out the window like he was deaf.
Silence.
"Oh… I see…"
Satsuki kept eating a strawberry. Like she hadn't heard.
She reached for another one.
"Amy, try this." She held it out to Amy behind her, voice with that particular young-girl pout. "This one looks darker than the last. Maybe sweeter?"
Amy froze, then caught on. Took it.
"Is… is it? Let me try."
Iwamura's brow twitched. Ignored.
"Miss Saionji?"
"Ah, sorry, sorry." Satsuki turned, still smiling, innocent. "What were you saying, Chairman Iwamura? Chickens not laying?"
She wrinkled her nose, genuinely troubled.
"That's awful. Should I have Professor Kijima check the chickens? He's from Tokyo University. He can probably treat chickens too, right?"
"Pfft." Amy covered her mouth, turned away, fake-coughed.
Iwamura's lip twitched.
"Miss Saionji, I'm not joking." His voice got heavy. "For long-term harmony, the Saionji family should show a little… sincerity."
"Sincerity?"
Satsuki tilted her head. Pointed at the strawberries.
"These strawberries are sincerity! Do you know? Brix 15! If they're not sweet enough…"
She suddenly turned and called toward the door:
"Professor Kijima! Professor Kijima! The guest says the strawberries aren't sweet! How are you growing these? Next time it's like this, I'm cutting all your funding!"
Professor Kijima didn't come in. He was probably bewildered by the sudden heiress tantrum.
Iwamura and Sato exchanged looks.
They'd come with speeches about local politics, profit splits, unwritten rules. Their punch hit cotton.
This was a spoiled rich girl who didn't know the world. Talk "unwritten rules" to her? She probably couldn't spell "rules."
Iwamura's patience snapped.
Talking in circles with a child was wasting time.
"Miss Saionji." Iwamura sat up. Smile gone. "For matters of regional development this big, I think I should speak with your father. When can Mr. Saionji Shuichi come to Hokkaido? I'd like to discuss deeper cooperation face to face."
Translation: Get me the adult.
Satsuki sighed.
She slumped in her chair, toying with a strawberry stem. Smile turned helpless, complaining.
"Father…"
She drew the word out.
"I wish he'd come. But he's so busy lately."
"Busy?" Iwamura snorted. "Busier than this?"
"Yes." Satsuki nodded, counting on fingers. "Last week, Yoshiaki Tsutsumi dragged him golfing — something about Seibu Group's IPO. Three days. I don't get golf. Little ball, hole. Yesterday, MITI's vice-minister took him to dinner — import quotas. Oh, and Mitsui Bank's president calls daily, begging Father to come to Tokyo for a new development…"
She sounded more annoyed with each item, then spread her hands.
"So Father said Hokkaido is all mine. As long as I don't flatten the mountains, I can play however I want. Spend whatever. Main thing is I relax."
She looked up, eyes clear as water.
"Chairman Iwamura, if you want to see Father, you'll have to go to Tokyo and make an appointment. Want me to give you the secretariat's number?"
Iwamura's hand froze on his teacup. Fingers rubbed the rim. Eyelids dropped.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi. MITI. Mitsui Bank.
Just as he thought.
Iwamura thought to himself. Tokyo "Agriculture and Forestry Tribe" politicians had whispered that Saionji's roots ran deep. Ancestral political capital reactivated. Voice in the faction getting louder. Ties to Seibu, to finance.
Now confirmed. Underestimated, even. Three days golfing with Tsutsumi? That wasn't casual.
No wonder Tokyo told Hokkaido JA: cooperate on ag matters.
He looked at the "innocent" girl across from him.
If Saionji pushed, using Tokyo pressure, JA could fight. But that meant burning political capital in the Diet. Burning credit for "toll money"? Stupid.
JA already got face in the previous deal — transport contracts, canteen veg. Territory acknowledged. No need to die on this hill.
Public cursing? Let them curse. Public opinion didn't move JA's foundations.
"Hahaha…"
The calculus took seconds.
Iwamura laughed. Wrinkles smoothed. Kind elder mode: activated.
He set his cup down. Didn't mention the appointment.
"Oh my, if your father's that busy, we won't bother him. Saionji family — big house, big business. Impressive."
He picked up a strawberry, praised loud, like the "chickens not laying" never happened.
"These strawberries… sweet! Truly sweet! Miss Saionji has vision! With you here, Okawara agriculture will soar!"
That was it. Deal accepted. No more boundary testing.
Section Chief Sato exhaled, jumped in: "Yes, yes, pride of Hokkaido!"
"Really?" Satsuki's smile bloomed, child-like. "Then please promote them when you go back. Amy, pack gift boxes for our guests."
"Of course." Amy hid her laugh, packed two boxes of S-grade strawberries…
Minutes later.
Black sedans pulled away from the Biotech Center, dust trailing.
Silence returned to the lounge.
Satsuki went to the window, watched the convoy shrink, picked up a strawberry. Bit.
"They're gone?"
Amy leaned in, watching Satsuki's face.
"Gone." Satsuki turned, saw Amy's look, and laughed. "You — your hands were shaking just now."
"I was afraid I'd laugh…" Amy laughed too. "So Satsuki-chan can do 'clueless young lady'… I thought you were always…"
Amy mimicked her, exaggerated:
"You… kneel before this Queen, all is within my grasp~"
"Oh? I'm a dictator to you?"
Satsuki said, picking up another strawberry.
"Now, I command you. Eat this."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
Amy took it, solemn.
"But, Majesty. That old man… problem? Seems like a fox."
Satsuki swallowed, tone easy.
"He's a businessman and a politician. Do the math — fighting costs more than cooperating — and he'll smile sweeter than anyone."
She stretched, languid again.
"Amy, come here."
She went to the sink in the corner.
"Did you shake hands with that old man?"
"No."
"I did." Satsuki turned the tap. Pumped soap.
White foam lathered. Lemon scent.
She washed — fingers, gaps, nails — slow, careful, like a ritual. Like a game.
"Even if it's acting, once you get that greed-smell on you, you wash it off. Thoroughly."
Satsuki hummed, making hand-washing theatrical, foam flying to the mirror.
Amy watched their reflections.
One: zaibatsu heiress who moved grown men like chess pieces.
But now: playing with soap bubbles, germaphobe grin.
Satsuki was older than her years most of the time. But the more time Amy spent with her, the more she saw the kid underneath.
"Pfft…"
Amy laughed out loud.
"What?"
Satsuki turned, foam on her cheek.
"Nothing. Just think Satsuki-chan is nice like this too."