Five minutes later, Chizuru had packed the soldering iron into a separate small tool bag, affixing a label that read "Travel Tech Equipment · Carry-on."
Chizuru's solution was to bypass checked baggage, instead placing it in Fujita's security equipment case and clearing customs through the diplomatic channel.
Only then did Emi scramble up from the floor.
Chizuru reorganized the contents of Emi's suitcase by category—electronic devices and cables at the bottom, paper documents inserted vertically in the middle layer, and clothing (Emi had only stuffed in two spare T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants) on top.
After the rearrangement, the suitcase's zipper actually closed smoothly.
Emi crouched nearby, watching the process, her mouth pressed into a thin line.
Her gaze lingered for a few seconds on Chizuru's fair, dexterous fingers, then drifted toward Satsuki—who had, at some point, curled up in a rattan chair, holding a magazine with a lazy posture, completely unobservant of this side.
Emi shifted her gaze back to Chizuru.
This person had been standing right next to Satsuki-chan the whole time.
Her fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of her T-shirt.
"Hey."
Chizuru pushed the closed suitcase next to the other three and stood up.
"Who are you?"
Emi's voice was not loud, and her tone was not exactly fierce.
But what was in her eyes was very straightforward—vigilance.
Like a cat with a strong sense of territory that had suddenly discovered a stranger in the room—a stranger who was too close to its owner.
Chizuru stopped and turned to the side.
She glanced at Emi but did not answer immediately.
Satsuki peeked half her face over the top of the magazine.
"Chizuru is my personal maid, and she will be with me from now on."
Emi's body stiffened for a moment.
From now on.
With me.
The words "from now on" bounced around in her head several times, and with each bounce, her chest tightened a little more.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
She wanted to say something, but in front of Satsuki, she could never say those kinds of things.
I want to be with you from now on, too.
She looked at Chizuru again.
Chizuru's expression was calm, hands clasped in front of her, eyes slightly downcast.
Her posture was impeccable, like a carefully placed artifact.
Emi looked away, feeling somewhat unwilling.
She crouched back down next to the suitcase, resting her chin on her knees, and mumbled something vaguely.
"...I could have organized it too."
Chizuru had already walked toward the door to retrieve the next checklist to verify.
Another set of slower footsteps came from the corridor.
Shuichi walked into the side hall.
He was wearing a dark blue loungewear kimono jacket today, the sash tied loosely, and he was holding a cup of barley tea.
He paused at the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the suitcases, clothing, documents, and tools scattered across the floor.
Then, his gaze landed on the documents spread out on the low table.
A few folders had their covers opened, and pages were scattered across the tabletop.
The top one was an Intourist itinerary, and the ones underneath were printed with bold headings:
Soviet Academy of Sciences Computing Center · Personnel List (Confidential)
Brief Table of Throughput Capacity of Major Far East Ports · 1989 Annual Statistics
Directory of Soviet Optical Research Institutions · Including Addresses and Contact Information for Heads
Japan-Soviet Cultural Exchange Fund · Preliminary Proposal (Draft)
Common Security Risks in Soviet Hotels for Foreign Guests · Memorandum
Shuichi's hand holding the barley tea cup stopped in mid-air.
He looked at those document titles for a long time.
"Satsuki."
Satsuki was curled up in the rattan chair, rubbing her toes against the woven texture of the chair surface.
"Yes."
"...Did not you tell me this was a trip?"
Satsuki put down the magazine.
She pulled a thin booklet from under the stack of magazines beside her—an officially issued Moscow travel guide, with the brightly colored onion domes of Saint Basil's Cathedral printed on the cover.
She held up the booklet and waved it at Shuichi.
The expression on her face was as well-behaved as an elementary school student being spot-checked on their homework by a teacher.
"Father, look. Does not this have Red Square, the Winter Palace, and ballet?"
"It is just in time for New Year's—I will take you to see the Moscow New Year's fireworks."
Shuichi's gaze slowly moved away from the travel guide and landed on the corner of another document exposed beneath it.
The top right corner of the paper was printed with the letterhead "S.A. Investment · Internal Memorandum."
Only half a line of the title was visible: "Sakhalin Continental Shelf Oil and Gas Development · Initial Consultations..."
The second half was covered by the travel guide.
Shuichi looked up at his daughter.
"And what about this?"
Satsuki blinked.
She reached out and unhurriedly moved the travel guide to the side, just enough to completely cover the title of the memorandum.
Then she tilted her head, a curve forming at the corner of her mouth.
"Well—it is on the way."
Shuichi did not respond.
He carried the cup of cold barley tea, walked to the opposite side of the rattan chair by the window, and sat down slowly.
The hem of his kimono jacket spread out over his knees, and he placed the teacup on the edge of the low table.
After a few seconds of silence, "If both you and I are not in the country, then..."
"Endo is in Osaka, Dojima is in the Middle East, and Frank is in New York."
He did not say the words "in case something happens," but that implication hung at the end of the sentence.
This was the first time since the founding of the Saionji Group that both leaders had left the Japanese mainland simultaneously.
Even during the time when Satsuki was in a coma before, Shuichi was still there to preside over the big picture.
Satsuki put down the travel guide.
She looked at her father, her expression softening from well-behaved to something gentler.
"Father."
"Yes."
"I believe Endo can handle it well."
Her tone was very firm.
"Besides, the SIS direct line is open twenty-four hours a day; if there is anything that needs approval, we can be reached at any time. Furthermore—"
She paused, reached out to pick up the black tea from the coaster, and took a sip.
"From 1985 until now, we have both been very tired. Have we not?"
Shuichi looked at his daughter.
"It is New Year's," Satsuki put the teacup back on the coaster, her voice softening slightly. "Although Moscow's winter is cold, I hear the New Year's ballet at the Bolshoi Theatre is beautiful. We should take a break too."
Shuichi also picked up his cup of barley tea and took a sip.
His expression showed no clear fluctuation, but his furrowed brow relaxed a little.
"...Then, as for the Group—"
"Maki is holding down the fort in Tokyo," Satsuki replied quickly. "She will preside over the monthly meetings on our behalf. Documents that require your signature can be sent via the Ministry of Foreign Affairs special diplomatic pouch, and they can be received within forty-eight hours."
"As for SIS, Masato has always handled things well. There is even less need to worry about Shimomura; besides, it seems he recently started dating Eri, and he has been beaming with joy all day."
"On the retail side, you know how Yanai is; even if there were an earthquake, he would crawl out himself to open for business."
"And as for Saionji Construction..."
Shuichi suddenly smiled and waved his hand.
"Alright, alright, I know you have considered everything."
"It is me who was too worried... Sorry."
He placed the empty teacup on the low table.
When he stood up, the sash of his kimono jacket swayed.
"My suitcase is already in the bedroom." He paused. "Is there anything else I need to add in terms of clothing?"
"I heard the wind in the Soviet Union can freeze a person to death."
Satsuki nodded slightly.
"Minus twenty or thirty degrees. The overcoat should be long, and the scarf thick. Bring two pairs of leather gloves, one as a spare."
The way she counted on her fingers suddenly made her look a bit more like a daughter should.
"And that pair of high-top leather boots—the pair we bought in Ginza last year. With thicker soles, because there will be ice on the road."
Shuichi nodded.
He turned and walked toward the door, his pace slow and steady, just as it was when he arrived.
When he reached the door frame, he paused.
He did not turn back.
"...The first time I have completely let go of the Group."
His voice was very low, as if speaking to himself.
"It is for the best."
The footsteps faded away along the corridor.
Satsuki watched her father's back disappear around the corner of the corridor.
She withdrew her gaze, lowered her eyes, and picked up her black tea cup to take a sip.
The tea in the cup had already gone slightly cold.
The side hall returned to silence.
Chizuru closed the lid of the final suitcase.
The aluminum-magnesium alloy buckle snapped shut under her fingertips.
The sound was very light.
Very crisp.
Emi was crouching next to the suitcase, hugging her knees.
Her soldering iron had already been properly stowed, but she still subconsciously glanced in the direction of the tool bag labeled "Technical Equipment."
Then her gaze shifted back to Chizuru.
Chizuru was walking back to Satsuki's right side, naturally standing still at that one-and-a-half-step distance.
Although there were no unnecessary movements, nor any deliberate attempts to get closer, she was just that close.
Emi buried her chin into her knees.
Fujita walked over from the door and placed the checked dark blue folder into his own black briefcase.
He zipped it up and fastened the buckle.
The sound of the bamboo broom in the courtyard stopped; it was probably finished.
In the distance, crows were calling, their voices flattened by the early winter air.
"Satsuki-chan."
Emi suddenly spoke up.
Her voice came up from her crouching position, carrying a slightly muffled, low tone.
"Yes."
"Is the Soviet Union... really, really cold?"
Satsuki placed the empty teacup back on the coaster.
Her finger traced a circle gently along the rim of the cup.
"The weather is actually fine."
She stood up from the rattan chair, her bare feet stepping on the tatami mats, and walked to the window.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the old maple trees in the courtyard were left with only sparse branches.
The last few dark brown leaves still hung on the tips of the branches, swaying precariously as the wind blew.
She paused for a few seconds.
"What is colder are some other things."