January 3, 1991, Narita Airport.
It was a clear, sunny day.
Outside the porthole, the Tokyo sky was a clean, pale blue.
Satsuki watched the wingtip trace the markings along the edge of the tarmac, her shoulders relaxing half an inch without her realizing it.
The air in Japan was warmer than she had imagined.
Or perhaps, after spending over a month in the sub-zero temperatures of the snowy plains in Leningrad, five degrees Celsius in Tokyo in January felt mild enough.
Fujita was the first to stand up.
He opened the overhead bin, took down several suitcases one by one, and handed them to the ground crew waiting in the rear cabin.
Chizuru stood up from her seat, took Satsuki's coat from the back of the chair, gave it a shake, and draped it over her arm.
Emi was still curled up in her seat, clutching a hard-shell folder to her chest.
She had wrapped the folder twice with tape, and a white sticky note was stuck to the corner, with a few lines of crooked Russian letters and a string of numbers written in pencil.
Orlov's manuscript.
That young researcher, buried by the system at the Soviet Academy of Sciences Computing Center, had made a copy of his core notes on parallel computing scheduling via the contact channel Fujita left behind before they departed Moscow.
Ever since she received it, Emi had not let it out of her sight.
She tucked it under her pillow when she slept, held it in her arms when boarding the plane, and even had to hand it over to Satsuki to watch whenever she went to the restroom.
"Emi," Satsuki stood up, "we have arrived."
Emi rubbed her eyes and pulled the folder tighter against her chest. "I am awake."
Her hair slid from behind her ears, with one strand sticking to her cheek.
"Hold it after we get off the plane." Chizuru handed the coat to Satsuki and tugged at Emi's sleeve. "Stand up first."
Emi let out a "mm," climbed out of her seat slowly, and walked with a slightly unsteady gait, like an animal just waking up from hibernation.
Shuichi was already standing at the cabin door.
He was wearing the same dark gray cashmere coat he had worn when they departed, his scarf tied neatly.
The six weeks in Leningrad had made his complexion slightly darker than when they had left, but his mental state was actually better.
Perhaps it was because, starting yesterday, there were no longer any Soviet officials he had to deal with using a forced smile.
The cabin door opened.
The cold January wind poured in from outside, but it did not have a bite to it, unlike the wind on the banks of the Neva River that could slice your ears off.
The ground crew was already waiting at the bottom of the ramp, and two black Toyota Century cars were parked at the edge of the tarmac, their engines still running.
As Satsuki stepped out of the cabin, her gaze first fell to the other side of the tarmac.
A silver-gray business van was parked next to the entrance of the VIP passage, its doors tightly shut, but she recognized the person in the driver's seat—it was Endo's driver.
Endo had not sent anyone to pick her up; he had come himself.
Satsuki did not stop walking and continued down the ramp.
Fujita followed quickly behind her, now carrying a silver metal case in his hand.
Inside it were copies of technical documents collected from various places in the Soviet Union, lists of equipment models, and several internal reference files obtained from the Leningrad industrial system through Sobchak's channels.
They were not core secrets, but they were enough for the SIS technical department to establish a preliminary database of Soviet industrial equipment.
Fujita placed the case into the trunk of the first Toyota Century.
Shuichi paused for a moment in front of the car and looked back at the deep blue plane that had just carried them across half a continent.
The silver Tomoe emblem on the tail fin reflected the sunlight, looking from a distance like a brooch pinned to the collar of the sky.
"Is this trip finally over?" Shuichi asked.
Satsuki was taking her gloves out of her pocket and putting them on.
Her movements paused for a second, and she looked up at the sky to the east.
In the direction of Tokyo from Narita, the outline of high-rise buildings could be vaguely seen on the skyline.
"As for the Soviet Union, we just need to wait for it to continue collapsing on its own."
She finished putting on her gloves and flexed her fingers inside the sheepskin.
"Now it is Japan's turn."
"The Hakusuikai is making moves, and Seibu has also been a bit restless lately."
Shuichi did not press for details.
He nodded slightly, bent down, and got into the back seat.
Satsuki looked back at Emi.
Emi was being half-supported and half-pushed by Chizuru toward the second car, muttering something, the folder still clutched tightly to her chest.
"Chizuru, have her go back to the Main Family Residence to rest first. Put the manuscript in the safe; someone from SIS will come to collect it later."
"Yes." Chizuru acknowledged and pushed Emi into the car.
The international VIP lounge at Narita Airport was located in a separate passage on the west side of the terminal.
The Toyota Century drove along the dedicated lane and came to a stop at the entrance.
Fujita got out first to check the surroundings, then opened the door for Satsuki.
Seeing Satsuki from afar, Endo had already stood up.
He was wearing a deep navy blue suit, his shirt collar fastened meticulously, but the dark circles under his eyes were deeper than Satsuki remembered.
"Eldest Miss," Endo bowed slightly, "welcome back. You have worked hard."
"Endo, you have worked hard too." Satsuki walked over to the sofa and sat down, took off her gloves, and placed them side by side on the corner of the coffee table. "How has Tokyo been these past few days?"
Endo did not sit down.
He took three folders out of his briefcase and placed them on the coffee table one by one, each with a different colored label on the cover.
Blue, red, and white.
"Yes. There are three matters here that require your judgment, arranged by urgency," Endo said. "The first is the Hakusuikai."
He opened the blue-labeled folder.
Inside was only a thin summary, with a few names circled in red on the right side of the page.
"The public articles have basically stopped," Endo said. "After moves were made in Kyoto, local financial publications no longer dare to continue pushing that 'Tokyo Capital' narrative."
Satsuki flipped to the first page.
The content was very fragmented.
At a dinner hosted by the Osaka Chamber of Commerce and Industry, someone reminded the presidents of manufacturing companies to confirm the source of the margin deposit before transferring letters of credit; at meetings for old clients of several local banks, there were also mentions that the Sumitomo Main Family giving a nod did not mean that all relevant banks had completed their risk assessments.
The words were spoken very conservatively, sounding like well-intentioned advice.
But to the ears of those who had not yet pressed their seals, the meaning was clear enough.
Wait a while, Let us see.
Do not be in a rush to hand yourself over to Saionji.
"This makes us sound like such bad guys," Satsuki smiled faintly. "Like they are earnestly persuading others not to defect to some villain."
"...Yes." Endo decided not to engage with Satsuki's joke. "Uragami can no longer frame the Saionji family as outsiders, so he has switched to using words like 'procedures,' 'risk,' and 'prudence' to make those who are still hesitant feel that there is no harm in dragging things out for a few more days."
"And the results?"
"Very limited."
"Sumitomo Metal and Sumitomo Electric have already completed the first round of settlement, so the possibility of them turning back is very low."
"Although there are still some voices within Sumitomo Chemical that feel the pace could be slower, overall, they have already leaned toward us."
"Executive Director Kawaguchi of Sumitomo Light Metal was asked a question at an industry gathering in Osaka last week: whether the overseas letters of credit had already been handed over to the people in Tokyo to manage."
"How did he respond?"
"He said, 'Who you open a letter of credit with depends on efficiency, not the zip code.'"
Satsuki smiled.
"Kawaguchi is good."
She continued flipping through.
On the last page, there was only one line of text circled separately by Endo.
If there are recent issues with document verification in other business sectors within the Saionji Group, should manufacturing enterprises re-evaluate its stability as a credit coordinator?
Satsuki's finger paused beside the words "document verification."
"The Hakusuikai also knows something."
Endo said, "That is my assessment as well. The previous inquiries were limited to letters of credit and margin deposits, but with this sentence, they suddenly dragged Saionji Construction into it."
Satsuki closed the summary.
"Uragami's previous card was suppressed, so he is waiting for the next one."
Had Seibu already discovered it?
Was Tsutsumi Yoshiaki planning to join forces with the Hakusuikai?
She closed the blue folder thoughtfully and shifted her gaze to the one with the red label.
Endo did not reach out to open it.
He looked at Satsuki, his tone dropping half a degree.
"The second matter, Executive Director Gondo."
Satsuki tapped her finger lightly on the red cover twice.
"Go on."
Endo opened the folder.
The contents were thin: a transcribed letter, a catalog, and a memo from the office of Inspector Fujita.
"Executive Director Gondo submitted a letter on December 29th. The letter first went to Mr. Fujita and was then forwarded to you. Since receiving the response here in Tokyo, he has taken no further action."
Satsuki opened the transcribed letter.
The content was not long.
In the letter, Gondo admitted that there were indeed a few old accounts that did not fully align regarding the insulation materials, winter energy consumption models, and subsequent maintenance costs of Gokurakukan from back then.
Those things were just gray areas in cost management when the project was profitable, but now that Gokurakukan was continuously bleeding money, if Seibu wanted to renegotiate, they would definitely find a way in through these areas.
He did not make too many excuses for himself.
At the end, he only wrote one sentence.
I hope to explain in person after the Eldest Miss returns to the country.
After reading it, Satsuki put the letter back.
"He has not contacted Seibu again?"
"No," Endo said, "at least not for now."
"After the notice for data retrieval was issued, he only had the Engineering and Technology Headquarters produce a catalog based on the original numbering; he did not make any temporary adjustments to the classification, nor did he ask suppliers to provide supplementary documents."
"He still knows the gravity of the situation."
"Mr. Fujita's assessment is the same," Endo pushed the memo in front of her. "Executive Director Gondo should already understand that Seibu will not protect him."
Satsuki closed the red folder.
"Arrange for him to see me soon, and have Eguchi come along as well."
"Do we need to secure the data first?"
"Do it as usual," Satsuki said. "Do not interrogate him in advance, and do not scare him. Since he wants to confess, let him tell the whole story."
Endo nodded.
"Understood."
Satsuki's gaze fell back onto the red folder.
"However, just because he has figured things out does not mean Seibu has."
She pushed the red folder aside.
"The third matter."
Endo opened the white-labeled folder.
The content of this one was thicker than the previous two, and the cover was stamped with the watermark of the Sumitomo family crest.
"On December 29th, Sumitomo Yoshio submitted supplementary authorization documents to the Saionji Main Family Residence through official channels. The content expands the scope of the original 'Industrial Credit Protection Authorization' from seven manufacturing companies to all Sumitomo-affiliated overseas trade enterprises."
Satsuki took the document and opened the first page.
"He is anxious."
"The Hakusuikai's public opinion offensive has made him very uncomfortable," Endo said. "Yoshio is the type of person who fears nothing more than having the family reputation dragged into the mud."
"Although those articles by Uragami did not name the Sumitomo Main Family, they implied between the lines that 'someone is selling out Kansai,' which is already an insult to a four-hundred-year-old family name."
"So he chose to double down." Satsuki flipped the document to the last page, where the signature line bore the joint names of Sumitomo Yoshio and Takamichi. "Handing over all settlement authorization for overseas trade to us is equivalent to publicly choosing a side."
"Yes," Endo said. "Once this document takes effect, the only cards left for the Hakusuikai to play will basically be the internal accounts of Itoman itself."
Satsuki closed the folder and stacked the three documents neatly on the coffee table.
Blue on the bottom, red in the middle, white on top.
Outside the window, a passenger plane was taxiing.
The sound of its engines came through the glass, low and constant, like a river pressed against the ground.
Endo stood on the opposite side of the coffee table and waited for a moment.
Then he spoke the last sentence.
"Eldest Miss, there is one more thing."
Satsuki raised her eyes.
"Seibu has also made a move."
"What kind of move?"
"Tsutsumi Yoshiaki's secretariat issued a request for a review of Gokurakukan's operating costs to three banks simultaneously last week. Nominally, it is part of the annual audit, but one of them is the Dai-Ichi Kangyo Bank—which is the lead underwriter for that bridge loan to Gokurakukan."
"He is looking for an excuse; Tsutsumi Yoshiaki seems to have sensed that something is wrong."
Satsuki's finger stroked lightly over the leather surface of her glove.
"That is perfect."
She placed her gloves back on the coffee table, arranging them side by side.
"The web of the Hakusuikai is just missing a thread that can pull Tokyo into it."
Endo looked into her eyes and bowed slightly.
"I will return to headquarters now to prepare the documents."
The runway outside the window was empty.
The next plane had not taxied over yet, and on the skyline, there was only the gray-blue sky and the blurred outline of the city in the distance.
Satsuki stood up, took her coat from the armrest of the sofa, and draped it over her shoulders.
Tokyo was waiting for her.