mijobooks Chapter 99 Japan's Wall Street
Chapter 99 Japan's Wall Street
In May 1988, the rainy season in Tokyo seemed to have arrived early.
The fine rain tirelessly washed over the bluestone pavement of Azabu-juban, pressing the restless dust of the late Showa era into the soil.
The heavy cast-iron doors of "The Club" were tightly shut.
Outside the door is a wet street, while inside is another world with a constant temperature of 23 degrees Celsius and the aroma of old sandalwood and Cuban cigars.
Tonight, the crystal chandelier in the Deer Hall has been dimmed.
The leather sofas that were usually used for casual conversation had been rearranged into a semicircle. Only twelve people were sitting on the sofas.
These twelve individuals, with a mere stomp of their feet, could shake Tokyo's financial and heavy industry sectors. The managing director of Sumitomo Bank, the vice president of Mitsubishi Heavy Industries, the executive director of Hitachi... they are the stewards of the nation's economic lifeline and the core "inner circle" members of The Club.
But at this moment, their faces all wore expressions of scrutiny, even impatience.
All eyes were focused on the slightly awkward young man in the center of the hall.
Masayoshi Son.
Thirty-one years old, president of SoftBank.
He was wearing a noticeably cheap gray suit, fine beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, and clutching a well-worn business plan tightly in his hand. Behind him was a whiteboard covered with obscure terms like "local area network" and "software distribution."
"...Fellow seniors, this is the infrastructure of the future."
Masayoshi Son waved his arms, his voice hoarse with tension and excitement.
Although he had introduced his ideas to investors on many occasions before, none of them carried the weight of this moment. Every single person present was the boss of the boss of the investors he had previously encountered. If it weren't for some unknown reason that the head of the Saionji family had taken a liking to him, he probably would never have met these people in his entire life.
To be honest, Masayoshi Son felt he had already performed exceptionally well, since his legs weren't shaking.
"Although computers may seem like isolated islands now, believe me, they will be connected in the future. SoftBank's role is to be the 'plumber' who lays the pipes for that connection! We need funding—three billion yen—to build a nationwide software distribution network..."
"President Sun."
Managing Director Tanaka of Sumitomo Bank interrupted him. He had a cigar between his fingers, but didn't smoke it; instead, he stared at Masayoshi Son with his shrewd eyes, accustomed to reviewing financial statements.
"I admire your passion. However, as a banker, I only care about one thing."
Tanaka pointed to the empty space behind Masayoshi Son.
"What about the collateral?"
"Your company owns no land, no factories, and even your office space is rented. What makes you think we should believe that this pile of invisible and intangible 'software licenses' is worth three billion?"
A low murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.
"Yes, it's too illusory."
"Young people these days always like to create new words to scam money."
"If this is all you're here to hear, Saionji-kun, your drink tonight is rather disappointing."
Laughter filled the air like smoke.
Masayoshi Son's face turned deathly pale. He bit his lip tightly, the feeling of powerlessness crushed by the wheels of the old era almost suffocating him. He had been turned down countless times at banks, and had hoped for a glimmer of hope in this mysterious club, but the outcome was still the same.
In Japan, where the land-centric system is still deeply ingrained, he is seen as a heretic who talks nonsense.
Especially in this era where investment opportunities are plentiful, there is no reason not to invest in land that guarantees a profit, but instead to invest in these intangible "fantasies".
On the second-floor corridor.
Satsuki sat in the shadows, fiddling with a chip in her hand. Amy sat beside her, intently popping a liqueur-filled chocolate into her mouth.
"Amy," Satsuki asked softly, "what do you think?"
Amy licked the chocolate stains from the corner of her mouth, pushed up her glasses, and looked through the gap in the railing at the sweaty young man.
"Hmm... I think it makes sense."
Amy gave her evaluation.
"I think... although the current bandwidth is very narrow and the transmission protocol is very primitive, it's like drinking water from a bathtub with a straw. But the direction is right."
She pointed to the whiteboard behind Masayoshi Son.
"He's building a railway. Although it's currently running on a small steam locomotive, once the tracks are laid, it'll just be a matter of changing the locomotive for the Shinkansen. Technically speaking, it's worth investing in."
Satsuki smiled.
She gently tossed the chip in her hand; it traced an arc in the air before landing steadily in her palm.
"That's right."
downstairs.
Just as Masayoshi Son was about to bow and step down, and just as those bigwigs were about to get up and leave,
"Slap, slap, slap."
A slow but clear round of applause rang out.
Shuichi stood up from the sofa in the main seat.
He was wearing his signature dark haori and holding a glass of soda. His applause wasn't enthusiastic, but it sounded like thunder in the quiet hall.
All eyes turned to him.
"Saionji-kun?" Managing Director Tanaka frowned. "You don't actually believe this young man, do you?"
But he harbored no doubts. If Shuichi-kun was optimistic about this project... then it must have been his mistake.
Shuichi did not answer.
He walked over to Masayoshi Son, patted the young man on the shoulder, and gestured for him to calm down. Then, he turned to face the twelve members present.
"You are assessing risk based on the logic of a land-based system, believing that without fixed assets there is no ability to repay debts."
Shuichi's voice was gentle, yet it carried an undeniable rationality.
"But in SA's evaluation system, the software distribution network built by President Sun is essentially laying the 'national highway' of the information age. When the personal computer penetration rate reaches a critical point, those who control the distribution channels will have the lifeline of all software and hardware manufacturers. The Saionji family believes that this monopolistic market position has a safety margin far higher than the land prices that follow the trend."
He held up two fingers.
SA Investment has decided to lead the investment.
"Two billion yen."
The hall fell silent instantly. Even the sizzling sound of burning cigars could be heard clearly.
Two billion.
While this amount of money is something that everyone here can afford, it's still by no means a small sum. More importantly, it represents Shuichi Saionji's stance.
The "prophet" who led everyone to safety on "Black Monday" and never failed in the year placed his heavy bet on a young man who had nothing but dreams.
"Saionji-kun, are you serious?" The vice president of Mitsubishi Heavy Industries sat up straight, his expression turning serious.
If this is true, then everyone here needs to reassess this young man's potential.
"I've already signed the check."
Shuichi took out a pre-prepared check from his pocket and gently placed it on the table in front of Masayoshi Son.
"The remaining billion."
Xiu looked around, his gaze sweeping over everyone's face. His eyes no longer held their usual humility, but instead carried the domineering air of a hunter dividing meat.
"I don't go to banks, nor do I go to venture capital firms."
"This billion will be divided only in this room."
"Limited to 100 million per person. Don't miss out!"
The atmosphere has changed.
Although Shuichi only said a few words, they were more effective than a hundred words from Masayoshi Son.
If what was just now was a trial of the "liar," then now, the air is suddenly filled with the scent of "greed" and "fear."
Greed stems from the fact that the Saionji family has never made a losing deal.
No matter how unfavorable the market was before, as long as you bet with the Saionji family, no matter how much, you will definitely make a profit.
The fear stems from the "purchase limit".
In this circle, the scariest thing isn't losing money, but being abandoned by the interest group centered around it. If you're not at the table when the Saionji family is feasting, you might not get a ticket the next time they need to evade danger.
"If...Saionji-kun thinks so highly of it..."
Managing Director Tanaka put down his crossed legs and stubbed out his cigar. He said seriously.
He looked at the two billion yen check on the table, a guarantee of the Saionji family's credit, stronger than any land mortgage.
"Sumitomo can offer 100 million. However, we want preferred shares."
The first domino fell.
Then came the second piece.
"Since Tanaka-san is already joining in, I'll join in the fun too. One hundred million."
"Count me in."
"I want 100 million too."
The initial skepticism vanished instantly, replaced by a frenzy of subscriptions. The business plan, which had just been considered worthless, was now a highly sought-after treasure map.
That is authority.
In this unregulated gray area, The Club itself became a mega-investment bank. It didn't need to audit financial statements or evaluate assets.
If Shuichi Saionji says it's valuable, then it is valuable.
Masayoshi Son stood there, stunned.
He watched as those usually unapproachable VIPs now vied to stuff checks into his hands. In just ten minutes, the financing of 3 billion yen was completed.
He turned his head and looked at Shuichi beside him.
The man's profile appeared somewhat blurry under the light, yet he seemed incredibly tall.
"Mr. Saionji..." Masayoshi Son's voice trembled, "Why...why?"
"Because you are an outsider."
Shuichi picked up his wine glass and gently touched the glass of water that was already warm in Masayoshi Son's hand.
"In this law-abiding country, only outliers can build a new world on the ruins that are about to fall."
"Take the money and get to work. Don't let my members down."
Masayoshi Son bowed deeply, tears welling up in his eyes.
...
Next to the railing of the corridor on the second floor.
Satsuki looked down from her vantage point, her gaze passing through the expensive cigar smoke and landing on her father's back as he was surrounded by a crowd.
Amy, standing next to him, was stuffing the last piece of chocolate with a liqueur filling into her mouth, her cheeks bulging like a hamster hoarding food.
Satsuki didn't speak. She gently flicked the chip in her hand, the small round piece symbolizing money drawing an arc in the air before landing steadily back in her palm.
Cold and heavy.
Just like the power that the father holds in his hands right now.
In old Japan, a "delusional" like Masayoshi Son, without any collateral, would have been forced to kneel outside a bank until his knees were bruised. Because in that country, the source of credit was the Ministry of Finance, land, and those rigid financial statements.
But tonight, the rules have been rewritten.
What my father just did was more than just lead an investment. He issued a currency called "trust" using the surname "Saionji" as collateral.
This is the essence of Wall Street—pricing power.
No official permission is needed, no land mortgage is required. As long as the Saionji family agrees, garbage can be gold; as long as the Saionji family shakes their heads, gold can be garbage.
In this closed club, they bypassed banks and regulators, and directly defined what constitutes a "valuable future."
This is the prototype of the "primary market," and also the highest power that a private shadow company can possess—the right to allocate capital.
Starting tonight, the tycoons who control the lifeline of the Japanese economy will no longer have their wallets dictated solely by the market, but will involuntarily be influenced by the Saionji family's wishes.
"Mmm...so sweet."
Amy mumbled something indistinctly and licked the sugar stains from the corner of her mouth.
Satsuki smiled slightly and casually tossed the chip into the shadows below.
The chip landed with a very faint, crisp sound, instantly drowned out by the laughter and toasts from downstairs.
Outside the window, the rain was gradually subsiding.
On the gleaming black asphalt road, a long line of black cars waited to pick up their owners, their headlights casting a hazy glow in the damp night, like a giant steel python crouching at the foot of the Saionji family's house.