Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 347 The White Water Society's Countermeasures

November 7, 1900, Wednesday, late at night.

Osaka, Kitashinchi, 2nd floor of the Ryotei "Takekaze".

Only two lamps were lit in the eight-tatami room, casting a warm yellow light that cast long shadows on the tatami mats.

Urakami Masaaki sat in the seat of honor. In front of him was a plain white sake cup, the sake inside untouched, its surface reflecting the light of the lantern.

As Yasui pushed the neatly arranged page over, his finger paused for a moment on the edge of the table.

"This is the first shipment, two million eight hundred thousand US dollars," he said. "It was confirmed this afternoon that the MT700 has been shipped. Please take a look."

Urakami didn't pick up the page. He picked up his wine glass, then put it down again.

Issuing bank.

"Citibank Tokyo branch," Umeba replied, his voice lower than usual. "The applicant is Saionji Trading Co., Ltd. The full amount in US dollars has been deposited into their account in advance."

"Has DBS received it properly?"

"The notification letter arrived this afternoon," Mei Chang said. "The beneficiary is in Singapore, and all the necessary procedures before the funds were transferred have been completed."

Urakami tapped his knee twice with his fingers, very lightly.

"The deposit is Saionji's money. It's not a credit line from Sumitomo Bank."

This wasn't a question. Mei Chang nodded anyway.

The flame of the lantern flickered, and the shadow on the wall trembled accordingly.

Urakami leaned back on the pillow and closed his eyes for a while.

When he opened his eyes again, he looked towards the window, even though he couldn't see anything there.

"Returned documents, replacement documents, technical review." He said each word carefully. "The premise that these things work is that Sumitomo Chemical's money can only flow through our channels."

Yasui opened his mouth.

"Now they've drilled a new pipe themselves," Urakami said. "And they've drilled it very cleanly. They've even changed the place of issue on the bill of lading."

Hanoi, who had been sitting at the end of the table, spoke up at this moment.

"Mr. Urakami." His voice was a little dry. "A female employee in the sales planning department of Sumitomo Chemical dutifully resubmitted the documents three times they were returned. She even replaced the seal across the pages, changed the code, and started preparing the real estate valuation—and then suddenly stopped."

The room fell silent for a moment.

"A junior employee who's been with the company for two years couldn't figure out a way to bypass our store on her own," Hanoi said. "Someone paved the way for her."

"Murata." Yasui said.

"Murata is just a senior executive; he can sign the papers, but he can't take responsibility for them." Kawauchi shook his head. "Sumitomo Chemicals dared to get things done so quickly; there must be higher-level authorization behind it."

He didn't say those two words.

But everyone sitting inside understood.

Urakami picked up the glass of wine he hadn't drunk yet, and this time he really drank it, downing it in one gulp.

"The main family," he put down his cup, "Yoshio has already handed over the key."

Yasui's expression changed slightly.

"The right to verify manufacturing documents, issuing letters of credit in US dollars, and bypassing our settlement authorization—"

"These people see that we are weak and they want to rebel. They plan to use Saionji to take the manufacturing industry back from us."

"Blood transfusion," Hanoi whispered.

“Yes.” Urakami looked at him. “What we hold is Sumitomo’s financial lifeline. Now Saionji has connected a new tube to the manufacturing industry.”

Yasui leaned forward slightly.

"What about the second payment, two million two hundred thousand? Will it still be delayed?"

"Stop," Urakami said, "but you must understand—you can stop a transaction, but you can't stop people's hearts."

He stood up and walked to the window. The neon lights outside the frosted glass cast slanted rays of light on his face.

"Uchida, Kawaguchi, and Hashimoto are still observing today," Urakami said. "But once they understand one thing—that overseas settlements can still be done without Sumitomo Bank—the Shiraizukai's few votes in the group's council will become worthless."

Yasui fell silent.

"So, we can't fight like this anymore." Urakami turned around. "Stop staring at the stamps and codes on the documents. Saionji has already blocked that path."

"Where should we attack?" Yasui asked.

Urakami did not answer immediately. He walked back to his seat, took out a fountain pen from his sleeve, and slowly wrote two words on the back of the paper.

After he finished writing, he pushed the paper back to Yasui.

Yasui looked down—

Kansai.

"All the drafts you prepared, anything that could be associated with the Saionji family, were withdrawn," Urakami said. "Not naming names doesn't guarantee safety. If the references are too clear, their legal department will still find fault. We can't compete with lawyers in Tokyo."

"Then what should I write?"

"Write about Tokyo." Urakami's tone was flat, but each word was delivered forcefully. "Write about foreign capital. Write about how the manufacturing industry in Kansai is being taken over by Tokyoites."

Yasui paused for a moment.

"Don't defend the bank." Urakami looked at him. "The fact that the bank has problems can't be suppressed. Admitting that it has problems makes the comments seem fairer."

"But wouldn't that drag Sumitomo Bank into this too?" Umeba couldn't help but interject.

"A few words of criticism are fine," Urakami said. "If a bank makes a mistake, the people of Kansai will just let it go with a few words of criticism. What they really can't swallow is being told what to do by outsiders."

The room fell silent again.

The light from the lantern illuminated each person's face in a half-light, half-shadow.

“People like Uchida may not be afraid of Sumitomo Bank’s warning.” Urakami picked up his empty glass and put it down again. “But they are definitely afraid of what the Osaka Chamber of Commerce and Industry will think of them, what their old customers will think of them, and what their counterparts in Kitahama will say about them behind their backs.”

"Let them hesitate before they sign a fax."

"This hesitation is the time we need to gain."

He paused for a moment and looked at Yasui.

"The articles were divided into three categories. Local financial publications wrote about the old rules of Kansai commercial self-governance; the chamber of commerce's relationship magazines wrote about the risks of foreign capital interfering in the local credit system; and local newspapers in Kobe and Kyoto wrote with a touch of human touch—the merchants of Senba and the finance of Kitahama are all rooted in hundreds of years."

"It should sound like different people, each expressing their own concerns," Urakami said in a low voice. "It shouldn't sound like a unified voice from one place."

Yasui folded the piece of paper with the word "Kansai" written on it and put it into her inner bag.

"Where's the title?"

Urakami thought for a moment.

"Let's bury a few first," he said. "The Hunt for Tokyo Capital... let's put this one as the first one."

The meeting ended very late.

Kubota, sitting at the end of the table near the door, had been mostly silent. A sheet of meeting minutes lay open in front of him, a pen in his hand.

As everyone stood up, he bowed his head and finished copying the last line of text.

In the official minutes, he wrote:

"Regarding the recent issue of external capital involvement in credit settlement in the Sumitomo Group's manufacturing sector, we plan to compile relevant arguments on industrial self-governance through local economic media."

He closed the manuscript.

Then, after the people in the room gradually walked towards the stairwell and the sounds dissipated into the outer room, he took out the B5 notebook from his inner pocket—his personal notebook, which was not included in the minutes.

He turned to the back of the previous page and wrote a few lines of very light text in pencil:

The first letter of credit has been issued. MT700. The issuing bank is Citibank Tokyo, and the margin is in US dollars from Saionji.

The bank card slot is invalid.

Mr. Urakami believes that Saionji Corporation is taking over the settlement channels for Sumitomo Group's manufacturing businesses. This is either tacitly approved by the main family or being actively pursued.

The countermeasures have shifted from financial compliance to targeting the "Kansai" region.

Public opinion objective: To force the manufacturing company president to suspend cooperation due to local pressure.

Deliberately avoiding naming Saionji, Ito Man, and Sumitomo Chemical—to reduce legal risks.

He stopped writing here.

The flame of the lantern dimmed, and the room grew darker.

He stared at the few lines he had written for a while.

These words will not appear in the meeting minutes at all. But it is precisely because they will not appear that he wrote them down.

The sound of Urakami getting up came from the stairwell. Footsteps approached and paused outside the sliding door.

"Kubota."

"Yes." He quickly closed his notebook.

"The minutes are due to Yasui tomorrow morning," Urakami's voice came through the sliding door. "You don't need to worry about the manuscript."

"Yes."

The footsteps didn't leave immediately.

Two seconds later, Urakami added another sentence. His voice wasn't loud, but it could be heard clearly in the empty second floor.

"People in the Kansai region can tolerate banks making mistakes."

"What they can't tolerate is Tokyoites telling them how to do business."

The footsteps faded into the distance as I descended the stairs, swallowed up by the neon lights and the night outside.

What does this mean?

Kubota looked down at the two things beside him.

On one side was the draft of the official minutes—with only the bland sentence, "Coordinate with local economic media to organize the arguments."

On one side was a closed B5 notebook—inside was written: The first letter of credit has been issued. The bank card is invalid. Mr. Urakami has decided to switch to the "Kansai" region.

He stuffed the notebook back into the inner pocket and pressed the pocket with his hand, as if to make sure it was still there.

Then he blew out the lamp, picked up his briefcase, and walked out of the eight-panel room.

Outside the window, the neon lights of Kitashinchi were still on, red and green, reflected on the surface of the Dojima River, and were broken into a shimmering expanse of light by the night wind.

Three days later, on November 10th.

The third page of the Kansai Finance and Economics News published an article signed "Local Business Observer".

The title is—

The Hunt for Tokyo Capital