Chapter 47: Undercurrents

Tao Zhiming was preparing for the imminent interest rate cut, while Hiroshi Omiyama, having just listened to the finance director’s report, remained silent for a long time.

All the liquid funds that could be mobilized on Tomokazu Trading’s books, after deducting necessary expenses, had been temporarily drawn out. Yet he was powerless to change the situation.

In the next phase, he would likely have to rely on this small pool of working capital to revive performance. But that would be extremely difficult. And now, with interest rates about to fall again? That would make export business even less competitive.

With a gloomy face, Hiroshi Omiyama checked the time. The hour agreed upon in the previous phone call was nearly here, so he left his office directly.

Seeing the chairman’s urgent demeanor, he feared that the larger trend was not on his side. Yet, when he had previously reported his new ideas, the chairman had at least shown interest, pondering them carefully and posing questions Omiyama himself couldn’t answer. That was enough—it meant he was heading in the right direction. Still, at this juncture, he needed to refine the plan swiftly to present benefits substantial enough to sway the chairman.

Only then would the conglomerate’s resources be directed his way.

Hiroshi Omiyama didn’t summon a driver; he drove himself toward the northern Bunkyo district.

He parked at an exclusive restaurant and, upon entering, found his way effortlessly to a private room.

After a while, a burly, bald man in a striped gray suit entered, greeting him with hearty familiarity, “Hey, President Omiyama, I thought I’d arrive ahead of you.”

Omiyama looked at him, silently gestured for him to sit, and then spoke first, “How’s the investigation I asked you to conduct?”

The bald man was casual in Omiyama’s presence, despite the suit, exuding traits that clashed entirely with Omiyama’s. His voice was not loud but rough: “It’s only been a day, you’re really impatient, aren’t you?”

Omiyama stared at him for a moment, his gaze turning sharp. “You must have found something? Your people shouldn’t be less informed than those I’ve assigned.”

“But you know how it is. That’s the territory of the Shindo Group. If I send in my best men, it actually makes things harder. Now, there’s something more complicated: it’s not just the young man you mentioned living there. A mother and daughter have moved in too.”

Omiyama paused. “…Mother and daughter? What’s their relationship?”

“If you want to talk relationships… the woman is a counselor. Your Tao Dalang appears to be her client.”

Omiyama frowned. “Then why are they living in his house?”

“Who knows?” The bald man smirked. “The investigation says she’s a widow. With a daughter to support, she probably has the resolve to make sacrifices for her work.”

“…So, Tao Dalang and she are very close?”

“Unless the kid you mentioned has a taste for that sort of thing.” The bald man was noncommittal. “Also, I should warn you. This Tao Dalang is getting close to the Shindo Group. He’s often seen with Yuta Irie, known as the ‘Fox of Shindo’ among our North City Association officers.”

“Often?” Omiyama was even more troubled. “Why is this kid getting involved with the yakuza?”

“Who knows? The reports say he’s a client of Yuta Irie, much like us.” The bald man’s eyes narrowed in a smiling expression, resembling a kindly Buddhist priest, “Whatever you plan to do with this kid, since he’s tied to the Shindo Group, the price won’t be what we discussed before.”

Omiyama squinted at him.

“Since we’re both here, tell me—how far are you willing to go? Even I, Ichiro Heitodo, known as the ‘North City Bodhisattva,’ must weigh things carefully with the possibility of Shindo Group involvement.” Despite his words, Heitodo still smiled.

Omiyama looked at him in silence.

What was there to weigh? Was the price enough?

Thinking of his purpose, and the money and time he’d already invested in Tao Dalang, his expression grew cold. He spoke quietly, “I have a house in Saitama Prefecture…”

…

Meanwhile, in the Shindo Group office in Minato Ward, Yuta Irie was sitting formally in a quiet room.

On one side of the room, a sword rested on its rack.

Opposite him sat a middle-aged man in voluminous traditional attire, a wide sash tied with a cord.

His hair was neatly cropped, and he was slowly wiping another sword with rice paper as he spoke, “So, your suspicions were confirmed?”

Yuta Irie nodded slightly. “No doubt about it. Today, not only the three from last night, but at least five unfamiliar faces appeared, all gathering intelligence related to Tao Dalang. Yuma followed my instructions, keeping watch there all day and confirmed the situation.”

“Apart from Ryuu Inoue, what major interests has this Tao Dalang entangled himself in to prompt the North City Association to send so many men?”

Yuta Irie asked, “Boss, should we warn him?”

The middle-aged man was none other than Daiki Suzuki, the Shindo Group’s wakagashira assistant.

Upon hearing Yuta’s question, he smiled, “You’re said to be clever—what do you think?”

Yuta Irie seemed to have anticipated the question and answered immediately, “Since you said he should be protected, it’s right to warn him. He knows best what he’s done. Answers we don’t have, he might.”

“But nothing’s happened yet. Aside from grabbing and interrogating North City Association thugs, we can’t produce evidence to convince him there’s a brewing conspiracy.” Daiki Suzuki, seeing Yuta about to speak, raised his hand, “Though we could track down who the North City men questioned, there’s no need for the Shindo Group to curry favor with him in such a way.”

Yuta was puzzled. “But your previous orders…”

“Protection requires subtlety,” Suzuki resumed wiping the sword. “Appearing at the right moment achieves the greatest effect. If he is as brilliant as he seems, but fails to sense latent danger and falls prey to intrigue, then his abilities amount to nothing. In that case, there’s no reason for me to protect him.”

Yuta Irie recalled how Tao Dalang had behaved in their dealings, glancing at Daiki Suzuki.

True, he was out in the open, and didn’t have the manpower to gather this kind of intelligence.

Or perhaps, as the boss said, Tao Dalang really was preternaturally clever, already aware of the danger and had a plan?

Yuta didn’t know the answer, but nodded obediently. “Understood. I’ll simply keep tracking the situation.”

After he left the quiet room, Daiki Suzuki stood, gripped the sword tightly, lowered his body, and struck downward.

The blade sliced through the air with a faint whistle.

He repeated this dozens of times, finally relaxing his body and breathing deeply.

After drinking a glass of water, a sharp light flickered in his eyes.

Ryuu Inoue said he bought Tao Dalang’s house for one hundred million yen and gave him another hundred million to profit on the financial markets.

Every month, ten percent yield—that’s ten million.

Besides that, where else had Tao Dalang stirred up such enormous interests?

The North City Association held a tight grip on four districts in northern Tokyo.