The sun, as she always had, always did, and always would, shone. Through curtailed curtains strands of light flew through, light kept soft and ill-fittingly cool leaving the humble abode in no dark, but neither in any bright light. Seven forty-nine, the clocks all sang until they didn’t anymore.
Miyashiro Kenshin dripped with sweat, dripped with gloom, and with every right and license to be doing so. His breathing was a raggedy sort, pants and weighty puffs of carbon dioxide mixed into a grand old mix of his shirt being far tighter than he’d remembered it to have been. He’d come at no moment's notice from the very instant he’d seen what the morning news had to announce, all still in his head. Those big, bolded letters which sent his eyes into bloodied frenzy and heart pulsing with a raging flame. He’d have burnt asunder were he not to have acted so quickly to that spew of Kanji and kana of both types—“State of Emergency Announced”, “SDF Deployments Across Tokyo” and “Prime Minister replaced” amongst the headlines—words that which were oh-so sensational, oh-so terrific! That morning’s rice, sole proprietor of that morning’s meal, was promptly shoveled down in the most literal sense, barely any appreciation for the flavors no matter how tasteless, and none in effort at all left to wash the dishes—cold ceramic left to sit in the sink for that day. So much of a rush was he in that he’d thrown on the nearest suit so quickly crumples and wrinkles formed immediately. He’d very nearly forgotten to snatch his ID card from the grasps of that import-mahogany table before he’d left!
No wife had stopped him, nor had any children or anyone in relation. His neighbors too were unavailable, save a few who flew down the flight of stairs with him. Rather the problem came with the metro as for all the effort, it seemed as though he was too late—about two hundred already gathered by the time he’d joined the mass. And even then, after having clamored aboard at the very last second, squeezed and crushed as he made his way aboard with the station already unusually busy when he’d gotten on, only hundreds more piled on until it was like an ultra-compressed sardine can by the stops approaching the city center. It was enough to warn him of things to come, alarming enough that he’d practically sprinted from the station to the building as soon as the doors had opened at his stop and the cram-jam crowd tumbled out.
The light tapping of shoes on concrete echoed about, barely, no, never to make it past the noise of all the congestion and people wandering about in equally frayed appearance of half-assed combing and thrown-together costumes. Keshin wasn’t so sure as to whether his briefcase had even come with him, as while he was sure that his right arm was held backward as he ran, up and down into and from the air like a dumbbell, it was also a feather to him. He made no attempt to look back to double-check.
But in record time, right there, right then, it was. The dual rotating doors of the building, enough of a chokepoint that a crowd had formed right outside through which he slipped into—far away from the sight of cameras, too deep to be recognizable amongst the waves of black-gray hair.
[~]
Sakura Bank Building 18th Floor, Marunouchi
9:03 AM
A room, wide and spacious. And yet despite this description, every space was filled—not by volume or physical being, no liquids or gasses past the usual suspects, but rather noise. By audio. One damned incessant noise at that, the constant bells and phones and all sorts sounding a ‘tring tring’ across that blanketed all else. A noise that sounded off such that no ears were unviolated by them. One from the left, then maybe from the right to the front or to the back—from everywhere, anywhere.
To Kenshin, such was life, with exception to his collar then one button undone so early. At that very moment right in the middle of conversation was he, one microphone, and two speakers shared amongst two handsets put to his head. Speaking into a phone held up by both his right hand and cranium, Kenshin spoke out once more into the microphone, “Yutaka-sama, by all means, please—,” he cried, all part of what was at that point folly.
The attention he’d asked of had been thankfully granted, though in a far different manner such that Kenshin came rather close to smashing the right handset. <<“I’m sorry, but this…, this doesn’t quite sound right—everything- everything’s starting to go down, aren’t they?”>> Audibly, the man on the other side—Yutaka—took no moment to savor his breaths, having opted for such shallow technique amidst all his chatter to Kenshin.
Kenshin clenched at the handset ever so tighter than before, teetering by a few PSI from the plastic’s limit. Kenshin’s chest caved in as he spoke, helped in no part by his brain banging at the walls of his skull to leave. His next words for the client came out with only flickering confidence. “Yutaka-sama, I’m sorry, but I’m telling you, now is a really bad time to sell, Suketomo’ll go down in the next, what, oh five weeks but I assure you they will skyrocket well past that!”
<<“R- really? I- I doubt th—” The client cut himself off, a frantic juggle of words. “Please just, just please sell all of it.”>>
“No, Yuta-” A low, beeping dial tone. “Give me a break!” His right arm, handset in tow, came tumbling down toward the walnut. Nearly, it pounded against the table, handset sure to have popped in half had Kenshin not practiced and enacted the tiny degree of restraint he’d had left.
Kenshin’s left wrist instinctively rotated backward as he let away a raggedy exhale and a long sigh, another microphone to his mouth. This handset he held tightly, the slightly off-white plastic similarly to have probably crumpled should he have put any more pressure onto it. And right after, he didn’t. No words, no phrases, and no speech—solely the exhale-inhale standard. The other side, Yoshinori, was certainly on the line too, waiting to spring right into it all. Just say the word, Kenshin. Say the word.
This second person, Kenshin stuttered to; twenty seconds past. “Yes, Y—Yoshinori-san, yes; list account fif…fteen seventy-three… five-sixty, er…” With blurry vision, he looked down at an account book on his desk, already conveniently opened to the page with Yutaka’s information. Kenshin could hardly comprehend the numbers on the page, but the splotches and blobs of Yutaka’s holdings seemed to resemble numbers just enough for Kenshin to go ahead as he said, “Se- sell… eight-five-thousand in SLI.” Kenshin fell flat in his seat to a creak and soft thump, partly regressed toward mind break.
The line remained flat: perhaps the peaks of clicking and clacking, squeaking and squidging of keyboards and whiteboards, and most especially the speaking and discussion amongst the peers right across, but to Kenshin, no response—Yoshinori lay silent to Kenshin, not even confirmation come through.
And all around him, left and right, the same.
[+]
Tokyo Stock Exchange Trading Floor, Chuo Ward
Simultaneously,
Only three minutes into the opening of the afternoon session, and already the walls were lined with people with little able to be said of those deeper in the human blob. The floor was littered with papers ranging from little ticker tape strips to whole pages crumpled and stepped on, entire certificates surely of some note left to be trampled like grass at a park. A millimeter-thick layer of such, all across, all along, and even despite the sheer enormity of the room.
Outside, the cold winter snow, and yet inside was somehow warm enough that there was an ever-present, powerful aroma of combined hundreds of gallons of sweat and odors. It wafted through the building, sure to stick to anything and everything in such a way that even past a few dozen wash cycles it would faintly remain clung to clothes, skin, and hair, ever-present and ever stubborn.
They all danced like entities of black—the type cast only by figures in dimly lit rooms—movement here and there, everywhere, but also near-total stillness. A rout of strangers all about, whose not so finely done suits told tales of former and present greed brought to light once more. Be it standing at desks or in the open, none looked to ever have been of any joy. Gazes probed, hand signals flew around, and profuse shudders bolted across all parts of their bodies.
Laden by no jacket, the arrogance of which none of his colleagues took note of, a trader took up a position countering one of the clerks with a simple line, “I got a few million on the line,” came his introduction. The clerk would’ve rolled their eyes at such a line, but they’d had no attention to spare. So, the trader continued, rubbing his lower lip as he said, “I need you to sell off twenty-five thousand on account…” The trader paused, waiting for the clerk to have scratched out the previous set of details. And then continued, “five-zero-seven zero-zero-four-nine-three.”
And right at the desk over, another clerk burdened by another trader.
A pair equally as nondescript as previous, and equally as mentally tumultuous. This trader passed along her own words of demand, “Put through- put through a buy order for a thousand in Matsumoto Iron-” She paused to shoot a glance back, having been forced forward by some other trader—long gone by the time she’d jerked back with a judging gaze. “A thousand under… account eighteen fifty-seven thirty thirteen,” she continued thereafter to the tune of her tapping shoe, already speaking mid-turn of her head.
All to the theme of stutters, stammers, and awkwardly far leans forward.
It was thusly that both clerks complied with both orders, ever so diligently scribbling down every last detail they’d been offered, the former taking the chance to look up for a split second. They needed no additional time to process what had been said, ‘nor took any liberty to ask repeats, for these two men were perhaps the only notable audio cues within their vicinity. Indeed, even through a time so hectic as this, it was all still only marginally louder than the common library.
Above were their lord’s shrines: a device to measure—grand matte boards, yellows, reds, and oranges on black in Latin and katakana. A near-random assortment of switches party to the thousands of seven-segment displays flicked on or off, over and over. One in attendance, the Tsunefusa Motor Corporation, tried 2,432 for size—the next second, they went for 2,371. Another, Takehide Entertainment, 1,935 to 1893 in a matter of no more than five seconds as the display itself flickered as ravenous as those below.
Mere seconds saw mere billions, and so it could only be asked, would it be trillions every hour?
Even an intern who’d slipped, tripped, and let fly a bin full of hundreds, maybe thousands, of orders, almost all marked sloppily or professionally by text that told to “sell” caught no attention in particular. Most below rather emotionlessly, at least such that any emotions they held were in no way caused by the waterfall of papers coming down upon them, wiped away the cascade of white as though they were being swarmed by flies on a fairly warm summer’s day.
Perhaps it only agitated them that slight bit more.
[=]
It was in the Tokyo Exchange that the first bell had rung that day with the first period opened. And sooner yet, all Japan would be out for recess for the bells would come in due time.
[~]
Sakura Bank Hibiya Branch,
Simultaneously,
The doors to the lender were held open, just as a ring gag was to a mouth, the glass gates’ hooks were to themselves. The advertising decor out front across the windows, pale yet passionate, could sparsely be seen below their bottom halves with the one part left uncovered consistently the blossom of the Sakura bank’s logo: their blockades, stacks of at least a hundred bodies, most probably into five. At the very least, they’d kept things down, but only kept down to the extent that a horde of people could reasonably do so without a lick of organization involved. Soft murmurs, heavy whispers, and all the makings of a city’s audioscape for the background, Some, tattered yet heavy coats of cashmere, others, dutiful cotton suits grazed by poplin collars.
Prior inequal, all now set upon the same field.
Interiorly, chaos. An overhead display that correlated in number right with a ticket dispenser at the door did as it could to maintain whatever enforcement of order it could, but almost certainly there were gaps and numerical missteps in the queues. Not that the tellers cared; Tellers behind desks totally cluttered with every sort of every variety of accouterment they could or previously have needed. Account books, checkbooks, and logbooks—all sorts of material to try to ward away the crowd. Stanchion and velvet ropes were stretched to their very limits as the queues ever compounded, and beyond the queues, not a single space was left without.
One patron, shakily muttering incessantly though just under the volume all else were, and another who found themselves unable to mutter and only focus on the emetic pain radiating out from their heart stood next to some other borrower who blinked far too little lest their focus on their ticket number and the then-being-served-number falter. Uneasy concern, queasy fear, or awful paranoia, it mattered not how they expressed themselves. Only that they all held the very same thing on their minds. One thing, one verb, one word.
Withdraw.
He who was to make it to the front was to be awarded a princely sum, and he who made it last was to be left unable to overcome; this was the fact that they all concerned themselves with. All with some poisonous mindset, so much so that with every waking minute, every aching second, they grew ever more in their angst. Civilized men now, yes, but those fleeting thoughts to simply forget about this whole line thing could soon be far more often than fleeting, and it would only take one person to give in for any cascade of savagery to befall those poor tellers.
Indeed, it seemed the only saving grace was the ever-frequent passing of duos, perhaps trios, of military men clad in their full sets of gear—their rifles brandished and on full display, slung though still usable. Like occupying force come down in full oppressive nature, these men too occupied the minds of those queued up.
[~]
3rd Story General Conference Room, Ministry of Finance Headquarters
12:34 PM
Minister Kimitada flicked at a small lighter’s wheel. One metallic click, two metallic clicks, three metallic clicks, all in quick succession before he’d finally gotten a steady stream going. With robotic precision, the flame was brought to the end of a smoke. His hand didn’t jitter all too much, at least, not the one he’d used to light—the right was a hyperactive mess like a child given sugar. There’d been far too many that had passed between his fingers that day, and he hadn’t bothered to count. At the ashtray, there were… at least seven, and though it certainly hadn’t been emptied yet since the day prior, he knew he’d used at least two others.
This room was… not small, not large. Neatly set table centrelined, per the usual for all the Government meeting rooms—small enough that no microphones were needed, but large enough that a few ornamental plants were able to be afforded and scattered about the sides. Interior to the building as a whole, there were no windows that gleamed any light, and so the room was plastic in nature, even with the well-crafted cedar and cypress all in deep vibrant browns that still did little to help shake the feeling. Rather, eyes singed. Eyes singed under the light that came from the sort of fixtures where the glass cover was itself gridded by metal beams crisscrossing, under light that turned skin not to a chartreuse nor chamois, but rather a violently pale alabaster.
He took it in as usual—filter to the mouth, sucking inhalation, and a sigh of relief. He looked not up, ‘nor did he tilt up in any way—head wholly dedicated to remaining within the range of just the x-axis.
Nevertheless, coping and protective mechanism in full swing or not, he’d had business to attend to, already heading his very own committee. He held his stance high, not so as usual, but he’d at least tried to. With it, what little left he could muster was sent right to hold up his eyes—they certainly wouldn’t shine ‘nor gleam, but they wouldn’t fall to any bleakness under his watch. Sure, at the first meeting doing so was a breeze, but not anymore. Now, his lips tightened unto his relief, all tense and protracted.
No practical bonuses came with the somewhat sloppy attempt at an air of confidence, though his staff did notice an attempt was made so for some time they wouldn’t be totally demoralized which in and of itself wasn’t saying quite much.
The introduction to this meeting for the audience was one riddled with the vulgarity held unusual in Government yet an instilled usual for Kimitada’s Vice Parliamentarian: Nakamoto Teruo. Usually, Kimitada had to ask even if silently, why must he be so? But now, in these all too peculiar times, he wished to be just as Teruo was. For vulgarity, there were certainly times and places, and with the transfer in full swing, surely now was the time. “The Murai-Roka’s already down, what the fuck is it, two-hundred-and-fifty…, two-seventy points?” His arms flew about as he spoke, body as stiff as gelatine. He pronounced every ’s’ with a hiss, snarling at the numbers he listed. Snarling at numbers! Then, out with a final remark from Teruo; all-the-more bargain bin complaints for he was less afraid of what was to come as he was annoyed. “Chairs Sachi and Hideo are telling me they're having a grand old time down there at the SESC!”
Meeting already in part-swing, it took no time for a response to be fired, and none more for it to meet its mark.
Asari Utamara, State Minister, swung in with a remark of his own. Not necessarily additive to any productive discussion, but it certainly helped to ground exactly what they were to deal with. Kimitada could only approve of it, approval in no way tentative either. “Yabai, yabai; we can’t even tell until four for the rest, but the drops are gonna be in the tens of thousands in all the major indices by the end of the week if things keep going like this.”
Teruo swung back, “It was just midday barely any time ago! It's been, what, three hours? Three hours and the circuit breakers were all tripped in the first ten minutes of that! We need to push a weeklong trading curb or we’re sorely fucked!”
With each passing remark, Kimitada’s right hand slid along the top of the hardwood with ever more vigor. Three hours, circuits all fulfilling their daily limit in the first thirty minutes of the whole affair. Kimitada had to ask, how would things get worse than this? And what could he do? Then, entered a rat-a-tat-tat of nails on the lacquered Sugi-type wood from across the table as his mind chugged along and away for an answer. It was to never come to him at such a convenience, never destined to have come to his mind without any significant delays in delivery.
By then, seven seconds past Teruo’s first remark, and Kimitada had found the strength to ask, mostly from lack of finding from himself, “What else do we happen to know so far then?” Right on business, with a seeping unease that was sure to escalate. “At this stage, we’re best to collate the issues up to this point and what we can expect into the future—we’ve had our preliminary, now it’s just a matter of will we hold under this pressure.”
And first to respond was Teruo himself, “Well, we’re seeing, er…, what was it…, we’re already seeing reports of sizeable lines forming outside of all the major banks, and we alongside Governor Shintaro and Commissioner Ryuzaburo fully expect these to spiral into major runs on all of them well within the month; it’ll only get worse once all the news outlets begin noticing and reporting on them. We’re a third the way to recession and a sixth to depression!” Came Teruo from the top of his lungs, oh so cheerful and gleeful. Were they of irony or sarcasm, to hide fear and uncertainty behind all-too-common joy and laughter, or was it some sick moral perversion that led to schadenfreude?
Kimitada returned a response in kind: a woefully prepared look of confusion. Was he to be neutral, the move wholly expected? He could yet find the final pieces to finish the look. Maybe he should’ve shot off gloomy misery, the expected still but a fraction of a fraction of things to come. Instinctual, but inappropriate. So all settled instead on a strangely sensational appearance of unease as his facade slowly slipped. For Teruo, five minutes passed.
Finally, though, all stabilized within no time at all—Kimitada’s facial contortions reset, and Teruo was left sitting silently for the next line of information to come from someone. Someone other than him.
The someone: Kimitada’s other State Vice, Tanifuji Raira. “If I may…,” she’d ask of nobody, speech foundationally stilted, “...in addition, we can fully expect Commissioners Taiji, Ryuzaburo, and Shoda to come on in with some even worse news by the end of today…,” Raira stammered, bowing her head down to pinch her chin as though she was unable to speak otherwise. So, she continued, though to her she was being beaten and bruised from the inside by her very own heart. Still, she managed to continue on the issue. “Per the first report to come in by Commissioner Taiji, we can expect s—some stability throughout the banking and financial services sectors, but circumstances are likely to degrade very, very rapidly, and there’s little chance they should see any renewed stability come March and June; I see no way out of this without at least three very major firms collapsing in on themselves. We will be practically required to bail them out, and I’d suspect us to be practically slashing open the treasury come the middle of this year.”
A rather solemn concurrence came in a single nod from Utamara (that spearheaded an additional section of discussion).
“Considering present financial markets, and while we would certainly need the attendance of experts to make a more effective decision on this, it is foreseeable that credit growth may very easily slow and decline; circumstances are going to be massively inflationary, so there will be some removed pressures for borrowers—mortgagors especially—but that’s negated easily if the banks don't all start striking with all sorts of collaterals, and that’s all against a backdrop of what we can only assume to be rapidly prevailing price hikes in all essential goods: er, electricity, water, food—everything used to come up with the CPI and plenty more.” Then, there was a hard swallow that came from Utamara; a gulp audible, sharply inclining Adam’s apple visible. In speaking up to this point, his eyes slowly drifted away from the main group he’d been addressing—much akin to an old controller joystick—only then noticed, and quickly resolved for the time being. “W—hile this all may very well be transient in nature, so no real decision can so far be made in my opinion beyond that things will be so extremely volatile, it is in no way an indicator that… anything, really, good will come to us.” From the previous segment’s shift came a strange tensing and shaking of Utamara’s shoulders. Voice, even.
Kimitada couldn’t point out which one exactly, but he at least could recognize some sort well into the fear section of the emotional spectrum. However, he elected to not point it out.
Permitted to continue, and unknowingly so, Utamara did so. “On the other hand, I have confidence in our present financial system such that we could manage with these new circumstances for some months or so before we hit a point of absolute no return in which capital will have evaporated so extensively we may not be able to recover, so I suspect a very strict time limit to be imposed on us in concurrence with Mrs. Raira.”
“M- Mister Utamara—it’s to my understanding that enough of the banks happen to be in particularly… not good, but…” As her speech slowed, a creaking took its place—back in her chair, she leaned. Away from the conference table—away from her problem—to search.
She spent a good amount of time searching for a word: first, a mind that zipped to and fro across all its mentally visualized filing cabinets of dictionaries. Not here ‘nor there, her mind under the strain of several thousands of sorting algorithms undergone at once. Seven seconds and forty-three milliseconds. Not so excessively wasteful, but still wasteful no matter how little was taken away.
“Optimal… relative to what they could be… positions to continue supplying credit—they all have shown rather strong reserves of capital and liquid assets in recent times, so while they may slow by some degree, they most likely can take on the loan losses in the meantime; though, this does put us on a rather short timer to try and get consumer sentiment and a fiscal hose set up as they will eventually be overrun no matter how strong their positions are.”
Re-enter, Teruo. “Well tha— that’s just wrong! The lines at the banks have stacked enormously in the past few hours; I’d had to go across basically the curb just to get past several of them this morning, and I know some of you would’ve done so!” Accusatory, inflammatory, and shot off so intensely. “Mrs. Raira, the timer is already up—we’ve long passed that point since all the dominoes in place are already in freefall!”
“W-well, no, I…” Raira stumbled across her words before a pause. Some shuffles around the room, all eyes burning right into her of which she’d only just begun to notice. There was a quick scramble to her briefcase right by her side. One page, two tables, and three graphs across four seconds. “We… have it on account from… Tsunefusa, Suketo- ba- basically all of the Keiretsu’s bigger banks. Erm, most of them have reserves that fall well under ten percent though all are also well above three percent at minimum. They’re all certainly above the requirement at the very least… although lending in recent years as you know has been in a sort of haywire mood, but considering their customers and what they are lending, they’re all in a somewhat optimal position, but only somewhat. Uhm, again, relative. The rates across all of them have been mostly stable. We shouldn’t expect them to have all too many toxic assets arising from this specifically for, uhh, for now, and they still can reappropriate funds from millions of foreclosures—especially if the forecasts for property pricing come true, which I… I expect they will, really, and with- with flying colors. If we were to keep them all on a financial IV drip, which we could easily afford to, we minimize the number of banks collapsing as well as in part minimizing their effect on their customers.”
It was alright food for thought, but to Kimitada it simply wouldn’t do. Circumstances that were only somewhat optimal? Even Kazutoshi audibly grumbled with the others to this part specifically.
Raira was unfortunately pushed aside, Teruo not so much tumbling in as much as he crashed in on the conversation—a direct retort in hand as he did. “What you’re suggesting though is at its very core fiscally irresponsible—we’ve only so much cash ourselves in reserve that so many bailouts—for the banks, for the people, for the Keiretsu—would be in every way a path to bankrupting the government! Even if you account for the reserves they hold, you must remember that they’ll all implode in on themselves thanks in no small part to the BoJ telling them to lend as much to everyone and we’re fucked because of that! We’d have to practically concede defeat and give up on regular spending practices if we’ll be setting policy to keeping the gory remains of these banks on life support! We’ll need to be plenty more decisive on who exactly gets what, because we haven’t much time to decide.”
There it was; a bit vulgar, but reliably so for something Teruo was saying. Kimitada nodded through his tirade even if he was somewhat tired of it all. Austerity was, perhaps not a given, but a distinct possibility since all the speculation would have evaporated in an instant, and they would be left needing to ration out whatever they had that survived; especially so in light of all the spending that would be demanded of him. Although in fairness to Raira, the debt burden, though comical, would still be something they could reasonably manage and service with time were they to go all out on spending. Perhaps he could adjust and develop such a strategy to be more fine-tuned with the addition of expert opinion, in the meantime, the best he had was all the shouting (if it could even be called that), the arguing, and the bickering across the table—Kimitada huffed through each and every exchange.
There was no end to it, was there? Didn’t quite seem to be one in sight to him.
Perhaps one of those academic conferences was in order. Dozens, even.
From his session of thinking though, Kimitada was brought back to reality by the continuation of all that discourse.
With all the usual weight behind his voice, Utamara wandered back into the conversation with a wholly new and distractingly different point to get across. “If I could get a word through,” he’d ask of them all. The attention first only stuttered toward him, returning to the pairing of Teruo and Raira full of expectation that they’d continue. Yet neither did. Thus, Utamara was their default now.
“I feel importance should be drawn to the fact that productivity outcomes will very much be worse than poor through this coming year considering these additional strains are going to have, most likely, significant mental effect on the average person—and this obviously isn’t even considering the shock of what’s just happened—I mean, foreclosures all around? We can’t expect consumer sentiment to return to normal within the year let alone before two-thousand-and-three. Meanwhile, on the supply side, we could probably see the most sweeping hits to be in hospitality and retail as per usual considering their usual imbalance of cost pressures in addition… no, multiplied by these new challenges faced—demand will be… most likely, no, just guaranteed to be dirt poor for their services.” Utamara then took the moment to wet his upper lip, leaning in as though to share a secret with the others. “We’ll be plagued with issues all around, and really, I believe not only will we enter a recession, but that we should maintain a policy of honesty with the public and announce this as a possibility.”
Kimitada once more sighed. He thought over that final note with a glued-down frown.
His unease deescalated, but only partly and in no significantly-sized parts either. Or maybe it was an escalation of similarly minor proportions. His emotional equilibrium had shifted, this he knew, but whether as result of increased concentrations or shifted room (and mental) temperature, he knew not. On fiscal matters, he knew now to some degree just the severity of how absolutely, totally, and entirely unforgiving the situation was, yet somehow still, it was the tiniest bit better than not knowing what was going on.
It was a minor lapse of tension that afflicted solely through emotional response—critical entirely blank—his head being knocked upward for a split-second. But it was better than nothing, a thought to which Kimitada dedicated another puff of smoky ash.
But he couldn’t. Not quite so easily, at least. His arms weighed down now, hell, his head turning to was like stone grinding against stone. He managed eventually, with some effort, but…
For a second, he couldn’t.
With his fingers shakily retracting from his mouth followed through by an exhale, Kimitada continued. “Alright, er…, this puts us in a tough spot. Really tough. Er…, unsurprisingly, things will be surprisingly complicated throughout…, the… degree of complexity we know not ‘nor the degree of surprise. Expansionary policy immediately it is—we’ve no time to waste, and we must push against everything coming at us. What had Commissioner Ryuzaburo and Taiji had to say on this, and do we have any ideas on managing this crisis?”
Hum, hum, came the lights from above. Their luminosity may have been great, just as their sound like cicadas through summer, but such greatness was never to last as they were quickly relegated to the background. The room was drowned in silence so great the lights themselves were heard. And quickly, pages turned and sheets flapped so, all for only a dozen seconds at most.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
On the other hand, the very first suggestion came rather meekly. Raira’s voice shuddered as it drew out slowly, her body as a whole drawn away from the conference table rather than toward it. Her voice was as she was. Meek. Small. “Price ceilings on basic goods to be set?” She asked reluctantly. “The… accessibiliy— accessibility to basic goods and needs should be something to consider…” There were stumbles here and there with missed pitch inflections, but nothing all too distracting, and it was overall agreeable.
For a few seconds, silence followed as sidelong and frontal glances were exchanged across the table. Kimitada to Teruo, Utamara to Raira, Teruo to Akae. They all considered their response—all were going to both agree and affirm, but how to express it?
Utamara was the first to resolve the issue, and thusly the first to take the mantle of speaking. There was a tinge of surprise initially in his voice, but it was quick to dissipate. “Oh, oh no doubt—we’ve got a snowflake’s chance in hell at keeping away shortages anyways, so we might as well push in with a pro-affordability stance on goods, and especially so even when imports come rolling in. Would almost certainly exacerbate supply-side issues with staying afloat, but we’ve other options to lend them a hand and in all honesty, I think we should be assisting the household sector the greatest anyways.”
And so, Akae, Parliamentary Vice just as with Teruo, chimed in with her own expansion. Her silence had finally broken, to this point entirely content with observing. “I think we’re best to cooperate then with Ministers Tsunesaburo and Katsuo on this—they push for their respective rationing systems and whatnot while we push for price controls to go with, and we bundle it all into a single emergency bill that would undoubtedly receive all the attention on the Diet floor. We’ll be able to prepare and pass such a draft act plenty more quickly than if we were to do without, and thus be more able to take on the… transfer.” She held both elbows on the table, hands interlaced in a scholar’s cradle and head leaned at a slightly downward angle. Though she spoke perfectly well, there was a hint of distaste to the very last word.
Enter, Raira, who spoke up (and almost stood up, though was quick to return to her seat only a few inches up) slowly from nothing. Her speaking was… better than earlier, but it needed work still. “...the issue is that I would dare to say that is somewhat wishful thinking… And all the ministries are going to be fighting over funding to the point that it’ll be an internal mess for us if we so much as get anything slightly wrong; it’ll be the perfect opportunity for every one of those ravenous legislators of the opposition to have their go at us.”
Even if vague and non-definite, she still had some bits and pieces of a point scattered about, and enough so that Kimitada could piece them together.
“That latter point, that’s more a political issue though, is it not?” Akae escalated, confident enough that she rose with both hands still glued to the table. “If anything, leave it be to Prime Minister Shoichi and the party advisors—I’m no analyst, but they will probably do as they can to net a coalition with the LPP or CUP, and I’ve no doubt there’ll be some intraparty unity for some time being; l—ong enough that we could get a few of our own bills and articles for managing this weaseled through all the factions and parties—including the supplementary budget. It’s… no amendment to any of the core constitutional articles like nine, so there’s no real reason for opposition to be so extreme in numbers.” Her response was direct. Her tone was firm. Her speaking was resolute.
“Minister Kimitada, if I may,” Teruo said, swooping right into the discussion like a vulture whose meal had finally died. In speech, fully engaged he was as he tapped the desk to the rhythm of his speaking, “It would be prudent for the supplementary budget to prioritize the MITI and MOFA over the MAFF—it is certain in my mind that we can avoid altogether having to dump trillions of Yen on bailouts and such if we can have their output be reinvigorated in time, this being letting them loose on the global scale as quickly as we can. Their income could have rather rapid returns on the national economy, and for whatever time being, they’ve all been promoted from mere pillars somewhat more valuable compared to other ministries to core supports of our economy. On the side of agriculture, we could rather easily succeed in fulfilling imports as we have in the past, though only to a certain extent and at a much higher cost where we could expect even more funds to be sapped by agencies relevant—handling, transport, biosecurity, all that under Ministers Katsuo, Tsunesa— pretty much everyone will be involved in this in some way or another to a much greater degree than they’re used to and would prefer.” His speech was without any real rhythm, but still, it continued to drag on as did his mind aflame. “The MESSC and such similar ministries and departments can probably take the budget cuts in the meantime. I could foresee their sciences departments and institutes being of special relevance, but inevitably, dealing with all these initial issues, they’ll have one of the smallest hands in handling all too much unless we can get the ball rolling quickly enough which is tenuous at best.”
Teruo’s pitch was… it shifted. Highs and lows strewn together by the vaguest sense of consistency. For two of the others, his suggestions were something they thought to keep in mind, while for the remaining two it was just too suspect to follow through with. Not at this stage, at least, and not without any change all too substantial. Kimitada himself happened to hold a similar leaning to the former pair.
A grumble and a ‘hmmm’ followed on from Utamara, who crossed his arms just before opening as part of the latter pair. The response time was near-instant, but more a quip than a full tackle. “And yet, Mister Teruo, if we fail in doing so—if the ball so much as resists our push by any amount—we risk even more on the line. We could follow through with it, but… it feels underdeveloped—I mean, you’ve hardly outlined all too much, and I feel if we dig further into it we could find some strategy even more optimal.”
“While I… concur with Vice Minister Teruo,” came Akae, both in assistance to Utamara and staking her claim, “Where I do agree some funding should be spared for the other ministries as most are of little enough importance to the grander issue; especially now when money is, or will soon be, an extremely scarce resource, so our selection being maximally optimal with regard to this is vital.” At this moment, Akae too crossed her arms, accompanied by a slightly raised voice. “Simultaneously I also do believe we could get away with that the MESSC being of such low value may be quite frankly a delusion—I have no doubt in my mind that they will come up to be of extreme relevance, and so I do think they should be placed higher for funding.”
It was then that Kimitada made himself known once more. Kimitada clamped down tighter on his leash over the meeting, shifting direction at will. Though he found himself subsumed by thoughts of wishing for someone else to take his position, one more drag of that soft little cigarette of his was enough to cleave through the thicket.
Orally pushing out a few micrograms of precious carbon monoxide with a puff, he reasserted himself with a rough voice, “S—o, with all that in mind, for revenues throughout the year have we any ideas on how to do and organize things?” The tone and point of discussion, set. Then onto the meat of the discussion—enough to keep himself from sounding reluctant to do anything. “Shortfalls in AD, weakened consumer spending and earnings, increasing savings—the works…, will be rough and tumble enough to our economy, and so much so that it’ll probably result in the Diet resolving to increase spending on all sorts of expenses; support allowances by our advisory, those repos we’re batting to pull off, whatever necessary expansions there are to public works and manufacturing infrastructure, bailouts, et cetera…,” Kimitada slowed as he wrapped up the context with a neat little bow, once more taking a long drag. Twelve seconds flat, and he was back to it. “Following from this, I must stress the point that we can maybe afford to permit a substantial hit in debt if it means things won’t fall further out of our control… But we must limit the damage, no matter how insignificant, the hit to growth does for now, as with productive capability.”
Through the wispy smoke-gloom environment set by Kimitada’s cigarette-chomping, something that drew the others to wish to do similar, a voice shuffled. Then, as any bird would, it fluttered before it soared.
“Let— l… let’s tackle the obvious first then; we levy tax hikes on income, consumption, and corporate tax, higher income brackets especially; the increased burden on consumers should keep down spending, so we’ll get plenty more leeway toward a smaller deficit even if it’s enormous with these improved revenues. Then shoot out with increased bond issuance to the Keiretsu and larger firms since there’s no doubt they’ll all be grasping for liquid cash and try to get Minister Tsunesaburo to initiate a limit on the layoffs firms can pull off lest we see some ridiculous numbers start to come in without any sort of intervention. This strategy should reasonably help out both households and firms evenly enough whilst also keeping ourselves afloat and safe from extraneous and unsafe amounts of debt.” With elbows to the desk, hand wrapped around fist, Utamara ended on a dry clap. Every element of his visage was set like stone, save for the minor tremors that battered at his lip.
The others, though falling into languidity, all sent back a mix of reactions as they had before—a curt nod by Kimitada, strain from Raira and Kazutoshi, and blank from the remaining two.
“Well, erm…, with the speculated… Though real estate prices are expected to rise considering the new massive influx of permanent stay foreigners and massive demand in the wake of particularly stagnant nearly solely speculative markets, the effect is we can expect ex— extraordinary rises in uh, savings from primarily rental tenants opposed to spending, that, erm, I’ve been told would offset easily any expected revenue from a consumption tax hike; especially with the increasingly deteriorating balance sheets of enterprises who I’m sure will be struggling to keep their doors open and where the banks will be witnessing increasing numbers of non-performing assets rolling in, they’ll also possibly be far less likely to lend at all into the future, thereby putting us into even more massive risk of far larger mass layoffs that would persist further into the near future… Uhh, all per some of the… economics faculty at the University of Tokyo. I find it likely that, uh, somebody will recognize this in Parliament and try to engage laid-off workers in construction under the government’s pay…, so we can expect even further strain on revenues from that end too. But, er, I do think we can take the strike as debt no matter how hard it does hit.” It was Raira who spoke in response, somehow being first to attend to the matter and rather obviously her given how gingerly she did with all the ‘uhh’s and ‘erm’s.
Ignoring those additional spills and elements of her thought process that’d come out alongside her speech considering how distracting they were, Kimitada gave her another curt nod. An interesting idea, and an interesting response to Utamara.
And, whichever way things could’ve gone from that point, Akae was sure to have also made her mind known. A short little list she’d compiled mentally as Utamara spoke, focus absolute. She opened with a breath being taken in—not the sort a scolding mother would give, ‘nor one of disappointment as a teacher would, and especially not one of being overwhelmed. It was a concise breath, calculated well and without any quivers or jerkiness per her particularly odd streak of relative calm. “Such a policy would be effective for now, but I’ve no doubt it’ll be unpopular with the Diet. Ballooning debt as a result, especially since with the debt-to-GDP-wise we’re already clocked at… what was it, ninety percent? And mix in what we can only assume to be a growing amount of lower-income earners having to deal with tax hikes… We’re teetering on an edge, and careless spending will be enough to weigh us over.”
Of course, the all-too-common pause for the author to elaborate on minor details. Akae’s tone grew more insistent as she spoke, certainly not needy at any point being a slight shift, but a relatively unusual one as she voiced her dissatisfaction. The subtle volume lift, as with the misplaced emphasis and inflection scattered through her speech.
“Once more, we can’t cut back so easily on any spending once all the projects start coming in—we can’t afford to—so I feel slamming those behind the Keiretsu and such instead with higher taxes, rather than issuing bonds and thereby rewarding them, would be best. It’d simply be irresponsible for us to pump up the debt in sectors easily avoidable and afforded to us at present.”
And then, a sigh and the clearing of a throat in response. Just as Akae had, so too did Utamara, and right over Raira as well who was just about to open up.
“With the current early budget projections already being devised, I’d…,” Raira said, then murmured, voice fading in audibility in recognition of the fact that she was cut off at about halfway through ‘with’.
Utamara spoke heavily. Of course, he spoke over Raira; there was no way her voice could’ve hoped to have overtaken his.
He pushed his chair back by a centimeter or three, wheels making no sound whatsoever—no creaks, no squeaks. Perfectly lubricated—a nice contrast to his voice. “The Keiretsu will be our lifeline through this all; Minister Tsunesaburo will be barking at us to hose them down with as much money, so he could probably attest to that, and if we leave all firms be, unemployment will be through the roof. We already know that so much as suggesting nationalizing any of them would be career suicide, and we need unity with the firms to be bolstered if we want to tackle the issue effectively—bond issuance is less rewarding and more lubricating the cogs of our current economic system since if any of them fall out of place, the rest will be quick to join in. Besides, we can service the debt in due time; we’ll have plenty of opportunities to do so in the future if things go… well enough.”
But Kimitada had noticed what Raira was to say, and it quite reminded Kimitada of one duty he did hold necessary; something their Ministry was most certainly mandated to be doing in this time. So, he queried through raspy-wheeze as it recalled itself to his memory, “Wait, er…,” The metaphorical screen paused, remote pressed with those two parallel bars in union with a fat ‘pause’ all on-screen. For a split second, he looked to be lost as his head flitted across the place until it finally settled toward Raira. His voice rose from nothing, headed to a consistent tone once he’d finally found himself again. “...before we continue, are the budget bureau working on a supplementary yet?”
There was a shallow smile that came and went in what must’ve been a picosecond on Raira’s face on hearing Kimitada discuss her point, even if tangentially. Kimitada would’ve returned the gesture but decided against it without any remaining doubts.
Easily, an answer found itself in one of the many mouths of that room. Akae came right on in at the call for an answer as she said, “I believe so, but only in the early stages. They’re still waiting on budget requests, and Commissioner Shoda wishes to conduct some of their first few meetings on it with one of us.” And given their past, us was of solely the two parliamentarians plus Kimitada. “Spending will probably be in deficit across the board though, so more likely than not, the budget itself will serve more as a symbolic gesture to certain ministries if anything.”
To this, Kimitada’s facial features, formerly tightly pulled in, relaxed. Cheeks pulled inward, wrinkles pressed out, and the edges of his mouth found the time most opportune to drop by a half millimeter. It was… neither convenient ‘nor inconvenient to any major degree, and no more were any grave concerns on the budget beyond the timeline for when it’d be done, but simply thinking of the matter had all those wrinkles reforming and reforging.
Back to the main line of discussion it was…
And so, Teruo continued onward as response to both Akae and Utamara, “As I said prior, financially, we can make it through by being reasonable and cutting back on spending—there are still plenty of departments and bureaus that could take on budget cuts just fine for the time being, granted with decreased efficiency, but simultaneously there’s a pretty high chance most of them will also be meeting greatly decreased use given current conditions should we continue along current course.” He stopped to think, turning his head upward such that from Kimitada’s position, one could see gleaming. Not natural to the eyes, for rather it was of the overhead lighting reflecting perfectly off his eyes. Up ‘till the point they returned to earth, that was, as he said, “There’s no way we’ll be able to make it solely relying on domestic financial input per your imagined scenario, Mister Utamara—the chance of default won’t just be huge, it’ll be so unsustainably enormous to the likes of which we’ve never seen before. The only effective way to keep spending up is through taking in foreign money—if by loans or opening up for investment. A depreciated Yen would perhaps be ideal to handle the risk of default, but we could more easily handle our imports, and that is the key, should we appreciate the yen selectively instead.”
A few ‘hmms’ came and went, such that to Teruo and Kimitada the topic was sure to be buried under whatever next Kimitada could come up with, all before another contender entered the arena—swiftly, quickly, and very directly.
“Going around in search of a monetary bukkake?! That’d be a disastrous outcome for us,” came a new voice—Kazutoshi. He said, nay, shouted, for he’d in spirit and essence yelled even if unreflected by how loud he actually spoke.
Throughout the entire meeting to that point, Kazutoshi was much like a more extreme version of Akae, he’d kept at large silent and in constant observation of his colleagues’ suggestions, rapports and reporting, and so on, such that he’d only ever been mentioned twice. And in turn, there too would’ve followed a few moments of silence as well, all in the room somewhat busy processing Kazutoshi’s rather… peculiar, so to say, choice of words. Yet there could be none, for he opened as his field was trespassed upon—Vice of Finance for International Affairs. And open up he indeed did, as just as a dragon’s maw would stretch out to set errant adventurers asunder, so too did Kazutoshi to his colleague.
“It’d be equally unsustainable to try running around for loans when we’re new and unproven in credit rating—no doubt would we be targeted with extremely predatory, borderline-loan-shark practices by whatever shady governments with money to spare exist. If we take on a single loan, I can guarantee it’ll be over for us well within the year since I’d bet the interest would compound plenty faster than we could raise the funds to deal with [it] in any reasonable capacity.”
There was a brief pause, but all else knew better than to interject until at least ten seconds had passed since the last word. Kimitada couldn’t help but throw down as many notes onto paper as he could, legibility a then non-consideration as he continued well into the vicious and viscous depths of Kazutoshi’s argument so eloquently put forward and spearheaded by such wording.
In this case, only four and a half seconds went by before Kazutoshi continued with as follows, “I strictly maintain that our credit would be appraised poorly, and while in discussion it had been brought up that devaluing the Yen would be disastrous for our people, it may very easily be one of the safest options to keep away a default lest we bear witness to what will be the worst economic crisis this century we’ve faced, if not the worst ever, being worsened by systemic failings in approaching austerity! We cut down on spending, have the bank cut right back on the money supply, all whilst pushing controlled depreciation of the yen to what foreign currency there is, and all whilst we try to keep the keiretsu up so that they can attempt to conduct business with and in the outside world. Welfare will certainly take a hit in the short run, but slightly more long term our economic health will be fine and it’ll all blow over quickly enough should we follow this doctrine.”
Perhaps it was the first part almost all agreed upon, not yet enough to inspire any retort from Teruo and plenty enough to have Kimitada’s mind continually reeling at the page as to what he was to tell Shoichi; what to write down for policy, what to do for new laws, lest none else pen their own. And it was this secondary thought that caused what pathways with what little neurons raced by to change in course, thought arcing from one lane to another as it was instead branded and seared—committed to (short-term) memory such that it would probably reappear down the line.
And so, enter the other contender of this new verbal arena—Utamara. Kimitada found it peculiar of him, though said nothing, letting him flow right in.
“You’d be completely shutting down the economy with every bit of disregard you could have for the average citizen! Just as it would be irresponsible to take on loans, so too would it be to call for such an unprecedented state of fiscal freezing!” Indeed, Utamara yelled and pounded back, volume still not in actual complement to his tone either. Although, the singular slam of his fist onto the table was plenty enough to have snatched Kimitada’s, and the others’, attention irrespective of the fact that all eyes were already on him. “Continued spending through this is the way to go instead—I’ve had my share of discussions and read all the early reports with and by the FSRC and planning bureau, and hitherto all the evidence has pointed contrarily to austerity. The issue may very well be nascent, but we can’t treat it so, and we must afford to handle it with all the danger it presents instead of just ‘waiting for it all to blow over,’” Utamara slung with the air quotes physically signed out, “We can take the debt hit just fine, as with the deficit if not a bit scarily as we watch the treasury be eaten up, but considering that the best in terms of stimulation we’ll get are short bursts from consumers gobbling up foreign goods, the responsibility remains solely on us to keep the cycle and flow of money going or else we can expect our growth to be stagnant, and we can expect ourselves to slip further and deeper into this trap of recession. Mister Tamasine and his colleagues almost all concurred that we should still be able to safely manage public debt should it reach well into one-fifty percent the GDP, and that even then the risks of higher debt are all too worthwhile to simply pass up considering the circumstances—we’ll be keeping our hands clean as we do as we can to help both the people and firms while still retaining that ability to keep consistent and steady growth. Extending public assistance will be necessary if we want to rebound quickly and safely, as every moment wasted on this fantasy of austerity will only lead to more families being destroyed from the inside out—we have a noticeably growing supply of the elderly and a noticeably dwindling supply of the working-age population from which even less will be in a job very, very soon; projections of…”
By the end, Utamara’s contention slowed and waned.
Hit after hit, strike after strike—each weaker, each limper.
Then, he held for a moment, as in his mind little cogs grinded, larger gears turned, and stereotypically industrial pipes sprayed their leaks of steam. So the discussion paused for him, for attempting to recall the exact values from a muck of thousands of numbers read in addition all from the same papers and heard from the same discussions was a challenge, to say the least. Though from outward appearance it only served as a strike to his own credibility. Fifteen seconds, three-hundred-and-sixty milliseconds.
“...unemployment by a minimum of eighteen percent, by I believe the FSRC, and… twenty-eight as estimated by Commissioner Ryuzaburo in the worst case scenario. Our economy couldn’t so much as crawl let alone run all over the place as you suggest once these values are fully realized as once people start falling out of work we’ll have a damn hard time nudging them back into place let alone returning them to standard productivity.” All between through those little ellipses were scanty little inhales taken. Short sucks of air as though there was real, physical pain associated with simply listing off the values. Because there in fact was.
Quietly came the voice of Teruo right amidst Utamara’s, passing like the wind as Utamara pored over his numbers, where from Teruo, an all-hush remark he simply couldn’t hold onto: “That’s same as it was in the depression for the Americans, wasn’t it?” A wholly rhetorical statement that came out rather poorly compared to how he’d thought it would.
“I have papers, dozens… dozens more papers and memos and reports waiting on my desk from Mister Taiji and- and Mister Ryuzaburo and… Mis- Mister Tamasine, so on and so—o forth, that have almost all so far just about concluded the same way; push for at least some minor monetary allowance to the consumer. These people need to be helped along, as without them, there’s no chance whatsoever the Keiretsu can keep on just fine when it all ‘blows over’ as you so aptly put it; no citizens are going to be able or willing to keep the flow of money going should we simply ignore them! There’s no point, at least not now, in being a deficit hawk if we want to aim for future prosperity out of whatever the hell is going to happen in the next decade, shoot, even getting out of this whole mess.”
It must be noted that, by this point, Utamara had begun to speak less as though presenting, and far more as though forewarning with confirmed and mystical knowledge of the future. And indeed while they may have all speculated, it was very well that things weren’t so equal as assumed. In, then, came a long, long silence—it could not be said for once how long exactly so, but it was long enough for all parties at the table to ruminate over Utamara’s musings sufficiently enough that they could so much as move forward. Plenty time too for Minister Kimitada to have at a short few pulls of the cigarette.
Not so quickly then, came Mister Kazutoshi’s resolution to their turn-based debacle that’d only lasted a turn each so far.
“Mister Utamara, I’m no deficit hawk. I’m simply advocating a more reasoned solution where we exercise caution—if we run enormous deficits so errantly and recklessly without anything, not even any reeling back of the minutiae to counterbalance it, then quite frankly you’ll only have put us in a worse position than we’d have started in! It would be plenty more a disaster than we would ever have needed to have so much as considered having to manage, and all-in-all, it’d only further be a new set of wholly artificial challenges for us to deal with considering the outcomes of any prospective default on not solely the nation, not solely the people, but also our national reputation would be entirely thrown out! The bonds, we can keep issuing, but we’ve not enough to simply pass about handouts to every citizen, and especially so considering the number of people we’ve found stuck with us and all the new money pits we don’t even know to be money pits just yet that’ve opened right up!”
“Then what have you [got], Mister Kazutoshi? What grand method of fundraising have we at our disposal that you seem to know and no[o]ne else?”
To some minor amount of relief from Kimitada’s end, it was not Kazutoshi to slam back, for he was busy thinking up some way to respond to Utamara’s rather valid question. Rather, it was Akae to come to heed his call. She only felt the need to lean inward by perhaps a degree or two—no seeming need for the flamboyance in physical pattern when speaking well could do all the work. Silent no longer.
“...If I could return to Mister Teruo’s point, and maybe in part possibly answering for Mister Kazutoshi, how exactly is it that you ask to take on foreign money to keep an appreciated yen? There are certainly issues with loans, as outlined by Mister Kazutoshi though I’m disinclined from, and foreign investment would possibly be inviting a wrecking ball on the Keiretsu you wish to protect. I’d guess we could issue bonds, but we’re already doing that for the Keiretsu, and the burden would only mount if we commit to both. And appreciating the yen, yes, it’d make imports plenty easier to handle, but just as you’d outlined, the risk of default is plentiful and those are terms we simply cannot accept. Moreso, it’d only detract from foreign consumption of any Japanese goods we’re to foreseeably export, to which though there are arguments for cases of both high and low consumption, in either case, you’d only be harming our own efforts in promoting exports to fund the country. So… how exactly?”
So brightly did the energy from Akae shine through her speaking, plenty akin to Kazutoshi’s rigor if not a smidge over or under depending on who in the room was quizzed on it.
Alas, to all her efforts, no answer came. Little shuffles were audible across the room. Just under the background, but just enough to be noticed by cautious ears; hell, it was silent enough that should one have listened closely, their very heartbeats could be heard.
And so, in the room, a seven-way stalemate had been built up, the discussion structure just confusing enough to have thrown some of them off, and finding suitable answers to either of the two big questions posed enough to throw off those who remained.
Kimitada was left helpless, only able to look around, that is until he’d find himself realizing he could be the one to break it. Out from this discussion, perhaps to shelve it for later, and into something just relevant enough they’d all be aboard for.
“O—kay, on the foreign sector then, have we confirmation that there are any existing… people… beyond? Since I’ve come to realize we really should have settled this matter earlier to help lubricate the current discussion.”
“Yes,” came Kazutoshi. It was a firm yes; resolute. He was a bit more easygoing than earlier, though… the general feelings going about were difficult to shake.
The end result: even more concern and anxiety being trucked onto the back of anticipation.
Kimitada looked to Kazutoshi with some disbelief. Then about, darting gaze once more far too difficult to settle for what it was, in accompaniment to quite invisible and dedicated pocket-digging by his left hand. Though it could have been noted by the others through the shifting of his left sleeve, really, so too did their eyes all over the place. “Our outlook?”
Kazutoshi shot back with a simple, “Positive enough...” He reached down to his side and up came his arms a second after, bound dossier in hand. Onto the table it went, and out came his voice in continuation as he spilled open the binder. “Forgive me as I’ve only been given one copy of the set, but given what’s in the photos State Minister Keiji’s shared with me, they’re plenty akin to the dawn of our century if not a hair over,” he elaborated as large cards were passed around.
So deep and vibrant was the detail that they could see the splotches and scratches on the window through which the photos of what they were mainly to look at were taken. There was some surprise, suspicion even, as to why such an important document hadn’t already been handed around before the whole meeting, let alone this late into it, but the pictures themselves and contents thereof were distracting enough that any astonishment was left to the back burner.
And from then, Kazutoshi’s mind was rebooted—once more able to take details broken down mentally to feed the others with his evaluation. “...and er…,” he continued, “assuming all others will be similar to them alongside trends of… roughly nineteen-ten? -twenty? It’s so far doubtful we’ll meet any nation economically greater than our own. Subsequently, we may likely be able to contend with preexisting reserve currencies if not outright replacing them.” He flipped through a spare set of pages stuck to the back of the binder. “Reasonably, we could attempt to keep the outflow of the yen as minimal to keep exchange rates high, and we’ve other tools as well to manage this—especially considering we’ll be extraordinarily import-heavy in the years to come but without any significant forex reserves beyond, what, bullion? Bullion to start with, having the yen be considered valuable and worthwhile would be difficult, to say the least. And even then, we can’t guarantee gold to be an acceptable reserve currency even if it’s extremely likely.”
“So we will still have the capacity to pursue a more proactive forex policy?”
“Absolutely though it will be somewhat limited—I’ll have to check back with my bureau, so please forgive me on that end, Minister, but even if extremely precarious, we could see a shift back to export focus should we dedicate mandatory funding toward both the MOFA and MITI. The repos will do fine work to this end as companies armed with spare wealth should be more able to begin exploring their options overseas, thus raking back in more funds over the long term. With these changes, we, uh… we could expect gross GDP and GNP to skyrocket with quick permission of investment into the outside world over the long term. So, chances are, we’ll initially meet shaky foreign confidence which is especially so should we so much as try taking out foreign loans and investment right off the bat.”
“What about inflow them; what have your sources spoken of on foreign investment?”
Kazutoshi gave his lips a quick wettening just as he began to reply, though not the sort one would do on seeing a free meal, “It’ll be marginal compared to what we send out and receive—we could try something to encourage foreign investors to think of Japan and the yen as relatively stable, as I’d just discussed in terms of foreign reserve and the yen, but beyond this, especially considering their assumed economic levels from their presumed technological, they’ve little else to offer to us. Even then, persuading anyone that our nation is stable solely based on what we’re going through would be a difficult task, to say the least. To that end, if we are seen as stable and profitable, we could try our hand at selling bonds, though I’ve no doubt once more, there will be extraordinarily shaky confidence.”
Having finished their little back and forth well enough, and with Utamara, Akae, Raira, and Teruo all left speechless to whatever state of mind Kazutoshi was in to have only then revealed this all, both Kazutoshi and Kimitada lay their hands down on the table and looked about, Kimitada servicing a quick pull of his cigarette notwithstanding by all this.
Kimitada then moved on, coughing out his words as he did. “On this note then, we should move on to action from what we currently understand—I’d first like for it to be known by all departments that every report, every correspondence, and every transmission must be triply filed with a copy to end up on my desk in due time.”
Finally, finally! The ordering, the action, the political machine and its cogs to at last begin to turn. Indeed, Kimitada’s cadence reflected so, speaking as if to a fluttery tune and backed by an overall renewed agreeability as their meeting had finally reached this point. There was a certain eagerness to finally get the basic analysis , the boring old evaluatory stage: finally, he was into the action. The part where he ordered people to do things.
And to what he’d said, whether they nodded, rolled their fingers over their chins, or stared with blank faces, all those assembled, of Kimitada’s band, objected not. Kimitada considered it a… fair enough request; sure to perhaps slow down the system, but it was only a minor issue and the matter couldn’t compound all too much in the long run, now could it?
So, he continued with setting out his terms.
“Further, Mister Teruo, I’d like for you to try to have a draft committee arranged with someone under Minister Tsunesaburo on the drafting of bills—pooling in our efforts and such for industrial finance matters considering their established and… foreseeable importance in the days to come. Mrs. Akae, I’ll have you lodged for the budget meeting and a press conference soon after, but into the future your schedule should be kept reasonably flexible.”
The two nodded—out of steam, the firebrands probably were. There wasn’t all too much anyway, only press conferences and meetings with other ministries; one after the other, a massive bog to begrudgingly wade through.
All three knew; even if Kimitada did so gingerly, he moved on knowing there was little else the two could do. Not at present, at least.
“Internally, both Mrs. Raira and Mister Utamara, I’d like for you to prepare a more comprehensive report in conference and advisory with all department specialists under a new division to be formed for the sake of dealing with this whole… thing. This will go alongside usual duties and some somewhat more strained oversight considering current circumstances. Overall, we’ll do as much as we can policy-wise to keep things from spiraling, so we will most likely be bleeding funds and taking on a heavy debt burden, so there will be plenty of added weight on all our departments, bureaus, and agencies under our wing. The debt we can take on into the new millennium, but a sustained recession if not depression? Not so much.”
Raira held a paper up closer to her face, sort of hiding her mouth in a somewhat juvenile fashion. Elsewise, Utamara was… happy enough to go for it.
“Optimally, we should have a full governmental audit scheduled, started, and serviced for within the year so that pressure processing all the reports coming in during the end of this fiscal year will be kept low for that matter, as well as another total audit planned sometime within the next fiscal year for sake of comparison. We can’t have a single Yen unaccounted for.” Kimitada’d voice crackled on the last line, prompting a thick cough. “So internally there will be plenty of stress and many points of failure that need to be ironed out and lubricated well enough before anything occurs. From this, I’d like to see if integrating elements and staff of each of the departments into one another may help ease up some of the stresses from the sheer volume of material to go through.”
Blow after blow, strike after strike. Kimitada was, on the internal issues (and rather evidently based on the two somewhat large paragraphs of sole text (relative to some of the others featured)), keeping himself comprehensive. Indeed, mere minor recollections of ‘eighty-five and ‘ninety-three, and the quagmires that ensued were plenty an incentive to do so.
And through Kimitada’s verbal barrage, Utamara shielded against with Raira quietly beside him. Perhaps his shield was to come out marred and singed, but in the end, the damage was all minimal—it’d taken far worse in this conference alone. Of course, a defense was all for naught were he to keep silent as with Raira, and so came his reply, “We can have a new department formed within a matter of a few hours should things go well, though we’ll need to clear out some space. Arguably though, cross-departmental integration may only decrease efficiency. We can have interdepartmental attaches ready regardless.”
Yet, one key member was missing. Indeed, Kazutoshi had been left silent and unassigned, though most likely to keep him flexible—who knew what the MOFA was up to at that moment. Kimitada held faith in him that he’d know to simply stick close to MOFA channels in the meantime. Besides, in his mind, this would be the only downtime Kazutoshi would be getting for quite some time.
Thus, only one thing remained for Kimitada to say. Tentatively, though only because the ever-tightening and crushing squeeze of his chest had forced the words out.
“Excellently so, then. A- and please,” he wavered, “would someone get Minister Tsunesaburo on my line at the earliest possibility?”