aircannonsinc Chapter 158 White Tsunami
Chapter 158 White Tsunami
Sunday, April 2, 1989.
The second day after the implementation of the consumption tax was also the first weekend.
The sky remained overcast, with gray clouds hanging low over Tokyo Bay, as if they might crush the city that had just experienced a night of chaos.
5:00 AM, Tokyo Central Wholesale Market (Ota Market).
This place should be the busiest in all of Japan, the heart that sustains the appetites of Tokyo's ten million people. At this time of year, the roar of forklifts, the shouts of vendors, and the rumble of trucks reversing would usually blend into a chaotic symphony.
But today, a strange sense of unease permeates the air.
"Are you kidding me! Shipping costs are going up by 3%? Didn't we agree yesterday to keep the price the same?"
The head of the fresh produce purchasing department at Daiei Group gripped the still-warm mobile phone tightly, roaring into the receiver. His tie was askew, and his eyes were bloodshot from pulling an all-nighter.
"Where are my orders? Hokkaido onions and leafy greens from Ibaraki! The shelves are empty!"
The logistics company manager's helpless voice came from the other end of the phone, mixed with the noise of the drivers in the background.
"Minister, there's nothing we can do. Those individual drivers are all making a fuss. Gas prices have gone up, and highway tolls have gone up too. If we don't make up for this 3% tax, they'll shut down their engines and quit. The parking lots are full of stalled trucks now."
"Give it to me! I'll give it to you! Tell them to leave immediately!"
The minister roared, his voice hoarse.
Even if you give it to me, it won't arrive today.
Why?
"Invoice system. To calculate this additional tax, all waybills need to be rewritten by hand. And... look outside."
The minister paused for a moment, then quickly walked to the window of the dispatch room.
Outside the window, the entrance to the Capital Expressway was jammed with a long red line of cars.
Countless trucks belonging to different logistics companies were crammed together, unable to move an inch. Because it was the first weekend after the tax reform, all businesses were frantically restocking, and the random inspections by tax checkpoints further disrupted Tokyo's already fragile logistics artery.
This is a "thrombosis" in a physical sense.
The minister let his arm fall limply to his side, and the mobile phone slammed onto the table with a "thud".
It’s over.
To avoid the financial accounting risks associated with crossing tax periods, Da Rong conducted a complete clearance sale on March 31st. Now, the store warehouses are completely empty except for rats.
He had been hoping that the emergency restocking this morning would fill the shelves.
But now, he can only watch helplessly as those fresh vegetables are stuck on the highway dozens of kilometers away, slowly spoiling.
"Damn 3%..."
He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, only to find it empty. He crumpled the pack and smashed it against the window.
Outside the window, on the gray overpass, a line of white cars sped past in the opposite direction of the otherwise clear lane.
That's SA Logistics' fleet.
The fleet consisted entirely of Isuzu refrigerated trucks, their bodies pristine white with black "SA" markings on the sides. Instead of crowding the paralyzed public logistics lane, they were driving in dedicated lanes with pre-approved special passes, or skillfully navigating pre-planned routes to avoid congestion.
The minister stared blankly at the white traffic.
It's Saionji Temple again...
He suddenly realized that this was no longer just a price war.
Their opponents' advantages in various areas began to emerge. To their horror, they discovered that their opponents had only played their first card, and they were already on the verge of collapse.
As for how many cards the opponent has left, who knows?
……
10:00 AM.
Chiba Prefecture, SA Logistics Logistics Center.
Beneath the massive steel dome, the orderly logistics operations stand in stark contrast to the hysterical chaos outside.
"Sector C, Gate 12, Hokkaido potatoes, loading complete."
"Sector D, Gate 5, Uniqlo Spring New Arrivals, Loading Complete."
The dispatcher's calm voice came over the loudspeaker.
Six months ago, the fleet here was just a simple "transportation vehicle," no different from other logistics companies, except that the vehicles were newer and there were more drivers.
But now, this system has evolved into a closed monster.
This is the "private blood vessel" that the Saionji family has built over the past two years, spending tens of billions of yen.
Unlike Daiei and Seibu Department Stores, which rely on third-party logistics, require multiple subcontracting layers, and calculate taxes at each point of contact, SA Logistics operates entirely internally—from farms in Hokkaido to textile factories in Shanghai and stores in Tokyo.
There are no middlemen.
There was no cumbersome invoice handover process.
There were no disputes over the 3% tax.
The drivers are paid, full-time employees; the fuel is stored in their own fuel depot; and the vehicles are their own assets. For them, today is no different from yesterday.
Only "execution".
"The gates are fully open."
On the control tower, Shimomura Tsutomu chewed gum and pressed the Enter key.
On the screen, the red bars representing the water level are dropping rapidly.
The energy that had been accumulating throughout the winter was released at this moment.
1.2 million pieces of clothing of various styles from Uniqlo.
Thousands of tons of agricultural products from S-Farm in Hokkaido.
They had been lying in wait in this huge white warehouse, waiting for this moment.
"Boom!"
Dozens of roller shutter doors rose at the same time.
The white convoy, already fully prepared and ready to go, roared with engines, its exhaust fumes condensing into white mist in the cold air.
They were like a white army, bursting through the gates and rushing towards Tokyo, which was gripped by panic due to shortages of supplies.
This was a saturation attack.
While competitors' shelves are empty, the Saionji family aims to fill every corner of Tokyo with this white torrent.
……
Noon.
S-Mart Hikari-gaoka Store, Nerima Ward.
Although it was only the second day of opening, the store was even more crowded than yesterday.
Unlike yesterday's customers who were simply curious about the tax-free shopping, today's customers had a hint of panic on their faces—because they found that other supermarkets had empty shelves.
"I heard that Da Rong is out of vegetables?"
"Yes, I just checked, and there were only a few bags of wilted bean sprouts on the shelf, and the price has gone up."
"Hurry up and grab some more onions! Onions are still 50 yen here!"
The housewives pushed their shopping carts as if they were waging a war.
But amidst this tense atmosphere, the flanks of the store presented a completely different scene.
It was separated by a huge floor-to-ceiling glass wall, as if they were two different worlds.
S-Cafe.
The noisy atmosphere of the store gradually faded away, and the earthy smell of the fresh produce section was also masked. The air was filled with the caramelized aroma of freshly ground dark roast coffee beans, mixed with the sweet scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls, vanilla cream, and expensive butter.
The original minimalist white color scheme of the store has become warmer here. Dark wood floors, vintage leather sofas, and warm yellow pendant lights hang on the tables. Several pop art decorative paintings hang on the walls, and a record player in the corner is playing jazz piano music by Bill Evans.
Naomi and Aiko (does anyone still remember who they are?) are sitting in a deep sofa by the window.
"My dear son, look! The chestnut puree on this Mont Blanc is sprinkled with gold leaf!"
Naomi held a small silver fork in her hand, pointing at the exquisite French chestnut cake on the plate in front of her, which looked like a work of art, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Really! And my strawberry mille-feuille... look at this cross-section, the layers of cream and pastry are so clearly defined."
Aiko leaned closer, her nose accidentally touching the cake. She took a deep breath, a look of pure bliss on her face.
"This cream smells so good..."
"You're careless again." Naomi chuckled as she looked at the little white spot on Aiko's nose, then reached out and wiped the cream off her nose with her finger before sucking it clean.
Aiko tilted her head, seemingly wondering why she couldn't just wipe it clean. The cake wasn't expensive. She then picked up the receipt from the table.
[French Mont Blanc: 500 Yen] [Strawberry Crepe Cake: 450 Yen] [S-Cafe Freshly Ground Latte: 300 Yen]
"It only costs a little over a thousand yen in total..." Aiko rested her chin on her hand, looking incredulous. "A cake of this quality would cost at least eight hundred yen in a confectionery shop in Daikanyama, right? And that would include tax."
"That's right! And here you don't have to pay that annoying consumption tax at all. If you give me a thousand-dollar bill, I get back all those shiny coins. It feels like I've made a profit."
Naomi scooped a spoonful of cake into her mouth, and the smooth texture made her squint her eyes.
"Having afternoon tea here makes me feel like a pampered noblewoman who's skipped class."
"Shh—keep your voice down, it wouldn't be good if someone we know saw us."
The two girls smiled at each other, enjoying their inexpensive yet luxurious secret time in this corner filled with jazz music and the aroma of coffee.
S-Cafe is like a gentle filter. It filters out the anxiety and inflation of the outside world, leaving only the beauty of the bubble.
Next to S-Cafe, there are no partitions, naturally transitioning into a more spacious and lively public rest area.
This is an extension of the "S-Kitchen" prepared food section.
Dozens of simply designed white round tables are arranged in a staggered pattern, with comfortable chairs next to them. Although it is not as exquisite as S-Cafe, it is spacious, bright, and completely free to the public.
A young mother and her child were sitting at a round table, sharing a steaming plate of fried pork cutlet curry. On a nearby bench, several elderly people with gray hair were basking in the rare sunshine, chatting leisurely while holding free hot tea provided by the supermarket.
Outside, it's a battlefield of panic buying vegetables, but inside, it's a haven with a constant temperature of 24 degrees Celsius.
S-Mart is redefining the "supermarket." It is no longer just a busy trading place, but a "community center" where citizens struggling under the weight of inflation can catch their breath.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the rest area, right next to the huge white main building of S-Mart, a small shop with a dark blue warm curtain stands quietly.
It's like a small patch of snow left in a corner of the city after last night's heavy snowfall—quiet, cold, yet eye-catching.
The signboard has only three strong Chinese characters: 【北国屋】.
This long-planned Saionji-owned fast food brand did not engage in any extensive pre-launch promotions or grand opening flower baskets.
It just appeared there quietly.
Kenichi Yamada dragged his heavy steps as he walked from the office building in the distance.
Although it was Sunday, he had just finished working overtime. As a lowly office worker struggling desperately in this bubble economy, overtime pay was his lifeline to support his family.
It was already one o'clock in the afternoon, and his stomach was already churning with hunger. He had originally planned to go to the convenience store to buy a rice ball to tide him over, but the rich aroma of braised pork in soy sauce wafting on the wind was like an invisible hand, firmly gripping his sense of smell.
"It smells so good..."
He subconsciously swallowed, and his steps moved uncontrollably toward the small shop with the blue cloth curtain hanging on it.
Push open the wooden door.
"Welcome!"
The shop wasn't big, only able to accommodate about twenty people. The decor used a lot of natural wood tones, so clean that he was almost embarrassed to step inside, afraid that his dusty leather shoes would dirty the floor.
What shocked him most was the price tag on the automatic ticket machine at the entrance.
[Specialty·Hokkaido beef bowl——450 Yen (tax included)]
On a morning when even Yoshinoya has to adjust its prices in small increments to cover the 3% tax, the prices here remain an extremely comfortable round number.
"450 yen? Including tax?"
Yamada felt in his pocket and took out a 500 yen coin.
"Clang!"
The change was a neat 50-yen coin.
There was no such thing as a pile of heavy aluminum coins that could buy almost nothing.
Two minutes later.
When the steaming bowl of beef rice was placed in front of him, Yamada's eyes widened.
The beef on top of the rice wasn't the dry, imported frozen ground meat; instead, it had an appealing pinkish-brown color, and you could even vaguely see the marbling of the fat.
The F1 generation crossbred cattle bred by S-Farm were put on the market for the first time. Although they were not as expensive as top-grade Wagyu cattle, the aroma of their fat was truly exceptional.
It is paired with Hokkaido sweet onions that are stewed until they are crystal clear and melt in your mouth.
The rice underneath was crystal clear, with each grain distinct, and to be honest, it was even better than the rice he bought himself.
He picked up a piece of food with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth.
The oil burst on his tongue, the sweetness of the onions blending perfectly with the savory flavor of the sauce. The warm rice soothed his cramping stomach.
"Well……"
Yamada couldn't help but let out a satisfied sigh, his eyes even getting a little hot.
On a Sunday afternoon when the whole society is anxious over a few coins, in Tokyo where even breathing feels expensive.
This rice bowl, piled high with meat and onions, costs only 450 yen.
It gave him a long-lost feeling of fullness, and also gave him a false sense of "being respected".
This little shop called "Kitakuni-ya" is like another hidden trap set by the Saionji family. It quietly takes over people's stomachs, forming a perfect consumption loop with the nearby S-Mart and S-Cafe, making people never want to leave once they enter.
Before we knew it, long queues had started forming in front of the store.
……
Two o'clock in the afternoon.
Shibuya, a large street screen.
Fuji Television's special program, "Consumption Tax Shock: The Chaotic Second Day," is currently airing.
The footage shows long lines outside Daiei Supermarket and Seibu Department Store, as well as angry protesters demonstrating against stock shortages. The caption scrolls at the bottom of the screen: "Logistics disruptions cause stockouts at retail stores across the country."
Then, the scene changes.
The camera cut to Uniqlo and S-Mart stores.
The shelves were overflowing with supplies, piled high to the ceiling. People moved slowly through the aisles, carrying heavy baskets, their faces bearing the relief of successful purchases. The sense of scarcity that permeated other places was completely absent here.
The reporter stood in front of an S-Mart, holding a microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, while the rest of Tokyo is struggling with shortages of supplies, the shelves here remain full."
The reporter stopped a customer who had just come out.
"Ma'am, what did you buy?"
The woman was carrying two large, heavy bags, her face beaming with a victor's smile.
"I bought rice! And meat! And lots of toilet paper!"
She held the bag up to the camera, as if showing off her spoils.
"This place is so much better! Not only do they have everything, but they really don't charge that tax! And everything is in whole numbers when you pay, so you don't have to worry about getting change from those annoying coins!"
"Those big department stores only raise prices and make us queue. Only the Saionji family cares about ordinary people like us!"
"This is the last vestige of conscience in Tokyo!"
The aunt's voice traveled across the entire Kanto Plain via radio waves.
"conscience".
In this money-grubbing era, this word has the destructive power of a nuclear bomb.
The "luxury" of Seibu Department Store and the "low prices" of Daiei Supermarket seem so pale and powerless in the face of "conscience".
……
At the same time.
Akasaka, ANA Hotel.
In Ichiro Osawa's private office, several television sets were simultaneously broadcasting the news.
Ichiro Osawa sat on the sofa, holding a glass of ice water in his hand.
Two receipts were placed in front of him.
One of them was a note he had just bought from Daiei Supermarket, printed with complicated tax calculations, and the total amount was "3582 yen" with a decimal.
The other one is from S-Mart, with a clean "3500 yen" note and a line of small print at the bottom: "[Consumption tax: 0 (borne by Saionji Group)]".
"This is a bullet."
Osawa Ichiro picked up the two pieces of paper, a hunter's smile playing on his lips.
"Shuichi-kun, your family has really given me a big gift this time."
He stood up and straightened his red tie, which represented "innovation".
"Prepare the car."
He said to his secretary.
"Where to?"
"Go to the TV station. NHK's 'Sunday Discussion'."
Daze carefully placed the two receipts into his shirt pocket, close to his chest.
"I'm going to ask those big shots sitting on the clouds."
"Why can a private company do something that our government can't?"
"Why do they only know how to take money from the people's pockets, but can't even solve the problem of how to ensure that the people can buy a bag of rice?"
……
It was six o'clock in the evening.
Night falls.
S-Mart's huge white light boxes lit up in the night, like lighthouses illuminating the streets.
The rest area inside the store.
A young woman who had just finished get off work was sitting in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. In front of her was a bowl of oden, and in her hand was a fashion magazine.
She looked very tired; her high heels were half-dangling from her toes, swaying gently.
But she looked relaxed.
Here, she doesn't need to pretend to be a sophisticated urban professional, nor does she need to worry about not having enough money in her wallet to pay the bill.
She took a bite of the warm radish.
Soft and flavorful.
“That’s great…”
She sighed softly.
Behind her, outside the huge floor-to-ceiling window, was a poster of Da Rong Supermarket that had been blown away by the wind. It read "Prices increased by 3% across the board" and slowly soaked and rotted in the mud.
In this chaotic April.
The Saionji family conquered the city not with swords, but with a bowl of hot soup, an inexpensive T-shirt, and a quiet seat.
A white tsunami has submerged the beaches of the old era.