"Mr. Mitsui, you're too kind."
Kenichi Yamamoto lifted his wineglass, confidence dripping from his smug smile.
"That kid, Seiji Fujiwara, is still too green," he said with a chuckle. "He really thought that getting his hands on a generic drug formula ant he could sleep easy? What a joke."
"I've looked into it. He hasn't made a single move lately. He's not fighting us for shares on the secondary market, and he hasn't contacted any of the minority shareholders either."
"I bet he's still congratulating himself over Genesis Group's stock surge, feeling pretty pleased with himself."
"He has no idea that his foundation is about to be ripped out by the roots!"
"Hahahahaha!"
Laughter rang through the private room once more.
"But still…" a representative from the Sumitomo side asked uneasily, "Yamamoto-kun, Fujiwara has always been unpredictable. We can't afford to be careless. What if he's holding sothing back?"
"Sothing back?" Kenichi shook his head, utterly confident. "In the face of absolute shareholding ratios, any backup plan is aningless."
"I've already pacified all the minority shareholders."
"Together, we now hold a solid forty-one percent. In practical terms, we're the largest shareholders."
"This fight was over before it even began."
He raised his glass and drained it in one go.
"Gentlen, here's to a pleasant partnership."
"To a pleasant partnership!"
…
Thursday. Outside the Tokyo Central Notary Office, Seiji Fujiwara stepped through the doors with an easy smile on his face, a docunt sealed in a brown paper envelope in his hand. gumi Kato stood under an umbrella at the entrance, waiting.
"Boss, all done?"
"Yeah." Seiji nodded and handed her the envelope. "Keep it safe. You'll need this tomorrow."
gumi took it without asking any questions and slipped it into her briefcase. Just then, a black rcedes pulled up in front of them. The window rolled down, revealing Kenichi Yamamoto, the sa man who had been holding court at a high-end restaurant just the night before.
"President Fujiwara, what a leisurely mood," Yamamoto sneered. "Your company's stock is soaring, and you still have ti to stroll around a place like this?"
"What, here to write your will ahead of ti?"
The n beside him burst out laughing.
Seiji looked at him, his smile unchanged. "Yamamoto, right? I've heard of you. You're good at manipulating the stock market, but that trick doesn't work on ."
Without waiting for a response, he turned away and got into his car.
As the convoy disappeared down the road, Yamamoto frowned. Sothing was off. Too calm. Calm to the point of being unnatural.
"Yamamoto-kun, what's wrong?" the representative beside him asked.
"Nothing." Yamamoto shook his head, forcibly suppressing the unease rising in his chest. Just his imagination. The kid was bluffing, that's all. It had to be. Tomorrow, he'd make him regret everything.
…
Friday, ten in the morning. Yamato Precision headquarters, the shareholders' eting.
The atmosphere was solemn. The massive conference room was packed to the brim. On one side sat the Conglorate Coalition, led by Kenichi Yamamoto, every one of them impeccably dressed, composed, their faces carrying the restrained arrogance of n who already saw victory in hand. Behind them were dozens of lawyers, accountants, and actuaries representing various conglorates and investnt institutions, all brimming with confidence and ready to tear their opponents apart.
On the other side...
Genesis Group's camp looked almost pitiful by comparison. Seiji sat there with only his security detail. No legal team. No accountants. Dressed casually, he lounged against the back of his chair, a lazy, almost sleepy look on his face, as if he wasn't attending a eting that would decide the fate of a company and assets worth hundreds of billions, but rather killing ti at a dull tea gathering.
The extre contrast left everyone in the room feeling unsettled. Especially Kenichi Yamamoto. Watching Seiji's unhurried deanor, the anxiety he had been suppressing all night surged back up. Sothing was very wrong. Either this young man was insane, or he was holding an ace capable of turning the tables. But was that even possible?
"Hmph. Putting on a show," Yamamoto sneered inwardly. In the face of absolute shareholding dominance, every sche was nothing more than a paper tiger. Today, he would teach that ignorant brat what "rules" really ant.
"Ahem." The eting's host, an elderly man appointed by the board, cleared his throat and glanced at the ti. "Since all shareholder representatives are present, the third shareholders' eting of Yamato Precision for the 20XX fiscal year will now begin. There are two main agenda items. First, the proposal to remove the current chairman and certain board mbers. Second, the proposal to elect a new chairman and restructure the board."
The mont he finished speaking, Yamamoto sprang to his feet. He picked up the microphone, pride and arrogance written all over his face.
"I represent shareholders including Mitsui Holdings, Sumitomo Corporation, Mitsubishi UFJ Financial Group, among others, collectively holding forty-five point two percent of the company's shares. We hereby formally propose—"
He deliberately dragged out the pause, savoring the attention of the entire room.
"The removal of the current chairman, Kurajiro Yamato, and all board mbers who supported Genesis Group's takeover!"
"Furthermore, I propose that I, Kenichi Yamamoto, assu the position of chairman. Mr. Hiroshi Mitsui, Mr. Junichi Watanabe, and others will serve as the new board mbers."
"That concludes my proposal."
He sat down and shot a provocative look at Seiji. Your turn, kid. Let's see what nonsense you co up with now.
The room fell silent. Every gaze turned toward Seiji Fujiwara. They wanted to see how this "new king of Tokyo," the man who had created so many miracles, would respond. But they were disappointed. Seiji still wore that lazy expression.
"President Fujiwara?" the host prompted. "Do you… have anything to say?"
"Oh." Seiji finally straightened up. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, as if he'd just woken up. "Mr. Yamamoto, was it?" He smiled faintly. "Your proposal is quite good. But I refuse."
Yamamoto froze. So did everyone in the Conglorate Coalition. Refuse? On what grounds? With what authority?
"Seiji Fujiwara! Are you mocking the rules?!" Yamamoto slamd the table and roared. "This is a place where shareholding speaks, not your playground!"
"I know." Seiji nodded, his smile turning playful. He casually produced a docunt and handed it over. "Why don't you take a look at this?"
Yamamoto's heart lurched. Under the scrutiny of the entire room, the brown envelope was opened, revealing a will.
"What?!" The instant Yamamoto saw it, his pupils shrank. A sense of dread washed over him. "This is...?" He pointed at the docunt, his voice trembling.
"Don't rush, Mr. Yamamoto," Seiji said calmly. "Let the host read it out loud for everyone."
After a brief silence, the host picked up the will and began to read.
"I, Kurajiro Yamato, founder of Yamato Precision…"
"Due to my advanced age and the absence of any surviving direct or collateral relatives, and fearing that my death is imminent…"
"I hereby establish this will."
He paused, scanning the opposite side of the room.
Faces among the conglorate representatives were already changing, several people unconsciously sitting up straighter.
Then he continued.
"The twenty-two percent of Yamato Precision shares held in my na shall, upon my death, be transferred at a symbolic price of one yen to…"
"To the writer I admired most during my lifeti—"
"Mr. Seiji Fujiwara."
Boom!
It was like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky.
The entire room erupted.
Kurajiro Yamato?! The mysterious shareholder who had been expelled from the company twenty years ago after losing an internal power struggle, yet still held twenty-two percent of the shares? He was dead?! And he had given those shares to Seiji Fujiwara?! Just because he was a fan of his books?! What kind of absurd, third-rate novel plot was this?!
"No! Impossible!" Yamamoto leapt to his feet like a mad dog with its tail stepped on. "This is forged! The will is fake!" He scread hysterically. He refused to believe it. There was no way sothing this ridiculous could be real. This had to be Seiji Fujiwara's sche.
"Forged?" Seiji laughed. "Mr. Yamamoto, you can eat whatever you like, but you can't say whatever you like."
Although it really was forged. Kurajiro Yamato had died abroad, bedridden and comatose, without leaving any will. The system had forged this docunt in a dead man's na, placing what were effectively ownerless assets under Seiji Fujiwara's na. Just like Genesis Group had been.
"Mr. Yamamoto, please maintain decorum," the host sighed, handing him the docunt.
On the first page, beneath Kurajiro Yamato's signature and fingerprint, was a vivid red stamp that sent a chill through Yamamoto's bones.
The official seal of the Tokyo Central Notary Office.
Notary: Ichiro Tanaka.
Notarized.
And by Ichiro Tanaka himself, the famously strict and impartial director of the Tokyo Central Notary Office.
Yamamoto's face drained of color. He staggered back and collapsed into his chair. Twenty-two percent, plus the twenty-nine percent Seiji had already acquired. Fifty-one percent. Absolute control. All the shares they had spent hundreds of billions acquiring from the market and minority shareholders had beco a complete joke. They were now the largest minority shareholders.
"Ugh..." Hiroshi Mitsui nearly blacked out, his vision swimming as those around him rushed to steady him. The entire Conglorate Coalition fell into stunned silence.
On the other side, Seiji straightened his collar, smiling as he stepped up to the table and picked up the microphone. His gaze swept over the shell-shocked representatives opposite him.
"Gentlen," he said cheerfully. "Now it's my turn to propose. I, representing the absolute controlling shareholder holding fifty-one percent of the company, formally propose the removal of all current mbers of Yamato Precision's board of directors." He paused, his eyes settling on the ashen-faced Yamamoto. "Furthermore, I propose that I, Seiji Fujiwara, assu the position of chairman. That my secretary, gumi Kato, be appointed executive director. And that Dr. Kengo Satou serve as chief technology officer. That is all."
The room was deathly silent. No one spoke.
No one dared. In the face of fifty-one percent control, any opposition was aningless. Seiji's smile widened. The ga was over.
...
The Yamato Precision shareholders' eting ended in a way no one could have imagined. That afternoon, headlines exploded across the dia: Breaking news! The New King of Tokyo performs another miracle! A "heaven-sent" will allows Seiji Fujiwara to legally annihilate the Conglorate Coalition and take control of Yamato Precision! A business spectacle! Mitsui, Sumitomo, and others spend hundreds of billions, only to beco Genesis Group's "second-largest shareholders"! Market god or devil? Seiji Fujiwara's rise defies all logic!
Reporters sward Yamato Precision's headquarters like sharks scenting blood. They caught footage of Hiroshi Mitsui being helped out by bodyguards, pale and unsteady. They fild Kenichi Yamamoto leaving the building, eyes vacant, his body moving like a corpse. Rumor had it that Yamamoto was fired on the spot by Mitsui and would be pursued legally for the full losses of the failed investnt, a sum large enough to bankrupt him countless tis over.
The war ended in Seiji Fujiwara's absolute victory. When trading resud, Yamato Precision's stock soared. Genesis Group's "pharmaceutical plus dical devices" industrial loop was officially complete. From generic drug developnt to manufacturing to sales channels, a brand-new pharmaceutical empire with staggering potential had begun to take shape. Japan watched in awe.
…
At the Wakaba couple's apartnt, Takafumi Wakaba muttered "A monster..." as he watched the news. In decades of living, he had never seen a young man this extraordinary. "What a sha." He smiled bitterly and glanced at his phone, where a new extortion ssage had arrived. The demand had jumped from one billion to two billion. They clearly had no intention of letting him go. As for Minami Mori, they had only ever been partners. Being discarded was only natural.
"I was thinking of riding Genesis Company's coattails... but that chance is gone." Takafumi set his phone down, a vicious glint in his eyes. "If you want dead, I'll drag you down with . Don't think I don't know who's behind this... Let's go to hell together, Kishibe."
…
Elsewhere, Minami Mori watched a recording of the shareholders' eting on her phone.
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