manynovel Chapter 215 A Hymn to a Prosperous Age
Chapter 215 A Hymn to a Prosperous Age
(A long chapter of 5400 words~)
December 29, 1989, 1:00 PM.
Ueno Ward, Tokyo.
On the long street outside the Daiwa Securities branch, the biting winter wind, carrying fine ice pellets, lashed against the bare ginkgo tree trunks along the roadside.
In the freezing cold that could freeze your fingers, a line of people hundreds of meters long was slowly crawling along the edge of the sidewalk.
Mrs. Takahashi, a housewife in the middle of the queue, had her chin buried deep in her thick wool scarf. Her hands, gloved with rough wool, were clutching a brown paper bag tightly to her chest.
Inside the paper bag was her husband's full winter bonus, which he had just received from the car factory. The three million yen in cash was tightly bound with bank tape, and its heavy weight was transmitted directly to her chest through the fabric of her winter coat, bringing an extremely reassuring resonance to her heartbeat.
It was finally her turn.
The automatic glass doors of the sales office slid open smoothly to both sides.
A wave of heat, mixed with the strong smell of wool and hot, humid steam, surged out of the room and enveloped Mrs. Takahashi's frozen face.
She squeezed into the lobby of the business department following the flow of people.
Inside the hall, the central air conditioning was blowing hot air at maximum power. Hundreds of people, dressed in heavy winter clothes, were crammed into this limited space, their sweat mixing with the melted snow, almost creating a visible layer of murky white mist in the air.
The place was a cacophony of voices. The sounds of conversations in various accents, the slapping of high heels on wet puddlees, and the faint hum of electricity emanating from the giant electronic display screen at the front of the hall all blended together into a deafening cacophony.
Mrs. Takahashi squeezed her way to the red plastic chair in the waiting area and exhaled a long puff of white breath.
"Mrs. Takahashi! Are you here to add to your position too?"
A middle-aged man next to him turned his head. He was wearing gray overalls stained with a little machine oil, and he was also clutching a bulging envelope in his hand.
Mrs. Takahashi remembered that this person was the workshop foreman of a nearby metal processing plant.
"Yes, Mr. Sato." Mrs. Takahashi unbuttoned her heavy coat and wiped the sweat from her forehead. "The stock market is rising too fast. The interest earned in the bank can't keep up with the rate of inflation. So I plan to convert all of this bonus into a trust fund investing in Nikkei blue-chip stocks."
Sato nodded in deep agreement. He looked up, his gaze fixed intently on the scrolling green index above the hall.
"Did you watch the evening news last night?" Sato spoke rapidly, spittle flying through the air. "The Saionji family's 'Saionji Tower' project in Odaiba, where they're reclaiming land. The 80-meter-deep pneumatic caisson work is complete. A colossal tower, a full 500 meters tall! Reinforced concrete was driven directly into the seabed!"
Sato swallowed hard, as if all those achievements were his own.
"Furthermore, Mitsubishi Estate bought Rockefeller Center in New York! And Sony directly cashed out and acquired Columbia Pictures in Hollywood! The cultural heart and landmarks of America are now all bearing the names of our Japanese companies!"
Mrs. Takahashi's eyes lit up as well.
"Of course I saw it! And the 'Gokurakukan' in Hokkaido too. My husband's department head at the factory just went there last week. He kept exclaiming when he came back that you could lie in a rainforest and drink iced juice through a glass barrier in a blizzard at minus twenty degrees Celsius. It's like a miracle that only the gods could create."
"The news also said that a trading company spent a fortune in Europe, bringing all the famous paintings by Van Gogh and Renoir back to Tokyo..."
In the minds of these people at the bottom of society and ordinary wage earners, macroeconomic models and monetary policies are too distant concepts for them.
They were completely unaware of the structural cracks hidden behind rampant credit.
What lay before them were one extraordinary spectacle after another, a testament to the unstoppable global economic expansion of Japan, and a prosperous era built on massive spending.
A 500-meter-high black tower piercing the clouds, polar rainforests defying the laws of nature, and a barrage of overseas acquisitions bombarding the news—these "miracles," unthinkable before, are seen by them as irrefutable proof of Japan's indestructible economy and its enduring national power.
Even private conglomerates can easily build cities on the sea and create summers in the snow. How could a nation's economy possibly ever decline?
"With a company of this caliber backing it up, the market breaking through 40,000 points is a sure thing." Sato rubbed the envelope full of cash between his hands, his eyes filled with an unwavering certainty bordering on fanatical faith. "Once this fund doubles next spring, I'll go to Minato Ward and make a down payment on a luxury apartment for my son."
"I plan to take my whole family to Hawaii for a long vacation next year, and while I'm at it, I'll see if I can get my daughter into a private high school abroad."
Mrs. Takahashi's face also radiated anticipation for the future.
"Ding-dong."
The red electronic call number display above the counter lit up.
Mrs. Takahashi immediately stood up and walked quickly to the counter.
Without hesitation, she pushed the heavy brown paper bag through the small window below the bulletproof glass.
"Oh, Mrs. Takahashi, you've arrived quite early today." The young sales clerk behind the counter casually wiped the sweat from his brow, skillfully pulled the paper bag over, and loudly confirmed through the glass, "This time... same as usual, all-in on a Nikkei blue-chip trust fund?"
"Of course! Buy them all!" Mrs. Takahashi nodded hurriedly, gripping the stainless steel windowsill tightly with both hands and leaning forward desperately. "Uh... well, I heard from the neighbor that Nippon Steel and Mitsubishi Estate are rising the most, so let's buy a combination of those two! Be quick, young man. I'm afraid the market will rise again before the afternoon close, and if I buy then, I'll miss out on tens of thousands of yen."
"No problem, you can rest assured." The salesperson didn't even have time to check the identity information on the passbook, and roughly tore open the paper bag seal. "Everyone's eyeing the 40,000 mark next year. If you invest this winter bonus, after the New Year... well, it'll definitely be enough for your son to make a down payment on a luxury apartment in the port area."
As he spoke, he tossed stacks of brand-new Fukuzawa Yukichi banknotes into the high-speed banknote counting machine.
"Splash splash splash splash—"
The banknotes rubbed rapidly between the rollers, producing an extremely pleasant crisp sound.
A thick stack of "Trust Fund Risk Disclosure Statements" lay on the edge of the counter. But Mrs. Takahashi's gaze completely bypassed the papers printed with densely packed warning clauses; she stared intently at the red stamp in the salesperson's hand.
"Smack."
The seal was firmly stamped on the final confirmation page of the passbook.
Mrs. Takahashi happily accepted the passbook, looking at the string of numbers representing the trust shares, as if she had already grasped the golden ladder to high society.
……
1:30 PM.
Nihonbashi Kabutocho.
Tokyo Stock Exchange, Central Trading Hall.
There are only ten minutes left until the closing of the annual final trading day.
Inside the hall, which spans thousands of square meters, two thousand traders dressed in bright red vests are in a state of extreme physical exhaustion.
Two thousand adult men were generating immense body heat from the intense tension and high-frequency running. In such a densely packed, enclosed space, coupled with the waste heat from various energy-intensive devices, the temperature inside the hall, even though it was the dead of winter in December, was almost as high as midsummer. The large central air conditioning system above the dome was forced to operate at full capacity, with powerful blasts of cold air pouring down vertically from the exhaust vents.
Sweat streamed down the traders' foreheads, splashing onto the wooden workbench and leaving a dark ring of water stains.
"Buy! 100,000 shares of Mitsui Fudosan!"
"Sony! Sweep up the stock at market price! Buy it all!"
Every trader's vocal cords were torn from prolonged screaming, their voices becoming rough, like sandpaper scraping. Yet the trading documents continued to wave wildly in the air, telephone receivers were slammed against their bases and then instantly snatched up, the crisp sounds of plastic casings colliding almost continuous.
Directly above the hall.
The giant mechanical flip-page price list, which is over ten meters long, is operating at a near-out-of-control high speed.
"Click-clack-click-clack-click—"
The black plastic flip-flop with white lettering tumbled wildly at top speed, driven by the rotating shaft. The plastic material rubbed violently against the metal bearing, emitting a series of sharp, piercing screechs.
With a massive influx of funds, the market index rose sharply at an angle defying gravity.
The green indicator light below the price board was flashing wildly.
[38, 980 points]
[38, 985 points]
Only fifteen points remain to reach that unprecedented, historic milestone.
1:55 PM.
As the tally approached that critical mark, the deafening noise in the hall, loud enough to lift the roof off, gradually subsided.
It was as if an invisible giant hand was slowly gripping the throats of these two thousand adult men.
In just over ten seconds, the bustling sea of red people fell completely silent.
Everyone was so tense that they completely lost the ability to speak. Arms held high in the air hung stiffly in place, and phone receivers fell to the ground unattended, only emitting a series of busy tones.
Thousands of bloodshot eyes were fixed on the scrolling mechanical page-turning display above. Pupils dilated violently in their sockets, reflecting the black and white numbers.
silence.
A physical stillness caused purely by extreme excitement.
All that could be heard was the ear-piercing friction of the mechanical page-turning shaft and the violent, drum-like heartbeats within two thousand chests.
[38, 990 points]
[38, 995 points]
The enormous black flap paused for a mere tenth of a second in mid-air.
Then.
Accompanied by the heavy clanging of a set of mechanical gears.
"Click!"
The black plastic flap with white lettering fell heavily, completely covering the markings in front of it.
A completely new scale, surpassing all common economic sense and exceeding the historical limits of this country, has emerged under the glaring spotlight.
[39, 000.00 points]
The frozen air was instantly torn apart.
"boom--!!!"
The silence was shattered by the roar of a volcanic eruption-like tsunami.
"40,000 points!!!"
"God!!"
"Long live!! Long live!!! Long live the Great Japanese Empire!!!"
"We won!!!"
Two thousand red-vested soldiers were ejected from the control panel. Their broken and illogical screams, barely escaping their throats, collided and merged into a frenzied howl that seemed inhuman.
In a state of frenzy, traders grabbed thick stacks of trading records from their desks. With a burst of strength, they frantically tore the papers to shreds. (Note: This is not an exaggeration; this act of scattering trading documents (手缔め) is a tradition.)
White scraps of paper were thrown into the air above the hall.
Under the powerful airflow of the central air conditioning, hundreds of thousands of pieces of paper fell like a blizzard.
Scraps of paper landed on the traders' sweat-soaked red vests, on the scorching telephone casings, and on the surfaces of the monitors that flickered with green fluorescence.
In this paper-made blizzard, people embraced, cried out, and roared.
Above their heads, the price list was still flipping.
……
It was exactly 3 p.m.
The closing ceremony at the Tokyo Stock Exchange.
The exchange president, dressed in a traditional black montsuke haori hakama, raised his arms high and suddenly exerted force from his waist and back. The heavy wooden mallet, creating a gust of wind, slammed heavily into the center of the brass ceremonial bell.
"Thump—"
The deep, penetrating sound of the bell reverberated throughout the trading hall.
The high-speed mechanical flip-flop directly above emitted a sharp, screeching sound as it received the closing instruction. The final plastic flip-flop slammed down, the numbers stuck firmly at an unprecedented limit.
[39, 890.50 points]
It's just a hair's breadth away from the 40,000-point mark.
But this tiny distance, far from causing regret, has instead become the most potent aphrodisiac.
It hung high in the hall, giving the entire Japanese nation an absolute sense of certainty—that on the first trading day of next spring, the market would undoubtedly break through 40,000 points and head towards a new era of 50,000 points.
This end-of-the-century celebration, amidst such pinnacle anticipation, ushered in a turning point between the old and the new.
December 31st, 11:55 PM.
Zojoji Temple, Minato Ward, Tokyo.
With the combined effort of the monks, the massive wooden ram slammed heavily against the surface of the bronze bell. The deep, resonant tolling of the New Year's Eve bell echoed across the Japanese archipelago, enveloped in the winter night.
Inside the upscale club "Lumiere" in Ginza 7-chome.
"Bang!"
The cork was propelled by the powerful carbon dioxide gas and slammed heavily against the brass edge of the Baccarat crystal chandelier.
The golden Dom Pérignon champagne gushed out like a fountain.
"Hahaha! Plop! Keep plopping!"
A real estate tycoon, his face flushed, snatched the wine bottle from the waiter and recklessly splashed the expensive liquor into the air. Golden raindrops splattered onto the Persian handmade wool carpet, instantly creating a large, dark stain.
A senior executive from the trading company next to him approached, holding a wine glass, letting the splashed champagne soak the cuffs of his bespoke Italian suit.
"Oh dear, President Yamada, your Armani suit is completely tainted with the smell of alcohol."
"What's a piece of clothing!" President Yamada let out a loud hiccup, the solid gold Rolex on his wrist gleaming under the crystal chandelier. "After tonight... once the stock market breaks through 40,000 points, I can even buy this building! Come on! To 50,000 points next year, cheers!"
"Cheers!"
The crisp sound of glass clashing echoed through the hall.
"bite."
The crisp sound of wine glasses clinking echoed through the exhaust louvers in the cold New Year's Eve wind, coinciding with a soft sound coming from a public rental apartment building in Setagaya Ward, dozens of kilometers away.
The old-fashioned kerosene heater emitted a warm current.
"Here, honey. Have a piece of orange."
His wife handed him the half-peeled tangerine, then quickly tucked her hands back under the warm quilt by the kotatsu. The fresh tangerine juice filled the narrow living room with a sweet aroma.
"Hmm..." The father took the tangerine but didn't eat it immediately. He pulled a stack of beautifully printed travel brochures from the file folder beside him, laid them flat on the kotatsu table, and pointed to the photos of the azure sea on them. "Wife... look at this, a hotel in Waikiki Beach, Hawaii."
His wife leaned closer, stared at the photo for a few seconds, her tone revealing barely suppressed excitement and a hint of uncertainty.
"Huh? Is it really possible to go to Hawaii?... Mrs. Tanaka next door just went last month, and she's been bragging about how cheap the duty-free shops there are at housewives' meetings every day."
"Of course we can go." The father popped an orange into his mouth, savoring its sweet juice. "Once spring arrives tomorrow... and the stock market breaks through 40,000 points, we'll sell half of our trust funds. We'll book the best suite with the ocean view at the hotel, and the whole family will go on a nice vacation."
"Very good!"
"Many of my classmates went too!"
The five-year-old child cheered happily inside the kotatsu, kicking his legs hard, and accidentally bumped his knee into the table leg.
The ceramic teacup on the table wobbled a few times.
The slight vibration from the teacup seemed to travel along the earth's veins to the dense gravel path of Meiji Shrine's approach.
Countless pairs of feet in leather shoes and boots rubbed against the gravel, making a dense "rustling" sound.
The crowd queuing for Hōshū exhaled puffs of white breath in the cold wind.
"Hey, Kenta...it's almost our turn, what do you want to wish for?"
A boy in a high school uniform breathed warm air on his frozen hands and turned to ask his companion.
The boy, known as Kenta, took a 500-yen coin out of his pocket and flipped it twice between his fingers.
"Is there even a question? Of course, we'll pray to the gods to bless my dad's stocks so they keep doubling in value." Kenta looked up at the huge wooden offering box in front of him. "As long as the Nikkei index breaks 50,000 points next year, I'll definitely have a chance to get that new Yamaha motorcycle I've always wanted."
As the procession slowly moved forward, he arrived at the offering box.
He pushed past the crowded people in front of him, and with a slight effort, tossed the coin forward.
The coin traced a short, gentle arc in mid-air. It slid down the gap in the wooden slats into the depths of the large offering box, colliding with the countless coins at the bottom with a dull metallic scraping sound.
Kenta closed his eyes. He clasped his hands together in front of his chest and clapped them twice forcefully.
"Slap, slap."
A crisp clap of hands rang out in the noisy, cold wind. He bowed his head slightly, his expression one of utmost reverence.
"My lord, I beg you!"
The coin fell into the wooden box with a crisp metallic clang.
Almost at the same instant the coin hit the wooden box.
"call out--"
A sharp, piercing sound tore through the air without warning, shattering the stillness of the winter night.
Immediately afterwards, a dazzling burst of light exploded violently hundreds of meters into the air. The colorful fireworks, like a giant umbrella, instantly illuminated the entire surface of Tokyo Bay.
Light poured down.
It illuminated the steel frame of the black tower under construction in Odaiba, the crowded traffic on the streets of Ginza, and the eyes of Kenta and others on the approach to the temple, reflecting the dazzling fireworks.
The pungent smell of sulfur from the burning gunpowder, carried by a biting winter wind, permeated the brightly lit night sky.
The dazzling spots of light shone brilliantly in people's eyes.
Then, it turned into a sky full of dim ashes.
It slowly plummeted towards the sleeping Tokyo Bay.