Chapter 147 – Increase in Government Bonds

In March 1930, the national budget for the following fiscal year passed through the Diet.
But before that, there had been quite a commotion.

“The military is always selfish!”

“The military is always tyrannical!”

“For the sake of the nation! For the sake of the people! Lady Ootori has earned great profits in America! Much of that profits, she donated to the country! And with that, increased the deficit bonds! But the military, they tried to take all of that for themselves!”

“The temporary bond expansion should be used to prepare for the oncoming depression from America!”

“In fact, the international price of raw silk is already crashing down!”

“The military will starve the people! All while trying to benefit themselves!”

The chorus and shouting chants echo from afar.
If this were someone else’s affair, I might have brushed it off with a smug, “Ah, the Taisho Democracy still shines bright.”

But as the person involved, it’s an entirely different matter.

“Who’s the idiot!? The absolute fool who went and leaked my involvement!”

In front of the Army Ministry, the Navy Ministry, and other military facilities, “the awakened citizens” surrounded the buildings in huge crowds, while near the Ootori mansion, the Ootori Hotel, and other prominent Ootori properties around the capital, lively lantern parades marched in gratitude, shouting, “Thank you, Count Ootori Family!”

I’d even heard the patriotic gentlemen shouting three cheers of “Banzai!” earlier.
Now, those very same people were raising their chants in the distance.

And now, unable to take a single step outside, I was fuming in the grand hall.

My anger was, of course, justified, and entirely my own fault.

The enormous donation to the government had been preemptively circulated among those concerned as “a whim of the young lady who made a huge fortune overseas last year,” along with a few apologies.
Because of that, the other conglomerates publicly let it slide with little more than, “We’ll overlook it this time, but don’t pull another solo act. It’s a huge nuisance.”

But for me personally, it didn’t end there.
The other conglomerates, wanting to avoid spending their own money, had leaked “the young lady’s whim” to various people in various places.

That was what helped spark this whole uproar.

And as for the lantern parade, that was influenced by the Ootori Group’s extravagant spending over the past few years.
Those who knew were well aware that Ootori had been circulating money through the markets.

Moreover, once we had a little more leeway, I’d, well, out of my own mouth, or rather as words serving as a sort of indulgence, pushed them to put serious effort into charitable work: donations, and anti-poverty measures through Ootori-affiliated schools, hospitals, and pharmaceutical ventures. 

Rumors of that, too, had spread widely all at once.

Of course, the fact that I’d earned two billion dollars was completely concealed.
In fact, only a very small number of people knew, and none of those few were loose-tongued.

But the fact that we’ve been profiting from American stocks has been leaked to some extent, so that our future flashy purchases in America will seem plausible.
For that reason, quite a few people know that Ootori will continue spending money and hiring people.

Once that happens, it doesn’t take long for the fluffy rumor “the Ootori Group (zaibatsu) is on the side of the common people” to spread.

Of course, that goodwill is only superficial, money ends friendships, and tightens the purse strings and it will turn into a headwind in an instant.
Sprinkling the Texas oil-field profits around is also a tactic to keep that fickle favorable reputation going for a while.

We’re viewed by the public as a monstrous zaibatsu and noble family, so it’s convenient for my plans if society looks kindly on us for the time being.

“If I ran for the House of Representatives now, I’d probably win.”

“An absolute landslide for sure.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Meanwhile, the adults living at the Ootori main residence are blissfully carefree.
So I’d like to say something to them, but I’m truly glad that great-grandfather Souichirou has recovered enough to visit the main house now that spring has begun.

Still, I plant myself like a statue in front of my nominal father Kiichirou.

“In that case, Father, quit the army and run in the next election. That would make things a lot easier for me!”

“Hahaha, you’re too naive, Reiko. Even if I alone became a member of parliament, I’d have no real power. We’d need to form a party of decent size that can actually push opinions through.”

“Indeed. For now, it’s safer and more efficient to make donations to existing political parties and have them act on our behalf.”

“I, too, have had my fair share of trouble as a member of the House of Peers and the Privy Council.”

“Ugh!” I let out a sigh and a complaint before these carefree adults.

Still, at least for today, being stuck inside isn’t the worst thing.
I can afford to stay calm.

Besides, this means the newly issued deficit bonds will be used exactly as I intended.

Even under Taisho Democracy, it’s common to pour massive sums into military expenses, but maybe the soldiers will finally realize that money doesn’t just appear out of nowhere.
But their mentality is about as mature as grade-schoolers, and no one knows that better than my father, who’s from the military side of the family.

“Well, don’t get so angry. Tanaka-san was pleased too.”

“By Tanaka-san, you mean Prime Minister Tanaka Giichi, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve known him since the Russo-Japanese War, after all.”

That was true. Father had served and distinguished himself in the Russo-Japanese War, so his relationships with fellow veterans were good.
That was one reason Ootori Kiichirou managed to survive within the army.

“So that’s why he said, ‘Leave it to me,’ for once.”

“That’s right. So, how’s the military appeasement coming along?”

“You already know, don’t you? I’m selling trucks and gasoline to the army, and heavy fuel oil to the navy, at bargain prices. That should shut them up for a while.”

“You’re being awfully generous. Was it really necessary to spend that much of your own money?”

“You military folks really don’t get it, do you? If this budget doesn’t pass, we’re in serious trouble! Not that passing it will make things much easier either!”

“The great wave of depression from America is coming. And this year’s harvest was too good, what did they call it, a ‘bumper crop famine’? I remember hearing about it long ago, but… is it really going to happen?”

It’s understandable to grow doubtful when so many bad things pile up. Still, hearing even my strong-hearted father-grandfather sound uncertain gave me quite a shock.

“If it doesn’t happen, that’s fine. It’ll just mean my fortune-telling or ‘prophecy’ was wrong, and that’s that. But it’s coming. That’s why we need to prepare for when it hits.

Honestly, Father, you’re a soldier, aren’t you? Isn’t the military supposed to be an organization that’s always ready for the worst? So why are you so eager to look on the bright side? I just can’t believe it!”

“Don’t get so worked up. Well, it’s not just the army, any organization tends to grow optimistic when its leaders are far removed from the field. I haven’t been on the front lines since my time as a regimental commander, so I guess that’s why I’ve gone soft.”

(Ah, I’ve heard that line before. Guess I’ll play along. But really, what a waste of a cheat-level brain.)

“And at the highest level of decision-making, reality often ceases to exist, especially when you’re losing a war.”

“Oh? You do understand. So, are we losing this one?”

He sounded pleased at first, but by the end, his tone, and even his gaze, had turned serious.
Given that I had just offered a massive donation to help with the depression, it was only natural for him to be concerned. Still, saying it outright felt a bit too blunt.

“The American economy’s entire front has collapsed. I saw it with my own eyes, the people who once brimmed with confidence, the supposed strongest of the strong, fell straight into the abyss because of their blind optimism. All they could do was pray to God.”
“I’ve heard about that. But it’s awful… Well, thanks to you, Reiko, we realized the battle had already begun. That’s what really saved us.”

“I’ve also made sure to tell Takahashi-sama everything, so I think the Tanaka Cabinet will manage, at least to some extent. They even approved this budget.”

“Yeah. Even if it’s only the portion covered by the new deficit bonds, it’s unheard of that almost none of it went to military spending. I’ll be taking a break from the army for a while, saying it’s for my health.”

“That would be best. And it’s perfect timing, hear me out for a bit.”

“…Alright.”

The weight in my great-grandfather’s last words, and in his father’s reply, was unmistakable.
I could tell what it meant. 

He was probably preparing to say what he needed to say now, just in case… something happened.

Tokita quietly poured more tea into my empty cup without saying a word, and neither of the two men said anything to me or to Tokita.
So I too silently raised the cup to my lips.

I told myself that perhaps, just for a little while longer, I could afford to be a bit optimistic about my great-grandfather’s remaining time.

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The International Price of Raw Silk Collapses:
On March 3, the silk market crashed. The market fell into a state of panic.
As the United States entered a depression, demand for silk, the material used in luxury clothing and stockings, plummeted.
At that time, Japan’s export products, symbolized by silk, were all luxuries that could be easily abandoned in times of crisis.

“Optimism Replaces Reality”:
From Mobile Police Patlabor 2 the Movie

“When you move away from the front lines, optimism comes to replace reality. And at the highest level of decision-making, reality often ceases to exist, especially when you’re losing a war.”

Apparently, this line is a favorite among certain middle-aged otaku.
It occasionally appears online as a jab at the former Imperial Japanese Army or Japanese organizational culture.