World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"clear."

Night fell. The Pontianak naval base gradually quieted down, with only the footsteps of the patrol team and the sound of the distant waves.

In the cabin of the "Kasuga Maru," neither Saionji nor Yamamoto slept. They sat at a small table, looking at the spread-out copies of the contract.

"After returning to Tokyo," Saionji said, "there will be a huge backlash from the army. Okaichinosuke won't accept this outcome easily."

"Then let him accept it." Yamamoto's voice was cold. "If the army doesn't agree, the navy will push it forward on its own. We can still build warships without the army's support; but without warships, no matter how well the army fights in Europe, Japan will have no say in the post-war era."

Looking at Yamamoto, Saionji suddenly felt that the Minister of the Navy had become a stranger. His obsession with the navy had overshadowed considerations of the overall national interest.

But he didn't say anything. Since things had come to this, all they could do was move forward.

Outside the window, the Borneo night sky is moonless, only dotted with stars. Those stars coldly watch over humanity, just as history watches over every choice—without judging right or wrong, only recording the results.

The results will take time to prove.

Tokyo Bay, 6 a.m.

The February winds blew in from the depths of the Pacific Ocean, sweeping across the sea outside Yokohama Port, bringing with them a biting, damp chill. A thin mist, like a layer of milky-gray gauze, shrouded the harbor, leaving only a blurred outline of the distant Boso Peninsula. The lights on the pier diffused in the mist, turning into clusters of dim, yellowish glow.

The passenger ships "Kasuga Maru" and "Akizuki Maru" slowly entered the port area, their whistles sounding low and long, like the sighs of weary travelers finally returning home. A group of people were already waiting on the dock—officials from the Ministry of the Navy, secretaries from the Prime Minister's Office, and a dozen or so reporters. Their faces were pale with cold, and their breath condensed into mist in the cold air before quickly dissipating.

The ship docks. The gangway is lowered.

The first to disembark was Saionji Kinmochi. He was still wearing that dark gray kimono and black haori, but his expression was more solemn than when he left. The sea breeze ruffled his gray hair, and he subconsciously tightened his collar before stepping steadily onto the land of the cherry blossom country.

Following closely behind was Yamamoto Gonnohyōe. Unlike Saionji's solemnity, the Minister of the Navy had an barely suppressed excitement on his face. He stood up straight, buttoning his officer's coat meticulously, and even deliberately slowed his pace as he descended the gangway, as if savoring the moment—the moment of returning with the hope of rebuilding the Combined Fleet.

"Your Excellency, you must be tired from your journey." The Prime Minister's secretary stepped forward and bowed.

"How is the situation back home?" Saionji asked, his voice a little hoarse—he was exhausted from several days of sea voyage.

"It's relatively calm. But the Ministry of the Army..." the secretary lowered his voice, "Minister Oka seems to have heard some rumors and asked several times at yesterday's cabinet meeting about the source of the budget for the naval expansion."

Saionji nodded slightly, saying nothing more. He had expected this to happen.

Yamamoto walked over and said to the Navy Ministry officials who came to greet him, "Pass down the word that an emergency meeting will be held at the Navy Ministry at 10:00 AM. All generals and department heads must attend."

"Yes, sir!" the official answered, standing at attention, his eyes brimming with undisguised anticipation. They could read good news in Yamamoto's expression.

The convoy left the dock and headed towards downtown Tokyo.

Outside the car window, the streetscape of Yokohama slowly receded. Most of the buildings on both sides of the street were low and old, pedestrians were sparse, and many shops were not yet open. Occasionally, long lines could be seen in front of recruitment stations—young people dressed in thin clothes, shivering in the cold wind, waiting for medical examinations and registration. Large posters were pasted on the walls: "One Hundred Million People Mobilized" and "Defend the Glory of the Empire".

"How's the mobilization progress?" Saionji asked the secretary sitting in the front row.

"As of yesterday, 450,000 people had registered. However, there is a severe shortage of equipment. The Ministry of the Army reported that only one-third of the new recruits were issued rifles, while the rest could only train with bamboo spears."

"Bamboo spears..." Yamamoto sneered. "It's the 20th century, and they're still using equipment from the Warring States period. The army idiots only know how to use human wave tactics."

Saionji glanced at him, her eyes reproachful: "Yamamoto-kun, now is not the time for infighting."

Yamamoto shut his mouth, but the disdain on his face did not fade.

The car crossed the Sumida River and entered downtown Tokyo. The scene here was slightly better than in Yokohama, but the shadow of war was still palpable—many shops had empty shelves, long queues formed in front of rice shops, and pedestrians on the streets wore somber expressions. Occasionally, one could see wounded soldiers in old uniforms shuffling along the streets; some were missing arms, others used crutches.

"What about the living conditions?" Saionji continued to ask.

"It's very difficult," the secretary said in a low voice. "Rice prices have tripled again, and there's a shortage of coal, so many families can't afford to burn charcoal in the winter. Last month, there were 37 rice-grabbing riots, which were suppressed by the military police. Worker strikes are also increasing, mainly by workers in military factories demanding higher wages."

Saionji closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He knew all about these problems, but every time he heard them, he still felt a sense of powerlessness.

Japan is like a tightrope walker, struggling to maintain war mobilization while preventing social collapse. And this tightrope is getting thinner and thinner, and swaying more and more.

The car first drove into the Navy Ministry compound.

When Yamamoto got out of the car, a group of naval officers were already lined up at the door to greet him. Leading them was a tall, thin vice admiral in his fifties—Shimamura Hayao, director of the Naval Affairs Bureau of the Ministry of the Navy.

"Minister, welcome back!" Shimamura saluted, his eyes gleaming with eagerness. "Was your trip to Borneo... successful?"

A smile finally appeared on Yamamoto's face. He patted Shimamura on the shoulder: "Gather everyone in the meeting room. I have some good news to announce—good news that could allow the Sakura Navy to rise again."

He turned to Saionji and said, "Your Excellency, I'll go to the Ministry of the Navy first. Is the Cabinet meeting this afternoon?"

"Two o'clock in the afternoon." Saionji nodded. "Before that, I need to report to His Majesty Tenko. You should also be prepared, as you may face questions from the Army this afternoon."

"Let them question it." Yamamoto's tone was arrogant. "As long as His Majesty supports us, as long as the Navy supports us, those army idiots can't cause any trouble."

After he finished speaking, he strode into the Navy Ministry building. Officers surrounded him, like stars around the moon.

Saionji watched his retreating figure and sighed softly. Yamamoto's confidence was a good thing in some ways. But excessive confidence could exacerbate conflicts.

"To the Prime Minister's residence," he told the driver.

The car restarted and headed towards Xiaguan.

10:00 AM, Naval Ministry Conference Room.

The conference room, which could hold two hundred people, was packed. All officers of major general rank and above were present, along with heads of various bureaus and departments. There were even many lieutenant colonels and colonels standing in the back rows, craning their necks to look at the stage.