Tokyo: I'm really not a killer

Chapter 78 Heads with Price Tags

Inside the congressional chamber, the heavy oak table reflected the cold light of the overhead lamp. The air was so stagnant it seemed you could wring water out of it; only the rustling of turning pages and suppressed coughs occasionally pierced the deathly silence.

The main seat is vacant because it belonged to the late Liberal Democratic Party Secretary-General, Masakazu Shinomiya.

Senior Liberal Democratic Party member Shigenobu Mori broke the silence first. With his meticulously combed silver hair, he, an ally of Masakazu Shinomiya's staunch faction, looked somber and solemn.

He slammed his fist on the table with a dull thud, his gaze sweeping across the room like a hawk's before finally settling sharply on the middle-aged man opposite him wearing gold-rimmed glasses—Masato Koizumi, the young leader of the opposition New Japan Party.

"The assassination of Shinomiya-kun," Mori Shigenobu's voice was filled with grief and anger, "is the darkest moment ever seen in Japanese politics! We have lost not only an outstanding Secretary-General, but also a staunch defender of the nation's traditional values!"

He took a deep breath, his chest heaving, and his tone suddenly turned stern, his accusation directed at Masato Koizumi: "However, just as we are immersed in immense grief and commemorating the lifelong achievements of Prince Shinomiya, some people are attempting to take advantage of the situation to stir up trouble and disrupt the foundation of the nation! 'The theory of easing immigration policy'? 'The theory of re-examining historical issues'? What are their intentions in bringing up these absurd claims that run counter to the direction of Prince Shinomiya's lifelong struggle at this moment?!"

Mori Shigenobu's voice suddenly rose: "Are we going to use this tragedy to completely negate the core values ​​that Shinomiya has defended throughout his life, the core values ​​upon which our nation is founded?! To negate his firm stance of reviving tradition, restoring order, opposing irresponsible immigration policies, and prioritizing the future of hardworking and law-abiding citizens?!"

Masato Koizumi, whose name had been called out, adjusted his glasses, his tone calm yet barbed: "Mori-senpai, we mourn the deceased, but we should reflect even more on the root causes of this tragedy. The assassination of Representative Shinomiya precisely illustrates that the extremely polarized social sentiment has reached a critical point!"

"Absurd!" the Liberal Democratic Party's tax research council chairman interrupted sharply. "Is Koizumi implying that the victims brought this upon themselves? Shinomiya was killed precisely because he upheld his principles! The most urgent task is to carry on his legacy and accelerate the implementation of the National Security Enhancement Bill! I propose that Morishige temporarily assume the position of Secretary-General to stabilize the situation!"

"Gentlemen."

A deep voice came from the end of the long table.

Ijuin Shingen slowly set down his teacup. As the head of the Kokusuikai and a special advisor to the Naikakufu, no one dared to ignore his presence.

"Neither grief nor accountability can solve the real problems."

"The departure of Shinomiya-kun has led to a leadership vacuum within the Liberal Democratic Party, and the port development project has stalled —"

He tapped his fingertips lightly on the table, like calculating on an abacus: "The National Essence Association has no intention of interfering in party personnel matters. But that piece of land in Hong Kong—"

He looked at Mori Shigenobu, "The Yama-ken group is practically defunct, and it's against the rules for Sumiyoshi-kai to monopolize it. We need someone who knows how to balance things to take over, ensure the project goes smoothly, and guarantee that the donations are made on time."

Changing the subject, he glanced at Masato Koizumi: "As for social conflict? Instead of talking about reconciliation, we should think about how to address the grievances of the lower classes. The foundation under the Kokusuikai can cooperate in carrying out some community welfare projects to quell the unrest. Of course, this requires budgetary support."

Masato Koizumi astutely seized the opportunity: "Mr. Ijuin's concern for people's livelihoods is admirable. The new Japanese government is willing to support reasonable community budgets, but only on the condition that the distorted propaganda about specific historical events ceases and that the questioning of the political donation case is restarted!"

Mori Shigenobu's face turned ashen: "Koizumi-kun! This is taking advantage of someone's misfortune!"

"It's about setting things right." Koizumi stood firm, his fingertips tapping the table with a crisp sound. "Mori-senpai, have you forgotten Representative Shinomiya's actions during the Minato Ward bank hostage crisis? When the hostage-taker threatened his life, he publicly declared his support for the police killing the hostage-taker, even though she was my daughter"—isn't this cold-blooded act of prioritizing political stance over familial affection a catalyst for extreme antagonism?

Mori Shigenobu slammed his hand on the table, making the teacup rattle: "Koizumi-kun, watch your words! How can you slander Shinomiya-kun, who sacrificed his life for the country! It is your New Japan Association that, under the guise of historical review, denies the Tokyo Trials—are you trying to shake the foundations of the nation?! The port development project is halted, resulting in a loss of 300 million yen every day—can you afford that?!"

Ijuin Shingen suddenly interjected, his fingertips tracing the edge of his teacup: "The National Essence Association can mediate armed conflicts, but the port area project must be taken over by someone who knows the rules."

He emphasized the word "rules" when his gaze lingered on Mori Shigenobu's face. "As for the community welfare budget that Koizumi-kun wants—" he turned to the reformists, "One billion yen a month, that should be enough to appease the grievances of the lower classes, right?"

Koizumi paused in pushing up his glasses.

This figure far exceeded expectations, but he immediately sensed a trap: "The condition is to drop the questioning of the donation case?"

Ijuin shook his head and chuckled: "Why put it so harshly? The prosecutor's office reopening the investigation will inevitably affect the stock market, and ultimately it's the citizens receiving pensions who will suffer. Wouldn't it be better to focus on improving the system, such as standardizing the political donation reporting process?"

"Absolutely impossible!" Mori Shigenobu interrupted, "The donation allegation is pure fabrication! The most urgent matter is to immediately vote on who will assume the role of acting secretary-general!"

The councilors behind him echoed his sentiments, their voices nearly lifting the roof off.

Koizumi's faction immediately countered, accusing him of procedural irregularities, and the scene descended into chaos.

After observing coldly for ten minutes, Ijuin suddenly slammed his teacup heavily onto the table.

The sound of shattering porcelain silenced the entire room.

"Have you had enough of arguing?"

He slowly wiped his hands with a silk handkerchief. "The port area project is being supervised by Mitsubishi Corporation, and Shin Nihonkai has sent a five-person supervisory team to oversee it."

Mori Shigenobu's expression changed drastically. Mitsubishi was the front man for the National Essence Society, which meant that they were handing over real power over the project.

"As for the Secretary-General acting—" Ijuin tossed the blood-stained handkerchief into the trash can, "Morishige-kun will act temporarily, but the vote on the bill will be postponed for two weeks—until Shinomiya-kun's funeral is over, right?"

Koizumi immediately seized on the loophole: "A hearing must be held in two weeks!"

"Sure," Ijuin agreed readily, "but the issue is limited to the future system." Before getting up to leave, he glanced at Koizumi, "The new Japan Diet will submit the detailed welfare budget tomorrow, the subsidy standard for displaced farmers—" He paused deliberately for a second, "...how about doubling the amount you promised during last year's agricultural cooperative protests?"

Koizumi gritted his teeth and nodded, knowing this was a warning to him to stop while he was ahead.

The tense atmosphere in the conference room eased slightly, and Mori Shigenori, his face ashen, organized the documents, which was tantamount to acknowledging the deal.

Ijuin Shingen walked to the door, then stopped and turned back as if suddenly remembering something: "Regarding the investigation into the assassination of Shinomiya-kun—" His gray eyes swept over the crowd, "How is the Metropolitan Police Department's progress?"

Mori Shigenobu scoffed, "Mr. Ijuin, the real culprit must have powerful backers, otherwise how could there be no flaws?" He glanced meaningfully at Koizumi, "Some people talk about investigating, but secretly they're probably happy to see it happen!"

Masato Koizumi retorted, "Mori-senpai, are you implying that the Metropolitan Police Department is also protecting the real culprit? Why don't the Liberal Democratic Party propose establishing a special prosecutor's office, and you personally oversee the case?"

"Enough." Ijuin interrupted the argument, his tone flat and indifferent. "Finding the culprit is the police's duty, and politicians' duty is to maintain stability. As for the real culprit—" He opened the door, leaving his last words before disappearing into the shadows of the corridor, "once the dust settles, a sacrifice will be needed to appease public anger. Whether it's a human or a ghost, time will tell."

The meeting room returned to calm.

The lawmakers silently packed up the documents, and no one mentioned Masakazu Shinomiya's name again.

Mori Shigenobu grabbed the draft bill and strode away, the sound of his leather shoes hitting the marble floor particularly jarring; Koizumi Masato stroked the draft welfare budget, his gaze behind his glasses fixed on the window where there was no murderer, only Tokyo's gloomy sky and the map of interests waiting to be distributed.

The real culprit?

It was nothing more than a weight that had sunk to the bottom of the scales of power, unnoticed by anyone except for heads with price tags.