The Golden Goose of Japan
A Rolls-Royce carrying Henry was flanked front and back by two Ford Econolines that clung to it like shadows. The three-vehicle convoy cut through the heavy air on its way to Manhattan. New York in 1979 was literally a city of crime. In July a mafia boss had been gunned down in broad daylight, and recently a brutally tortured corpse had turned up in Hell’s Kitchen. Every street was a nightmare tangle of protesters, homeless people, and drug offenders—the worst possible scenery.
“Connect me to Debenzer Shield,” Henry said, lifting the car phone in the newly modified Rolls-Royce. The static was nothing like the smartphones of 2026; the ‘crackle-crackle’ noise scraped at his eardrums. Having to route every call through an operator with no secretary made Henry click his tongue in irritation.
This isn’t nostalgia, it’s literal communications hell. I’m not even asking for LTE or 5G—just give me 2G at least. Or some noise canceling. Sigh… it really does take way too many human hands.
Only after the operator and identity verification did Joshua’s voice finally come through.
“Boss, what can I do for you?”
“Haha, nothing urgent. The car phone is new, so I wanted to test its performance, and it’s been a while since I heard your voice. How have you been?”
“Public safety in New York has hit rock bottom, so demand for Debenzer Shield has exploded. We’ve increased headcount, but we’re still short-handed and have had to decline lower-tier requests.”
“You’re doing well. Still, if manpower is that tight, assigning ten men just to me feels like a waste, doesn’t it?”
“A waste? Not at all! The heart of the Debenzer family is you, Boss. If you hadn’t refused, I would have attached twenty more.”
“That’s honestly excessive. Last protest, eight cars followed me. I doubt the President gets that level of protection.”
Henry answered in a joking tone and asked after Joshua’s well-being. Joshua complained that being stuck in the office instead of the field didn’t suit him at all, that he felt rusty, and suggested recruiting a professional manager. Henry flatly refused.
“No, I only feel at ease when I know you’re holding that post. You understand how important your role is, Joshua.”
After ending the call, Henry set the heavy receiver down and nodded. Fortunately the man was still mostly office-bound these days. Since Henry had not yet created a new vessel, Joshua remained his final bastion. Even if this body died, it was absolutely unacceptable for Joshua to die with it. That was precisely why he had appointed Joshua representative during the Debenzer Shield reorganization. Moreover, in a secret will known only to Henry, he had already designated Joshua as the sole proxy for the illegitimate heir until the child could inherit the family.
“Jay, no matter how many special encryption modules you cram in there and no matter how nicely you finish it with top-grade walnut veneer to match the interior, thirty thousand dollars is crossing the line. Those Motorola bastards—this is outright profiteering. Spending the price of an entire car on one handset.”
At Henry’s grumbling, Jay in the driver’s seat gave an awkward smile and glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
“It is definitely expensive, just as you say, Boss. But being able to speak to the other side of the planet from inside a moving vehicle is practically magic, isn’t it? I hear that among the upper class these days, mounting a car-phone antenna has become a status symbol. Supply can’t keep up with demand. And CEO Joshua seems extremely anxious about you heading to Manhattan at all. You probably have no idea how hard he pressured both me and Jeston beside me to take perfect care of you.”
“Hahaha, that guy Joshua really… Well, the businesses are all on track now. But September is right around the corner. Sigh… just thinking about it makes me want to cut all ties with Manhattan, yet…”
September is the absolute peak of that tiresome social season. Having to play family head in a stiff suit, circulating champagne flutes all night with boring old fossils I share zero common ground with… this isn’t work-life balance, it’s straight-up forced labor. Absolutely disgusting.
“If Master Bartholomew found out, he might tie you up like he did when you were little and drag you along anyway. Haha.”
“Ugh, don’t even say it.”
Inside the car heading toward the One Times Square building, Henry traded light jokes and chatter with Jay and the quiet Jeston before sinking deep into the rear seat. Beyond the windows the tranquil scenery of Westchester rapidly fell behind, replaced by the slow creep of gray skyscrapers and the thick, hazy heat of Manhattan. He was entering the chaotic heart of 1979 New York.
...
After playing several rounds on a test unit whose afterimages and LCD display had been improved at the Enjoy office, and after finishing a concise briefing with the investment team, Henry buried himself deep in the sofa of the private office that had become his personal sanctuary. The upcoming Japan visit schedule filled his head completely.
No matter how I look at it, it feels like too much of a waste to simply tour Japan and come back…
It was only an itinerary to inspect the contract manufacturing plant, but while thinking about sightseeing afterward a new idea suddenly sparked. Knowing the future in which Japan would burn fiercely and become the overwhelming bubble economy, abandoning investment felt unbearable.
Even considering only the confirmed future Henry knew—the yen’s explosive rise after the Plaza Accord and the bubble society that would spawn the Lost Thirty Years—Japan right now looked, from his perspective, like perfectly tender chicken thigh meat. All you had to do was rip off the packaging (government and regulations) and you’d have something chewy, soft, and delicious.
Is there really no way? The satellite deal fell through because it couldn’t use trust assets as collateral. I need to enter the market immediately, acquire a manga publisher, and lock in Akira Toriyama first… Then Dragon Ball becomes mine. If I also swallow Moonrise—the company behind Gundam, which is currently rumored to be a flop—and just snatch the toy licensing rights away from Bandai, the game is already over.
If he used the major he had studied during his shut-in otaku days to secure the future masters first and vertically integrated animation broadcasters on top of that, they would naturally become geese that laid golden eggs.
Next January I’ll enter Japan with the brands I’ve listed, devour the real estate market too, and exit cleanly around ’89. The money I’ll make will make Bill Gates during the internet bubble look like pocket change. This is exactly what a regressor’s return rate looks like.
Simply riding the forced revaluation of the yen triggered by the Plaza Accord could net him anywhere from four billion to ten billion dollars. It was guaranteed profit on an entirely different level from nervously investing in futures right now.
What was even more brilliant was the external image. In an era suffering from trade deficits, he would be the savior who swept up dollars in Japan and poured them into bankruptcy-threatened New York. If he subtly adjusted The Times’ editorial line to pretend he was helping Japan’s cultural exports, the island nation would undoubtedly roll out the red carpet and call him a Japanophile(?).
I really hate the term Japanophile, but once that label sticks, business inside Japan will sprout wings. Enter now, vertically integrate the manga, animation, and broadcasting sectors that are about to enter their golden age! Use the yen earned there to pay down debt at a reasonable pace, buy the brands needed for the Japanese market in January, ride the bubble, and done! The scenario is absolutely perfect…
Henry rose from his seat and stared out at Times Square with piercing eyes.
“This won’t do. I need to come up with a method. Both Enjoy and the investment firm are now on solid tracks—the busy phase is over.”
...
July 30, 1979
Monday
“Henry… inviting the Japanese ambassador to the residence? What exactly are you plotting this time?”
Bart asked with a worried face while skimming the proposal for the ‘Japanese Culture Testbed and 24-Hour Animation Channel’ prepared for Ambassador Togo Fumihiko, who would arrive shortly. Henry smiled leisurely and slid the proposal across to him.
“It’s not as big a deal as you seem to think. Just give it a quick read.”
In the future, IP and content would be treated as more precious than gold, but right now animation was nothing more than “a non-profitable business for kids.” Thanks to that, related companies in both Japan and America were practically dirt cheap from Henry’s viewpoint.
“Hmm? A 24-hour animation broadcasting station? Are you planning to acquire a Japanese animation company? Even if you do, the odds of turning a profit look low.”
“A domestic U.S. station is the final goal. First we’ll acquire a small local broadcaster in Japan itself and test market reaction. The station listed there won’t even cost thirty million dollars. Sweeping up all the manga publishers on top of that would still come in at around a hundred million at most. We can borrow that capital at low interest from Japanese banks, so the only thing we need is the Japanese government’s approval.”
But veteran Bart’s eyes were sharp. He pointed at the financial terms at the bottom of the proposal and shook his head.
“Still, Henry, deliberately taking a dollar-denominated loan from a Japanese bank while executing payment in yen is far too disadvantageous. As you know, yen depreciation is accelerating. If the yen falls further later, the principal you’ll have to repay will grow exponentially. Why on earth would you take such a risky gamble?”
Bart’s concern was entirely reasonable. The current rate hovered around 210 yen to the dollar. The yen was soon going to crash to 280, so to anyone unaware of the future it looked like throwing real money straight into a furnace.
Yet Henry cheered inwardly.
This is the regressor’s exclusive contrarian bet. Borrowing a hundred million dollars at the current 210-yen rate gets me over 21 billion yen. But once the Plaza Accord hits and the rate plunges to 120 yen? The magic happens and the repayment value shrinks to around 12 billion yen. Even if corporate values don’t rise a single yen, the exchange rate alone doubles my money. How could I possibly pass this up? Besides, even if I dangle the bait on some silly animation project, it’s still only a maybe… Should I remove the broadcasting station? No, leave it in for now. If he objects I can always take it out later…
In short, using this dollar-denominated, yen-executed loan to buy Japanese companies meant their dollar value would automatically double even if their yen value never rose at all. Simply buying now and selling later would net him a hundred million dollars purely from the exchange rate.
Of course he would show paper losses for the next few years due to continued yen weakness, but if he stretched it into a fifteen-year long-term loan until the bubble peak in ’89, this would become a historically sweet “jackpot” contract.
He could not, however, openly predict the Plaza Accord right now. Borrowing in yen instead would create a massive yen-denominated debt; once the Accord passed, that debt would magically double in dollar terms. The yen had been steadily weakening for the past year, so without spewing prophecies his excuse would sound weak. Still, Henry had already prepared one.
“This structure lets the Japanese banks offer us even cheaper loans as an incentive. Anyway, please prepare the documents. He should be arriving any moment now.”