Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 77 Cloud

(Thanks to the amazing verification from "Master Zhao Zhao Wins the Grand Prize"! Thanks to the amazing verification from "Yong Lan An Yi Yu Shi Huai"! Bonus chapter~)

Narita International Airport, April 1988.

Spring sunlight streamed through the massive glass dome, illuminating the gleaming marble floor. Although it was a weekday morning, as a gateway to Japan during the bubble economy boom, the departure hall was still bustling with activity. Trading company employees in padded-shoulder suits, wealthy women carrying LV travel bags, and large groups of tour operators packed the hall to capacity.

These Japanese tourists, waving banknotes, will depart from here to travel all over the world and buy everything they can see.

The arrival of the group in front of the VIP passageway covered with a red carpet caused a moment of silence among the noisy crowd.

A young girl was walking at the very front.

She wore a well-tailored off-white trench coat, cinched at the waist with a thin dark brown leather belt, and flat leather boots in the same color scheme. Her long black hair was partially covered by a wide-brimmed hat, and she wore sunglasses, revealing only the delicate lower half of her face.

Saionji Satsuki.

Beside her was another girl of similar age.

Suzuki Emi was clearly dressed up carefully today. She wore a light blue fitted jacket from S-Collection's main collection this season, over a white silk shirt, and long suit trousers. The factory girl who once wore thick-rimmed glasses, always had her head down, and was slightly hunched over has now blossomed into a graceful young woman.

She was a prominent figure at school; her rational demeanor, honed by years of exposure to electronic devices, made her stand out as exceptionally aloof in a crowd.

However, her walking posture was somewhat stiff at the moment.

It wasn't because of her three-centimeter high heels, but because of the huge canvas messenger bag she was carrying on her shoulder, which clashed terribly with her fashionable style.

The bag looked incredibly heavy, constricting her shoulders slightly.

"Amy."

Satsuki stopped and turned around, her gaze behind her sunglasses falling on the bulging bag.

"We're going on vacation, not fleeing a disaster."

Her voice carried a hint of helpless laughter.

"Is this filled with bricks?"

Amy adjusted her new thin-rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose and somewhat embarrassedly hid her bag behind her back.

"It's not a brick...it's a book."

"Book?"

"Hmm. I have a few original books on CMOS integrated circuit design, and a collection of papers on the TCP/IP protocol. These are hard to find in Japan, and I'm afraid I'll be bored on the plane..."

Satsuki sighed.

She reached out and gently tapped the stiff canvas bag.

"This is Narita, not an old bookstore in Akihabara."

"Fujita."

"Yes, young lady."

Fujita, who had been silently following half a step behind the two, immediately stepped forward.

He wore a dark gray custom-made suit, with a transparent air-tube headset hanging from his ear. The hot-blooded youth who once only knew how to wield a bamboo sword in the dojo had shed all his naivety after being trained by Dojima Gen. His eyes were calm and sharp, constantly scanning the area within thirty meters around him, always maintaining a vigilant posture as if he could strike at any moment.

Behind him were three guards dressed in the same attire, spread out in a fan shape, silently protecting the two girls in the core area.

"Take Ms. Suzuki's book away."

"Sugatsuki gave the instructions."

"Have it shipped out. Or throw it away."

"Hey? Don't throw it!" Amy exclaimed, clutching her bag with both hands. "These are expensive!"

"Then let's ship it," Satsuki said firmly. "For the next two weeks, I don't want to see any paper with formulas on it. We're going to California, where there's only sunshine, beaches, and Hollywood."

Fujita bowed slightly and took Amy's bag.

The heavy bag seemed weightless in his hands. He turned and handed it to a guard behind him with swift and decisive movements.

"Let's go."

Satsuki took Amy's arm.

"Relax, my technical advisor. If you always have a tense expression, U.S. Customs will think you're a spy trying to steal nuclear secrets."

Amy stiffened for a moment as Satsuki held her arm, but then slowly relaxed.

"I...I'm just a little nervous," Amy said softly. "This is my first time going abroad."

There's a first time for everything.

Satsuki pulled her towards the security checkpoint.

"Moreover, this time we won't be flying economy class on a commercial airline. We won't even have to squeeze in with anyone."

She pulled her black boarding pass out of her pocket and waved it in front of the security officer.

……

The massive fuselage of the Boeing 747-400 taxied on the runway, its four engines roaring deafeningly, before its nose lifted and it soared into the sky.

First class is located at the very front of the plane.

This room should have had twelve spacious seats, and during the bubble economy, it would usually be full, even with the exorbitant cost of first class. But today, it feels quite empty.

Apart from Satsuki and Amy sitting by the window, the other ten seats were all empty.

Fujita stood like a black iron tower, guarding the curtained partition leading to the rear cabin. His back was to the two girls, his hands were crossed in front of his abdomen, and his cold gaze swept over the occasional flight attendants who passed by.

The other three guards were scattered in several key corners of the cabin. Although they appeared to be resting, their bodies remained in a state of high alert.

The entire first-class cabin was so quiet that the only sound was the hum of the engines.

"Saionji-kun..."

Amy looked around at the empty leather seats.

"Are we the only guests today? This is a flight to Los Angeles, how come there's no one else?"

"Of course there are people."

Satsuki adjusted the angle of her chair, reclining herself in a languid and comfortable manner.

"However, I bought all the seats."

"All...all of them?!"

Amy was so surprised she almost jumped off her chair, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"But there are only two of us... how much will that cost?"

"It's not about the money, Amy."

Satsuki said calmly as she accepted the non-alcoholic champagne offered by the flight attendant on her knees.

"This is the 'safety cost'."

"In this enclosed space at 30,000 feet, every stranger adds to the uncontrollable risks. I don't like exposing my back to strangers, and I especially don't like having someone breathe my air while I'm sleeping."

Since the Black Dragon Society incident, Satsuki's sensitivity to security has reached its peak. Although the Black Dragon Society was completely eradicated before it could cause Satsuki any harm, it still made her realize the importance of security.

If you have money, why entrust your life to probability?

"Take it."

Satsuki handed another bubbly drink to Amy, who was still in a daze.

"Cheers. To our first trip to America."

Amy carefully took the delicate tulip cup, as if afraid of breaking it.

"Saionji-kun, you always manage to do things that surprise me..."

"Really? You'll get used to it."

Satsuki took a sip of her drink, the slightly sour taste stimulating her taste buds.

"Amy, do you know why we're sitting here?"

"Because...it's safe?" Amy asked tentatively.

That's one of the reasons.

Satsuki pointed out the window.

Through the oval porthole, thick clouds stretched out below, like a still white ocean. In the distance, the deep blue sky presented an awe-inspiring arc.

"More importantly, it's about perspective."

"From this height, you can't see the trash on the ground, the traffic jams, or the people arguing over a few hundred yen."

"All you can see is the original outline of the world."

"It's the same with doing business. If you're always staring at the solder joints on a circuit board, you'll always just be an engineer. Only when you learn to look at the entire industry from 30,000 feet above the ground can you understand where the technology should be flowing."

Amy nodded, seemingly understanding.

Her gaze followed Satsuki's finger and looked out the window.

But she didn't look at the clouds or the horizon.

Her gaze fell on the enormous wings.

Under the sunlight, the flaps on the trailing edge of the wing were slightly retracted, and the metal skin trembled slightly under the airflow.

"That's amazing..."

Amy muttered to herself.

"What?" Satsuki asked.

"That flap design," Amy pointed out the window, her eyes suddenly lighting up—a light far brighter than when she looked at designer handbags. "Look at that curve; it's to increase lift at low speeds. And those winglets at the tips—they're to reduce induced drag, thus saving fuel… It's a miracle of fluid dynamics."

She turned her head and looked at Satsuki excitedly, completely forgetting the shock she had just felt about booking the entire venue.

"Saionji-kun, do you know? This aircraft itself is a huge, sophisticated system. Millions of parts, countless lines, all working together at this moment for the same goal... That's the beauty of order."

Satsuki looked at the excited Amy.

At that moment, she was certain that she hadn't chosen the wrong person.

For an ordinary girl, this is scenery. But for Suzuki Emi, it is data, logic, and mechanical poetry.

This pure obsession with technology is exactly the kind of soul she needs most.

"Yes, it's beautiful."

Satsuki put down her cup, a smile playing on her lips.

"However, Amy."

"Um?"

"Eat that caviar first. It's Beruga from the Caspian Sea. One spoonful is about half a month's wages for a worker in your dad's factory."

Amy paused for a moment, looked down at the exquisite little jar in front of her, and then at the small mother-of-pearl spoon in her hand.

"So...expensive?"

"This is the smell of money."

Satsuki leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.

"Remember this taste. Because from now on, we want to make this taste a part of your daily life."

The plane lurched slightly as it passed through the airflow.

We sped off toward that new continent across the ocean.

……

Eleven hours after the flight, at the VIP exit of Los Angeles International Airport.

The automatic doors slid open to both sides, releasing a wave of dry, intense heat mixed with the smell of fuel. The air here was completely different from the sticky humidity of Tokyo; the sunlight was so direct it was almost blinding, and the sky was a highly saturated azure.

A stretched black Lincoln Town Car was already parked on the side of the road, its engine idling and emitting a low hum.

Upon seeing the group emerge, a burly white driver who had been leaning against the car door immediately straightened up. He took off his hat and greeted them with a broad smile.

"Saionji-san?" (Miss Saionji?)

Just as driver Mike reached out to take the handbag from Satsuki's hand, a figure naturally stepped between him and Satsuki.

It's Fujita Tsuyoshi.

Unlike his tense expression at the dojo, he wore a polite and gentle smile. He took a neatly folded dollar bill from his pocket, gracefully slipped it into Mike's jacket pocket, and then lightly patted Mike's shoulder.

"Thank you, Mike. We'll handle the luggage."

His English pronunciation was standard "Received Pronunciation," with a relaxed and natural tone, completely devoid of a Japanese accent, just like that of a well-educated British butler.

Mike paused for a moment, then felt the thickness of the large bill, his smile widening even further: "Of course, sir! Please."

Fujita Tsuyoshi personally opened the back door, placing one hand above the door frame to protect Satsuki and Amy as they got into the car.

The car entered Highway 405.

This is a flowing river of steel. Countless convertibles, pickup trucks, and heavy trucks speed along the ten-lane road. Towering palm trees and huge GG signs with Coca-Cola's red logo and posters of Hollywood blockbusters line both sides of the road.

Amy sat in the leather seat, clutching the half-finished bottle of Evian water tightly in her hand, her eyes fixed on the scenery outside the window.

"So big..."

She murmured to herself.

The roads here are huge, the cars are huge, even the burger shop signs on the roadside are enormous. In comparison, sophisticated Tokyo seems so crowded and miniature.

Satsuki took off her sunglasses and casually placed them on the armrest. She didn't look out the window; she was already tired of seeing those views. Instead, she closed her eyes to rest, her fingers gently tapping her knees.

"You'll get used to it," she said casually. "In this country, big is beautiful, and more is better. It's a crude but effective logic."

Forty minutes later, the car left the noisy highway and turned onto Sunset Boulevard.

After turning a graceful bend lined with century-old palm trees, the iconic complex of buildings, encased in pink stucco, comes into view.

The Beverly Hills Hotel.

It resembles a pink castle, hidden among lush tropical plants. Rolls-Royces and Ferraris are parked in front of the red-carpeted entrance.

The car came to a smooth stop.

Fujita was the first to get out of the car. He buttoned up his suit jacket, smiled and nodded to the doorman who came to greet him, as composed as a regular customer.

Only after confirming that the surrounding environment was safe—a confirmation that was subtle, existing only in his seemingly casual glance around—did he open the back door of the car.

"Young Miss, we've arrived."

Satsuki stepped out of the car, the California sun shining on her off-white trench coat.

Instead of going to the front desk, she went straight to a set of dark green velvet sofas on the side of the lobby. That was the area for VIPs to relax.

She sat down gracefully, crossing her legs, her posture languid yet noble, as if this were not a hotel lobby, but her own living room.

"Fujita."

Satsuki called softly.

"Yes."

Fujita Tsuyoshi understood immediately. He straightened his suit and walked towards the front desk.

The blonde receptionist was on the phone when she saw a refined-looking Eastern gentleman approaching. She instinctively hung up and gave a professional smile.

"Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?"

Good afternoon.

Fujita Tsuyoshi's voice was deep and magnetic, carrying a trustworthy steadiness. He took out his passport and the black American Express Centurion card from his pocket and gently placed them on the marble table.

"Check-in for Ms. Saionji. Presidential Bungalow."

"Ah... Yes! The Presidential Bungalow."

The receptionist's fingers flew across the keyboard, a hint of surprise in her eyes. She had served countless entourages of Hollywood stars, most of whom were arrogant or rude, but this group of Asians exuded an inexplicable air of refinement.

"Madam prefers privacy."

As Fujita Tsuyoshi signed, he leaned forward slightly and politely added a sentence in a voice that only the two of them could hear.

Please ensure housekeeping only comes upon request.

"Certainly, sir." The receptionist was impressed by his gentlemanly demeanor and immediately marked it as important in the notes section that was only visible to internal staff.

A few minutes later.

Led by the hotel manager, the group walked through the lush tropical gardens and arrived at Bungalow 5, located deep inside the hotel.

This is said to be where Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton spent their honeymoon.

Pushing open the door, the room is covered with a thick banana leaf patterned carpet, its pink and green hues exuding a retro-luxury feel. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows is a private, heated swimming pool, its surface shimmering in the setting sun.

"It's safe here."

Fujita and his team quickly inspected the room, scanning the telephone, sockets, and bedside lamps with a professional radio detector.

"The outer perimeter has been established. We will take turns guarding the adjacent bungalow number 4."

"Thanks for your hard work."

Satsuki took off her trench coat and casually tossed it onto the sofa.

"Everyone's tired, don't be so tense. Fujita, take your people to get something to eat, the steak here is pretty good, it's on me."

Fujita hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes. I'll leave one person at the door."

Only Satsuki and Amy remained in the room.

Amy carefully sat down on the sofa, only daring to touch half of it with her bottom, as if afraid of soiling the expensive fabric.

"Saionji-kun... that Mr. Fujita, his English is amazing," Amy exclaimed softly. "It sounds even better than our school's foreign teacher."

"That's natural."

Satsuki walked to the French windows and drew back the curtains.

The golden-red sunset instantly flooded into the room, bathing everything in a warm hue.

"The Fujita family has been retainers of the Saionji family for generations. He began receiving elite education at the age of six. He attended a professional butler school in England and received special security training in the United States."

Satsuki turned around and looked at Amy.

"Amy, remember this: anyone who stands by my side must have two knives in their hands."

"One is for protecting me, the other..."

She pointed to Amy's bag, which was full of technical books.

"It's meant to help me cut through this world."

Amy nodded as if she understood, and instinctively hugged her bag tighter.

"Then... are these books my knife?"

"right."

Satsuki smiled, walked to a lounge chair by the pool, sat down, and put on sunglasses.

"Come here, Amy. Look at this sunset."

Amy walked over and sat down on the nearby recliner.

The California sunset is magnificent and flamboyant, burning the sky into a dazzling purple and orange hue. In the distance, the mansions of Beverly Hills appear and disappear, the silhouettes of palm trees swaying in the wind.

"So beautiful..." Amy exclaimed.

"It's beautiful. It smells of money and bubbles."

Satsuki picked up the room service menu and handed it to Amy.

"Let's order."

"I'd like the largest double cheeseburger, with fries, and a vanilla milkshake."

Amy's mouth dropped open in surprise: "Huh? Eating hamburgers in a place like this?"

She assumed the young lady would order something like French foie gras or caviar.

Why not?

Satsuki took off her sunglasses, winked at Amy, and gave a sly smile that only a fourteen-year-old girl would have.

"This is America. Here, nothing is more 'authentic' than holding a dripping hamburger and watching the Hollywood sunset."

"and……"

Her gaze swept across the pool and looked north—towards Silicon Valley.

"Only when you're well-fed will you have the energy to steal the jobs of those geniuses, right?"

The sun is sinking below the horizon.

The lights at the bottom of the pool illuminated the water, making it appear a clear, azure blue.

The setting sun finally sank into the horizon of the Pacific Ocean, leaving the pink palace shrouded in the ambiguous night.

The wind was still very light, so light that it was almost imperceptible.

A butterfly from Tokyo is silently fluttering its wings.