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Chapter 35

Remaking of Japan's Islands

Deletion of 1940 America: Subtraction in World War II

The existence of the Total War Research Institute is not widely known. Matsuoka's briefing session was attended only by staff from government agencies that had sent personnel to the Total War Research Institute and research institutions involved in the Arctic survey. The general public was completely unaware of such a briefing session. Naturally, companies also remained unaware of what was happening, simply accepting orders from the government. With few exceptions, they obediently complied without question.

- ほうこうおんち

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In Tokyo's Iidabashi district, Tanaka Kakuei, the president of Tanaka Construction, a civil engineering and architecture firm, received an urgent summons from Masatoshi Ōkouchi of the Riken Institute.

For the construction industry, disaster recovery is a peak season. Though it's unfortunate for those affected, a flood of work comes in—from large-scale projects like levee repairs and power plant restorations to smaller tasks like residential renovations. Tanaka Kakuei, a capable construction businessman, was extremely busy. However, since his company had taken on numerous projects from the Riken conglomerate before he was drafted, he made time to rush over for Masatoshi Ōkouchi.

"Build a dam," came the sudden and monumental request.

At this point, if he were to say something like, "That's impossible!" or "Why me?" he would likely never receive large-scale projects again. But Kakuei was no foolish businessman.

"Is this for multiple erosion control dams? Or one large dam for water storage or power generation? Which river are we talking about?"

"You're quick to grasp the point, as always. I need you to start with the selection process. Use my connections to arrange for the necessary engineers. I can't say for sure, but we're looking at over 100 dams. Think on the scale of something like the Hoover Dam."

Frankly, this was an outrageous demand. Tanaka Construction had never undertaken dam construction before, and here they were being asked to build over 100 dams.

'But he didn't say I had to do everything myself. I can bring in engineers, handle the design, arrange the workforce, and then leave the rest to local contractors.'

The goal was to become a general contractor, and for that, he could leverage Ōkouchi's name and the Riken conglomerate.

After hearing this much, Tanaka decided to dive into the task but first posed a question: "Ōkouchi-sensei, are you planning to address both flood control and power generation simultaneously?"

Ōkouchi's response was: "Ideally, flood control alone would suffice. That's Japan's primary challenge. But looking ahead, we'll need electricity, won't we?"

He said no more, and Tanaka, after a polite bow, returned to his office.

'Ōkouchi-sensei is pushing for foundational industries in Japan—things like gas detectors, piston rings, and tin-plated wires. Normally, he would have emphasized the importance of electricity first. But now, flood control takes precedence, with power generation coming second—though not as an afterthought. It's strange. Could it be related to Japan's recent extreme heat, sudden torrential rains, or the unprecedented heavy snowfall in my hometown? Is there some greater crisis looming?'

Tanaka Kakuei, a self-made entrepreneur with only an elementary school education, had an extraordinary talent for "foresight." From Ōkouchi's words, Tanaka pieced together various clues and began investigating. Through his connections, he discovered that since Seijūrō Matsuoka, a bureaucrat from the Ministry of Commerce and Industry, had reported on his observations in the Arctic, there had been significant movements. Tanaka even managed to secure a meeting with Matsuoka—a testament to his renowned "drive for action."

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"I just got back."

"Welcome back, President. Are you alright? You look pale."

"Of course I do."

Kakuei, who had just met with Matsuoka and heard what he had to say, began to explain to his subordinates.

"I've got to reshape this Japanese archipelago."

"Here we go again, President. Always dreaming big."

"We don't have time for that."

"What exactly did you hear?"

Kakuei distilled what he had learned from Matsuoka into terms relevant to their work. His subordinates understood that this wasn't just about the recent extreme heat and heavy rains, but they still wore expressions of uncertainty. Kakuei, despite his lack of formal education in earth sciences, had grasped the situation effortlessly—proof of his extraordinary intuition.

Tanaka Kakuei's formal education ended at elementary school; he never attended middle school or beyond. Yet, he had studied enough to effectively manage engineers sent from the Riken Institute, graduates of Imperial University. While he knew next to nothing about earth sciences—things like ocean currents or meteorology—he understood enough to recognize the dangers. However, the increasing frequency of typhoons, the surge in heavy rain disasters, and the resulting road closures and flooding of lowlands were things he could grasp on a visceral level. The fear was real.

'If this continues, logistics will collapse. Even if goods are available, they won't reach their destinations. Factories are built near rivers, and warehouses are near ports, right by the sea. If they're flooded, they'll be useless. Japan as a nation will fall apart.'

But that was only if things stayed as they were. The solution was to make the country more resilient to disasters. Strengthen the levees, improve drainage, and stabilize the land to prevent landslides.

'No wonder Ōkouchi-sensei told me to build dams.'

A dam wasn't just a dam. Even if it had high power generation capacity, it would be meaningless if it couldn't store vast amounts of water during heavy rains. And releasing water only to cause flooding downstream was out of the question. The design had to withstand massive water pressure, and high-quality concrete work was essential. The design was one thing, but selecting contractors who could pour large amounts of quality concrete evenly was crucial.

'Well, fine. This is what being in the construction business is all about!'

The sheer difficulty of the task only fueled Kakuei's determination.

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"By the way, I've been having dreams lately," he suddenly changed the subject.

"Huh??"

"Dreams, you know, the kind you see when you're asleep."

"Why are you bringing this up now?"

"Just listen, will you?"

In November 1940, during his military service in China, Kakuei had collapsed. Diagnosed with Croup, he was sent back to Japan, where he teetered on the edge of death before finally recovering. During those feverish, suffocating days when even sleep was elusive, he would occasionally lose consciousness and drift into vivid dreams. One recurring dream was about the United States disappearing—a story he had heard from a cavalry regiment's canteen in China. In his dream, however, the United States was still intact. Japan and the US, both far wealthier than they were now, seemed to be in a friendly relationship, though the US held the upper hand. The tense relations before the disappearance felt like a complete lie.

'Ah, it's just a dream. But if it's a dream like this, it's kind of fun, isn't it?'

Whenever he regained consciousness, he was reminded of the pain and the proximity of death, and he found himself escaping into these dreams.

"In that dream, there was this kid with a shaved head, his butt hanging out, saying, 'I'll show you around my Kasukabe!' He took me to this vast open field. Underground, there was something I'd only seen in textbooks—it looked like an ancient Greek temple."

"An underground temple?"

"No, it was a massive cavern with rows of pillars that looked like they belonged in a temple. When I asked what it was, the kid said, 'You'll understand when it rains.' Then, a torrential downpour like the ones we've been seeing lately started. Water flowed into the cavern, apparently diverted from a nearby river that was about to flood. The water was then funneled into an enormous vertical shaft, which powered an engine to drain it into the Edogawa River."

"But wouldn't that cause the Edogawa to flood?"

"No, the Edogawa rarely floods since it's a river with plenty of capacity. So, that cavern was essentially a massive device to store water from flood-prone rivers and divert it to rivers with more capacity."

"Wow, that's some imagination you've got there."

"Don't just dismiss it as imagination."

"Come on, President. What country in the world could build something like that? Even creating an underground cavern like a temple would be impossible—it would collapse under its own weight. And diverting water from a flood-prone river to prevent flooding? Absolutely impossible."

"But it felt so real."

"It was an entertaining tall tale, President. But even the now-disappeared America, or Germany, the world's leading technological power, couldn't pull that off. If it were possible, someone would've done it by now, don't you think?"

"Well, I know it's impossible now, but maybe someday it could be done. No, I want it to be possible."

"If you write down these fantasies, they might make for an interesting science fiction book. Do you have any more like that?"

"Alright, I'll tell you more."

The subordinate briefly thought, 'Did I just say something unnecessary?' But then again, it was after work, and they were having a casual drink over tea. Humoring the president's tall tales wasn't such a bad way to spend the time.

"In the dream I had, there was a bullet train running."

"Uh, like the one the Railway Ministry was talking about?"

"Maybe, but it was a bit different. The one I rode could get from Tokyo to Niigata in two hours."

"Wait, why would they run a bullet train to Niigata instead of a major route like Tokyo to Osaka? And, President, you know it's Ueno to Niigata, right?"

"The Tokyo-Osaka line was running too. In fact, you could go all the way from Tokyo to Hakata, and even to Hakodate without needing a ferry. The Tōhoku and Jōetsu lines didn't stop at Ueno—they went all the way to Tokyo Station. And apparently, I was the one who pushed to extend the bullet train to Niigata."

"Hahahaha! That's quite the ambitious dream. Let's grow the company big enough to make that happen."

"That's not all. Besides the bullet train, there were highways like Germany's Autobahn crisscrossing all of Japan. In the dream, I lived in Mejiro, and I built a road from Mejiro to my house in Niigata that only required three turns to get there."

"Haha, what a bold and amusing dream! Well, dreams should be big. But for now, let's face reality. Tomorrow, you'll need to report to the Home Ministry. Ōkouchi-sensei's letter of introduction is on your desk. River projects fall under the Home Ministry, but lately, the Navy has been getting involved too. You might get a summons from them as well. Oh, and there's also a call from the Ministry of Communications."

Dam projects were under the jurisdiction of the Home Ministry's Civil Engineering Bureau, while hydroelectric power generation using dams fell under the Ministry of Communications' Electricity Bureau. Despite Ōkouchi's introduction, they were still uneasy about dealing with a completely new contractor. Tanaka had to clear this hurdle to secure the project. To do so, he needed to submit a solid business plan.

"Alright, alright. Leave dealing with those big shots to me! You guys just focus on the fieldwork."

With that, the after-work drinks at the office came to an end, and everyone headed home. As for Kakuei, he put away the sake bottle, sat at his desk, and picked up a pencil.

"Right. Maybe I should write down the dreams I've been having. I want to reshape the Japanese archipelago with my own hands—no, I have to. And I shouldn't forget these dreams. Construction workers are like sculptors of the Earth. To create a masterpiece, you need a first-class imagination. The dreams I've seen might be impossible now, but I think they're on par with masterpieces like the Venus de Milo or Rodin's The Thinker. Someday, they'll come true. Someday, I'll make them happen with my own hands."

Kakuei was the kind of man who could speak as an equal with those who understood technology and science, yet he wasn't bound by their expertise. Instead of saying, "It's impossible," he always thought, "Isn't there a way to make it work?" And so, Tanaka began writing in his notebook, where he recorded his dreams. At the top of the page, he wrote a title:

Japanese Archipelago Transformation Plan

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The next chapter will be uploaded at 18:00.

- ほうこうおんち

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