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CH199 | GSI
🕑 Added 2025-03-08 04:01:29 +0000 UTCNissan Headquarters, Yokohama, Japan.
Ever since the dollar-yen exchange rate had surged past 100, every single day had been a nightmare for Moriyama, the head of finance.
To make matters worse, an option contract had been activated right before a deal cancellation, leading to the worst possible scenario.
Desperately, he prayed for the yen to recover—just once.
But fate was cruel.
Instead of rebounding, the yen continued its relentless decline, falling further and further with each passing moment.
Moriyama repeatedly urged the company to liquidate their position immediately to minimize further forex losses.
But Director Yamamoto remained firmly opposed.
He was clinging to a false hope, waiting for the yen to strengthen again so he could unwind the position and reduce the losses.
To Moriyama, however, this was a pointless gamble.
The Japanese government was issuing massive amounts of government bonds each year to recover from the devastating Kobe earthquake, and with the U.S. government and the Federal Reserve fully committed to a strong dollar policy, there was little chance of the yen appreciating again.
Yet, Director Yamamoto refused to act, fearing that closing the position would cement the losses—and, more importantly, the blame would fall directly on him.
And so, things spiraled deeper into disaster.
At some point, even Moriyama, who had fought tirelessly to salvage the situation, began to lose hope.
The growing losses weighed on him so heavily that he had started dreading the sunrise itself.
"Good morning, sir."
As always, Moriyama followed his ten-year-old morning routine—waking up, putting on his tie, and squeezing onto an overcrowded commuter train to work.
He barely acknowledged his colleagues' greetings before sinking into his chair.
Without delay, he powered on his computer, anxiously waiting for the forex market to open.
Soon, the Tokyo foreign exchange market came online.
[USD/JPY 103.89 (+0.47%)]
The yen was sinking again.
Moriyama clenched his stomach, already feeling a familiar burning sensation.
"Haa…"
Today was going to be another painful day.
He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the stomach medicine he'd been relying on recently.
His wife had urged him to see a doctor, but he knew exactly what was causing his condition. So he had simply nodded and continued taking the pills instead.
Unsurprisingly, the yen continued to decline.
There were slight fluctuations, but the overall trend was clear.
For a fleeting moment, Moriyama thought, "What if we had closed the position as soon as the dollar broke 100?"
But he quickly shook his head.
"There's no point dwelling on the past."
Still, he sat glued to his screen, praying that the exchange rate wouldn’t cross the 104 mark.
But fate was merciless.
As buyers and sellers battled fiercely, the dollar-yen rate inched upward—and just before noon, it finally broke through 104.
[USD/JPY 104.03]
"Ah…"
"So it’s come to this."
Across the finance department, similar sighs of despair filled the air.
Moriyama stared at his screen, feeling lightheaded.
He barely managed to hold himself together, but he knew that in just half a day, their forex losses had increased by several million dollars.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips.
Just then, a female employee in a Nissan uniform cautiously approached, glancing nervously at him.
"Excuse me, sir…"
Moriyama lifted his weary gaze.
"What is it?"
"The president has requested you to come to his office immediately."
"…The president’s office?"
"Yes."
Moriyama let out a groan, burying his face in his hands.
It was inevitable.
President Kuroda Hisamoto was undoubtedly keeping a close eye on the dollar-yen exchange rate, fully aware of the option contract signed with the Eldorado Fund.
“So it’s finally come to this.”
With a resigned expression, Moriyama gave a small nod.
"Understood."
The female employee cast him a worried glance, but after a brief hesitation, she simply bowed her head slightly and returned to her desk.
"Sigh…"
Moriyama slowly rose from his seat, grabbed the jacket draped over his chair, and walked heavily out of the office.
The moment he stepped off the executive floor elevator, the plush carpet beneath his feet greeted him with its luxurious softness.
This kind of carpet must have cost a fortune…
A fleeting, meaningless thought crossed his mind as he made his way to the executive suite.
The secretary at the reception desk immediately stood up when she saw him enter.
"The president is expecting you. You may go in now."
Standing before the door, Moriyama took a deep breath before raising a hand and knocking lightly.
Then, gripping the handle, he pushed open the door and stepped into the president’s office.
The first thing he saw was Director Yamamoto, sitting stiffly on the sofa opposite the desk, his face frozen with tension.
Moriyama's eyes briefly widened in surprise, but he quickly thought to himself:
"Of course he’d be here. He’s the one who got us into this mess."
His gaze then shifted to Kuroda Hisamoto, the president of Nissan Motors, who sat in the center seat, frowning as he crossed one leg over the other.
Moriyama bowed deeply.
"You called for me, sir."
Kuroda looked at him briefly before gesturing toward the empty sofa to his left with a slight nod.
"Sit."
Even in that single word, his irritation was clear.
And rightfully so—a poorly managed option contract had led to hundreds of millions of dollars in foreign exchange losses.
Moriyama cautiously took his seat, stealing a glance at Kuroda's expression.
The president wasted no time.
"The dollar-yen exchange rate passed 104 today."
"……."
Both Yamamoto and Moriyama kept their mouths shut, staring at the floor like guilty convicts awaiting judgment.
Kuroda shot them a displeased look before turning his piercing gaze toward Yamamoto.
"I recall you telling me last time that 104 yen was an absolute ceiling. Care to explain how we got here?"
Yamamoto swallowed hard, his throat moving visibly, before scrambling to defend himself.
"The yen may have dipped, but it's just a temporary fluctuation. It will recover soon."
Kuroda leaned back against the sofa, his eyes cold and unyielding.
"By 'recovery,' do you mean it'll drop back below 100?"
"Well…"
Yamamoto glanced nervously at President Kuroda, carefully gauging his expression.
"Dropping back to 100 yen might be difficult, but there will definitely be a more favorable window in the near future. If we close the option at the right moment, we can minimize our losses."
He made an effort to persuade Kuroda, but it was a futile attempt.
By this point, Kuroda’s trust in Yamamoto had completely bottomed out—no matter how logical his reasoning sounded, it fell on deaf ears.
Kuroda’s eyebrows suddenly shot up, and with a loud thud, his palm slammed down on the armrest of the sofa.
"You told me the exact same thing last time! And look where that got us!"
His furious outburst made Yamamoto flinch and hunch his shoulders, his mouth snapping shut.
"Tsk!"
Kuroda glared at him in disgust before shifting his attention to Moriyama, who had been sitting silently.
"Moriyama."
"Yes, sir."
"What’s your assessment of the exchange rate?"
Moriyama hesitated, his eyes flickering toward Yamamoto across from him.
Kuroda, catching this reaction, scowled.
"Forget about anyone else. Just tell me your honest opinion."
"…Understood."
Moriyama took a deep breath, steeling himself. He couldn’t stand by and let the situation deteriorate further.
"In my assessment, the yen is far more likely to weaken further than to recover."
No sooner had he finished speaking than Yamamoto’s eyes flared with rage.
"Moriyama! What nonsense are you spouting?!"
Leaning forward urgently, Yamamoto shot back.
"He doesn’t know what he’s talking about! Just like the tide ebbs and flows, exchange rates fluctuate—it’s never a one-way movement. There will be an opportunity to recover our losses!"
Moriyama remained calm, his voice steady.
"That may be true in general, but if you look at the exchange rate charts over the past few months, the downward trend is progressively deepening, while the upward movement is severely limited. If we want to cut our losses, liquidating the option contract immediately is our best course of action."
Yamamoto’s expression darkened in shock and fury.
He hadn't expected Moriyama to openly challenge him.
"Shut your mouth!"
Kuroda’s cold, sharp voice sliced through the tension between them.
"And you, Yamamoto—raising your voice and losing your composure in front of me? Do you take me for a fool?"
Realizing his grave mistake, Yamamoto's face went pale, and he immediately bowed his head in apology.
"M-my sincerest apologies, sir."
But it was already too late.
Kuroda's face twisted with displeasure, his expression openly hostile.
"Considering how your predictions have consistently missed the mark and the absurd option contract you signed has cost the company a fortune, I trust Moriyama’s judgment far more than yours."
It was a humiliating blow, but Yamamoto had no right to protest.
His face flushed red, yet he remained silent, unable to refute the truth.
Kuroda, watching him with indifference, continued in a cold, detached tone.
"I don’t need to spell it out for you—you know better than anyone just how much damage this has caused the company."
"……."
"A position has been arranged for you at Yamada Bearings. Starting next month, you’ll be transferring there."
Yamada Bearings was one of Nissan’s key suppliers, specializing in automotive bearings.
Being reassigned to a partner company, with nearly a year left in his term as CFO, was a clear demotion.
"P-President…!"
Yamamoto’s face drained of all color as he pleaded desperately.
"Please reconsider, just this once. Think of all I’ve done for the company!"
But Kuroda turned away coldly, ignoring him.
"Finding you a position there was already a generous consideration."
"But…!"
"You should have done your job properly. Because of you, even my reputation is in shambles."
Kuroda’s tone was laced with irritation, his gaze sharp with thinly veiled disgust.
It was clear—he wasn’t addressing an executive anymore, but a nuisance he wanted to be rid of.
"I have nothing more to say. You may leave."
With that, Kuroda snapped his head away, an unmistakable gesture that the discussion was over.
Yamamoto opened his mouth as if to argue, but seeing Kuroda’s expression, he swallowed his words.
His shoulders sagged in resignation as he slowly rose to his feet.
"…Understood."
"You’ll have plenty to take care of before the transfer. Starting tomorrow, you don’t need to report to the office."
Not a hint of sympathy.
Yamamoto’s jaw clenched in frustration.
This was the ultimate insult—as if losing everything wasn’t enough, he was being kicked out immediately.
"…Yes, sir."
As Yamamoto walked out, Moriyama watched him go with a conflicted expression.
The door shut behind him, and Kuroda let out a loud "Tsk!", shaking his head in disgust before turning his attention to Moriyama.
"The option contract was signed with Eldorado Fund, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
Moriyama immediately straightened up, sensing the weight of the conversation.
"You’ll take over negotiations with them. Liquidate the option as soon as possible."
At Kuroda’s directive, Moriyama’s voice came out slightly unsteady.
"Understood, sir."
