An account of conveying critical arguments directly to Tokyo Stock Exchange leadership, revealing how post-illness vulnerability exposes the true physical toll of words spoken as a life-or-death duel in defense of Japan.

February 16, 2016

Today, on behalf of the company president in question (an elderly man), I conveyed what I had sent out to the world yesterday not only to those responsible for short selling at the Tokyo Stock Exchange but also in a way that would reach the current president.

While speaking, I keenly realized that I was doing so after having suffered a serious illness.

To speak about what I wrote yesterday is a task equivalent to a samurai engaging in a duel with real swords.

Before my illness, I could have spoken at a pace like a Harvard-style talk, rattling off words like a machine gun without difficulty, but this time it took a severe toll on my body, and I felt anxiety about my health.

Even though I spoke calmly, the content itself was extremely severe and serious.

Because I felt it was literally a matter of risking my life, I asked for brief pauses twice.

I realized that a true duel requires ultimate concentration, and I was utterly exhausted.

Speaking alone is tiring enough, but when it becomes the duel of one’s lifetime, a once-in-a-lifetime encounter, I felt the danger to my health from just how exhausting it was—yet somehow, I reached a conclusion.

Though the analogy may be abrupt, I was speaking as a descendant of the Date clan, of Date Masamune—no, of Nobunaga—speaking in order to protect Japan.

I was standing up to evil that seeks to casually destroy the happiness of the Japanese people.

In the midst of that, I received a phone call from the company president in question.

The TSE officials listening at the same time immediately recognized who the caller was.

To be continued.