The Seiko headquarters in Tokyo was a place of glass, steel, and silence.
The late sunset filtered through tall windows, giving the conference table an orange hue.
The air smelled faintly of the clean bite of fresh paper, that particular mix of corporate efficiency.
Takashi Mori, the brand director, paused at the door momentarily before pushing it open.
He straightened the line of his suit, adjusted his tie, and forced down the small nervous flutter that still came with this role.
Barely a year ago, he had been a deputy, unnoticed, unremarkable to some of the senior executives.
Then came the decision, his gamble to lock in a temporary partnership with a Sixteen-year-old footballer named Izan Miura Hernández.
A year later, that decision had catapulted him to this seat at the table.
The room quieted as he entered.
Around the conference table sat a dozen executives, men and women in muted suits, their faces expectant.
