"The master strategist does not rely on an old map. He stands on a high hill and draws a new one."
– From a Kaishi military text, The Art of the Unseen War
The hunter's smile was gone by the time Riku returned to the library on Sunday morning.
In its place was a look of intense, almost ascetic focus.
The thrill of discovery had cooled. It was now the grim determination of a strategist surveying a new and complex battlefield.
His objective today was not the past. It was the bleeding edge of the present.
He located the archives for trade publications and technical journals. He piled them high on his table.
Kaishi Electronics Monthly.
Columbian Computing World.
The Concord Telecommunications Review.
He was no longer looking for history. He was looking for names.
He worked for hours. His pen scratched across a cheap notebook. He was creating a map of this world's technological landscape, one data point at a time.
The corporate players began to take shape.
There was Kurogane Heavy Industries (KHI). A titan of Kaishi industry. They were this world's NEC or Fujitsu—a massive conglomerate building reliable, but uninspired, mainframe computers. They were the past.
Then there was Apex Digital. A brash upstart from the Republic of Columbia. Their slick ads showcased all-in-one personal computers. Their graphical interfaces were years ahead of KHI's systems. They were this world's Apple, selling not just a machine, but a dream.
And in the networking space was Nexus Systems. A Concord-based company building the fiber-optic roads on which the future would travel.
A complex web of connections formed in his mind. But one crucial piece was missing.
The dominant software player. In his world, that had been Microsoft.
Here, the landscape was fractured. The throne was empty.
........
He was so engrossed, sketching a diagram of corporate relationships, that he didn't hear the footsteps approach.
"Hayashi-san? Is that you?"
Riku's head snapped up. His heart jolted. He instinctively covered his notebook with his arm.
Standing there, with an expression of pure astonishment, was the young man from the office with spiky, dyed-brown hair. The one Mr. Watanabe had called Kenji.
"Kenji-san," Riku said, his voice tight.
"I didn't take you for a library guy," Kenji said. A wide, curious grin spread across his face. He gestured to the mountain of technical journals. "Studying for a certification?"
Kenji Sato. He was Sato-san's son. He worked in the warehouse division. He was friendly, loud, and the complete opposite of his reserved mother.
"Something like that," Riku replied evasively. He closed his notebook. "Just trying to understand the industry better."
Kenji scoffed. He pulled up a chair uninvited. "The industry? You're reading about Columbian microchips. We import textiles from the Concord. Unless you're planning to weave us a carpet made of silicon, I think you're in the wrong section."
Riku offered a weak smile. "A hobby."
"Some hobby," Kenji said. He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Look, I get it. You're the new guy. The quiet genius Watanabe-shacho picked up. You've gotta have some secrets."
He winked. "Don't worry, I won't tell my mom you're planning a corporate takeover."
Despite his anxiety, Riku felt a flicker of amusement. Kenji's energy was disarming.
"I came here to study for my logistics exam," Kenji explained, "but it's so boring. This looks way more interesting. What are you really looking for in all this?"
Riku hesitated. He couldn't tell the truth. A simple lie felt insufficient. He decided on a partial one.
"I believe the next ten years will be defined by the personal computer and the information network," he said. His voice was low and serious. "I think it's going to change everything. How we work. How we sell textiles. I just want to understand it."
Kenji stared at him. His joking demeanor faded as he saw the fire in Riku's eyes.
"Whoa," he said softly. "You really believe that, don't you?"
Riku simply nodded.
........
The encounter left Riku rattled but thoughtful. He had been so focused on abstract data that he'd forgotten the human element. He needed to be more careful.
He turned his attention back to his research. He dug into microfiche archives, looking for ghosts. Brilliant ideas that were ahead of their time.
And that's when he found it.
It was in a small article. From a three-year-old issue of a niche Kaishi programming journal.
The headline was unassuming: "Prometheus Labs Founder Outlines Vision for 'Intuitive Computing.'"
The article detailed the work of a man named Takeda Masaru. A former lead software architect at Kurogane Heavy Industries.
Takeda had left the corporate giant to start his own small lab. He was fueled by a radical idea: that software shouldn't require a manual. It should be an extension of human thought.
The article quoted him extensively. He spoke of graphical interfaces. A future where anyone could use a computer.
The journal had dismissed him as a brilliant but impractical dreamer. His company, Prometheus Labs, had folded a year later due to lack of funding.
A ghost.
Riku's pulse quickened. This was it. This was the kind of person he was looking for.
Takeda Masaru was this world's visionary. His company had failed. But the idea—and the man himself—was still out there.
........
He frantically searched for any other mention of Takeda. He found almost nothing.
The company was a footnote. A failed startup that had vanished. There was no public record of what Takeda Masaru did next.
Riku left the library that evening. He had a new name scrawled at the very top of his list.
Kurogane, Apex, and Nexus were the giants. The obvious players.
But the real key, the ghost in the machine, might just be a failed dreamer named Takeda.
Finding him would be nearly impossible.
But as he walked home under the glow of the Torai streetlights, he knew he had found the first thread.
Now, he just had to pull it.