"The master of the game does not wait for an opportunity. He creates one, and builds it from the lies of his enemies and the needs of his friends."
– From a Kaishi political text, The Shogun's Shadow
WATANABE & SONS - MONDAY MORNING
The name and address felt like a burning coal in Riku's pocket.
For two days, he performed his duties with mechanical precision. His mind was a whirlwind of discarded plans.
Koyama Marketing & Advertising was in the Shinjin district. A world of gleaming glass towers. A universe away from the gritty, industrious neighborhood where Watanabe & Sons operated.
Walking in as a stranger was out of the question.
He needed a key.
The idea that had formed on the tram ride home had solidified into a plan. It was as audacious as it was simple.
He would make Watanabe & Sons his pretext.
The company had no modern marketing materials. Their public face was a simple, faded sign and a listing in the Torai business directory. In an age where presentation was beginning to matter more, they were practically invisible.
This was his opening.
........
WATANABE & SONS - WEDNESDAY MORNING
He spent two nights preparing. He drafted a cost estimate. A project outline. A new battle plan.
On Wednesday morning, he took a deep breath. He approached Sato-san's desk.
"Sato-san," he began, his voice steady. "May I have a moment to discuss a proposal for the president?"
She looked up. Her eyes were sharp. "Regarding?"
"A way to attract new clients," Riku said. "I believe a simple, professional company brochure could help us expand our reach."
Sato-san considered this. "The president is a man of routine," she said, a subtle warning. "He does not like frivolous expenses."
"I don't believe it would be frivolous," Riku countered gently. "It would be a small investment. I've already drafted a cost estimate and a project outline."
He slid a single, neatly written page onto her desk. It detailed printing costs. It allocated a tiny, almost insulting fee for a "freelance designer."
Sato-san read the document. Her eyes missed nothing.
"The budget is… conservative," she said finally. A look in her eyes told Riku she saw more than he was showing. "The president will appreciate that. Very well. He has a space in his schedule before lunch."
........
The wait was agonizing.
Finally, Sato-san gave him a curt nod. It was time.
He entered Mr. Watanabe's office. The space smelled of old books and canned coffee. The president was poring over a ledger. A cigarette smoldered in an ashtray.
"Sato-san tells me you have an idea," Mr. Watanabe grumbled. "Don't waste my time, Hayashi."
Riku laid the proposal on the desk. "President, I propose we create a small, high-quality brochure. To introduce ourselves to new markets. It would give us a professional face to present to the world."
Mr. Watanabe grunted. He tapped a thick finger on the paper. "Brochures. Advertising nonsense. Our work speaks for itself."
"And it will continue to, sir," Riku pressed. "This is to open doors so more people can see it. The cost is minimal. I believe I can find a talented freelance designer. Someone who will work within a very modest budget. It's a low-risk investment in growth."
He held his breath. He had framed the argument in the only language that could breach the walls of tradition. Risk and investment.
Mr. Watanabe stared at the proposal, then at Riku. He took a long drag from his cigarette.
"You will oversee this yourself," he said finally, stabbing the cigarette out. "Every yen will be accounted for. It will not interfere with your primary duties."
He paused. "And if it fails to bring in a single new client, the cost will be taken from your year-end bonus."
The threat was clear. But so was the approval.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
He left the office. His legs were weak with relief. He had his key.
........
Back at his desk, he found the number for Koyama Marketing.
His palm was slick with sweat. He picked up the heavy bakelite receiver. He forced his trembling finger into the rotary dial.
"Koyama Marketing, how may I help you?" a cheerful voice answered.
"Hello," Riku said, his throat suddenly dry. "May I please speak with Arakawa Shinji in the design department?"
"One moment, please."
The line went silent. It was filled only with the tinny melody of hold music. Each second felt like an eternity.
Then, a new voice came on. It was sharp. Impatient. "Arakawa speaking."
........
"Arakawa-san," Riku began. He forced his voice into a calm, professional tone. "My name is Hayashi Riku, from Watanabe & Sons. Forgive the unsolicited call. I came across your work in an old issue of Form & Function magazine."
There was a pause. "The New Vision Award?" Arakawa asked, surprised. "That was years ago."
"Good design is memorable," Riku said smoothly. "Arakawa-san, I am heading a project to create a company brochure. We are on a tight budget. We need a freelance designer. Given your past work on clean, intuitive interfaces, I thought your aesthetic might be a perfect fit. I was wondering if you would be interested in discussing a small, independent commission."
He had laid the bait perfectly.
He had praised Arakawa's old, forgotten passion project, not his current corporate work.
The silence on the other end stretched.
"A brochure?" Arakawa said finally. The word dripped with a mix of skepticism and intrigue. "For an import company?"
"That's right," Riku confirmed.
Another pause. Then, a sigh. It barely masked his interest. "My schedule is a nightmare. But you've made me curious."
"Café Renoir, ground floor of my building. Tomorrow at three. You get ten minutes. Don't be late."
The line clicked dead.
Riku slowly placed the receiver back in its cradle. His hand was shaking.
A triumphant, feral grin spread across his face.
The ghost's partner had taken the bait.
The meeting was set.