"In any negotiation, the first person to speak the truth is not the most honest, but the most desperate. The master negotiator merely offers a more interesting lie."
– From a Kaishi political text, The Shogun's Shadow
WATANABE & SONS - THE FOLLOWING DAY, 2:00 PM
The following day was a study in controlled anxiety.
Every tick of the wall clock in the office mocked Riku's composure.
He completed his work with feverish efficiency. His mind was already miles away, in the gleaming glass towers of the Shinjin district.
At two o'clock, he stood. He straightened his second-hand tie.
"Sato-san," he said, his voice even. "I have an appointment with a potential freelance designer for the brochure project. I will need to leave for the afternoon."
She looked up. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than usual. She had seen him on the phone the day before. She had noted the tension in his shoulders and the subsequent, triumphant relief.
She knew this meeting was important.
"See that you get a receipt," she said simply. It was a quiet acknowledgment of his mission. "And remember the president's warning."
The tram ride to Shinjin was like traveling to another country. It was a landscape of soaring steel and glass. Riku, in his simple attire, felt like a ghost from another era.
He found Café Renoir on the ground floor of the Koyama Marketing tower. It was a sleek, minimalist space with an air of expensive tranquility.
He ordered the cheapest coffee. The price still made him flinch. He chose a small table in the corner.
........
CAFÉ RENOIR - 3:00 PM
At precisely three o'clock, Arakawa Shinji strode in.
Riku recognized him instantly from the grainy photo. But the image hadn't done him justice.
He was a whirlwind of creative energy. He was dressed in a stylish, unstructured black jacket, his hair artfully messy. His sharp, intelligent eyes scanned the café before landing on Riku.
He sat down without a word. He placed a sleek, silver business card case on the table. He did not offer a handshake.
"Arakawa," he said. "You're Hayashi. You have ten minutes."
Riku's rehearsed speech evaporated. "Thank you for meeting me, Arakawa-san," he began. He pushed a folded proposal across the table. "This is a brief outline of our company."
Arakawa glanced at it for less than five seconds. "Watanabe & Sons. Textiles. A brochure. I get it."
He looked up. His gaze was sharp. "What I don't get is why you're wasting my time with it. Why me?"
"Because of your thesis project," Riku said, leaning forward. "The Digital Canvas."
"I saw the pictures in the exhibition catalog. You weren't just designing a product. You were designing an experience. You were trying to make technology feel human. That's the philosophy I want for this project."
Arakawa's cynical expression softened for a fraction of a second. The mention of his old, abandoned dream had hit its mark.
"That was a long time ago," he said. "Now I design ads for diet soda. The philosophy is 'make the logo bigger.'"
"A great artist can make even a corporate logo feel like art," Riku countered. "But this is a freelance project. You would have complete creative control."
Arakawa laughed. It was a short, humorless bark. "Creative control over a textile importer's flyer? And for what, the 'modest budget' you mentioned?"
"The budget is small," Riku admitted. "Watanabe & Sons is a traditional company. This project is a test. A first step to pulling them into the present."
"A test?" Arakawa's interest was piqued again.
"If this is successful, they may be open to more," Riku said carefully. "A proper logo. Maybe even, someday, a presence on the information network."
........
He let the last phrase hang in the air. Then he pressed his advantage.
"Your passion for intuitive design… it reminded me of another pioneer I read about. A software engineer from Kurogane."
"Takeda Masaru."
The name landed like a physical blow.
Arakawa flinched. His hand, which had been resting near his coffee cup, clenched into a white-knuckled fist on the table.
The bored mask shattered. It was replaced by a look of raw, unguarded shock. His eyes, once dismissive, were now locked on Riku's. They burned with a suspicious fire.
"Where did you hear that name?" His voice was a low, dangerous whisper.
"In an old programming journal," Riku said. His own pulse was hammering against his ribs. "I research the history of the computing industry as a hobby. It's a shame you two never collaborated. Your design philosophy and his vision for software… it could have changed the world."
Arakawa stared at him. His mind was clearly racing.
A low-level employee from a tiny import firm. Who happened to be a student of failed tech startups. Who just happened to find his seven-year-old thesis. And who just happened to know the name of his former partner.
It didn't add up.
"Who are you?" Arakawa asked. The question was sharp and direct.
"I'm just a man who believes good ideas shouldn't be forgotten," Riku said softly.
........
Arakawa was silent for a long time. The ten minutes were long gone.
He picked up his business card case. He opened it. He slid a single card across the table.
"Send me a proper project brief," he said. His voice was tight with controlled emotion. "I'll look at it. No promises."
He stood. He turned and walked out of the café without another word.
Riku remained seated. His body was trembling with the adrenaline of the confrontation. He looked down at the simple, elegant business card.
He hadn't just secured a potential designer. He had found the ghost's partner. He had rattled him to his core. He had opened a door.
But as he looked at the card, he knew he had also painted a massive target on his own back.
Arakawa Shinji was no fool.
The hunt for Takeda was still on. But a new, more dangerous game had just begun.
And Arakawa was now the other player.