"A letter can be a weapon. A simple contract can be a declaration of war. In the world of business, the deadliest blows are struck with paper."
– From the private memoirs of a Kaishi industrialist
WATANABE & SONS - THE FOLLOWING DAY
The day after his meeting with Arakawa was a quiet, suffocating torture.
Every time the office phone rang, Riku's entire nervous system seized.
Every shadow that passed the frosted glass of the front door made his head snap up.
He was a soldier in a trench, waiting for a battle he had single-handedly provoked.
He expected a phone call. A summons. A cryptic message.
What he did not expect was the mundane reality of his job to interfere.
On Thursday morning, Mr. Watanabe called him into his office. The air was thick with stale cigarette smoke.
"Hayashi," the president grunted. He did not look up from a thick binder. "The textile manifests are done. Good work."
"Thank you, sir," Riku said. A flicker of pride cut through his anxiety.
"Now for your real work," Mr. Watanabe continued. He pushed the binder across the desk. "Our quarterly import tariff reconciliation is due. Every item in this binder must be cross-referenced with the official customs duty codes. It is tedious, precise work. Do not make mistakes."
Riku's heart sank. It was a mountain of paperwork. A chain anchoring him to this beige desk while his real life demanded his full attention.
"This takes priority over everything," Mr. Watanabe added. His sharp eyes finally met Riku's. "Including any… brochure projects."
........
The message was clear. The pretext that had opened the door to Arakawa was now a liability.
The silence from the Shinjin district stretched. With every passing hour, a new fear began to creep in.
What if his move had been too clever? What if Arakawa had simply thrown his card away?
By late Thursday afternoon, Riku knew he couldn't wait any longer.
He had to break the silence. He had to dictate the terms.
He pushed the tariff binder aside. It was time to send the brief.
........
He spent the next hour drafting the document.
It needed to function on two levels. As a legitimate proposal for his bosses. And as a clear, unmistakable message for Arakawa.
He structured it like a standard marketing brief. But within that Trojan horse, he embedded his true meaning.
Under the heading Tone & Style, he laid his most important card.
"The design should be clean, modern, and minimalist. It must convey information with maximum clarity and intuitive ease. We are inspired by pioneering design philosophies that believe a user should never need a manual. The aesthetic should feel both timeless and visionary…"
He was quoting the core philosophy of Prometheus Labs back to its co-founder.
It was an unmistakable signal: I know what you tried to build. And I know why it was important.
........
He typed a flawless final copy. He placed it in a crisp envelope addressed to Arakawa Shinji.
He wouldn't fax it. This needed to be delivered with intent.
He used his lunch break and a significant portion of his meager funds to pay for a professional courier service.
The rest of the afternoon was agonizing.
The brief was out in the world now. A physical object. A declaration.
The game was now in Arakawa's court.