"The most dangerous animal is not the one that roars in the jungle, but the one that walks silently into your home."
– An old Kaishi hunter's saying
WATANABE & SONS - FRIDAY AFTERNOON
For a long second, the office was perfectly still.
The only sounds were the tick of the wall clock and the hum of the computers.
Riku's mind, which had been a storm of anxiety, was now a dead calm.
The hunter was here.
He forced himself to stand. His chair scraped loudly against the worn floor. He composed his features into a mask of polite, professional surprise.
"Arakawa-san," he said. His voice was steadier than he had any right to expect. "This is an unexpected visit."
He bowed his head slightly. A perfect imitation of a junior employee greeting a respected potential contractor.
........
Arakawa didn't return the bow.
His sharp eyes darted from Riku to Sato-san and back again. He was mapping the flow of power in this unfamiliar territory.
"I was in the neighborhood," Arakawa said. It was a cool, easy lie. "I prefer to see a potential client's space before I agree to any work. It helps me understand the brand's identity."
Sato-san, ever the gatekeeper, stepped forward slightly.
"Watanabe & Sons does not typically receive unscheduled appointments, Arakawa-san. Hayashi-san is currently tasked with a priority project."
Her voice was perfectly polite. The message was clear: You are a distraction.
"Of course," Arakawa replied smoothly. He gave her a disarming smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I won't take much of his time. I just had a few preliminary questions about the brief."
Riku saw the game immediately. This was a probe. It was designed to test his composure and the legitimacy of his cover story in front of his superior.
"My apologies, Sato-san," Riku said, turning to her. "I should have informed you he might wish to follow up in person. It will only be a moment."
He gestured toward the small, unused meeting table in the corner. "Shall we, Arakawa-san?"
He led Arakawa to the table. The older man's expensive leather shoes looked absurdly out of place on their scuffed floor.
Sato-san returned to her desk. But Riku could feel her attention fixed on them, a silent, powerful presence.
........
"Your office has… a vintage charm," Arakawa said as they sat. His tone was laced with a dry irony that was almost insulting.
"We are a company with a long history," Riku replied calmly, refusing to take the bait.
"Indeed," Arakawa said, leaning forward. His voice dropped to a low, confidential murmur. "Your brief was very specific. The language… it was unusually insightful for someone in the textile import business. Where did you develop such a passion for intuitive design?"
It was the first direct attack. Riku was prepared.
"It's a personal interest," he said, matching Arakawa's low tone. "A hobby. I believe the principles of good design are universal. Making complex information simple and accessible is the future, whether that information is on a computer screen or a piece of paper."
He had answered the question while confirming nothing.
Arakawa's eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn't getting the reaction he wanted. He tried another angle.
"And Takeda Masaru? Is he also a part of your… hobby?"
The name, spoken aloud in this quiet office, felt like a lit match. Riku's blood ran cold, but he held Arakawa's gaze.
"I told you, I read about him in an old journal," Riku said. "A fascinating mind. It's a shame his company failed."
........
Arakawa leaned back in his chair. A slow, dangerous smile played on his lips.
He knew he was being stonewalled. He knew Riku was hiding something monumental.
And he knew he couldn't break him here. Not under the watchful eye of Sato-san.
He had seen the foundation. It was as solid and uninformative as a brick wall. It was time to change tactics.
"Very well, Hayashi-san," Arakawa said. His voice returned to a normal, professional volume. He stood up. "I've seen enough. The project is… intriguing. I'm willing to consider it."
Riku stood as well. His heart was hammering. "I'm glad to hear that."
"However," Arakawa continued, "a project with such a specific vision requires a more detailed discussion. My office. Saturday morning. Ten o'clock. We'll finalize the details of the contract then."
It wasn't a request. It was a summons. He was moving the game to his own territory.
"Don't be late."
Before Riku could reply, Arakawa turned to Sato-san. He gave her a brief, polite nod and walked out of the office.
The bell above the door jingled. He was gone.
........
The silence he left behind was a thousand times louder than the silence of waiting.
Riku stood by the table. His carefully constructed composure was beginning to crumble.
He had survived. But he had been cornered into a new, more dangerous meeting.
He turned to face Sato-san.
Her face was a mask of professional neutrality. But her sharp, intelligent eyes were filled with a universe of unspoken questions.