They had found the glitch in the system, the wild, solitary variable that now had to be forged in the light of day. Discovering the legal anchor was one thing; using it to stop a corporate titan was another entirely. The Ishikawa Conglomerate wouldn't surrender to a piece of old paper. They had to be forced to.
The battle plan was drawn up around Hikari's table, under the first light of dawn. It was Haruna who took the lead.
"We can't just send them a letter," she said, marking invisible points on the table. "If we do it privately, they'll bury it. They'll hire an army of lawyers to challenge the ordinance, they'll bribe whoever is necessary at the Heritage Commission. They will win because they can afford to prolong the battle until the Tanakas run out of resources."
"So, what do we do?" Kenjiro asked, his characteristic anxiety returning at the thought.
"We don't fight in private. We fight in public," Haruna replied, a sharp smile on her lips. "We turn their strength, their public image, into their greatest weakness. We won't attack the Conglomerate. We will embarrass them."
The plan was a three-front offensive, with each member of the trio playing a role perfectly suited to their skills.
1. Front One: The Ghost in the Machine. Kenjiro, operating from Hikari's tech sanctuary, became a one-man army. He created a dozen anonymous profiles on social media and local activism forums. With the precision of a surgeon, he began leaking the information. Not as an accusation, but as a "citizen investigation."
"Has anyone else heard of Historical Preservation Ordinance 11-3?" he posted on a Tokyo history forum. "It looks like there's an ancient Meiji aqueduct right under the area the Ishikawa Conglomerate wants to demolish."
Then, from a different account, he shared the utility map. And from another, a high-quality photo of the chrysanthemum seal. Each post was a breadcrumb, scattered in different corners of the internet, designed to be discovered and connected by others.
2. Front Two: The Ice Queen and the Whispers. Haruna returned to the Ketsueki ecosystem as if nothing had happened, but she moved with a hidden purpose. Her battlefield was the elite social network. During lunch, seated next to Kaito, she commented idly.
"So strange, my father was talking last night about a problem with the new development project... Something about a historical find." She drank from her milk carton with feigned disinterest. "He said it would be a public relations nightmare if word got out that a major corporation is trying to demolish the city's heritage."
She planted the same seed in other circles. With a councilman's daughter, with a journalist's nephew. She didn't accuse, she only whispered. She created an atmosphere of uncertainty, a sense that something shameful was about to come to light.
3. Front Three: The Heart and the Human Face. This was the most crucial role, and the task of preparing it fell to Hikari. He met again with Yui and her parents. He didn't just explain the plan; he gave them the courage to execute it.
"You are not victims," he told them with a reassuring calm. "You are guardians. History has chosen you to protect something valuable. You don't have to fight against Ishikawa. You just have to tell your story."
Under his direction, the Tanakas contacted a small but respected local news blog known for its investigative journalism. They didn't talk about the legal battle; they talked about their legacy. They spoke of her grandfather, who founded the shop after the war. They showed old photos. They spoke of what the shop meant to the neighborhood. And at the end of the interview, with perfectly calculated innocence, Mr. Tanaka mentioned: "And now we find out that we've been living on top of a piece of Tokyo's history all this time. It is an incredible honor."
The campaign was a success. Kenjiro's anonymous posts started getting picked up by small blogs. Haruna's whispers created a buzz of anticipation in the corridors of power. And the Tanakas' interview gave the story a human face and a heart.
In less than forty-eight hours, the story exploded.
"Corporate Giant vs. Family Shop Protecting Tokyo's History"
It was an irresistible headline.
The Ishikawa Conglomerate found itself trapped in a media storm they hadn't created and couldn't control. Every attempt at denial was met with the map published by one of Kenjiro's avatars. Every legal threat was countered by the public image of a humble family protecting their legacy.
The humiliation Ishikawa received was total and absolute. They weren't portrayed as business sharks, but as ignorant thugs who were about to destroy history out of pure greed and globalization. The Cultural Heritage Commission, under pressure from public opinion, announced an emergency review.
Exactly one week passed.
A messenger delivered a letter to the Tanaka flower shop. It was from the Ishikawa Conglomerate's legal department. In cold, concise language, they announced that, "following an internal review," they were withdrawing their interest in the property "due to unforeseen planning complications."
That afternoon, the four of them gathered at the flower shop. The relief and joy were evident in the room. Yui, for the first time, smiled without reservation. She handed each of them a small pot with a green sprout.
"So that something new can grow," she said, her voice clear and free of shyness.
Hikari stepped forward and took his. "Thank you very much for this... I promise to take care of it."
But as he held the plant, the memory of the Sierras de Córdoba and the basement returned... He observed Yui's gentleness and felt a chill; she was protecting that sprout with the same care... the same care with which he looked after his parents.
"I... uh, I'll take care of it too," Kenjiro said, holding his pot a bit awkwardly as he adjusted his glasses. "I'm not very good with living things, but I already downloaded three botany manuals."
Haruna raised an eyebrow, as she often did, while inspecting her sprout with a half-smile. "Well... Who would have thought I'd end up with a plant in my hands. But, I admit I don't dislike it. Thank you, Yui."
As they held their gifts, a new understanding settled among them. Kenjiro looked at Haruna, who returned a rare, genuine look of respect. Both looked at Hikari: the catalyst, the silent strategist who had brought them together.
They had faced a giant and won. They were no longer just a brain, a warrior, and a strategist. The victory, and the relief on Yui's face, had united them. They had become its heart.
However, Hikari knew this hadn't been as easy as it seemed. He had already anticipated the cost. From now on, nothing would be the same again.
A day after the victory of Hikari's team, on the top floor of the Ishikawa Tower, Kaito stood rigid as a statue in front of his father's desk. Mr. Ishikawa didn't yell. He never did. His anger was a controlled force of nature, cold and precise as the edge of a scalpel.
"Explain it to me, Kaito," the man said. "Explain to me how an insignificant expropriation, a footnote in our quarterly balance sheet, has become the greatest public humiliation this company has suffered in a decade."
"Father, it was unforeseen... a forgotten law..."
"No!"
He slammed his hand on the desk.
"It was stupidity. Yours. I gave you freedom at Ketsueki so you would learn to wield power. I put you as second-in-command on this project so you would understand consequences. And instead, you used a sledgehammer to kill a fly. You made unnecessary noise and attracted everyone's attention."
Kaito clenched his fists, lowering his gaze. "It was a matter of respect. They humiliated me."
His father let out a dry, humorless laugh.
"Respect? Respect is measured in the value of actions and political capital, not in playground squabbles. Your little tantrum has cost us millions in brand image and has put an unwanted spotlight on our operations. You have provoked forces you do not understand."
Mr. Ishikawa stood up and walked toward the immense window overlooking the city.
"This wasn't the work of a family of florists. This was orchestrated. It was precise, fast, and executed with a skill I find... alarming. The online campaign, the whispers in key circles, the media narrative... it was a professional offensive."
He turned slowly. He didn't need to say anything else; locking his gaze on his son was enough to freeze the room.
"Your task is no longer to play king at your little academy. Your task now is to find out who is behind this. I don't care about the children you have as lackeys. I want to know who is pulling the strings. Who is their strategist? Who gave them the weapon? Find him. And when you do, bring him to me. I want to meet the person smart enough to embarrass us, before deciding how we are going to wipe them off the map."
The message was clear. The war for a piece of land was over, but the war against the people who had won it had just begun. And it was no longer Kaito's game.
His father had entered the board.