"The wise man wears two masks: one for the world, and one for his work. The fool is the man who forgets which is which."
– A Kaishi Business Proverb
___________________________
WATANABE & SONS / ARAKAWA'S APARTMENT - THE FOLLOWING WEEK
The next few days fell into a grueling, unsustainable rhythm.
It was a life cleaved in two.
By day, Riku was the quiet, diligent employee at Watanabe & Sons.
He sat at his beige desk. His head was bowed over the tariff reconciliation binder.
He mechanically cross-referenced shipping codes. He calculated duties.
His focus was a perfect facade. He gave Sato-san's watchful eyes nothing to latch onto.
Her gaze would occasionally sweep over him, sharp and analytical. She would see only an employee doing his job.
By night, Riku was the analyst in the architect's lair.
He would take the train to Shinjin. He would ascend to Arakawa's minimalist fortress in the sky.
The air there was electric with creative energy. The wall beside the workstation bloomed. It was a forest of sketches, flowcharts, and design notes.
They worked for hours. They were fueled by black coffee and a shared, unspoken urgency.
The prototype was taking shape.
Arakawa was a man reawakened. He worked with a ferocious intensity.
He translated Riku's abstract concepts. He created a visual language years ahead of its time.
Riku, in turn, learned to translate his future knowledge. He turned it into user stories and design philosophies. These were things Arakawa could build upon.
They were creating magic. And it was utterly exhausting.
Riku was living on four hours of sleep a night. He was a ghost haunting two separate worlds.
The strain was beginning to show.
.....
WATANABE & SONS - WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON
The complication arrived on a Wednesday afternoon.
Riku was staring at a column of numbers. His vision was blurring slightly from fatigue.
The gentle hum of the office was a familiar lullaby. His head had just begun to nod.
"Hayashi-san! You're gonna fall asleep on your keyboard!"
Riku's head snapped up. Kenji Sato was leaning over his desk. He had a cheerful, worried grin on his face.
"Seriously, man," Kenji said, his voice a low, friendly rumble. "You look like a ghost. Are you eating? Are you sleeping at all? My mom is starting to think you're a vampire."
Riku forced a weak smile. "Just a big project. A lot of numbers to get through."
"All work and no play makes Hayashi-san a dull boy," Kenji declared. He clapped him on the shoulder. "That settles it. Tonight, you're coming out with us."
Riku's blood ran cold. "Us?"
"Yeah, me and a couple guys from the warehouse. We're going to this cheap yakitori place under the tracks. Good food, cheap beer. You need it. It's an order."
Kenji's expression was one of genuine, friendly concern. It was not an invitation he could easily refuse.
Panic seized Riku. He had a session with Arakawa scheduled for seven. It was a critical night. They were storyboarding the core user navigation.
He couldn't just not show up. Arakawa was volatile. Their partnership was a fragile, unexploded bomb.
But he looked at Kenji's open, honest face. Turning him down again would be more than just rude. It would be suspicious. It would be the act of a man with something to hide.
His cover depended on moments like this. He had to maintain the facade.
He had to risk the architect's wrath.
"Okay," Riku said. The word felt like a betrayal. "Okay, Kenji-san. I'll go."
Kenji's face lit up. "Awesome! It's gonna be great. We'll meet out front at six."
.....
YAKITORI STAND, SHINJUKU - WEDNESDAY EVENING
The yakitori stand was a different universe.
It was a noisy, cramped, wonderful hole-in-the-wall. It was tucked beneath a rumbling train overpass.
The air was thick with the delicious, savory smoke of grilling chicken. It was filled with the loud, cheerful shouts of other workers unwinding after a long day.
It was the polar opposite of Arakawa's silent, sterile apartment. It was warm. It was chaotic. It was alive.
Kenji was in his element. He introduced Riku to two burly, friendly men from the warehouse.
They immediately clapped him on the back. They pushed a tall, foaming mug of beer into his hand.
For the next two hours, Riku performed the role of a normal man.
He drank the beer. He ate skewers of grilled chicken and peppers. He listened to stories about warehouse mishaps. He laughed at the appropriate times.
He was an actor on a stage. Every moment was a performance.
His mind was a thousand miles away, in a glass tower in Shinjin. He felt a profound, biting guilt.
Kenji offered him simple, honest friendship. He was sharing his world. And Riku was using him, deceiving him.
His real life, his real mission, was happening somewhere else.
"Seriously, man," Kenji said, his voice a little louder from the beer. "I'm glad you came. You're a good guy, Hayashi-san. It's good to have you here."
The words were a quiet gut punch. "I'm glad to be here, too," Riku replied.
He was surprised to find that, in that moment, it was the truth.
.....
RIKU'S APARTMENT - LATER THAT NIGHT
He made his excuses just after nine. He claimed he had to be up early.
He walked home through the cool night air. The smell of charcoal smoke still clung to his coat.
He had done it. He had survived. He had successfully patched the hole in his cover story.
He stepped into his small, dark apartment. He saw the single, ominous red light blinking on his answering machine.
His heart sank. He pressed the play button.
Arakawa's voice filled the silent room. It was clipped. Cold. It was stripped of all the creative energy from the night before.
It was the voice of a predator whose time had been wasted.
"It is 7:30. You are not here. We have a one-week deadline, or have you forgotten?"
A pause.
"Do not waste my time, Hayashi. Ever again."
The line clicked dead. The message was followed by the low, lonely hum of the dial tone.
Riku stood in the darkness. The warmth and camaraderie of the yakitori stand evaporated. It was replaced by the chilling reality of his situation.
He had successfully navigated one world, only to create a crisis in the other.
He was juggling two lives.
And one of them had just been dropped.
___________________________
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