Day 29

  Location: Fuma Industries HQ – Floor 50 (The Interrogation Spire)

  The air in this room was thinner than on the ground.

  I could feel it in my lungs. We were fifty stories above the earth, separated from the soil by a tower of glass and arrogance.

  This was not an office. This was an eagle’s nest, designed to make the prey feel small before the talons struck.

  I sat in a chair that was deceptively comfortable—likely a psychological trap to lower my guard—facing a desk of polished black obsidian.

  Across from me sat the Enemy General.

  Her name, according to the silver plaque that gleamed like a warning beacon, was SAEJIMA.

  She was a woman forged of ice and steel. Her suit was sharp enough to cut paper. Her hair was pulled back into a bun so tight it likely restricted blood flow to the scalp, enhancing her focus.

  But it was her eyes that terrified me.

  Behind the rimless lenses of her spectacles, her gaze was a frozen lake. It reflected nothing. It promised nothing.

  She held a pen.

  Click.

  The sound echoed in the silent room like the cocking of a matchlock rifle.

  "Mr. Hattori," she began. Her voice was low, smooth, and utterly devoid of warmth.

  "Welcome to your interview. I am Saejima, Head of Human Resources."

  "I am honored to be summoned to your citadel," I replied, my voice slightly strangled by the 'Windsor Noose' around my neck.

  I sat with my back rigid, hands on my knees, projecting the aura of a warrior ready to accept his death sentence.

  Saejima-dono did not blink. She reached for a porcelain pot on the tray beside her.

  "Tea?"

  My heart skipped a beat.

  The Tea Ceremony.

  In the Sengoku era, a meeting between warlords often involved tea. Sometimes, it was a gesture of peace.

  Sometimes, it was a method of delivering aconite—wolfsbane poison.

  "I... accept your challenge," I whispered.

  She poured the liquid into a small, white cup. Steam rose from it in aggressive, swirling patterns.

  She slid it across the obsidian surface. It stopped exactly three inches from my hand.

  Precision.

  "Please," she gestured.

  I looked at the green liquid. It was cloudy. Opaque.

  Is it poisoned? I wondered. Is this a test of my constitution? Or perhaps a test of my trust? If I hesitate, I show fear. If I drink and die, I show foolishness.

  There was only one path. The path of the Hattori.

  I grabbed the cup with both hands.

  "Iron Lady, I drink to your health!" I declared.

  I threw my head back and downed the scalding liquid in a single, violent gulp.

  Ssssssssssssss.

  The heat was absolute. It was not tea; it was molten lead.

  It seared my tongue, peeled the skin from the roof of my mouth, and slid down my throat like a swallowed coal.

  Tears instantly welled in my eyes. My face turned a deep, vibrating red.

  I slammed the cup down.

  "Delicious," I wheezed, a single tear escaping my left eye. "It has... a robust throat-feel."

  Saejima stared at me. She stared at the empty cup.

  "That was boiling," she noted flatly.

  "My tongue is... made of leather," I lied, suppressing the urge to scream.

  "I see."

  She opened a folder. Inside lay the Resume of Lies that Aoi-dono had crafted.

  She scanned the text with the precision of a hawk hunting a field mouse.

  "Mr. Hattori. Your resume is... unique. 'Conflict Resolution Specialist.' 'Freelance Strategic Consultant.' 'Logistics Expert'..."

  "I have moved many boxes," I confirmed. "And silenced many complaints."

  "And yet," she tapped the paper with a manicured fingernail.

  "There is a gap."

  My blood ran cold.

  The Gap.

  "A... gap?"

  "Your age is listed as twenty. You graduated from 'Mountain Academy' high school two years ago. But since then... nothing."

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  She looked up, her glasses catching the light, turning her eyes into white voids.

  "What have you been doing for the last two years? There are no records of university, and no records of employment."

  The silence stretched.

  The air conditioning hummed, sounding like the chanting of monks at a funeral.

  I could not tell her the truth.

  Two years? Try four hundred and forty-four years. I was dead. I was dust.

  But if I said that, she would summon the asylum guards.

  "I was..." I stammered, sweat beginning to soak into my polyester collar.

  "I was on... a path. A sabbatical. Of the soul."

  Saejima raised an eyebrow. "A sabbatical? Straight out of high school?"

  "Yes. I wandered the wilderness. I slept under the stars. I honed my... inner blade. I sought the truth of the universe in the rustling of leaves."

  Saejima sighed. She wrote something down on her notepad.

  I craned my neck to see.

  She had written four letters: N.E.E.T.

  "So," she said, looking bored. "You were a NEET."

  Neet?

  The word sounded foreign. Sharp. Like the name of a secret society.

  The Order of the Neet.

  Was it a high rank? A wandering ronin class? A guardian of the void?

  If I denied it, I would look like a liar. If I accepted it, perhaps I would gain her respect.

  "Yes," I said firmly, puffing out my chest.

  "I was a Grandmaster NEET. While my peers studied accounting, I studied the blade."

  Saejima stopped writing. She looked at me for a long, uncomfortable moment.

  "Right. A Grandmaster NEET. Okay."

  She flipped the page.

  "Let's move to practical skills. We at Fuma Industries value technical proficiency."

  She leaned forward.

  "How are your computer skills? Specifically... do you know Excel?"

  Excel.

  The word echoed in my head.

  To Ex-cel. To surpass. To go beyond limits.

  It sounded like a philosophy of combat. A mental state of breaking through barriers.

  Do I Excel?

  I thought of my training. I thought of the waterfalls. I thought of the 500 plastic spoons I had ordered by mistake.

  "Iron Lady," I said, my voice dropping to a gravelly growl.

  "I do not merely 'know' it."

  I stood up, slamming my hands on the desk.

  "I always Excel. I surpass all limits! I go beyond the impossible!"

  Saejima blinked, leaning back slightly.

  "Okay... enthusiastic," she muttered. "But can you handle Cells?"

  Cells?

  Prison cells? Dungeons?

  Was she asking if I could escape capture? Or perhaps if I could interrogate prisoners within a cell?

  "Hah!" I scoffed.

  "No Cell can hold me! I have escaped from pits of mud and cages of iron! I shall break open any Cell you put before me!"

  Saejima’s brow furrowed deep. She looked genuinely confused.

  "You... break the cells? Okay. What about... Pivot Tables?"

  Pivot... Tables?

  To pivot is to turn. To rotate.

  She was asking about my physical strength. My ability to overturn obstacles.

  Specifically, tables.

  Was this a test of my ability to initiate a brawl? To flip the table during a failed negotiation?

  "My specialty!"

  I shouted, demonstrating a lifting motion with my arms.

  "If the negotiation fails, I shall Pivot the Table immediately! I will flip it with such force that the tea and documents will fly into the enemy's face! Total chaos!"

  I sat back down, breathing heavily.

  "That is my style. The Aggressive Table-Flipping Style."

  Saejima stared at me. Her mouth was slightly open.

  She looked down at her notepad.

  She wrote slowly: Extremely... aggressive... data... management?

  "Okay," she said, her voice sounding a little strained. "That's... enough."

  She closed the folder. The sound was final.

  Have I failed? I wondered. Did I intimidate her too much with my table-flipping prowess?

  "Mr. Hattori," Saejima said, folding her hands.

  "At Fuma Industries, we have a motto. A philosophy passed down from our CEO, Mr. Fuma."

  She pointed to a calligraphy scroll hanging on the wall behind her.

  It read: DISRUPT THE OLD WORLD.

  "We do not respect tradition," she recited. "We destroy it. We burn down the old ways of doing business to build a sleek, efficient future. We are ruthless. We are innovators. We leave the past in ashes."

  My eyes widened.

  My heart began to hammer against my ribs.

  Burn down the old ways? Leave the past in ashes?

  This... this was the language of my soul.

  This was the language of Nobunaga. This was the language of War.

  "Yes!" I shouted, unable to contain myself.

  I leaped to my feet again.

  "YES! BURN IT ALL!"

  Saejima jumped, dropping her pen.

  "Excuse me?"

  "The Old World is a rotting corpse!" I roared, my eyes burning with the fire of 1582.

  "The Shoguns of Tradition must fall! We shall storm their castles of bureaucracy! We shall sever the heads of the obsolete managers and mount them on pikes of innovation!"

  I grabbed my plastic resume folder and brandished it like a war fan.

  "Let the rivers turn red with the ink of the past! Let the fire of Fuma consume the stagnation! I pledge my life to the arson of history! BANZAI!"

  I stood there, panting, my fist raised in the air.

  Silence.

  Absolute, crushing silence.

  I looked at Saejima.

  She was pressed back into her chair, clutching her pearl necklace.

  Her eyes were wide behind her glasses.

  She looked terrified.

  Too much? I thought.

  Perhaps the 'Heads on Pikes' part was... structurally redundant?

  "I mean..." I coughed, adjusting my tie.

  "I am... very passionate about... synergy?"

  Saejima slowly reached for a button under her desk.

  The Panic Button.

  "Thank you, Mr. Hattori," she whispered, her voice trembling.

  "That will be all. Please... leave. Immediately."

  "I... I shall wait for your raven," I bowed deeply.

  "We use email. Goodbye."

  Location: The Ground Floor (The Retreat)

  I walked out of the spinning glass doors—timing my exit perfectly this time—and collapsed onto a bench outside the tower.

  The heat of the afternoon sun hit me, instantly soaking my suit in sweat.

  I loosened the Windsor Noose. I gasped for air.

  My phone vibrated.

  It was a message from Aoi on LIME.

  Aoi: How did it go? Did you tell them your weakness is working too hard?

  I stared at the screen.

  I typed back with trembling fingers.

  Masanari: I drank the boiling truth serum. I confessed to being a Grandmaster NEET. And I threatened to flip the table and behead the management.

  Three dots appeared.

  Then disappeared.

  Aoi: Don't come home without beer.

  I looked up at the Fuma Tower. The blue glass reflected the sky.

  I had failed.

  The Iron Lady had seen through my disguise.

  I was not a salaryman. I was a relic. A ghost screaming at a cloud.

  I stood up, my knees creaking.

  "I am a ronin," I whispered to the pigeons.

  "A ronin with a plastic spoon."

  BZZZT.

  My phone vibrated again.

  An email notification.

  Sender: Fuma Industries HR

  Subject: Employment Offer

  I froze. My thumb hovered over the glass.

  I opened it.

  Dear Mr. Hattori,

  Regarding your interview:

  While your answers regarding technical skills were incoherent and your demeanor was alarming, CEO Fuma Kotaro has personally reviewed the security footage of your interview.

  He was impressed by your "Spirit of Total Destruction."

  You are hired. Report to the Security Division tomorrow at 0800.

  Welcome to the Fuma Clan.

  I dropped the phone.

  It hit the concrete. Crack.

  A new spiderweb appeared on the screen.

  I looked up at the penthouse of the tower.

  "He watched..." I whispered.

  The Demon was watching. And he liked what he saw.

  I clenched my fist.

  "Very well, Kotaro," I grinned, a smile that would have terrified a wolf.

  "You have invited the fire into your home. Do not complain when it burns."

  Days Remaining: 71

  Masanari’s Cultural Notes

  ? N.E.E.T. (The Order of the Idle):

  I believed this to be a high-ranking title for a masterless samurai who focuses on meditation. Aoi later explained it stands for "Not in Education, Employment, or Training." It is apparently... not a compliment. It is the modern word for a ronin who forgot to leave his house.

  ? Excel (The Art of Transcendance):

  Aoi claims it is a "spreadsheet program." However, the interviewer asked about "Cells" (prisons) and "Pivoting Tables" (violent negotiation tactics). I remain convinced it is a digital martial art.

  ? Ocha-kumi (The Tea Ritual):

  In the modern office, serving tea is a lowly task. But in an interview, it is a poison test. Always drink it boiling hot. If your throat does not burn, your resolve is weak.

  Next Episode Preview:

  Episode 30: The Orientation and the ID Card of Soul-Stealing

  Masanari: "I return to the tower as a soldier! But first, I must endure... The Orientation!"

  HR Manager: "Please look at the camera for your ID badge photo."

  Masanari: "Never! The lens steals the spirit! I shall cover my face!"

  HR Manager: "Sir, you need to show your face to unlock the doors."

  Masanari: "Then I shall kick the doors down!"

  Next Time: Masanari declares war on a lanyard!

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