Day 34

  Location: Fuma Industries HQ – Floor 14 (The Strategic Operations Center)

  War is logistics.

  A warrior cannot fight on an empty stomach, and a clan cannot govern without records.

  In the Sengoku era, we used scribes—men with ink-stained fingers who spent their lives copying scrolls by candlelight.

  A single treaty could take a week to duplicate.

  But here, in the Fortress of Glass, the Fuma Clan has enslaved a demon to do the work of a thousand men.

  "Hattori," the Demon Lord Kotaro said, not looking up from his spinning toy.

  He held out a single sheaf of papers. "I need fifty copies of the Quarterly Financial Report. Double-sided. Stapled. Collated."

  I accepted the document with both hands, bowing low.

  "The Quarterly Report..." I whispered reverently.

  "The Scroll of Prosperity. It details the flow of gold through the empire. You trust me with such sensitive intelligence?"

  "It's for the board meeting in an hour. Just put it in the machine and press the green button. Don't overthink it."

  "I shall duplicate it with the speed of a mirror image," I vowed.

  I turned and marched toward the hallway where the Beast resided.

  The Xerox Beast

  I stood before the machine.

  It was a massive monolith of grey plastic and humming fans, standing waist-high.

  It vibrated with a low, menacing energy, like a sleeping bear waiting for spring.

  Lights blinked across its control panel—a constellation of green and orange stars.

  "Behold," I murmured, narrowing my eyes. "The Box of Infinite Scribes."

  I placed the sacred Scroll of Prosperity into the feeding tray on top.

  The machine snatched it with a mechanical thwip, swallowing the paper slightly to taste it.

  "It hungers," I noted.

  I looked at the control panel.

  It was a bewildering array of sigils. 'A4'. 'B5'. 'LTR'. 'Zoom'. 'Density'.

  "A4..." I mused. "Does this refer to the quadrant of the battlefield? Or perhaps the rank of the target?"

  I decided to trust the machine's instincts.

  I located the largest button. It glowed with a vibrant green light. The universal symbol of 'Attack'.

  "Duplicate!"

  I slammed the button with my palm.

  Whirrrrrrrrr.

  The beast roared to life. Fans spun up. Internal gears ground together.

  Chunk. Chunk. Chunk.

  "Yes!" I cheered. "Forge the copies! Spread the influence of the Fuma!"

  BEEP.

  The roaring stopped instantly.

  Silence filled the hallway.

  A red light began to flash on the screen. An angry, rhythmic pulse.

  I leaned in close to read the rune of failure.

  [ PC LOAD LETTER ]

  I blinked.

  "P... C... Load... Letter?"

  I analyzed the code.

  PC: Personal Commander? Prince of Chaos? Palace Courier?

  Load: To insert. To burden.

  Letter: A correspondence. A written message.

  "It demands a letter," I realized, horror dawning on me.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "The machine... it is sentient. It refuses to work until its ego is stroked. It demands a written tribute before it will release the copies."

  "Arrogant spirit," I hissed. "But I have no time to argue. The Board Meeting approaches."

  I looked around the office. I spotted a pad of yellow sticky notes on a nearby desk.

  I grabbed a pen.

  "I shall write you a letter, you petulant golem."

  I scribbled furiously:

  To the Honorable Spirit of the Tray,

  Forgive my sudden intrusion. I humbly request fifty copies of the financial scroll. Your gears are strong. Your toner is dark. Please accept this offering.

  - Hattori Masanari

  I peeled the note off and stuck it directly onto the glass screen of the printer.

  "There," I said, crossing my arms. "I have Loaded the Letter. Now, obey."

  I pressed the green button again.

  Whirrr—KA-CHUNK.

  GRIND.

  SCREEEEEEECH.

  The sound was not the rhythmic clatter of production. It was the scream of a dying horse.

  The machine shuddered violently.

  The screen flashed a new message:

  [ PAPER JAM: TRAY 2 ]

  "Paper... Jam?"

  I gasped. "It is choking! The beast has attempted to swallow the scroll whole and it has lodged in its throat!"

  "MEDIC!" I shouted to the empty hallway. "WE HAVE A CHOKING VICTIM!"

  No one came. The salarymen in the glass cubicles ignored me, their eyes glazed over by the blue light of their screens.

  "Cowards," I growled. "I must perform the surgery myself."

  The Surgery

  I approached the flank of the machine.

  I found a latch and pulled. The side of the printer swung open, revealing the intricate, terrifying anatomy of the beast.

  Black rollers. Green belts. Hot fuser units radiating the heat of a blacksmith's forge.

  And there, deep within the ribcage of the mechanism, was the Quarterly Report.

  It was crinkled. It was torn. It was wrapped around a black rubber roller like a bandage on a wounded limb.

  "Hold still," I whispered, rolling up the sleeves of my polyester suit.

  "I am going in."

  I reached into the hot machinery.

  The space was tight. My fingers grazed the hot roller.

  "Hsst!"

  I ignored the burn.

  I grabbed the edge of the paper.

  "Come out..." I pulled gently.

  The paper did not move. The beast had clenched its jaw.

  "Do not fight me!"

  I pulled harder.

  Rrrrip.

  A small corner of the document tore off in my hand.

  "No!" I panicked. "If I tear the scroll, the financial wisdom will be fragmented! The Board will receive incomplete intelligence!"

  I needed a tool.

  I scanned the nearby desk.

  There.

  A silver letter opener.

  It was dull, decorative, and shaped like a miniature katana.

  "A scalpel," I murmured, snatching it up.

  I returned to the open wound of the printer.

  "I shall sever the binding without harming the host."

  I inserted the blade.

  I pried at the paper, trying to loosen the roller's grip.

  Click.

  I hit a latch.

  Suddenly, a black cylinder inside the machine shifted.

  It was the Toner Cartridge. The Ink Sac of the Squid.

  I had disturbed it.

  PSSSHHHHHH.

  It was not a liquid explosion. It was a cloud.

  A plume of ultra-fine, jet-black dust erupted from the cartridge, expanding instantly to fill the space between me and the machine.

  "POISON MIST!"

  I recoiled, coughing violently.

  The black dust coated my face. It entered my nose. It settled on my white shirt like the ash of a volcanic eruption.

  I was blinded.

  "It employs a smokescreen!" I wheezed, waving my hand to clear the air.

  "A defensive mechanism! Clever beast! You protect your secrets well!"

  But I am a Hattori. I do not fear the dark.

  I dove back into the cloud.

  I grabbed the paper blindly. I braced my foot against the base of the printer.

  "YAAAAH!"

  I pulled with all my might.

  SCHLORP.

  The document came free.

  It was crumpled. It was stained with black streaks. It looked like a map recovered from a battlefield corpse.

  But it was whole.

  "Victory," I rasped, black powder falling from my lips.

  I slammed the side panel shut. CLANG.

  "Sleep now, beast. You have been bested."

  The Report

  I walked back into the Penthouse.

  I marched across the marble floor, leaving a faint trail of black dust with every step.

  My face was a mask of soot. My suit was ruined. My hands were stained the color of the void.

  Fuma Kotaro spun around in his chair.

  He stopped spinning his toy.

  He stared at me.

  He stared at the single, crumpled, black-smeared piece of paper I held in my hand.

  "Hattori," he said slowly. "What... happened?"

  "The Scribe Golem rebelled," I reported, my voice grave.

  "It demanded a letter. I provided one. It rejected my tribute and attempted to consume the scroll. I performed emergency surgery."

  I placed the crumpled paper on his floating glass desk.

  "I saved the hostage, My Lord. But the fifty copies... were lost in the battle."

  Kotaro looked at the paper.

  He looked at my face, which was currently blacker than his soul.

  He picked up the paper with two fingers, as if it were radioactive.

  "You destroyed a two-thousand-dollar toner cartridge to save one sheet of paper?"

  "It was the Master Scroll," I reminded him. "Without it, the clan is blind."

  Kotaro sighed.

  He rubbed his temples.

  "Hattori. The file is on the server. It's digital. I could have just printed another one."

  I froze.

  "Digital? You mean... the scroll exists in the ether? In the Cloud?"

  "Yes. The Cloud."

  I looked out the window at the sky.

  "The Kumogakure (Hidden in the Clouds) Technique..." I whispered.

  "You store your wealth in the sky itself? You are truly a wizard, Kotaro."

  "Go wash your face," Kotaro said, dropping the paper into the trash.

  "And for the love of god, don't touch the 3D printer in the lab. You'll probably try to fight it."

  I bowed, shedding more dust.

  "As you command."

  I retreated to the bathroom.

  As I scrubbed the black powder from my skin, I looked in the mirror.

  I looked like a demon of shadow.

  "Appropriate," I smiled, baring my white teeth through the soot.

  "The machine recognizes its master."

  Days Remaining: 66

  Masanari’s Cultural Notes

  PC LOAD LETTER: A cryptic rune that appears on the Scribe Golem.

  I still believe it stands for "Prince of Chaos."

  Why else would it destroy the paper? It is clearly an anarchist.

  Toner (The Squid's Curse):

  A fine black powder used to create text.

  It acts like a fluid when in the air, but stains like dye when it touches skin.

  It is the perfect ninja tool for blinding enemies. I must procure a cartridge for my personal arsenal.

  The Cloud (Kumogakure):

  A storage space for invisible scrolls.

  It confirms my suspicion that modern technology is merely high-level ninjutsu repackaged as "convenience."

  Next Episode Preview:

  Episode 35: The Infinite Staircase and the Cult of the Calf

  Masanari: "The Box of Ascension (Elevator) is broken! We are trapped on the ground floor!"

  Kotaro: "Just take the stairs, Hattori. It's good cardio."

  Masanari: "The stairs?! To the 50th floor?! This is not a commute... it is a Pilgrimage of Pain!"

  Masanari: "I shall lead the way! Follow me, salarymen! Do not let your quadriceps fail you! SURVIVE!"

  Next Time: Masanari turns a stairwell into a boot camp!

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