Tokyo buzzed beneath them, alive and electric. Neon signs flickered, cars zoomed past, and countless untold stories seemed to weigh down the night air.
Rei Takeda stood near the ledge of his apartment rooftop, a mostly unsmoked cigarette dangling from his fingers.
The cityscape sprawled before him, as cold and uncaring as the industry that had used him up and tossed him aside.
His reflection in the shiny metal railing showed the truth he'd been avoiding—he looked awful.
His coat hung off his shoulders, more rumor than garment, crumpled beyond recognition. His hair, left to its own devices for too long, curled at the ends, signaling its surrender. The sharp lines of his face had become more pronounced, evidence of endless late nights and skipped meals in the name of work.
He didn't look like someone people would trust with their investments.
Leaning against the railing behind him, arms crossed, Hana Kisaragi watched him like a scientist observing an experiment gone wrong. She seemed to fit naturally into every room she entered.
"That look you're holding onto? Not going to work," she said, her words smooth and unperturbed.
Rei blew out a cloud of smoke. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
She gestured at him, narrowing her eyes. "This whole 'tortured genius' vibe. It's not marketable."
He chuckled sourly. "I wasn't aware we were marketing an image."
Hana pushed away from the railing, stepping closer. "We're marketing you, Rei. And right now, there are no takers."
He felt the urge to argue, to insist that genius wasn't defined by tailored suits or shiny shoes, but deep down, he knew she was onto something.
She took the cigarette from his fingers for one last puff before flicking it into the night.
"Come on," she said, her eyes glinting with determination. "We're going to fix this."
Reforging the Image
The Ginza boutique exuded wealth and silence, and it immediately unsettled Rei.
A stylist named Yuki, with eyes like steel and the patience of a stalking wolf, circled him critically.
Rei stood in front of a full-length mirror, his department-store suit looking worse under the boutique's revealing lights.
Hana lounged on a plush chair, sipping champagne as Yuki worked on his hair.
"You look rough, but there's potential," Yuki remarked, her tone playfully challenging.
Rei heaved a resigned sigh, giving in.
Once Yuki finished, he felt like a new person.
Gone was the man consumed by failure. The mirror revealed someone sharper, a man who belonged in power suits and boardrooms rather than in front of a computer.
Hana smirked approvingly. "Now that's someone worth investing in."
Yuki looked smugly satisfied with her effort.
Rei touched his freshly styled hair. Though foreign, it felt empowering. This was more than a makeover; it was a suit of armor.
By the time they walked into Hayashi Capital, Rei had the look down. Now, he had to back it up with substance.
The conference room felt both sterile and cutting-edge, a place where futures were crafted or crushed in mere moments.
Nakamura, seated at the head of the table, had hair the color of salt-and-pepper and a suit that fit just right. His shrewd eyes had witnessed too many rise and fall.
He didn't bother with formalities.
Instead, he tapped his fingers on the table. "So, what flaw does your system have?"
Rei held his ground. "It's not a flaw, just an adaptation process. SEER learns."
Nakamura's eyebrows pricked up. "You're offering me software that needs time to adjust? That's a potential issue."
Hana leaned in, a sly smile on her lips. "Timing is everything, Mr. Nakamura. Even you can agree on that." His lips curled into a knowing smile. "Quick thinking. Good. But I back results, not promises." He pushed a dark envelope across the table.
Rei picked it up, scanning its contents—just three names. No explanation.
"The algorithm is smart," Nakamura admitted. "But I'd like to see what you can achieve without it."
Hana's eyes lit up. "You want us to find these people and win them over without relying on SEER?"
Nakamura nodded. "No hacking, no shortcuts. Just you."
Rei felt a knot tighten in his stomach. This was a challenge they couldn't solve with code.
But Hana just grinned. She thrived in challenges like this.
Tokyo spread out before them like a vast network of glowing ambitions. Rei Takeda stood in front of their cramped rented office window, his hands buried in his hoodie pockets, lost in thought. He appeared as someone constantly calculating, always thinking several moves ahead but never truly at rest.
Behind him, Hana Kisaragi sat casually on the desk, effortlessly flipping through the envelope. She had already memorized its contents.
"You're overthinking this," she said softly.
Rei rubbed his neck, his worn-out hoodie and messy hair making him look more like a tired coder than a charismatic pioneer.
"This isn't just a challenge, Hana. It's a trap. Nakamura doesn't trust us."
A mischievous smile played on Hana's lips. "In this business, trust is a unicorn. Rare and mythical. But he's given us a shot, and that's what counts."
Rei turned to face her. "Doesn't it seem odd that instead of pouring money into us, he's sent us off on a wild hunt?"
Hana waved the black envelope. "Three names, three key players in Tokyo's financial world. Nakamura wants us to prove we can persuade them without our tech. No algorithms, no behind-the-scenes magic. Just us."
Rei let out a breath. "You mean just you. This isn't my thing."
Hana hopped off the desk, poking his chest playfully. "Which is why we're changing that. No one takes a genius seriously if he looks like he's just rolled out of bed."
The Makeover
Rei really wasn't into this.
The shopping district teemed with people who seemed to belong in this world in a way he'd never quite managed. Hana pulled him from store to store, dismissing his protests as she gathered well-fitted jackets, crisp shirts, and smart trousers.
"This is silly," he complained. "Clothes won't change who I am."
"No," Hana agreed, tossing a blazer at him, "but they change how people perceive you. We need them to envision you as more than a hoodie-wearing hacker."
Catching sight of himself in the mirror, Rei felt unsettled by the change. The clean lines of the jacket gave him an edge that felt unfamiliar. His hair, slightly tamed, no longer marked him as an overworked grad student.
Hana's approving nod said it all.
"Now," she said, slipping her arm through his, "let's go meet our marks."
Target One: Kenji Aso
They found Kenji Aso in a VIP lounge in Kabukicho, surrounded by women who laughed a tad too heartily at his jokes.
Everything about him screamed confidence—from the flashy suit to the gold watch that glinted with every movement.
He barely gave Rei a cursory glance, his attention landing on Hana with lazy amusement.
"And who might you be?" he quipped.
Hana smoothly took a seat across from him, cool and composed. "The person about to make you richer than you believe possible."
Kenji chuckled dismissively. "Nice try. But I'm not one for charity."
Rei tensed slightly, but Hana was unruffled. She leaned in, her voice dropping just enough to seize focus.
"You thrive on predictability," she noted. "Reading patterns, exploiting routines. But tell me, Kenji—how often are you caught off guard?"
Kenji's smile wavered, if just for a moment.
"That's your issue," Hana went on. "You assume you understand the game. We see the blind spots. We know when a market quirk is just noise and when it's real. We're not offering an edge—we're offering certainty."
Kenji regarded her, considering her words.
"Big talk. But talk doesn't pay."
Hana tilted her head slightly. "No. But control pays handsomely. And that, we can give you." Kenji's fingers drummed on the table, his eyes sharpening. At last, he leaned in.
"So you think you can outsmart me?"
Hana smiled back. "I already have."
And with that, they brokered their first deal.
Target Two: Yoko Tanaka
Yoko Tanaka had vanished years ago.
While Rei analyzed the digital breadcrumbs, Hana delved into the city's undercurrent—calling in favors, resurrecting old debts, using whispers through the right networks.
Rei watched her command each interaction, mesmerized. She wasn't merely persuasive; she was versatile. She deftly adjusted her tone, demeanor, even her language to match her audience.
In three days, they located Yoko.
A deserted office space in Shinjuku, cluttered with dilapidated servers and empty takeout containers. She didn't glance up as they entered.
"If you're sent by Nakamura, leave," she said flatly.
Hana pulled a chair across from her. "Not Nakamura. It's our show."
Yoko sighed, uninterested. "And why should that matter to me?"
Rei finally voiced up. "Because we know why you walked away. And we can address it."
At that, Yoko finally acknowledged them.
And for the first time, she listened.
Target Three: Daichi Moriyama
Moriyama posed a unique challenge.
The moment they stepped into his office, Rei sensed trouble.
Daichi barely acknowledged Rei, his attention locked on Hana.
"Now this is interesting," he said, smiling slowly...
Hana projected a calm demeanor, but Rei noticed the minute stiffening in her stance—it was a telltale sign of her steeling herself for the exchange ahead.
"I'm strictly here on professional grounds," she articulated smoothly, "not for amusement."
A smug smile etched across Daichi's face as he quipped, "A real shame." Rei clenched his jaw in suppressed frustration.
Dismissively, Daichi continued, "Now Hana, enlighten me—what's the barrier stopping me from simply pilfering your concept and cutting you out of the equation altogether?"
Taking in a slow and controlled breath, Hana leaned in, dropping her voice a shade closer to a whisper.
"Because Daichi," she declared, "you're not just after the idea. You're chasing that elusive X-factor. We, my friend, are that X-factor.
Without us, it's all just a jumble of digits. And numbers, while reliable, are hardly seductive.
A bemused chuckle escaped Daichi. "Good one," he admitted.
"I'm aware," Hana replied, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips.
And with that masterstroke, their transaction was sealed.
Back at Hayashi Capital, Nakamura was prepared for their arrival, his demeanor exhibiting keen anticipation.
Nakamura produced a cursory glance at the documents spread out before him, affording them barely a second thought.
"Proving yourselves, I see," he mustered, nodding at the comprehensive reports. "It's clear that you're more than just a series of algorithms."
A smirk pulled at the corners of Hana's lips, "Ever doubted it?"
An amused chuckle bubbled from within Nakamura, "Not really doubt…just keen interest."
Upon seeing his smug smile, Rei crossed his arms defensively. "What do you mean by that?"
Nakamura's expression was deceptively nonchalant as he stated, "That you two are indeed useful... for the time being at least."
This thinly-veiled declaration of disposable utility unsettled Rei.
Aware of the undercurrent of tension, Hana sliced through the silence. "And moving forward?"
Nakamura's gaze held a razor-sharp intensity. "Now, on to the next hurdle—surviving the real battlefield out there."
The daunting prophecy hung heavily in the room, casting a foreboding shadow.
They had triumphed over this round alright.
But they knew better than to delude themselves—this was merely the tip of the iceberg.