Chapter 11: Volume 1, - 11: The Lawyer with the Black Folder
On the chilly, clear morning of Thursday, 16 February 2023, Ren stood inside a packed carriage on the Keihin–Tōhoku Line, dressed in his navy BlockTech coat over a clean white Oxford shirt, dark stretch jeans, and black synthetic-leather sneakers. Surrounded by dense crowds of commuting office workers headed toward the capital’s central business district, he watched the urban landscape blur past the window.
These men and women in tailored overcoats, dark wool suits, and polished leather shoes represented the precise corporate future Ren had envisioned for himself before his family’s collapse and his sudden descent into personal debt. Now, standing among them with an unresolved past behind him and an unproven status as Provisional Successor, a quiet discomfort settled in his chest. His clothing was clean and presentable, but compared to the immaculate tailoring around him, he remained visibly outside Marunouchi’s professional class.
When the train pulled into Tokyo Station, Ren followed the surging tide of commuters through the massive red-brick terminal and out into the Marunouchi central plaza. Glass skyscrapers towered against the crisp blue sky, their pristine facades reflecting the winter morning sun. Ren walked briskly, his rubber soles sounding soft against the clean stone pavers alongside executives and corporate lawyers. He checked the address on his Pixel 6a before stepping through the automatic glass doors of a premier high-rise tower.
He took the elevator to the twelfth floor, stepping into the minimalist reception lobby of Seiwa Legal Partners. Behind a sweeping marble counter, a receptionist greeted him politely and guided him down a carpeted hallway to a private consultation room overlooking the Marunouchi skyline.
A few moments later, the door opened.
Aoi Tachibana walked into the room. She appeared to be in her late twenties, with long, straight black hair resting smoothly against the lapels of an immaculately maintained dark navy skirt suit. Her features were strikingly refined, her figure slim and elegant, and her posture carried a cool, effortless authority. Beneath her arm, she carried a heavy black leather legal folder, its corners worn pale from repeated use.
Her narrow brown eyes paused on Ren for a brief, measured second as she stepped toward the conference table.
"Kisaragi-san?" Her voice was clear, low, and pleasantly composed. "I am Aoi Tachibana. Thank you for coming on short notice."
"Tachibana-san," Ren said, rising from his chair to bow politely.
As he straightened, Ren felt acutely conscious of his appearance. His dark jeans and basic sneakers standing out against the polished setting. He felt a sharp surge of restrained attraction, tempered immediately by a strong sense of intimidation before a lawyer of her obvious calibre. He kept his posture straight and his expression guarded.
Aoi sat across from him, resting the battered folder on the polished wood surface. She opened the brass clasp with a precise click and drew out a neat stack of formal legal papers.
"Kanzaki Fiduciary Services sent this packet through Seiwa under a limited document-delivery instruction," Aoi began, laying down three separate pages. "I have conducted an initial verification of the preliminary records provided to us."
Ren leaned forward, examining the documents. The pages carried formal headings referring to dormant accounts, registry extracts, and a conditional-beneficiary clause referencing the late Genichiro Kisaragi. Ren could read the labels, but he knew better than to judge what legal weight they carried on his own.
"Are these legitimate?" Ren asked directly. "I have no desire to get involved in an advance-fee scheme or an unverified trust arrangement."
One corner of Aoi’s mouth moved slightly. She studied him for another second, then wrote a short note in the margin of her notepad before answering.
"The documents are authentic enough to justify a formal investigation," Aoi said calmly. "That is not the same as confirming that every asset is transferable or that every liability has been cleared. However, the accounts and conditional trust structures named here do exist within established regional financial institutions under fiduciary hold following your grandfather’s passing."
She tapped a second sheet on the table. "I understand you have already received minor digital distributions through standing estate instructions. Small liquid amounts processed automatically under legacy administrative provisions."
Ren remained quiet, neither confirming nor denying the detail.
Across his vision, a translucent prompt materialised and vanished almost instantly:
[External legal review detected.]
[Interface secrecy remains mandatory.]
[No reward issued.]
Ren kept his face neutral, waiting for Aoi to continue.
"While minor liquid sums can operate through automated standing instructions," Aoi explained, "physical and high-value assets operate under strict statutory frameworks. Real estate, vehicles, substantial equity, and major cash disbursements require formal identity verification, tax documentation, banking compliance, title registration, and official closing procedures."
"That brings me to my primary concerns, Tachibana-san," Ren said. "What are the tax liabilities attached to these conditional structures? Are there hidden corporate debts, unpaid personal guarantees, or encumbrances tied to my name? And if I accept a single minor benefit, does that legally obligate me to assume responsibility for the entire estate’s liabilities?"
Aoi did not interrupt. When he finished, she underlined his questions about guarantees and liabilities before looking up.
"First, we must separate trust payments from ordinary succession," Aoi said precisely. "These small distributions appear to have come from trust-held funds under standing instructions. That does not automatically answer whether you have accepted the wider succession. I need the full trust deed, the estate inventory, the date you first learned of the succession, and a complete record of every benefit you have used before I can advise you on that."
She tapped his question about encumbrances. "We also require a formal tax review. The preliminary documents require encumbrances to be identified and either discharged or disclosed before any title transfer, but I have not yet verified that this has happened. I am not going to promise that Kanzaki cleared every obligation merely because the preliminary file says it should."
"And what about your representation?" Ren asked. "Who do you actually represent right now?"
"Seiwa delivered the documents for Kanzaki, but we have not advised Kanzaki on whether you should accept any benefit," Aoi replied clearly. "Before I can represent you, the firm must complete a formal conflict check, and you must understand that you, not Kanzaki will be my client."
"How are the fees handled?"
"My invoices will be issued directly to you," Aoi said. "The estate agreement allows approved preliminary-review invoices to be paid from its administration pool after your written authorisation. Kanzaki cannot direct my advice, and anything outside our agreed scope requires a separate written quotation."
Ren considered the terms. The arrangement gave him independent advice without forcing him to drain his small personal funds. "If the conflict check clears and the agreement ensures Kanzaki cannot influence your advice, I am prepared to retain you for the preliminary review."
"You may sign the proposed limited retainer today," Aoi said, placing the agreement before him. "It will not take effect unless the conflict check clears. Until then, this remains a preliminary consultation, and I am not yet acting as your lawyer."
It covered the review of trust papers, preliminary liability checks, and legal arrangements for reviewing preliminary property records and conducting a supervised inspection. Litigation, tax filing, and title transfers were explicitly excluded unless added in writing later. Ren read the terms carefully and signed his name at the bottom.
As Aoi turned to the middle section of her black folder to file the signed retainer, a single loose sheet slipped out from between two thick case files. It landed face-up on the table between them.
It was an aged memo page bearing handwritten notes. At the bottom was a sharp, distinct signature written in black ink:
R.K.
Ren stared at the signature. The curvature of the capital letters, the tight flourish on the final stroke, and the exact slant of the penmanship matched his own handwriting. The exact way he had signed his name on the retainer agreement seconds ago.
Below the signature was a single line of handwritten text:
Do not let him become me too early.
Ren felt a cold chill run down his spine. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping. "That handwriting... it looks exactly like mine."
Aoi picked up the page with a practiced movement, sliding it back into the secure pocket of her folder. She remained unfazed, her expression entirely professional.
"Visual resemblance and matching initials are not legal proof of authorship, Kisaragi-san," Aoi said dryly, closing the brass clasp of her folder with a quiet thud. "Handwriting analysis requires forensic verification, and initialled notes carry no testamentary weight on their own. We focus strictly on verified legal documents."
An hour later, Ren stepped out of the high-rise tower into the Marunouchi afternoon air. His mind was engaged with the legal boundaries Aoi had outlined, but his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he had skipped breakfast.
He walked into the vast underground concourse of Tokyo Station, navigating through Gransta Tokyo. The station’s premier food hall filled with bento vendors, sweet shops, and regional delicacies.
Using a small portion of his personal lifestyle funds, he approached a bento counter and purchased a premium Tokyo Station ekiben. A traditional travel bento featuring tender grilled beef over seasoned rice, pickled vegetables, and tamagoyaki.
To enjoy the meal in comfort, Ren paid a small additional fee for a Green Car upgrade on a Ueno–Tokyo Line train stopping at Akabane. Stepping into the quiet upper deck, he found a forward-facing seat and folded down the tray table. As the train rolled north out of Tokyo Station, Ren opened the wooden bento box and ate slowly, enjoying the rich, savoury beef and perfectly cooked rice. It was a controlled, intentional indulgence that gave him a quiet sense of practical dignity. At Akabane Station, he transferred smoothly to the local Keihin–Tōhoku Line for the final short leg back to Kawaguchi.
Ren arrived back at his apartment in Kawaguchi as the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across his floorboards. He sat at his low table, taking out his Pixel 6a to review his notes from the meeting.
Before he could open his notepad application, his phone screen lit up with a formal email notification.
The email was from Aoi Tachibana, sent from her official Seiwa Legal Partners address. The firm’s conflict check had cleared, and the limited retainer was now effective. Attached to the message was an officially issued PDF addendum to the preliminary estate file.
Ren opened the email and read her concise text:
Kisaragi-san,
Following today’s consultation, Kanzaki Fiduciary Services released a preliminary property record connected to Genichiro Kisaragi’s trust.
Section 4 authorises a supervised inspection of a long-neglected commercial unit. This notice does not grant unrestricted possession, safe occupancy, or permission to use the premises.
The building manager retains physical access control. The preliminary registry extracts and inspection authorisation are held at our office.
The property is identified as follows:
Commercial Unit: Suite 302