Chapter 12: Volume 1, - 12: Suite 302
On the morning of Friday, 17 February 2023, Ren stood outside the third-floor doorway of a weathered, mixed-use commercial building five minutes from Nishi-Kawaguchi Station. Tanida, a compact building manager in his mid-fifties with thinning grey hair, a heavy padded work vest over a dark flannel shirt, and a brass key ring clipped to his belt, squinted through wire-rimmed glasses as he compared Ren’s government-issued photo identification with the certified authorisation letter from Seiwa Legal Partners.
"Having the paperwork doesn’t mean you can move in, Kisaragi-san," Tanida said in a gravelly voice. He clicked on a heavy-duty yellow flashlight, testing the beam against his palm before gesturing toward the chipped steel door frame. "Access does not mean safe occupancy. I manage the structure, not whatever private business your family left behind. Until the wiring is tested and the building board approves the load, you do not bring in heavy space heaters, you do not plug in high-wattage electronics, and you do not sleep here."
"I understand, Tanida-san," Ren said. He stood in the narrow corridor wearing his navy BlockTech coat over dark stretch jeans, his posture straight despite the damp chill rising from the unheated concrete stairwell. "This is strictly a preliminary inspection."
Standing half a step behind Ren, Aoi Tachibana adjusted her coat lapels, her long straight black hair resting immaculately against her dark navy suit. "Seiwa has already filed the formal inspection notice, Tanida-san. We are here solely to verify the property record, assess structural conditions, and catalogue the contents."
Tanida grunted, selecting a heavy iron key from his ring. "Just making sure the kid knows." He slotted the key into the deadbolt, turned it twice with a metallic clunk, and shoulder-pushed the stubborn door open.
A draft of stale cold air rushed into the corridor, carrying the sharp scents of trapped dust, aged cedar drawers, crumbling paper, and cold plaster.
Ren stepped over the threshold into Suite 302.
Weak winter daylight filtered through a thick layer of grime coating two high, narrow windows at the far end of the room. The space was small. Scarcely thirty square metres, with low ceilings and faded beige linoleum flooring that had buckled near the entrance. In the centre of the room sat a massive, scarred oak desk, its dark finish worn down to raw wood along the front edge where generations of forearms had rested.
Ren walked slowly past dusty wall shelves sagging under the weight of blank binders and stacked cardboard boxes. Water stains bloomed in amber-coloured waves across the upper corner of the north wall, though the plaster felt dry to the touch. Near the baseboards, exposed wiring conduits hung loose, their cracked plastic covers revealing outdated cabling. A dead kerosene heater sat in the corner, its tank rusted shut.
Ren ran his gloved finger along the desk, lifting a thick layer of dark silt. "It’s cold," he remarked softly, his breath misting in the indoor air. "And smaller than it looked on the floor plan."
"Do not call it an office until the inspection clears it," Aoi warned from the doorway, her low leather heels sounding against the linoleum as she scanned the ceiling corners and electrical boxes. "Right now, it is a neglected commercial unit with unverified utility status. If the wiring fails a safety audit or the building board identifies structural non-compliance, you cannot legally operate a business from this address."
"What about the ownership structure?" Ren asked, turning to face her.
"The preliminary registry confirms that Genichiro Kisaragi’s trust holds a legally recognised interest in this unit," Aoi said, tapping her black folder. "For now, that gives you supervised inspection rights. It does not yet authorise you to clear, repair, occupy or operate from the premises. Any future work must be approved through the estate administrator and building management. If title later transfers, repair costs, building-management fees and compliance obligations may pass to you under the final terms. I have not completed that review yet."
Ren looked down at the dim, quiet room.
As he stepped around the side of the desk to inspect the kneehole, his knee struck a cold protrusion fixed to the inner left panel. Crouching down, Ren reached beneath the centre drawer. Mounted directly into the aged hardwood was a rectangular plate of brushed metal, roughly ten centimetres wide. Engraved into its surface was a white-silver crest. A stylised geometric motif of interlocking diamond lines surrounding an inner starburst. Beneath the crest, clear capital letters were stamped into the metal:
ORIGIN OFFICE
Ren rested his gloved fingertips against the chilled steel. The arrangement of diamonds and the central starburst tugged at a half-memory he could not place, like a symbol glimpsed in a dream and forgotten on waking. Not a single document provided by Kanzaki Fiduciary Services had mentioned this name or emblem.
The moment his fingertips settled against the plate, his vision flickered with blue light.
[Legacy location recognised.]
[Designation: Origin Office.]
[Continuity data restricted.]
[Suite 302 Restoration: 0%.]
[Digital measurement tool unlocked.]
Ren held his breath, but no secondary messages appeared. The Interface simply registered the physical coordinates, established a baseline metric for the room’s ruined condition, and locked further historical context behind system restrictions.
"Did you find something?" Aoi asked, stepping closer.
"Just an old maker’s plate under the desk," Ren said, rising carefully and wiping the dust from his glove with a folded rag.
Aoi noted the detail on her pad. "We will cross-reference the name with older trade registries, but do not assume it grants any commercial rights. Everything must be cleared through standard legal channels." She checked her wristwatch. "Tanida-san retains the keys, and today’s access ends at five. Any later inspection will require a new appointment and approved temporary lighting."
Before Aoi departed, Ren noticed a tarnished brass key resting in a ceramic tray atop the desk. With Aoi and Tanida watching, he tried it in the central drawer lock, which turned with a dry scrape. Aoi photographed the open drawer before Ren touched anything inside. The key remained on the desk to be logged into the property inventory by Tanida. Inside lay a single index card, free of financial details. Aoi permitted Ren to photograph the card with his Pixel 6a before Tanida locked the outer deadbolt behind them, issuing a strict reminder about the five o’clock building closure.
Ren walked out into the cold afternoon air of Nishi-Kawaguchi and headed to a nearby home centre. Ren bought N95 dust masks, rubber work gloves, microfibre rags, and three stackable Iris Ohyama storage boxes. He knew the supplies could not enter Suite 302 until Aoi and Tanida confirmed the terms of his next access.
He nested the three empty storage boxes inside one another and carried them, with the cleaning supplies secured inside the top box.
Carrying the nested boxes and supplies, Ren stopped at Akiyama Bakery near the station before taking the train home. Suzune Akiyama was working behind the counter, her chestnut-brown hair tied back and her bakery apron dusted with flour.
Her amber-brown eyes moved from the heavy storage boxes to a grey streak of plaster dust across his navy BlockTech coat.
"Kisaragi-san," Suzune said, her brows drawing together in slight concern. "Did you lose a fight with an old cupboard?"
Ren set the boxes down by the counter with a faint, dry smile. "I was inspecting an old commercial room near Nishi-Kawaguchi Station. An inherited property connected to my grandfather’s estate."
Suzune looked at him with quiet, practical attention. "An office? Is it usable?"
"Not even close," Ren admitted. "It’s dusty, freezing, the wiring is unsafe, and Tanida-san listed the building rules before he even unlocked the door. It needs a massive amount of work before anyone can set up a computer, let alone run a business."
He waited for polite scepticism, but Suzune simply looked at him thoughtfully.
"Did you check the ventilation before going inside?" she asked, her voice calm and grounded. "Old closed rooms trap mould and fine concrete dust. If you’re going back to clean it, you need proper masks and heavy gloves."
Ren pointed to the home centre bag tucked inside the top storage tub. "I just bought N95 masks and storage boxes."
Suzune gave a small, approving nod, her expression softening into a warm smile. "Good. Don’t go rushing to make it look impressive. Make sure the floorboards are solid and the air is clean first." She paused, her eyes meeting his with genuine sincerity. "I’d like to see it someday. But only after it’s safe to stand in."
The warmth in Ren’s chest had nothing to do with the property. Suzune didn’t care about corporate prestige; her immediate instinct was his practical physical safety.
"I’ll hold you to that, Akiyama-san," Ren said softly. "Once the dust is gone."
After buying a fresh loaf of sandwich bread for dinner, Ren returned to his apartment in Kawaguchi. He set his new cleaning supplies neatly against the wall, washed his hands, and brushed the remaining dust from his coat.
Sitting at his low wooden table, he opened his Pixel 6a to log his personal bakery and home centre purchases. Then, pulling up the high-resolution photograph he had taken of the index card inside Suite 302’s desk, he carefully transcribed the three names written in precise black fountain-pen ink into his notebook:
Fumie Okada
Kenji Wada
Haruto Minegishi