Father-in-law

The salt-tinged wind off the fjord did little to cool the heat rising under Takumi’s collar. He stood in the shadow of Ankerhus’s ancient archway, summoning the holographic image of his father-in-law, Kazuo. The hologram flickered to life, and the ancient bricks around him seemed to recoil from the image that materialized.

Kazuo Kuroda was not in an office, he was framed by the opulent, shadowed interior of an opera box. Despite being in his early sixties, he stood with the imposing posture of a man half his age, his broad shoulders filling out a tailored tuxedo of deepest black. The faint twinkle of gilded balconies and a massive, velvet-draped proscenium arch were visible in the hazy background, the phantom sounds of a stirring orchestra just barely audible before Kazuo muted his background noise. He had been caught between the acts of Wagner’s The Ring Cycle, and his expression made it clear this interruption was a significant mark against Takumi.

“Father,” Takumi began, his voice a model of respect, cutting through the digital space between Norway and the opera house. He stood straighter, the fjord at his back a measly backdrop to the more formidable vista of his father-in-law’s displeasure.

“The Eidolon project has reached a critical juncture,” Takumi stated, his words precise, “Our current simulation fidelity is plateauing. The technology we require to breach the uncanny valley and achieve true emotional resonance is the next-generation Biococa capture system, as you well know it’s developed and exclusively held by Helix Apex.”

He paused, allowing the absolute necessity of the technology to hang in the air. “Our negotiations have been largely successful,” he continued, his tone confident, “We have agreed on a substantial equity share for Helix Apex, reflecting their contribution. They have conceded on all points regarding development direction and timeline control. The project will remain under our complete creative and strategic purview.” He was painting a picture of a near-total victory.

Then, his voice tightened, just a fraction, “However, Bjorn Jorgensen has presented one final, non-negotiable point. He demands that a team from Helix Apex be physically stationed within our Mirage City development facility for the remainder of the project. His main reasons are quality assurance and technological support for the Biococa integration.” Takumi’s jaw tightened minutely, “It is, effectively, an ultimatum. The deal, and our access to the technology, is contingent upon this single concession.”

With his report delivered, Takumi stood silent. He had outlined the critical need, the successes, and the single, galling obstacle; having framed it not as a failure, but as a binary business decision required from the highest level. The ball was now in the patriarch’s court, under the spectral gaze of a golden opera house. The connection was crystal clear, revealing every line of disapproval on the older man’s face.

Kazuo listened, his expression as impassive as granite. He knew of Bjorn’s legendary stubbornness, though he knew Bjorn’s father better. The old man was to this day a recurring golfing partner. After Takumi finished, Kazuo let out a long, weary sigh that was itself a reprimand.

“That’s bothersome…”, he stated, his voice dry, “quite unfortunate, that you weren’t able to negotiate a resolution without inviting a foreign development team into the heart of our organization. As I’m sure you are aware, this poses a significant security risk.” He paused, letting the silence stretch, forcing Takumi to stew in his perceived failure. While watching the serene, deep blue of the Oslo fjord, a single vein throbbed at Takumi’s temple. He remained silent, waiting for the verdict.

“Of course,” Kazuo continued, his tone shifting to one of dispassionate practicality, “Helix Apex is the pinnacle of capture technology. A close relationship with them is paramount for our future.” He seemed to reflect for a moment, his gaze turning inward. Then his focus sharpened, his tone becoming somber, laced with a new, personal edge, “I’ve heard stories about your Brand Ambassador. People speak of the beautiful Eidolon Muse… from Chochin.”, it was the first time Kazuo had ever directly referenced his knowledge of Rei, “Did you bring her to Oslo?”

Takumi froze, his body going rigid, but his voice remained perfectly composed, “I did. Bjorn is quite taken with her. She is a talented asset, excellent at prompting interest in the project.” He deliberately used the word ‘asset’, downplaying any personal investment, highlighting only her utility. Kazuo said nothing. The silence that followed was heavier, more judgmental than any words. It was a silence that confirmed he knew exactly what Rei was to Takumi.

Finally, Kazuo broke it, “I will come to Oslo.” The words hit Takumi like a carpet being pulled beneath him. He jerked his gaze away from the fjord, his balance faltering for a split second as he stared, stunned, at the hologram. It took him a moment to formulate a response. But Kazuo gave him no chance, “This deal is crucial to Kuroda’s future relationship with Helix Apex. Tell Jorgensen his team will be welcome, under certain circumstances. I’m on my way to clarify them. I will arrive tomorrow around lunchtime.”

The connection severed. The hologram of the grave Kuroda CEO vanished, leaving Takumi standing alone under the ancient stone archway, the chill of the Norwegian wind seeping into his bones. Shock, then a torrent of furious deliberation, coursed through him. Kazuo’s sudden involvement was not only about the deal. It was an inspection, a threat, and he couldn’t completely rule out that it was also about Rei.

Takumi stood for a moment longer in the archway, the crisp sea air doing little to cool the simmering humiliation. He closed his eyes, and unwanted memories, apparent as blown-up photographs, flashed behind his lids:

A family dinner with Kazuo at the head of a table longer than most city apartments, not even looking at him, as he said to his daughter, “You could have at least found a man with a name. This one is just… ambition in a suit.” The casual dismissal, as if Takumi were a piece of furniture.

Another day in the boardroom, presenting a flawless acquisition strategy, only for Kazuo to interrupt with a bored sigh, “Adequate, but my secretary could have drafted that. Don’t waste our time with the obvious, Takumi.” The public stripping of any intellectual contribution.

An evening during a corporate gala, Kazuo clinking glasses with a rival CEO, laughing, “My son-in-law? A useful attack dog, all teeth, no pedigree. But he brings in results, so we keep him fed.”

Takumi took one last, deep breath, pulling the scent of salt and weathered stone into his lungs, and turned his back on the view. The corporate mask had cracked for a moment, but was now firmly back in place, even harder and colder than before.

Back inside the restaurant, Takumi paused at the entrance to the main dining room. His eyes found their table. Rei was speaking, her hands moving animatedly, a lively expression on her face, which was a stark contrast to her guarded poise. Bjorn was leaning forward, utterly spellbound, his focus absolute. A fresh spike of annoyance, sharp and proprietary, lanced through Takumi. He smoothed his features into neutrality and approached.

“Bjorn,” he said, his voice cutting smoothly through their conversation, “Good news. Kuroda will welcome your team.” Both looked up, a genuine smile of victory spreading across Bjorn’s face. “The final details of the collaboration,” Takumi continued, his tone still professional, but a visible strain tightening the skin around his eyes and mouth, “will be clarified by Kazuo Kuroda himself. He will arrive tomorrow around lunch.”

The air at the table shifted. Bjorn’s smile didn’t fade, but it transformed, a knowing, pleased spark igniting in his eyes. He had not only gotten his way but had forced the hand of the patriarch himself. “Quite the honor,” Bjorn said smoothly, “I will look forward to it.”