Fuhito did not use the camera for a week.
He wanted to see if Aiko's behavior would fade.
It didn't.
If anything, it intensified.
She began anticipating his needs before he voiced them.
Food arrived before he felt hunger.
Information arrived before he asked.
When he mentioned once, casually, that he disliked the building's view—
She contacted the property owner within hours about relocating him.
He stopped her.
But the ease with which she moved frightened him.
The city no longer felt unreachable.
It felt… negotiable.
He sat in the apartment one afternoon watching her type rapidly on her laptop.
"Who do you answer to?" he asked.
She looked up. "The board."
"Could you introduce me?"
Her fingers stilled.
"Yes."
Just like that.
"How?"
"I can arrange a consultation meeting. Investment potential. You could advise."
He hadn't said anything about advising.
She had filled in the logic herself.
Transfer of proximity, expansion of influence… all without direct instruction.
He felt something dark bloom in his chest.
This was scalable.
He didn't need chaos.
He needed access.
---
The meeting happened three days later.
Glass tower. Forty-third floor.
Board members. Suits. Controlled smiles.
Aiko introduced him as an independent strategist with unconventional insight.
He said little.
Observed more.
One man stood out immediately.
Mid-thirties. Immaculate posture. Eyes sharp but calm.
He did not overtalk.
Did not overreact.
When Fuhito spoke, the man listened without intimidation or dismissal.
Balanced.
Disciplined.
After the meeting ended, the man approached him privately.
"Kenshin Mori," he said, extending his hand.
Fuhito accepted it.
"Fuhito."
Kenshin's handshake was firm, measured.
"You have interesting presence," Kenshin said.
"Do I?"
"Yes."
He held eye contact longer than most.
"I look forward to working with you," Kenshin added.
Something about the phrasing lingered.
Working with.
Not under.
Not above.
Equal.
Fuhito felt a faint prickle at the back of his neck.
Later that evening, he stood on the balcony of his apartment.
The city lights sprawled endlessly below.
The camera rested in his hand.
He turned it slowly.
Thought about Kenshin's eyes.
Calm.
Structured.
Not easily shaken.
He lifted the camera.
Pointed it toward the skyline.
Then lowered it.
No.
Too reckless.
He needed to understand everything first.
He turned back inside.
Aiko watched him quietly.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"No."
She stepped closer.
"If anyone threatens you, tell me."
Her voice carried genuine concern.
He almost laughed.
No one threatened him.
Not anymore.
He placed the camera down carefully.
"I'm fine."
But as he lay in bed later, sleep wouldn't come.
Kenshin's face lingered in his thoughts.
Not because of admiration.
Because of possibility.
For the first time since finding the camera—
Fuhito wondered what would happen if he photographed someone who didn't break.
And somewhere in the city—
Kenshin Mori stood before his office mirror adjusting his tie.
His reflection held steady.
Until, for the briefest moment—
It smiled before he did.