Haari blinked, caught off guard, his hand pausing mid-reach. "Wait, for me?" His ears went red, a flush creeping up his neck as he took it, fingers brushing hers. "You… you got this for me?"
"Yeah," she said, looking down at the pavement, then back up, her blush deepening. " This is one of my favorite book? Figured you'd like it. It's got killer twists." Her voice dipped, shy but sure. "Kinda wanted you to have something from today."
She waved it off, but her smile stuck, bright and a little flustered. "It's nothing—just don't lose it, okay? And tell me what you think when you're done."
"No I didn't," Haari said, holding up a single finger for emphasis. "And for the record, it took a lot of effort to pick that one."
Ashi raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "One book? That's it? You call that effort?"
"Hey, quality over quantity," Haari said defensively. "Besides, I was too busy making sure you didn't blow your entire savings on rare finds."
"I don't spend that much," Ashi said, though the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her. "Anyway, next time remind me not to wear boots to something like this. My feet are killing me."
Haari glanced down at her shoes and then at his own sneakers. "See? Sneakers. Practical and stylish."
Ashi stifled a laugh. "Stylish? Sneakers? On you? Sure, let's go with that."
"You wound me, Nicawa-san," Haari said, clutching his chest dramatically. "But I'll let it slide because I'm in a good mood."
Ashi rolled her eyes again, but this time her laughter was genuine, warm.
They continued walking, the city lights casting a soft glow on their path. Haari glanced over at Ashi, his curiosity piqued. "Okay, real talk—if you could only eat one dessert for the rest of your life, what would it be?"
Ashi didn't even hesitate. "Ice cream. Hands down."
"Ice cream?" Haari repeated, surprised. "I mean, it's good, but for the rest of your life?"
"Yep," Ashi said with conviction. "It's versatile, it's refreshing, and it makes me happy. What about you?"
Haari thought for a moment, his breath visible in the chilly air. "Probably cheesecake. You can't go wrong with cheesecake."
Ashi tilted her head, considering it. "Cheesecake's solid, but ice cream win for me."
"Agree to disagree," Haari said with a grin.
The station came into view, the warm glow of its entrance standing out against the cool evening. Haari glanced at Ashi. "You sure you're not going to pass out? We walked a lot today."
"I'll survive," Ashi said, smirking. "If anything, you're the one who looks like you might collapse. Want me to carry you the rest of the way?"
"I'm fine, thanks," Haari said, chuckling. "But if I do pass out, tell the paramedics I went out heroically—searching for rare books."
Ashi laughed, the sound light and genuine. "They'll just roll their eyes and say, 'Another one of those book fair casualties.'"
As they reached the station, Ashi slowed her steps. "I had fun today. Thanks for coming along."
"Fun? With me?" Haari feigned surprise, placing a hand on his chest. "Wow, that's high praise."
"Don't let it go to your head, Kichiro-san," Ashi teased, though her tone was soft.
Haari smiled, his voice warm. "I won't. But for what it's worth, I'm glad I came too."
"Kichiro-san, you free right now?" Oki's voice cut through the office hum, polite but with a bite of urgency that made Haari's head snap up.
He blinked, shaking off a fog of spreadsheet stupor. "Uh, yeah—Habi-san, what's up?"
She strode over, a brick of a project file clutched in her hands, its edges curling like it'd been through a war. "This," she said, plopping it onto his desk with a thud. "This. Can you take a look at it?"
Haari grabbed it, flipping through—charts, scribbled notes, a wall of text that screamed overtime. "What's this about?"
Oki scratched her neck, flashing a sheepish grin. "Honestly, I have no idea. I didn't got the time look into it. It dropped on me last week, but I didn't have the time to go through it. Think you can handle it?"
He shut the file, a wry smirk tugging his lips. "SureI'll check it out."
"Thanks," she said, a relieved laugh bubbling out as she retreated to her desk, already half-buried again.
An hour later, the office ticked along—phones chirping, keyboards clacking—but Haari's corner was a silent storm. He hunched over the file, brow creased, pen tapping a jittery beat against the desk. "C'mon, make sense," he muttered, half-growling at the pages, his free hand raking through his hair until it stuck up like a mad scientist's.
Rafta sauntered by, coffee mug in hand, mid-slack. He slowed, eyeing the thick file, noticed Haari's tense posture. He peered over cautiously, recognizing the thick file instantly. For a moment, he considered offering help, but the look of intense focus on Haari's face made him pause. Deciding against interrupting, Rafta returned to his slacking duty, casting the occasional glance toward Haari.
He shrugged, drifting back to his desk, but kept sneaking glances—Haari scribbling, flipping, muttering. Rafta smirked, sipping his coffee. "Good luck, buddy," he mouthed, settling in to watch the show from a safe distance.
A Week Ago
Rafta lounged at his desk, feet kicked up, a half-empty soda can dangling in his hand—king of the slackers.
"Hey, Rafta," the guy said, voice chipper as he wobbled toward him.
Rafta grinned, raising his can in a lazy salute. "Yo, Kenji—It's been a while hasn't it."
Kenji snorted, eyeing Rafta's sprawl—feet up, soda can tilted like he was on a beach instead of a desk. "Slacking off as usual, I see. Do you ever work, or is that chair glued to your ass now?"
"Oh, come on—not you too," Rafta groaned, swinging his legs down with a dramatic huff, mock offense flashing in his grin. "I'm on a break, man—strategic recharge."
"Strategic recharge?" Kenji arched a brow, shifting his coffee-and-paper stack to one arm. "It's barely morning, dude—office just opened, what, an hour ago? And you're already on break?"
Rafta leaned back, unfazed, twirling the can like a baton. "Hey, gotta pace myself—peak performance later. You don't get it 'cause you're a caffeine zombie, running on fumes."
"Caffeine zombie?" Kenji laughed, nearly sloshing his coffee. "Least I've touched my desk today. You're halfway to naptime—got a pillow stashed under there too?"
"Nah, that's next week's upgrade," Rafta shot back, smirking. "Seriously, though—one hour in, and I've earned this. Mental prep for the grind—unlike you, hauling that mess around like a pack mule."
Kenji glanced at the bulky file in his grip, then back at Rafta. "Yeah, well, this mess is your problem now, so recharge fast, slacker."
Kenji smirked, shifting the load to free an arm, and plopped the bulky file onto Rafta's desk with a heavy thwack. "This. It's for your crew."
Rafta leaned back, eyeing the beast—thick as a brick, edges curling, stuffed with charts and jargon that screamed misery. "What's it about? Looks like it could kill someone."
"No clue," Kenji said, shrugging as he steadied his coffee. "Boss just said, 'Drop it with Rafta's team, they'll figure it out.' That's your problem now, buddy—not my circus, not my monkeys."
Rafta's grin faded, replaced by a dramatic grimace. "Seriously? You're dumping this on me and running? What'd I ever do to you?"
"Exist," Kenji quipped, already backing toward the door. "Nah, kidding—you're just the lucky one here. Catch you later, man—got a meeting in five."
"Wait, hold up," Rafta called, waving the soda can. "This thing's a monster—least give me a heads-up. Is it urgent? Am I screwed?"
Kenji laughed, half out the door. "Dunno, probably? Looks like a week-ruiner. I'm outta here!"
"Traitor," Rafta muttered, but his smirk crept back as Kenji vanished. He nudged the file with his can, like it might bite, then sighed loud enough to echo. "Good luck, Oki—you're the perfect person for this one." He slid it onto Oki's desk, dusting his hands like he'd dodged a bullet, and kicked his feet back up, soda fizzing in the quiet.
Present Day – Evening
The office had thinned out, a skeleton crew tapping away under flickering lights. Oki paused by Haari's desk, coat half-on. "You're not going yet?"
"Nah, not yet," Haari said, voice rough with fatigue, eyes glued to a scribbled note. "You go ahead—I'll catch up."
"Still stuck on that project?" she asked, peering at the chaos—papers splayed, coffee mug ringed, a pen chewed to death.
"Yeah," he grunted, rolling his neck with a crack. "It's more of a headache than I expected."
Oki winced, sympathetic. "Leave it here and head home, Kichiro-san. I'll drop some notes tomorrow to help you out."
He hesitated, thumbing the file's edge, then nodded. "Alright, thanks, Habi-san." She flashed a grin and bolted, leaving him in the quiet.
Haari packed slow, joints creaking—bag zipped, jacket tugged on, the file's weight a brick against his spine. He gave it one last glare, before slinging it over his shoulder.
Outside, the evening air bit, his breath puffing white under the streetlights' glow. The streets buzzed—commuters hustling, bar-hoppers laughing—but it blurred past him. He trudged along, hands stuffed in pockets, the project clawing at his brain. Why's it so damn tangled? Encryption crap, data piles—feels like it's mocking me. He rubbed his temples, a dull throb kicking in.
His apartment loomed ahead, a squat box of faded brick. He fumbled his keys, the lock sticking like always, and shoved in. Bag hit the floor with a thud, shoes kicked off—thump, thump—echoing in the cramped space. Shoulders screaming, he grabbed a glass of water, gulping it down in the dim kitchen, then flopped onto his bed. The ceiling stared back, cracked and blank.
"Ugh," he groaned, dragging a hand over his face. The file's mess flickered in his head—codes, charts, a headache in paper form. He yanked the blanket up, curling in. Tomorrow's problem, he thought, the night's quiet finally pulling him under, a restless drift to sleep.
The morning light slipped through the blinds, soft and gray, casting slanted lines across Haari's desk. He shuffled in, coffee in one hand, bag slung low, the weight of last night's restless sleep still dragging at his bones. Oki's notes sat waiting beside the hulking project file—neat handwriting on yellow stickies, a lifeline in the chaos.
He dropped into his chair with a sigh, setting the coffee down to sift through her scrawl. "Alright, Habi-san, let's see what you've got," he muttered, flipping a page—arrows, bullet points, a scribbled "good luck" in the margin. It was something, at least.
His phone buzzed, rattling against the desk. He snatched it up, squinting at the screen.
Message from Oki:
Stuck in an urgent meeting—boss ambush. You're on this solo. Notes should help—read 'em close. Don't screw it!
Haari groaned, loud and ragged, dropping the phone to rub his temples with both hands. "You've gotta be kidding me," he grumbled, the file's bulk glaring back like it was smirking. The weight hit harder now—Oki's lifeline was all he had, and it still felt like deciphering a brick. She bails, and I'm the sucker left holding this mess? Great.
He leaned back, chair creaking, staring at the ceiling for a beat. The office hummed awake around him—printers whirring, someone laughing too loud—but his corner was a swamp of dread. "Okay, Haari," he muttered, cracking his knuckles. "Suck it up—notes, coffee, grind. You've got this… maybe." The "maybe" hung heavy as he grabbed the file, diving in with a grimace.
Across the office, Ashi's desk gleamed—pens lined up, papers stacked, a fortress of order. She glanced up from her screen, catching Haari's hunched slump—brow furrowed, pen tapping like a distress signal. Her fingers paused over her keyboard. He's drowning over there. She wavered, then pushed back her chair, crossing the room with quiet steps.
"Kichiro-san," she said, soft but clear, cutting through the fog of his focus.
Haari jolted, head snapping up. "Oh—Nicawa-san. Hey."
"You okay?" she asked, tilting her head, eyes flicking to the mess on his desk. "You look… stuck."
He sighed, leaning back with a groan, rubbing his temples. "Yeah, Habi-san dumped this file on me yesterday," he said, nudging the file with his elbow. "I'm still unable to figrue out, what to do next."
"That bad?" Ashi raised a brow, stepping closer to peek at the chaos—charts, codes, Oki's sticky notes clinging like bandages.