Episode 43: Spring of My First Year. My Department Placement
A pale pink blouse, a mermaid skirt. Hair carefully curled with an iron into a half-up style. Spring-toned blush and lipstick brightening my cheeks and lips, and finally, heels.
—Alright. Ready.
One practice run of my sales smile at my reflection in the entryway mirror. Yep. Perfect.
After that day, by some miracle, I actually landed a job at “that company” during job hunting.
A month of new-hire training had finally wrapped up, and placements to branches nationwide had been decided.
Today was my first day at the sales office.
Nervous? — No, honestly, more like a heavy feeling in my chest.
The training had been pretty relaxed, if I’m honest. This was where the real thing started.
Haah. So work’s actually beginning now.
Swaying on the packed morning train, then a few minutes’ walk from the station.
Arrived at the sales office.
I nodded along appropriately through the sales manager’s orientation and got shown to my seat.
The moment I sat down at my desk, I discreetly scanned the office.
Unconsciously, what my eyes were searching for was, obviously, a “usable good-looking guy.”
I mean, I’d just broken up with my college boyfriend.
Quick and easy: land a boyfriend at work, boost my work motivation.
Sasaki-kun, second year — hmm, not quite my type, face-wise. Reject.
Isoda-san, fourth year — ooh, close, but the height’s a shame. On hold.
Ah, that guy. Tamura-san, fifth year. This one might work. Alright, him.
Honestly, as long as the face was decent enough, anyone would’ve done. Too much of a hassle to think too hard about it, so I locked onto Tamura-san as my target for now.
Then, my gaze got pulled toward someone chatting with Tamura-san.
Eh…? That’s…
It’s her. From that time. “Asami-san.”
A slender build, a high nose bridge, cool, narrow eyes. And yet, the moment she smiled, her whole expression softened, almost childlike.
No mistaking it. It was her, from the izakaya.
Eh, same branch?
The moment I thought that, I felt my own heart skip, just a little.
No, no, wait, that’s weird. She’s a woman.
And yet, before I knew it, my eyes were tracking Asami-san.
No, no, this is just admiration, I told myself—
*
Right around then, the sales department’s regular meeting started, and I had to introduce myself in front of everyone.
I bowed and lifted my head, and among the applauding staff, I spotted Asami-san. Kind eyes. Same as back then. That exact same look.
The meeting ended, and the staff filed out of the conference room. Asami-san was tidying up, and I worked up the nerve to speak to her.
“Um, excuse me…”
“Hm?”
“That time, at the izakaya…”
“Izakaya?”
“You helped me out.”
“That time…? Hmm? That time, that time… izakaya?”
“……………..”
“Sorry, I don’t remember.”
Asami-san said it after a moment’s thought, laughing it off breezily, carelessly.
Huh?? She doesn’t remember??
And so breezy about it, too.
I’d been thinking about it this whole time since then.
I was the only one.
That easygoing, dopey smile made me furious.
And, and on top of that.
Someone kept coming by Asami-san’s desk to talk to her. Asakura-san from design. Stylish, beautiful, composed, friendly with everyone regardless of gender.
—The exact opposite type of person from me.
The two of them were chatting away, clearly having fun.
And looking at Asami-san’s face while being talked to, she was, unbelievably, completely smitten.
Overjoyed. Her smile at least thirty percent brighter. Her voice pitch noticeably higher too.
Ahh, I somehow just understood: this person likes Asakura-san.
That lovestruck face made me incredibly, insanely mad.
Haah, infuriating.
Genuinely infuriating.
I hate her.
I hate Asami-san.
“I’ll leave the documents here.”
Asami-san’s desk.
A full octave lower than my voice with the male staff. Dead eyes.
Talking to Asami-san, for no reason at all, something deep in my chest turns irritable.
I already didn’t know how to interact with women in the first place, didn’t know how I was supposed to behave. I wished someone would just teach me.
As a result, all I could do was treat her coldly. Or rather, that’s all I was capable of. It was the easiest option, by far.
If I stayed distant, I felt like I could hide this weird feeling.
For a long while, I had no idea at all what this feeling of mine actually was.
One Saturday.
That day, I was out drinking with friends from my college club. “Club” is generous, honestly, I’d basically joined it to find a boyfriend, and was more or less a ghost member the whole time.
One friend had brought some coworkers from her company, so there were a few guys there I was meeting for the first time.
Today’s target: Ryouta-kun. High face-value. Sales at a major manufacturer. High-spec.
“Ryouta-kun’s so amaaazing♡” “As expected of you~♡”
Whispering the standard lines, deploying a thoroughly calculated upward glance. Following up with “accidental” body contact for good measure. Easy men really are so easy to read.
Ryouta-kun’s expression started melting.
Good, good, there we go. Going smoothly. Victory locked in for tonight too.
And then.
A familiar silhouette, glimpsed at the counter seats.
…Eh. Asami-san?
Whoa, she’s in regular clothes. Eh, what, doesn’t she seem different from usual? Who’s that woman next to her. A friend? A date? What’s she drinking, a highball?
—Wait, what am I even thinking?
This is stupid. I need to focus on the drinking party. I need to land a boyfriend.
But my eyes kept drifting toward Asami-san anyway. Even though seeing her just makes me irritated.
Trying to cover the irritation, I threw back my cassis orange, hard.
“Eh, Chisa-chan, you okay?” “You’re drinking too much~”
The guys around me raised worried voices, one after another. Annoying. I said something like “I can still drink~” anyway, out of habit.
Normally I’d only get pleasantly buzzed at most.
But the alcohol hit all at once, my head spinning.
My vision blurred, sounds growing distant.
When I came to, an unfamiliar ceiling above me.
My head was spinning. A little nauseous too.
Ugh, I’d drunk too much.
I opened my eyes, hazy.
A figure, swaying vaguely in my blurred vision.
Eh?
Asami-san’s face was right there.
Cool, narrow eyes. But underneath, kindness was seeping through, clearly — a little sultry, even, and I thought, unfair.
My gaze drifted down naturally, catching her faintly damp lips. Her smallish mouth looked strangely cute.
—What is this feeling? Something deep in my chest, warming slowly.
She had an obviously put-upon expression, and yet her eyes were still kind.
Asami-san set a cup down on the table and started to get up.
Before I knew it, I’d grabbed her wrist. Slender, but with real warmth to it.
I pulled her closer. The distance closed, all at once. And then — our lips met.
“…!?”
Asami-san’s lips trembled. Into that gap, before I knew it, I’d slipped my tongue.
Our tongues touched. Asami-san froze completely, like she had no idea what was happening.
But I couldn’t stop. I kept the kiss going, deep, tangling our tongues, devouring.
Hot. Sweet. Asami-san’s bewildered breathing echoed through me, melting in.
When our lips parted, I slowly closed my eyes.
“………..Huh?”
“………..What was that just now?”
Asami-san’s voice, completely bewildered, stabbed into my ears.
Asami-san stood there frozen in the silence for a while.
After a moment, she left the room. The sound of the door closing rang out unusually loud.
—Silence settled over the room.
My eyes flew open.
Alone, I sat up on the sofa and held my head in my hands.
My heart was pounding violently.
Eh, why?
What do I do?
I actually did it.
She’s definitely going to hate me now.
I mean, why did I even kiss her?
And a woman, at that.
Even though I’m supposed to hate Asami-san.
Aaaah, I can’t handle this.
My life is over. I can’t face her next week. Actually, I want to disappear right now.
No, whatever, I’ll just blame it on the alcohol.
Right. Let’s just forget it.
I don’t remember anything. I’m deciding I don’t remember. Total memory loss.
I told myself that.
But, I found myself gently touching my fingers to my lips. They still felt warm, somehow.
The soft sensation left on my lips just wouldn’t fade, no matter what.
My racing heart wouldn’t settle, the whole time.
I decided to believe that this racing heart, too, was just the alcohol talking.