Episode 5

Sunken deep into my chair, staring at the monitor with unfocused eyes. The mouse and keyboard make their flat, mechanical sounds.

I drain another coffee — I’ve lost count of which one. A flavour I hate.

“Hey. You alive? Ignoring me?”

“Um… Takemi-san, are you all right…?”

Last train home, shower only, barely any sleep, straight back to working from home.

Three days of death march. It ends tomorrow. Whether I cry or laugh, everything has to be delivered by end of day. Just a little more. Just a little more.

“Oi!”

“Ow—”

Something hard connects with the top of my head. I turn around, annoyed.

“Look at the state of your face. Classic.”

A phone gets pointed at me and several photos taken. I didn’t say she could.

“Shiina-san, I think that’s probably enough…”

Two figures come into focus: a small shigodeki-joshi, and a composed, refined young woman. An unlikely pair.

The person next to Tsumugi — I haven’t seen her in a while — she’s, um…

“Hiiragi. Our in-house designer. You were making a face like you’d forgotten who she was.”

“Ah — no, sorry. I haven’t forgotten. It’s been a while, Hiiragi-san.”

Right — the mid-career hire who came in as a designer. Tsumugi’s junior, a polished and graceful person. The long silk-black hair she keeps dyed deep is striking, and everything about her — her clothes, her voice, the way she speaks — hints at a careful upbringing.

Hiiragi-san asks gently if I’m all right. I give her a small bow in return and look at Tsumugi.

“I happened to be passing through on some errand and caught a glimpse of you looking half-dead. Had to laugh. Haven’t seen you this wrecked in a while, have I?”

“Shut up. It’s not like I chose this. I genuinely don’t have time today, so go home.”

A cold voice comes out of me without my meaning it to. It doesn’t sound like my own. Sorry, Tsumugi.

“Fine, whatever. Just — if it really gets bad, let me know.”

An energy drink in a garish package lands on the desk with a thud.

“Seriously, sleep. Before you break.”

A low mutter, and Tsumugi strides off.

“Shiina-san, wait—!”

Hiiragi-san turns to follow, then stops.

She reaches gently for my hair, takes it in her hand, and draws a brush from somewhere inside her jacket. She works through it with practised ease, gathers it into a single bunch, and drapes it over my left shoulder.

A low side ponytail — Tsumugi once told me it made me look childish, but I don’t have strong feelings about it and changing it at this point feels like too much effort, so I’ve worn it the same way since university.

I couldn’t have met Hiiragi-san more than once or twice — but had she somehow remembered how I usually wear my hair?

“Yes. This suits Takemi-san better, I think.”

Sorry to have disturbed you. A neat bow, and she follows after Tsumugi. I watch her retreating figure in a daze.

The exhaustion and sleep deprivation showing — makeup kept to the bare minimum. The dark, deep shadows under my eyes I couldn’t hide. My hair had been left down too, because I couldn’t be bothered.

“I’ll have to thank them both properly later…”

I’d thought Tsumugi had come to tease me, but she was probably worried in her own way.

Hiiragi-san was presumably just there as Tsumugi’s companion, but she’d been nothing but gentle. I don’t know why she fixed my hair — maybe she simply couldn’t stand to look at the state of me.

I was glad Seriha hadn’t come by. I wouldn’t want her to see that coldness in my voice and manner. It would probably make her sad.

The remaining work isn’t much. If I push through at this rate, I should be done by morning.

For just a moment, a smile that blooms like a flower crosses my mind.

We’ve been exchanging messages on the chat, but I’ve been chained to my own desk for days on end — I haven’t actually seen her yesterday or today.

I’d better start looking for a restaurant for the celebration.

All the difficult things — I can think about those once everything settles. Honestly, right now I don’t have the space to…