Chapter Text
TOKYO, 12:00, TUESDAY
Shinobu Kocho
Shinobu Kocho absolutely hates that today’s Tuesday. If you ask her, it’s Tuesday that is the worst day of the week, not Monday. Mondays have lost their hype — they’re completely overhated and you get used to them eventually. Tuesday, on the other hand, is nowhere near the weekend, which means it’s practically the new Monday.
On top of that misery, she’s made the mistake of establishing “Violet Tuesdays” at the company where she works as an HR manager. Basically it’s a “fun and interactive way to foster creativity in the workplace while maintaining a sense of style ;)” (she’s STILL overthinking the stupid emoji she added at the end).
Now her temple vein is popping in annoyance and, overstimulated, she’s clad in tight violet jeans, gripping the reports as another email for an “emergency team meeting” pings on her laptop. Smacking her pink lips together, she forces a small smile, her gaze lingering beyond the glass partitions of her office.
The clock reads 12:03 — an unfortunate fact, since it’s too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. Her stomach makes a small growl at the thought. She’d basically forgotten to eat anything this morning.
Shinobu Kocho is twenty-six and her life couldn’t be more hectic. She’s been working for one and a half years at the distinguished accounting firm ‘Daemon and Sayer’ as an HR manager, and is also balancing therapy, yoga classes, taking care of two cats and a terrarium (she could already hear Mitsuri’s voice: “They’re cute, Shinobu, but they low-key make my hair stand!”), and lying to herself to keep up with the ceramics lessons she promised to herself she’d attend.
On a positive note, her biggest brag, if anything, is her friend group. Consisting of 7 friends, one could say it’s nearly impossible to arrange a simple hang out between them. But no, this particular group is different — their priority is being there for each other no matter how difficult the routine is. This is exhilarating for Shinobu, the only stability in her life keeping her at ease.
She draws a sharp breath as the clock ticks 12:04 and her vein is about to burst.
Her eyes catch black, silky hair; she notices boring gray suit pants, a white shirt and a blue — no, cyan — tie (someone didn’t read the stupid memo she sent about VIOLET Tuesdays). A soft voice speaks politely yet rigidly into a phone; his left wrist sports an important-looking watch. The whole unremarkable tableau, which earns a small unimpressed yawn from Shinobu, could belong to no one but Tomioka Giyuu — the star accountant of ‘Daemon and Sayer’.
Giyuu is two years older than Shinobu: a prodigy in accounting, awfully stoic and closed as a book. Very practical and precise, almost as if he were commanded by a higher form of life or something. Then again most accountants are like that — quiet, dull, and unbearable — but he’s got mojo, and Shinobu is interested. Interested in the “it’s 12:10 and I’m counting down to my lunch break so I can get out of my office” kind of way. They rarely talk — and why would they? Shinobu’s not here to make friends.
As if by thinking about her friends magically summoned them, as if she’s performing a mystical ceremony, her phone lights up white, suddenly a thousand messages filling up her notifications.
Mitsuriii 🎀🌿✧˚
- SHINOBUUUUUUU
- ARE YOU HEREEEEEE
- HE BROKE UP W MEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
- HE KICKED ME OUT OF THE HOUSE ISTG
- WHAT TIME U GET OFF WORKKKK PLS I NEED TO TALK TO U 😭😭😭😭😭😭
Shinobu’s eyes dart between the thousand emojis bawling their eyes out and the fact that Mitsuri just got dumped by her 6 month-something relationship with her objectionable boyfriend, that she also lived with.
Me
- wait whattt
- wait thats super crazy where are you now???
- I get off at 5:30 but i have cersmics afterwards
- *ceramics
Her lip twitches.
Another ceramics class canceled.
Me
- but no worries
- i’ll cancel.
- wait for me at the udon shop near my place.