The train moved rhythmically along the city tracks, weaving through the steel jungle with a steady “clatter.”
Inside the carriage, it wasn’t crowded, but empty seats were hard to find.
Aina Saiten held onto the cold overhead handrail with one hand, her body swaying gently with the train’s movement, while her other hand gripped her phone tightly, her slender thumb tapping quickly on the screen.
She was sending a message to her boyfriend, Kaoru Hoshitani, her words filled with cautious comfort and apology, trying to smooth over the cloud of displeasure he’d felt that morning because of her insistence on this interview.
“Don’t be upset, Akane.”
“I’ll come back right after the interview, okay? How about I buy a bouquet of your favorite sunflowers today?”
“Tonight, I’ll make the simmered beef you love, and we can finally watch that movie you’ve wanted to see.”
She agonized over her wording, editing again and again, before finally sending the message with a hint of appeasement.
Yet, even as the train slowly pulled into the next station, her phone screen remained dark, no notification sound, nor the expected “read” mark appearing.
Aina Saiten let out a soft sigh, locked her phone, and tucked it into the inner pocket of her briefcase.
Truthfully, she had expected this outcome from the start.
Akane’s temperament had always been like this—whenever he got upset, he needed time to cool down before he’d ease up.
She raised her eyes, gazing at the scenery rushing past the train window, silently making plans in her heart:
[Looks like I really need to bring home a bouquet of flowers today. I should pick the freshest ones… And tonight, I’ll keep Akane company properly.]
“Ding-dong—”
A pleasant station announcement chimed; her stop had arrived.
Aina Saiten followed the crowd off the train and onto the platform.
Guided by her phone’s map, she quickly found the building at the corner, its prominent “Izumi Shoji Co., Ltd.” logo standing out.
Compared to the glass-walled financial centers around it that reached into the clouds and gleamed with a cold brilliance, the headquarters of Izumi Shoji, a food industry giant, appeared understated and practical.
It looked more like an ordinary office building—simple in design, focused on function—yet its steady presence quietly spoke of the company’s strength and deep roots.
And it was precisely this seemingly ordinary building that might offer Aina Saiten an unprecedented, crucial opportunity in her career.
She took a deep breath, as if to push down her nervousness and anticipation, then strode confidently toward the revolving glass doors.
Inside, the lobby was spacious and bright, the polished marble floor reflecting the hurried figures of employees passing by.
The air carried a faint scent of coffee and the coolness from the central air conditioning.
Aina Saiten walked up to the front desk, confirmed her appointment with the receptionist dressed in a neat uniform and wearing a standardized smile.
Once her information was verified, she took the elevator directly to the interview floor.
As the elevator rose smoothly, she caught her own slightly tense reflection in the mirror-like metal doors.
There was still nearly half an hour until the scheduled start of the interview.
Rather than wait idly outside the designated meeting room, Aina Saiten first turned into the restroom on the same floor.
After attending to her needs, she stood at the wide, bright sink, carefully checking her appearance in the mirror.
She gently smoothed her black hair, which had been slightly mussed by the jostling of the train, ensuring every strand was in place.
Finally, she adjusted the collar of her light gray business suit and the imaginary creases that didn’t actually exist, pressing her lips—coated in light pink lipstick—together.
Only after confirming everything was perfect did she step out of the restroom, the heels of her shoes clicking crisply and rhythmically on the quiet corridor’s tiles.
Outside the meeting room, in the rest area, several simple fabric sofas were arranged.
Aina Saiten chose a seat facing the door, placed her briefcase flat on her knees, sat up straight, and waited quietly.
Time ticked by. Occasionally, employees hurried down the corridor, but no one stopped.
As she silently reviewed potential interview questions in her mind, there was a quiet “click”—the meeting room door across from her opened from inside.
A young male employee in a deep blue suit and black-rimmed glasses poked his head out, looked around, and quickly fixed his gaze on Aina Saiten, who sat alone.
He walked over quickly, bowed slightly, and spoke with a polite, formulaic tone:
“Excuse me, are you Ms. Saiten?”
“Yes, I’m Aina Saiten.”
She immediately stood, wearing the practiced, confident smile she had rehearsed many times.
“Very well, please follow me.”
The young man stepped aside, gesturing to lead her in.
Aina Saiten followed him into the meeting room where her chance to seize this opportunity would be decided.
The room was spacious and tidy. On one side of the long conference table sat several people who were clearly the interview officers.
Her eyes quickly swept the room, instantly spotting a presence unlike the others—
Among the interview officers, most wore formal dark suits, their faces composed and mature, all middle-aged women around forty or older.
Only the one sitting at the end looked shockingly young.
That face still held a hint of youthfulness, features as delicate as a doll’s, but her eyes were calm in a way that didn’t match her apparent age.
If she hadn’t been dressed in a slightly mature black suit, Aina Saiten would have thought she was a high school student who had wandered into the meeting room by mistake.
This momentary surprise rippled through Aina Saiten’s heart like a stone thrown into a lake, but she quickly composed herself, her lips—which had parted in astonishment—returning to a polite line.
She knew very well: no matter how young the other person appeared, as long as she sat in that seat, she had the authority to judge her, and was someone she must respect—an interview officer.
She must not, and absolutely would not, reveal any emotion that could be taken as disrespect.
At the male employee’s gesture, Aina Saiten sat in the lone chair opposite the row of interview officers.
She placed her briefcase at her feet, folded her hands on her knees, her back as straight as if measured by a ruler, displaying her best professional demeanor.
The interview began in earnest.
The process was somewhat more relaxed than Aina Saiten had anticipated.
The middle-aged female interview officers had clearly reviewed her résumé thoroughly. After her smooth self-introduction, they leafed through her paper resume, raising several deep and specific questions about her experience and skills.
Aina Saiten had done her homework in advance and felt well-prepared for these questions.
She organized her thoughts into clear, logical answers, responding calmly to each, without stumbling or making any obvious mistakes, her face always showing a humble yet confident smile.
After each interview officer took their turn to ask questions, they exchanged a look that was hard to read, and then seemed to fall into a brief silence, as if making their final evaluations.
Aina Saiten relaxed a little, thinking the interview was about to end smoothly.
But just then, the young interview officer—who had been silent until now, only quietly observing—suddenly looked up.
Her clear gaze landed on Aina Saiten, and the corners of her lips lifted into what seemed like a friendly curve.
She spoke in a tone completely different from the others—casual, even a little intimate:
“Ms. Saiten, you graduated from the University of Tokyo, Faculty of Economics, right?”
Her voice was crisp, carrying a girlish quality,
“In that case, you’re actually my senpai.”
“Ah… Senpai…?”
Aina Saiten was visibly stunned by these words, her mind going blank for a moment.
Although she’d been surprised by how young the other looked, deep down she’d assumed it was just a baby face, and the actual age must be close to thirty, probably a few years older than herself.
But now, being called “senpai” by someone who looked like a high schooler, the huge gap between perception and reality left her completely unable to react for a moment, her eyes filled with confusion, her fingers unconsciously curling on her knees.
“Yes,”
The young interview officer seemed very pleased with her reaction, her smile deepening, her tone light and bright as she explained,
“I’m a first-year student at the University of Tokyo, Faculty of Economics. I’m just interning here right now.”
As she spoke, she even playfully winked.
The stern-faced, middle-aged female interview officers nearby also broke into knowing, reserved smiles, as if they’d known the whole time and were quite used to this “intern interview officer’s” special status.
“Oh… I-I see…”
Aina Saiten finally managed to recover somewhat from her initial shock, forcing a smile as she tried to hide her inner turmoil, but her tone still betrayed a lingering daze and uncertainty.