CHAPTER 1
I failed my job interview.
I don't know why that sentence still feels heavy even when I repeat it in my head over and over again, like saying it enough times will somehow make it lose its meaning. Maybe because I already knew the outcome the moment I stepped out of that glass building, tie loosened, palms sweaty for no reason anymore. They smiled too politely. The kind of smile that says you were never really an option to begin with.
On my way out, I kept thinking about every answer I gave. About the one question I paused too long on. About how the interviewer nodded like he understood me, but his eyes were already somewhere else. Maybe on the next candidate. Maybe on lunch.
I walked without direction for a bit. Let the city decide where I'd end up. Hokkaido air was cold, biting lightly at my face, and I remember thinking how strange it was that even after all these years, this place still felt smaller than it should have been. Or maybe I had just grown used to disappointment.
"Yuuto?"
I stopped.
That voice.
I turned slowly, half-expecting my brain to be playing tricks on me because of how tired I was. But there he stood, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed like the world had never once pushed him down.
Shun Watanabe.
Back in high school, people used to call him Swan. It started as mockery. Then it just stuck. Even I called him that sometimes, mostly out of habit, mostly because he never seemed to mind.
"You look like someone just told you the vending machine ate their money," he said, grinning.
I stared at him for a second longer than necessary. "You look like someone who owns the vending machine."
He laughed, loud and careless. Same laugh as always. Like nothing ever weighed him down for too long.
We hadn't planned to meet. That's the strange part. We just collided, the way people from your past sometimes do when you least want to be reminded of it.
"Drink?" he asked.
I didn't even hesitate. I think part of me already knew today wasn't going to end well anyway, so I might as well let it end honestly.
The bar was small. Quiet. The kind where the lights are dim enough that nobody asks why you're there in the middle of the afternoon. We sat side by side, shoulders almost touching, and ordered without looking at the menu.
Shun talked. A lot.
About his wife nagging him about his sleep schedule. About meetings that never ended. About an assistant manager he had to fire because, apparently, laundering money from a cartel was considered "unprofessional behavior".
I nodded along, occasionally chuckling, but my mind kept drifting. Watching the condensation slide down my glass. Listening to his voice overlap with memories of him from years ago — the same guy who used to trip in the hallway and laugh it off before anyone else could.
"You okay?" he asked eventually.
I sighed. "Failed the interview."
He didn't say anything right away. That surprised me more than if he had laughed.
"Oh," he said. Then, after a pause, "That sucks."
I nodded. "Yeah."
Silence stretched between us. Comfortable. Familiar.
Then he said it, like it was nothing.
"Come work for me."
I turned so fast my neck hurt. "What?"
"Assistant manager. One of my branches."
I actually laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was ridiculous.
"Shun, I'm a computer graduate," I said. "I sit in front of screens. I don't manage people."
"You managed me."
"That's different."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is it?"
I wanted to argue. Really. I did. But my mind betrayed me, dragging me back to memories I had no intention of revisiting today.
Middle school. Shun getting pushed around because his clothes were cheap and his lunch smelled different. Me standing there, not because I was brave, but because someone had to. High school. His father dying suddenly. Me sitting with him in silence because neither of us knew what words were supposed to do in moments like that.
"I can't just take a high position because I know you," I said finally. "The other employees will hate me. They'll think I didn't earn it."
"They already hate me," he replied. "Comes with the CEO title."
That word still felt strange coming from him. CEO. Shun Watanabe. The same guy who used to borrow my notes because he forgot his again.
"You don't owe me anything," I said.
He looked at me then. Not smiling. Not joking.
"I do," he said quietly. "You carried me when I couldn't stand. When my dad died. When I inherited everything and had no idea how to live with it."
I swallowed.
"I trust you more than anyone in that office," he continued. "More than people who smile at me during meetings and curse me when I turn around."
I felt something tighten in my chest. Guilt. Warmth. Fear. All mixed together.
"I'm not leaving," he added, leaning back in his chair, "until you agree."
I stared at him for a long time.
"…You're still annoying," I muttered.
He smiled. "So that's a yes."
I didn't smile back. But I nodded.
As we left, he clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Oh, and Yuuto?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful of the branch manager."
"Why?"
"She's strict," he said. "Never drops her guard."
---
A few days later, I stood inside Watanabe Co.
The lobby was bigger than I remembered. Or maybe I just felt smaller inside it. Shun introduced me like I was some kind of legend. A hard worker. A rival. A friend.
I noticed the looks immediately.
Some polite. Some curious. Some sharp.
People who had been here longer than me. People who probably deserved this position more. I tried not to think about it too much, but guilt has a way of sticking to you.
Then the door opened.
"She's here," someone whispered.
Footsteps echoed across the floor. Calm. Measured.
"I'm Yuuto Shibata," I said at the same time she spoke.
"I'm Saki Kushida."
The sound of her name hit me harder than it should have.
Everything froze.
The office faded. The people vanished.
I saw a bus stop. Snow piled on the sides of the road. A girl standing across from me every morning for years.
We never talked much. Just waved.
We learned sign language in school. Everyone did back then. It was mandatory. At first, it felt useless. Then it became something else.
We used it awkwardly. Casually. Like it was nothing.
Did you buy the new Jump?
Which chapter was your favorite?
Once, I yelled across the street asking her name. She yelled back.
After that, we went back to signing. Like voices didn't matter.
Not friends.
Not strangers.
Something in between.
A childhood that quietly existed.
I jolted back to reality when I hit my leg on the desk.
She wouldn't remember me. That was my first thought.
Then she turned away slightly.
Hid her face.
And softly asked—
"Do you still read Jump?"