Tokyo, Japan.
5-6-34 Minato City.
This is located in the southeast of Tokyo, right next to Tokyo Bay.
Even as evening approached, one could still see countless professional men and women in suits hurrying along, gathering in small groups under skyscrapers, eating rice balls and chatting.
Many high-end shops were scattered around. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and the evening lights, one could vaguely see waiters in crisp uniforms.
There were quite a few people lingering in the shops. Some were clearly foreign tourists, lingering in front of products and whispering to their parents or friends.
This was not just a bustling commercial district and a residence for old-money wealthy people, but also an area filled with high-end commercial office buildings.
"Well, Miwa, is that perverted bastard of a team leader texting you again?"
Two women in business attire and black stockings stood downstairs. The young woman named Miwa was still holding a half-eaten large rice ball, while her other hand tapped helplessly on her phone, her black hair draped over her shoulders.
Hearing her friend's words, she could only give a bitter smile and close the chat interface.
Miwa shook her head. "Saki, forget it. I plan to leave. The content of his harassing messages this month has become increasingly explicit. I can't continue working here."
"I... planned to tell Yamazaki, but I'm afraid he'll cause trouble. I'm fine, I've already been to many interviews, but he won't be okay..."
Yamazaki is Miwa's boyfriend.
The woman named Saki clenched her fists, indignant for her friend. "That guy has old man smell! Bastard, Yamazaki definitely needs to give him a beating!"
Miwa: "Yamazaki... no, I still can't tell him. His job..."
Saki was speechless.
Her friend's boyfriend wasn't as respectable as they were. Nearly thirty, he was still working odd jobs, and most of his free time was spent on games.
"So what? Are you just going to keep it a secret and suffer alone? I say, after using him one last time, just give up on him. A man like that has no future with Miwa."
Miwa shook her head. "It's been seven years..."
Miwa thought blankly.
Tokyo is not a place to realize dreams; Tokyo is a place that makes people forget them.
This place has destroyed too many people's brains and bodies—regardless of gender, regardless of patriarchy or feminism.
In this city that flows like a machine, amidst the stacks of green bills flowing through its veins, men and women alike quicken their pace and shut their mouths.
Power does not distinguish between men and women.
It took Miwa many years to get here from the countryside.
Besides that fuzzy brown teddy bear, only Yamazaki had been by her side.
Because of this, she especially cherished her bond with Yamazaki and his care for her—somewhat like the bit of warmth felt occasionally in deep winter when walking past the glass door of a coffee shop with orange lights.
Yes, even a tiny bit of warmth could encourage her to keep moving forward through the wind and snow.
Saki took out a cigarette, turned sideways to hide behind Miwa, and lit it with a'snap'.
She took a deep drag and slowly exhaled two trails of smoke. "I say, I've never heard of a guy who makes his woman buy condoms. His 'goodness' to you is just lip service. You work overtime so late; has he ever come to pick you up even once?"
"I think he's much more willing to spend money on games than on you."
"How much money have you spent on him? And him? Has he ever bought you a gift, even a bag of candy?" Saki asked with a face full of disdain.
Miwa pretended not to hear. She helplessly straightened her body to shield Saki, who was puffing away. She whispered cautiously, "Hey, be careful smoking here."
Miwa stood in front of Saki, the smoke drifting crookedly from above her head.
Saki rested her chin on Miwa's shoulder and blew smoke in her face. "Anyway, think about it yourself, Little Darling. If you keep being this submissive... By the way, do you remember why you first came here?"
Why?
I forgot a long time ago.
Ding-dong—
A message.
Miwa pouted and blew away the smoke Saki had exhaled, then pulled her phone from her pocket. The message popped up on the screen.
Two pairs of eyes stared at the screen simultaneously.
"Aaaaaaaaaah!!!"
"Miwa!!! You got the job!!!"
"You sneak, you went to that company behind my back!! I knew it! You could do it!!"
An acceptance letter for the third round of interviews unfolded on the pink phone.
"It's Line! It's Line! You passed! Miwa, I want salmon! I want a Kobe beef set!!"
Saki had already thrown away her cigarette. She bounced around while tugging at Miwa's suit jacket, messing up the collar of the white shirt.
Passersby turned to stare at these two women who seemed to have been driven mad by work.
Miwa just stared blankly at the message in her hand, only letting out a scream of "Ya!!!" after a long while.
"You're really slow to react... Quick, reply 'Received', hurry up."
Urged by Saki, Miwa pressed a few keys on her phone. The excited girl even added a saluting emoji to decorate the dry "Received".
It was obvious she was so excited she was feeling a bit anxious.
"Eh? You use this emoji too?"
Saki looked at Miwa's screen curiously.
On the screen, a chibi big-headed doll with wavy black hair was saluting cutely. The cartoon character was very pretty, with a small beauty mark under the corner of its large eyes.
"Yeah... it was recently released. They say Miss Yano designed it herself. But was it based on a real person?"
Miwa opened the sticker pack titled "Crazy Girl Sen Getsusa." A list popped up, with the movements of tiny cartoon figures filling half the screen.
Saki shook her head dismissively. "How is that possible? If someone looked like that, would they need to make stickers? They'd have debuted long ago. Eh? But then again, maybe she's a trainee from some company preparing for her debut?"
"Mm-hmm, so pretty. Oh well, let's go, let's go eat! You're not getting out of treating me!"
..."Sent?" Although a half-moon hung outside the window, the office was still brightly lit.
"Yes, it has been sent. Manager Yano."
Standing before the man at the desk was a young woman.
Her long hair was tied in a ponytail. Although she wore the same professional attire, those with a bit of knowledge could tell from the fabric and style that this outfit was definitely expensive.
Yano Chihiro nodded. "That's all. Please bring them to my office when the time comes."
The woman left with a powerful stride in her high heels. In an instant, several employees began to whisper, their heads huddled together as they discussed the woman who had just left.
"Hey, is it true?"
"It should be true. Didn't Sakai-kun see it? In the stock subscription agreement and the shareholder list, there's definitely—definitely Yano Chihiro's name."
"Sugoi... So that woman actually owns shares in the company?"
"Tsk, probably just a tiny bit. We're worth 8 billion USD! How many shares could she possibly have?"
At least you don't have any.
"Well, even if it's just point-zero-something, it would still be several million dollars."
The sound of a door opening interrupted the employees' chatter. A man with ear-length short hair, wearing a pure black suit, entered and politely knocked on the glass door.
"Excuse me, everyone?"
The male employee closest to the door pushed his mouse aside and stood up in a panic, blocking the screen behind him where a tiny figure was beating up monsters. "Ah... who are you looking for?"
The visitor looked outside the door in confusion, shaking the small white plastic card in his hand. "I have an appointment. The receptionist gave me this and told me to go to Ms. Yano's office... I'm lost."
So that's how it is.
A male clerk led the strikingly handsome man to his destination, passing through a brightly lit corridor and a series of glass doors.
At the far end, a heavy wooden door bore a nameplate that read "Yano Chihiro, Department Head."
Knock, knock, knock.
Three raps on the door.
With his task complete, the clerk gave a quick bow to the well-dressed, soft-spoken man and hurried away; as he turned the corner he faintly heard voices—Amber? What kind of odd name is that?
Inside the office, a man and woman embraced in the comfortable warmth.
A porcelain vase on the windowsill held a few roses, and a breeze slipped in through the gap in the slightly open window.
Suddenly the closed notebook on the desk was flipped open from the first page, fluttering past headings—"95," "Bubble," "Finance," "Apple," "Internet," "Line"—before settling on the final pages.
A careless glance might catch what looked like an English word: "BIT…COIN"?
The rose took ten years to unfurl its petals; tonight, Amber and Ms. Yano each found the one they had been waiting for.
At the tip of her hair, the amethyst ribbon—unchanged after all these years—still sparkled.
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