The melodic clatter of gunfire dances off in the distance, probably no further than one hundred meters of the muddy trench that I call home. It’s been a long seven months since I had joined the ranks of the Armoury Core; Japan’s elite fighting force of soldiers. Over these past months, I’ve actually shared a trench with 11 moles… well, in actuality they are in fact men, but that's what we ended up calling ourselves. So, here’s the gist of it; We’re Moles because, after long enough time in the trenches, we began to feel like a bunch of moles buried in a hole. We attack our foes by discretely crawling our way into enemy trenches and attacking them, like a bunch of angry moles… actually, I guess it’s not as cool when I describe it like that...
Regardless.
Suddenly, my body tenses up in shock. I hear something peculiar, something that I hadn’t heard in what feels like years. Silence.
The gunfire stopped? How could this be?
Whispers can be heard throughout the war-torn battlefield, and one of the moles I’ve shared this trench with, Takamura Mamoru, peaks his head over the hedge to see what’s going on. The expression wrapped around his face could be described as nothing short of horrendous. Fearing enemy sniper fire, I reach over to pull him back down into the trench; I stop as I get a closer look at his face. His eyes begin to tear up, and he turns to look at me.
“Yuriko… I’m not feeling so good…” he says as he falls back into the trench. I go to grab his hand, but I quickly pull away. I look where his hand should be, however upon further investigation, his hand is not there at all! In fact, his whole arm is beginning to fade away as grey dust!
“Wh-what’s happening?” I murmur to myself as I watch my comrade fade away into oblivion. I scurry down the halls of the trench, looking for help, but to no avail. Piles of grey dust are gathered along the muddy floor, where my mole friends once stood… I look up to the sky as rain begins to clap against the ground. I run over to the edge of the trench, to see what turned Takamura and the others to dust. In a flash of purple light, I see…
My body catapults up out of bed as a cold sweat rolls off the back of my neck. I look around my bedroom frantically, then pat myself down; confirming my consciousness. My bed sheets are all scrunched together at the edge of my bed, with my pillows scattered along the floor. “Not again!” I shout, pulling violently at my frizzy bed-head.
For the past several nights, I have been doing this sort of meditation technique that Kotaro taught Kiyoko and I at our last Writer’s Block meeting. He said that it’s supposed to give us “writers dreams”, and that we would wake up with fantastical ideas for our stories. Obviously, Kiyoko and I were both extremely doubtful, as there is no such thing as “writers dreams”. But, I have always been one to let curiosity get the best of me.
Today, my editor Fuji is going to be meeting me at twelve at Him Torton’s, a coffee shop just across the street from my apartment. Knowing him, he probably thought I’d get lost if I was asked to meet further then 300m of my front step. But, is he really all that wrong to think that? I’m in my twenties and I still have trouble making the easiest of deadlines. I let out a deep sigh and tumble my way out of bed. I look to the clock, preparing to yell in panic.
“Nine…. Thirty?” I ask myself in surprise. How is it that I am up before I need to be? I turn and face myself in the mirror. Vaughn springs up from my head.
Standing before my bedroom mirror, I alternate lifting two different dresses to my chest. To celebrate waking up on time, and to make up for arriving at Fuji’s office like a mess a few days ago, I decided that I’d wear something that isn’t brown, grey, or black. Currently, I’m debating between yellow and pink. I guess it really doesn’t matter, as I’ll be wrapped up in a cardigan anyway. Come to think of it, I wonder what it is Fuji wants to talk to me about? I suddenly drop both dresses. Could it be? My last conversation with Fuji rings throughout my head, bouncing off the boundaries of my skull. Our debate about romance in my novel. What if he decided I’m just a low-tier fan-fiction writer after all, stuck in my own la-la land? Surely if he was praising me he would have said it over the phone… then again, when would Fuji ever praise me? It has to be negative. I lower my tone to replicate the baritone that is Fuji’s voice.
“Yurikoooo! Yooooouuuu are fiiiiired!” I exclaim to myself. I quickly respond.
“I-I-I promise that I’ll work har-” I cut myself off.
“Youuuu are the worrrssst” I yell, pointing at myself in the mirror.
I have come to the grim realization that this could be my last day at Saigo Press.
“Dark clouds are having a party in the sky today...” I murmur to myself, looking up to the sky as I step out of my apartment. To be safe, I brought an umbrella, though the coffee shop is practically at the end of my parking lot, so chances are I wouldn’t have gotten too wet. I check my watch, and it reads 11:30 am. I know that I am a little early, but I must make the effort to show Fuji that I am not an incompetent NEET. I look down to my outfit, to which I made the effort to wear a yellow skirt, and beige high-heeled boots. I was going to google if the colors matched, but I am fairly certain that they do.
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I look at my watch. “12:00:” I’ve been standing alone at the front step of Him Torton’s for about 25 minutes. I glance around, searching for the bearded man in the windows of the parked cars. Could Fuji already be in the shop? I highly doubt he’s one to be late. I walk to the right side of the building where there are four large windows displaying the inside of the shop. Not to my luck, the blinds are drawn.
I walk back to the main entrance. The door is old and rustic, with a small window at the top of it. I make a hopeless attempt to peer through it, knowing all too well that my attempt would be hopeless. Am I really this short? I get onto the tips of my toes and try to look over once again, but fail once more.
“Hmph…” I say through an exhale. “All I need is one quick look and I’ll be good…”. I squat down as deep as I can, and jump up to the window.
The blinds are down on it too.
Just as my feet are to touch the ground, I land heavy on the back heel of my boot. It snaps off.
My whole body recoils back in the air. I fall back onto the cement parking lot.
“Yuriko?!… Are you okay?” Asks… wait, who was that? I lay motionless looking up at the dark clouds, and suddenly an angel appears, looking down at me with the cutest expression of concern. “Yuriko! What happened?” he asks, with his grey eyes showing a splitting reflection of my own. Suddenly I come to a pitiful realization.
“H-h-haru?!” I exclaim, recoiling back up to my feet, almost losing my balance because of the heel missing from my right boot.
Did he see me fall? Surely he did! Even if he didn’t it’s quite implied, seeing that I was lying motionless in a parking lot! I must play it off, roll with the punches Yuriko…
“So, uhh, what’re you doing out here today?” I ask, wiping the gravel discreetly off of my butt.
“Are you sure you’re okay..? I can take you to…”
“Nope! Totally fine!” I say with a forcibly graceful laugh. Haru glances around for a second then looks back at me, playing off the situation with an angelic chuckle.
“Well, I was coming here to meet with a Saigo Press editor I’ve been working with. My agent says he’s looking for somebody to illustrate his client’s novels… and seeing as I’m not working with Kiyoko anymore, I, uh, have to get all the clients I can.” he says with an embarrassed laugh. I guess him and Kiyoko really fell through.
“Oh, really? Well, my agent just called me in today. Who’s your editor?”
“Fuji.”
“Oh.” I feel like I’m about to faint.
The three of us sit at a small table at the corner of Him Torton’s. Haru, Fuji, and I, in my now dirt stained yellow skirt and broken boot.
“So, let me get this straight…” states Fuji, raising one eyebrow at me. “Instead of coming in to check if I was here, you decided that your best course of action would be to jump as high as you can in order to see through a miniature window?”
“Well… when you put it like that....” I say, my voice trailing off in volume as I speak. How embarrassing, being made fun of like this in front of Haru of all people. He’s probably trying so hard not to laugh right now. I look over at him. He’s so well put together. His scarf is tied perfectly around his neck, matching his long black winter coat. His hair seems like it is not done up. Upon this observation, I can feel Vaughn pressing against my Tuoque.
“Regardless, at least the two of you are now acquainted. As you should know, there was a rather unfortunate dispute between Kiyoko and Haru, and because of that, Kiyoko wants nothing to do with him. As you know Yuriko, I am not one to let talent go to waste, so I’ve requested that Haru will be the new illustrator for Dancing in the Void.” says Fuji, sounding relatively annoyed about Haru and Kiyoko’s “breakup”.
“Oh, but what about the previous illustrator? What happened to her?” I ask. She was always pretty good, though I never actually met her. She went by the pen name “Bakuwoman”.
“She decided to move into another venture, and as Haru was readily available, he is our first choice. Is that an issue?” asks Fuji with a hint of confrontation. I glance to Haru and back at him. Will this mean that I will be talking to Haru more often?
“Yuriko?” asks Fuji once more, with an expectant sigh. I perk up my posture and quickly nod at him.
“Yes, of course! I’m not picky at all…” I say, looking over at Haru for a second, to which I catch a slight smile from him. I instantly feel my face go red with blush. This is going to be difficult.
“Alright Haru, you’re set,” he says, slapping his hands onto the table, causing me to flinch in my seat. Yuriko, you make sure to provide him with the scenes you want him to draw up. Haru can take care of the cover.”
“Got it, I’ll be sure to apply myself to all ends of my work,” says Haru with absolute confidence. He turns to face me, and I slightly recline back out of shock. “I won’t let you down!’ he exclaims with a bright smile.
“Same goes for me..!” I chant back, my volume growing as I spoke. I physically cringe after hearing my own enthusiasm.
“Alright, that settles it! You two can be off now. We’ll be in touch, Yuriko.” finishes Fuji, to which I nod back with a smile. With this, Haru gets up from his seat and heads off on his way. After a few words with Fuji I get up to do the same, but I am quickly stopped in a shock of embarrassment.
“Every protagonist needs a heroine!” shouts Fuji with a hardy laugh. I almost jump from my half broken boots, glancing across the shop to make sure Haru didn’t hear. Damn him! Is he trying to give me a heart attack? Was he really serious about that whole protagonist plan of his? I decide to ignore the comment altogether.
I can’t help but laugh a little as I make my way back home. I look up to the sky as the sun begins to peek his way between the clouds.
“Well, I wasn’t fired.”