Using the idea that ramuda doesn’t need to eat he just does it for enjoyment lolol. Also Ramuda basement Dice FIGHT ME !!!
Food oriented if you need the warning
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Ramuda, leader of famous rap group Fling Posse.
Ramuda, popular fashion designer in the eclectic city of Shibuya.
Ramuda, notorious flirt who’s charisma never fails to gather a crowd.
Ramuda, currently struggling in your kitchen trying to make you breakfast in bed.
Truthfully, he’s never seen a fridge as full as yours. Despite having an entirely other person living in his studio, Ramuda and Dice tended to order in more than not (and that is when Ramuda decides he wants to eat). His fridge consisted of leftover take out, easy to microwave meals, and expensive pastries he splurged on when he felt like it.
Your fridge actually looked like it could sustain a human. And of course it did, you weren’t like Ramuda. You didn’t have the money to order out on a whim, you actually needed to eat in order to survive, and you actually had a home that felt like a home.
Ramuda couldn’t relate to any of that, at least not yet.
Nowadays, he’s slept over and your place more often than not. He’s found a place into your routine. Where’d you’d try and make something quick in the morning before you went off to work- where you went grocery shopping every Saturday even if you didn’t have an exact list to follow.
It’s Saturday morning and Ramuda wants to be a good partner- so he’s making you breakfast- if only to prove himself as a permanent part of your routine.
But GOODNESS he’s never cooked a second in his life.
Why is the egg splattering on the oiled pan? Is it supposed to? There’s smoke rising but there’s no flame.
Are you supposed to add oil to bacon? Why did the bacon also splash? Why does everything splash?! And WOW oil hurts and Ramuda knows he’s going to have to change.
Where do you keep your juice? He’s seen you drink a glass every morning. Wait… is that a juicer on your counter? Don’t tell him you make juice every morning too.
Your rice cooker is easy, it’s just like Gentaro taught him- from the trick of water to his second knuckle and washing the rice at least three times to ensure it’s clean. It’s probably the only relieving part about the process.
You wake up alone in your bed, stumbling through your apartment to hear the noises in your kitchen. You grab an umbrella from the hallway, holding it in such a way that you’re prepared to attack any possibly intruder.
You’re a little delirious from sleep- so when you see your lovely lovely boyfriend- absolutely freaking out over a pan of burnt bacon- holding a cutting board to his face as he flips a sunny side up egg- all to the tune of your rice cooker’s melody-
You can hardly believe it.
“Ramu-?” You mumble, letting go of the umbrella. He runs into your arms in a fearful cry.
“How do you do this every morning…” He buries his head into your neck. “I can’t… how am I gonna fit into your life?”
“Oh Ramu,” you coo, holding him with a smile as you try and reassure his fears. “Thank you, you know you don’t have to do this.”
“I don’t know how to cook an egg…” He’s pouty, and goodness he’s adorable.
“Yeah, I can see,” you muse, “Here, let’s clean up and I can show you how~”
“Okay-“ he’s cut off by a tearful sniff he can’t contain, “-sweetie.”
“And this time, let’s not burn down my apartment.”
something about substances so strong they can only be cut by that same substance (like diamond) gets to me. the self-fulfilling prophecy of it. you can armor yourself against any and all outside threats, but you're still beholden to your own nature.
FEATURING: dazai osamu, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol
SUMMARY: telling the bsd boys that they're pretty! (wordcount: 3.5k; sfw; fem!reader)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: i had cute dividers but this won't show up in the tags if use them D: ! i had sooo much fun with this! i hope you guys enjoy! :D
DAZAI OSAMU
You can’t seem to drag your gaze away from him.
As a long day of work comes to an end, you rest your head on your arms and lean on your desk. Kunikida is still tapping furiously away at his computer, Tanizaki and Naomi are whispering about something together, Ranpo is sorting through his candy, and Atsushi and Kyouka are looking through files. But your eyes are tracing over Dazai Osamu as he leans back in his chair, lazily spinning and bobbing his head to the music he’s listening to.
The setting sun casts an ethereal glow over him, his lips idly turned up and his lashes brushing his cheeks as rests his eyes waiting for the day to end. Dazai Osamu is pretty—you’ve always acknowledged that—but there’s something about the peace of this moment, the domesticity of the office and the ambience of the lighting that has you utterly enraptured.
He looks so at ease, and Dazai Osamu is never at ease. Even when he throws up that clownlike mask of his and spends his day entertaining under the guise of joy and humor, you can always see the strain in the corner of his eyes and lips. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible really—if you were anyone else, you’d miss it, but you’re not anyone else, much to his displeasure, because you know he hates how easily you can see right through him.
After a few minutes, Dazai peeks his eyes open—and you’re almost breathless, because his eyes are like melted honey beneath the sunset, warm and gentle, glittering with amusement. You think you can stare at him forever and never tire of it.
He rolls his chair closer to you, resting his forearms on your desk so that your arms are brushing and laying his head down on them so that his face is mere inches from yours, matching your position. There's a smile on his lips, soft and teasing as he whispers, "You've been staring at me for five minutes."
"Mhm," you agree, voice just as quiet as if to not disturb the tranquility of the office. You can feel his breath light against your face from the proximity he's laying at and you can smell peppermint on his breath from the candy you’d seen him swipe from Ranpo’s desk earlier when the other man had gone to speak to Fukuzawa.
“Is there something on my face?” he asks playfully, dark eyes glimmering as he waits for your response.
You can tease him back and say yes, as you usually do and is probably what he expects—and you fully intend to do just that but the words that leave your lips are not that.
“You just look really pretty today,” you say softly, watching as his eyes widen just a bit at your words, pink dusting his cheeks.
His lips part to say something but no words leave them. He opens and closes them a few times and you marvel because Dazai must know that he’s pretty from all of the attention he gets from women, so you don’t understand why he’s so thrown off hearing you voice it out loud. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him genuinely speechless before now.
“So you don’t think i’m pretty every other day?” Dazai pushes his bottom lip out into an over-exaggerated pout, recovering swiftly from your words, though you expected nothing less from him. But you can’t help but note that his cheeks are still a bit pink and there’s something indecipherable in his eyes.
“Prettier than usual,” you amend and watch as the flush on his cheeks darkens and he instead resorts to completely burying his face in his arms with a frustrated groan.
“I am supposed to be the flirt, bella,” he complains, voice muffled by his arms as he hides his face from your view. He cannot hide the way his ears have gone bright red, and you have half a mind to reach out and tug at them
You lift your hand to your lips to hide the giggle that rises to your lips, scooching your chair a bit closer so you can knock your shoulder against his.
“I’m not flirting,” you say. “Just stating a fact.”
He turns his head to the side, just enough so that he can give you a heavy side eye—you can only barely see the red hue coating his cheekbone.
“Not mutually exclusive,” he says grumpily, and you lean down to press your lips against his now exposed forehead, smiling softly as his eyes instinctively flutter shut and his body relaxes as the touch.
Then, you receive a pencil to the side of your head. You yelp as your hand flies to where it had made contact with you, scowling at your assailant who is none other than Ranpo, smiling widely as he waves at you and then motions to Kunikida, who is red faced and staring at the two of you. You can’t tell if it’s in embarrassment or anger.
“Not during work hours,” he snaps, and you realize that he’s definitely embarrassed, so you share a short look with Dazai, who has regained that mischievous look in his eyes as he glances over at Kunikida and back at you.
Without saying a word, or giving any other sort of warning, he leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s a short and chaste kiss, but his lips are soft and taste of candy, and you think you might be able to kiss them forever if you get the chance.
Now you’re the one flustered, you can feel heat rising to your cheeks as you stare at Dazai, who is evidently thoroughly pleased to not be the one uncomposed if the unscrupulous grin on his lips has anything to say about it.
He tosses you a wink before rolling his chair back over to his desk, animatedly complaining about Ranpo and Kunikida being lonely and bitter and getting in the way of Dazai’s chance at true love because of it—you only roll your eyes at his dramatics, as you usually do when Dazai goes off on tangents, but it’s with much more fondness this time.
•••
FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY
You are not listening to a single word that he’s saying.
It’s a dangerous situation to be in with Fyodor Dostoevsky, you’re sure he’s noticed by now and he will be petty enough to finish his brief about his plans and your involvement and then ask you to repeat what he said, but you just can’t focus.
He tied his hair back, you note, still quite a bit awed by the sight. There are two locks framing his face and his bangs are falling between his eyes, but the rest of his hair, which has grown a bit long in the weeks that he’s been ardently preparing for the final stages of his plan, is pulled back into a lax bun.
He looks so casual, and Fyodor Dostoevsky never looks casual. He’s dressed in a turtleneck and loose pants as he leans back in his chair. There’s a folder resting on his lap that he’s idly flipping through and he keeps glancing up at you occasionally, pale lips flat and violet eyes disapproving, but you just nod along to his words even though you know that he knows that you’re not paying attention.
And you think, distantly, that you probably should be paying attention because he’s talking about your upcoming mission and what you should expect from it but you figure you’ll be fine—it’s a simple infiltration mission, nothing to worry about. And you’d much rather prefer to appreciate Fyodor’s rare repose than to listen him droll on about boring topics.
Sometimes, you think if he just kept his mouth shut all the time, he’d be perfect. But you think you’d miss his sharp-witted comments and the lengthy debates the two of you have after a few glasses of wine.
He looks extra pretty tonight, even beyond the casual hairstyle and clothes and his uncharacteristically relaxed demeanor, and you think it’s because of the way the flames of the fireplace are casting an enchanting orange and red glow over his face. It makes the violets of his eyes burn alive in a way that they usually don’t, you’re far too used to the glacial visage they take whenever he puts his attention on someone. Every time he glances up at you, you swear that you can get lost in them.
“… And you are not listening to a word that I am saying, are you?”
Fyodor is giving you the heaviest side eye as he finally calls you out, expression unamused. His brows are furrowed and his pale skin is taut with thinly veiled irritation.
“Of course, I am,” you dismiss, waving your hand. “Infiltration mission, detective agency, get close to the tiger boy.”
Fyodor looks distinctly unimpressed by your words, brows deepening—you figure you must have spoken wrongly, you probably shouldn’t have been so indifferent, and you bite back a sigh before reaching forward to press two fingers between Fyodor’s eyebrows, as if to forcibly smooth away his annoyance.
He blinks and draws back, out of reach of your arm, and then casts you an even more irritable look.
“You’re not taking this seriously,” he accuses. “This mission will be dangerous, you’ll be at risk of being exposed every moment you are in the agency and if you are exposed-“
“Your plans will be ruined,” you finish, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes. “I kno-“
“You could be killed,” Fyodor corrected, voice cold and sharp, and you look back over to him. He looks unusually intense, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the appearance that the flames of the fireplace are giving him as they flicker dangerously across his face or if it’s because he’s that displeased with you being distracted. Either way, you find your mind drifting again because wow. “Dazai Osamu is not a man to be taken lightly. When he manages to figure out who you are and what you’re doing, we will need an immediate extraction plan.”
“Careful, Fyodor,” you drawl, watching as his violet eyes narrow briefly, “almost sounds like you care.”
Fyodor’s lips twist but he doesn’t respond. You raise your eyebrows, he looks away. Your eyes shoot open.
“You have a bigger role to play,” Fyodor finally says, but he’s no longer looking at you. “You cannot be killed yet.”
“Yet,” you repeat, amused. Fyodor’s jaw tightens, he doesn’t look at you, his eyes are trained on the fireplace to the side of the two of you and you can vaguely see the flames reflecting in his eyes, burning ardently against the familiar violet.
You lean forward again, shifting off of the couch to sit on the coffee table between the two of you so you can reach him. You reach forward to brush your knuckles against his cheek—he doesn’t move away this time, but his eyes cut to the side to watch you carefully.
You don’t say anything for a moment, absently tucking one of the locks of hair framing his face behind his ear. His hair is soft, freshly washed—for once—it smells faintly of lavender and vanilla and you wonder if he stole your conditioner.
“You look very pretty tonight, Fyodor,” you say quietly, and then smile. “It’s hard to focus when you look like this.”
The expression Fyodor directs toward you is extraordinarily blank, except for the faintest specks of pink that glare compared to the pallor of his face.
He shakes his head, looking away from you yet again.
“… You cause me much suffering,” he murmurs, and somehow, you know that might be the closest you might get to an admission of love from Fyodor Dostoevsky.
You smile to yourself. “And you to I,” you say, voice a bit teasing, and then you add, “Now, can you tell me again what to look out for?”
The moment is ruined. Fyodor’s eye twitches and he’s giving you that unamused look again, and you think having him repeat himself might be a mistake because now you’re even more distracted, but Fyodor sighs and starts on his lecture again so you force yourself to listen.
It takes about three minutes for him to release a sigh of utter suffering when he realizes that your eyes have glazed over yet again.
•••
NIKOLAI GOGOL
Nikolai has a wild sort of beauty about him. He’s unpredictable and dangerous, and it’s widely apparent in his frenzied laughter and chaotic behavior. His eye glitters and his teeth gleam sharply beneath the glow of the moonlight as he waves his hands around, animatedly describing to you all of the details of the things he’s been doing while you were away.
Fyodor’s masterplan has involved Nikolai apparently taken upon an infiltration role at the ministry of defense—you think it’s a bold move for Fyodor to use Nikolai for such a tenuous mission, but he’s apparently been having the time of his life with it. Though he thinks his boss is deplorable and one of his coworkers has evidently pissed him off beyond repair, because now he’s telling you about how he’s been ‘pranking’ the man in righteous vengeance.
You think Nikolai’s idea of pranking varies from yours, because you’re pretty sure him using his ability to break into the man’s house constitutes a crime not a prank. But you don’t have it in you to make that distinction when he’s so excitedly telling you about how every day he’s been going into his house to move around all of his stuff and hide some of his belongings to make the man squirm. He’s succeeding outstandingly in his ambition, if the videos he’s waving in front of you have anything to say about it.
You watch as he frantically scrolls to the next video—“this one is the best,” he claims, as he has for every video thus far. You watch with an amused smile as his dark-haired coworker steps into his apartment and nearly starts crying when he realizes that all of his stuff has been moved again, scrambling for his phone to call the police, who have—according to Nikolai—apparently already told him multiple times that there’s nothing they can do about it. The video is shaking wildly, as if the person filming can barely hold the camera straight, and you’re convinced that’s exactly what it is because you can hear Nikolai’s muffled laughter coming from recording.
Nikolai naturally finds it much funnier than you do, half-way keeling over as he wheezes, his laughter shattering the peaceful night. The two of you are sitting at a park near the apartment that Fyodor had leased for you for the duration of the Yokohama operation. The moon is high in the sky, casting a bewitching glow over the lake in front of you and there’s a chill in the air—it’s a nice night all around, you think there will probably some frost dusting the grass in the morning but the cold hardly bothers you now with Nikolai pressed to your side as he laughs himself into a near-coughing fit over his harassment of his coworker.
“Why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai suddenly complains loudly, scowling at you, but even then he keeps having to bite back residual laughter whenever he glances back down at his phone. “It’s funny.”
“It is funny,” you agree. Nikolai gives you a look as if he doesn’t believe you. “It is.”
“Then why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai accuses doubtfully, and then adds, even more accusatory, “You hate me.”
You’re not sure why you aren’t laughing, honestly. Usually you’d be burying your face into his shoulder trying to smother your snickers, because even though you might not entirely agree with Nikolai’s idea of a prank, you can still find some humor in it. Because it is kind of funny. Kind of.
But then you realize that you’re probably not laughing because you’ve been spending most of the night admiring Nikolai rather than listening to him prattle on about his escapades and watching his poorly recorded videos, so you can’t fully appreciate the humor in the videos. With his cheeks flushed from copious amounts of laughter and his eyes glowing with excitement, you think he’s very pretty tonight—Nikolai is always pretty, but the angle at which he’s sitting leaves the moon haloing behind his head, and maybe it’s just because you’ve missed him the past few weeks when you’ve been abroad dealing with a territory dispute with Tolstoy, but you think there’s something special about tonight.
“I don’t hate you. I guess I’ve been too busy admiring you,” you finally say, a playful smile on your lips as you tilt your head to the side to look at him. “You look pretty tonight.”
Nikolai blinks, eyes wide and owlish as he processes your words. The longer he goes unresponsive, you acknowledge that a quiet Nikolai is far more unnerving than a loud and erratic Nikolai, you’d expected a more… theatrical response to your comment. A swish of his cape, him leaping to his feet with a twirl and an agreement, even just a wild laugh; instead, he looks away abruptly. He doesn’t even just look away, he physically turns his whole body away from you.
You blink.
“Nikolai?” you ask, a bit astonished when he literally ignores you. You lean forward, trying to get a look at his face, but then he swivels around even more and your lips part in shock. “Nikolai.”
You’re only met with a face full of his soft white hair, impeccably braided, as per usual—you have half a mind to tug at it hard to try to get a response from him, but you aren’t in the mood for the lewd comment that would likely spill from his lips after.
“Koly-“
“Poor me, poor me,” Nikolai suddenly cries loudly, “The little koshenya mocks me when all I do is try to make her laugh. Poor me, poor me.”
His hand flies to his face, melodramatic as he bemoans your alleged cruelty. You stare at him, mind trying to piece together what exactly is happening—Nikolai is always hard to predict, but you feel like this is a bit strange even for him, and that’s saying something.
“… What?” you start to ask but Nikolai has thrown himself into a loud and theatrical tirade about how he doesn’t deserve such injustice and how he was only trying to make you laugh, and how it’s so, so cold-hearted of you to taunt him when this is the first time the two of you have seen each other in weeks.
Nikolai is impossible to bargain with when he gets like this, so you only sigh and tilt your head up to the sky, his words flying in one ear and out the other as you wait for him to settle down on his own.
Instead, you swear the world is against you because rather than settling down, he becomes increasingly more noisy and distressed, and his accusations become even more asinine. Now, he’s saying that you’ve always had it out for him and how you weren’t laughing at his jokes because you hate him and want to report him to the police and how he should tell Dostoy about your betrayal, or better yet, he should stuff you in his cloak and leave you there?
You side-eye Nikolai heavily as he continues on, slightly alarmed, but brush off the casual threat as just Nikolai being Nikolai. You don’t know how to shut him up, you think you might be out here all night listening to him, and now you’re the one bemoaning your fate because how did a simple compliment turn into this.
Finally, an idea strikes.
You brace yourself, questioning your sanity and your entire existence before you interrupt him with a loud, “Quiz time!”
Nikolai goes silent instantly, head snapping toward you, eye even wider than before.
You think you’ve hit an all time low as you say, “Was I trying to mock you before?” Nikolai opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can. “What’s that you say? I wasn’t? Ding ding! We’ve gotta winner!”
You think Nikolai might be having an internal crisis. He’s staring at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time in his life—his lips are parted, his eye void of the usual mischief dancing in it. He looks as if he wants to say something but he doesn’t know what.
You let out a long breath as you go to speak up again, but before you can, his eye is glittering again, sharp and dangerous, and his lips are curving up into a slow smile.
Nikolai inhales and then he takes a complete one-eighty as he bursts into loud cackles and says, “Ahahaha! I knew you loved me!” as if he wasn’t just lamenting your irrational hatred for him moments before.
Your eye twitches. He begins a second tirade, this one far more embarrassing for you than the last.
Introductions: Canaan, the ring-maker. What I like are sweet sweet foods. …Ah. I’m silently sneaking out of the workshop right now, so please be quiet so they don’t catch me 🎶
MC first impressions: “Such soft cheeks”. Squishing them would calm me and give me motivation… I like them. However, I underestimated her tracking abilities… no matter where I go to slack off, she finds me pretty quickly. Hehe.
Bezer first impressions: Professor Bezel is super passionate. It’s amazing. I guess I’m surprised he’s that attached to me. I think it’d be good if he slacked off sometimes… wouldn’t that make him a better teacher, that understands his students’ feelings?
Meister you’re close with: Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t know if we really get along, but Volks always makes me behave. It’s like he’s always keeping an eye on me. It’s annoying, so I think I’ll seriously try to run away next time.
Adel
Introductions: I’m Adel, tailor for the royal warrant guild, Yume Tsumugi. I’ll tell you immediately: I only makes clothes for people I approve of. No matter how important their position or status. There are no exceptions.
MC first impressions: I was exasperated at the arrival of such a rookie. When she chose to speak, the content of her questions, everything was unpromising. Or so I thought— the speed at which she grows and her competitive spirit are not bad at all.
Jin first impressions: Jin, huh…. That one is so impatient there’s nothing to do about it. He quickly succumbs to his desires and indulges in as much pleasure as he can. At first, I thought he was knowledgable and with a good eye— though at least he has the good sense to be ashamed of himself. I’ll just have to wait and see how long he can keep up his self-control/abstinence.
Meister you’re close with: …unfortunately, there is no one up to such title. By the way, just to be on the safe side, if I you ever find me excessively praising the Meister named Merryrose, it’d be because of his powers, not because I truly mean it, alright? You better remember it.
Volks
Introductions: I'm Volks, a gems appraiser belonging to the royal warrant guild Yume Tsumugi. In addition to appraising gemstones, I’m also the guild leader and coordinate the royal family's activities. I look forward to working with you.
MC first impressions: I felt that she had the skills to be a winged guild keeper (TN: guild keepers have a wings shaped badge and Emma has it, idk if all guild keepers or only some of the best ones have it), and I was also drawn to that hidden charm of hers. I felt the need to make that brilliance shine even more beautifully by polishing it with my own hands. I got a little carried away.
Mel first impressions: I do not believe the time spent talking to Mel to be an unpleasant one. His knowledge and insight are remarkable, and above all, he is a diamond in the rough that is worth polishing. I plan to continue enjoying interacting with him in the future.
Meister you’re close with: I often eat meals together with Gastronomy’s Oscar, and we have a good relationship. I empathise with his greed in pursuit of fine cuisine. Whenever I entertain him, deciding on the menu is quite stressful.
Merryrose
Introductions: Dream perfumer, Merryrose. I belong to the royal warrant guild Yumetsumugi. The flowers on my arm? Don’t worry, don’t worry- Oh, that’s right. You shouldn’t get too close to me. Unless you want to be utterly charmed by me, mh?
MC first impressions: An interesting one. Her emotions are always showing on her face; she’ll react to everything. She’ll get mad if I play around too much with Adele, so I thought I’d found a new good person to tease, buuut… you never really know what’s going to happen in life.
Jester first impressions: Jester, huh… he’s so seriously out of his mind, it’s annoying. And what the hell do you mean by partner? (TN: The question asked is to talk about their “partner”, obv not in the romantic sense, aka the black fairies). He’s the one who decided to get attached to me on his own. He says there’s no shortage of unfortunate stories whenever he’s with me… tell a super happy story for once (?), dammit.
Meister you’re close with: It’s a guild thing, but Adel? It might not be mutual, since I’m only playing around with him one-sidedly… well, I like my guild mates. They’re strong-willed, so it’s easy being around them. Though I sometimes get really pissed at Volks’ unreasonable requests.
{18Trip} <CHAPTER 001 SIDE-A: Sun will R1ze!> 001-A04 Dependable(?) founding employees
A translation of 18TRIP's CHAPTER 001 SIDE-A by 82mitsu.
ENG proofreading by sasaranurude.
TL Note:
As mentioned in Kafka’s interview: The dog is named Shumai which is Siu Mai, a chinese dumpling.
Kaede: (The first day of work is finally here! The other new employees will be here too, right… I’m nervous.)
Kaede: (That reminds me… I ran into Renga-kun here last week—I wonder if he turned out to be okay. He wasn’t looking too good there.)
Kaede: (Not that I can do much just sitting around and worrying! Alright, time for work!)
Daniel: Nah, what’cha making all these faces for. Someone’s a busy fella as always.
Kaede: !? Eh, Da-Daniel-san!? What are you doing here!?
Daniel: Ah? ‘Cuz this is my workplace, duh.
Daniel: Lemme take it from the top again, I’m director of HAMA Tours, Iwabuchi Daniel Hiroshi. Nice to meet’cha~
Kaede: …! …! …!
Kaede: (Y-you have got to be kidding me… Does that mean he’s my boss again…!? This guy who doesn’t lift a finger…!? Kafka, why did you hire him of all people…)
Daniel: While it’s our new workplace, you better be working till ya drop~ Chief-san♪ ‘Kay, I’mma head off first.
Kaede: D-Daniel-san, you are one of the founding employees, remember!? So please actually put effort into working this time around, okay!?
Daniel: Wahaha, I’unno ‘bout that.
Sakujiro: A good morning to you two, Chief, Director.
Sakujiro: Chief, we received the flowers you ordered. Thank you kindly for your consideration.
Kaede: Sakujiro-san, good morning to you too! So the flowers arrived safely then.
Sakujiro: Indeed. Young Master… Pardon, the President is most delighted with these.
Kaede: (...Oh, I see now. Sakujiro-san’s also one of the founding employees. Working together with someone who has been looking out for me since I was a kid—it does feel a little bit strange…)
Sakujiro: I am no more than a mere newbie of an ordinary employee, so please do give me orders regarding anything, even miscellaneous affairs at work.
Kaede: Eh… that’s really a bit too…
Daniel: Gotcha, Sakujiro. I’ll let ya take charge of all the annoying things.
Kaede: Daniel-san… Don’t you have any common sense…!?
Daniel: Gotta use whatever’s at your disposal~
Kafka: Good morning. Everyone’s in high spirits already. Chief-chan, thanks for the flowers ♪ Could it be that you got these arranged in my image?
Kaede: Ah, Kafka, goo-
Daniel: Top of the mornin’ to ya, Bossman. 'Nother day of you looking all spiffy there.
Kaede: (Daniel-san, your tune sure changes with Kafka…)
Kafka: Good morning. The other two who will also be founding employees are already here. Allow me to introduce them.
???: Good morning, Chief-san and Director-san if I’m right.
Kaede: (Wah… A calm, proper looking fine young man!)
Kafka: He’s Kitakata Nayuki. He’s an old friend I connected with back in the investor community. This time I brought him on board as the manager for accounting.
Nayuki: If there are any problems related to accounting, please don’t hesitate to ask me about anything. I will properly follow through with you.
Kaede: (Woah, a genuine guy who has it all together…! Thank god…)
Kaede: (Hm? I kinda… feel like I’ve seen him before… Where was it again, like a magazine interview or something…)
Kafka: By the way, Nayuki also has experience establishing JPN’s biggest metaverse service mahorova under the role of COO under his belt. He’s your go-to guy to rely on.
Kaede: Ah…! You’re the boy genius who created mahorova at the tender age of 12…!?
Nayuki: That is something from 11 years ago. Currently I’m a mere section manager for accounting so please treat me as such without reservation.
Kaede: (Such an amazing track record, yet so friendly and humble… Kafka, you actually hired a respectable guy…!)
Kaede: (...Honestly, why come to our company with a background like that? is what I’m thinking, but… maybe it’s because he’s friends with Kafka?)
Kaede: (...That also reminds me, something’s telling me I heard “Kitakata” somewhere else… What was it again?)
Kafka: Well, Nayuki will be taking on another job besides accounting sometime soon. Leaving that aside for now…
Kafka: There’s one more person, a guy that I employed as an intern but…
(Sounds of glass breaking and rattling)
???: Wah, uwaaaaah, I fell over and the flower vase is………..Guh! Hweeehsorrysorrysorrysorrysorry—--!!!
Sakujiro: Oh good heavens. The flowers we received from Chief are a mess.
???: P-picking them right now!!! Ouch!!! There’s blood from touching the vase shards… bloooooood~!!
Kafka: Sigh… Sakujiro, lend him a hand, and put the flowers back together.
Sakujiro: I shall wrap this up within three seconds.
Sakujiro: SWISH, SHWIWIWIWIWISH!!
Kaede: (T-they’re the perfect picture of a clumsy boy and overpowered butler…!?)
???: Ah, awawawah, I blinked and there’s band-aids… G-God, was that you~!?
Kafka: Yachiyo. Come here. Those flowers are VERY! important to me so you better not be coming near them ever any time soon, okay?
Yachiyo: S-s-sorry… I won’t ever be in the same room as them ever again…
Sakujiro: Fuefuki-kun, if I may. Once you open the door first look to your right, and then to your left. Then proceed to keep a one meter distance from anything that seems breakable on impact.
Yachiyo: Ye-yeshhhh!!! I’ll write it down!! I’ll make a memo of exactly every single spoken word!!!
Daniel: Oooh, whatta hard worker, takin’ proper notes and all. Inter-kun fella.
Kaede: (It’s kind of like… another unique person joined the bunch…)
Kafka: This is Fuefuki Yachiyo. The details of his application form were unusual and funny so I hired him ♪ Do get along with him.
Kaede: (Hired because it was funny… Kafka, your bad habits are coming out again!)
Kafka: And~ last~ but~ not least~ Ta-daaah, our poster dog Shumai.
Shumai: Borf!
Kaede: Eh, where did Shumai pop up from!? Wait, why did you bring him here!?
Nayuki: What a cute little doggy. Are you acquainted with him, Chief?
Kaede: Uuh, more than knowing him, we found him injured in the courtyard of the hospital Kafka was staying at back in the day…
Kafka: Chief-chan and I rescued him and looked after him at the hospital. I took him in my care when I got discharged from the hospital. Since he came running after me, and all.
Kaede: Really? It’s been so long, I’m glad to see you again, Shumai.
Shumai: Pant pant, boworf!
Kafka: Ah~ so unfair. Only wrapping your arms around Shumai. You should embrace me like you used to in the past, Chief-chan.
Kaede: W-what are you saying, geez…
Nayuki: Fufu, the president and Chief sure are good friends.
Kaede: Eh, no no it’s because we’re childhood friends…! Sorry for messing around at work…!
Kafka: It's not like we're messing around for the hell of it, this is how good friends act ♪ Manager Nayuki, don't go making eyes at Chief-chan, okay.
Kaede: (No, but seriously, what are you going on about, Kafka…)
Yachiyo: Do not make eyes at Chief… I-I jotted that down!!
Kaede: Yachiyo-kun, you don’t gotta take notes of that!
Kafka: Now then, given how all founding members have come together… Suppose it’s time to hold our first strategy meeting.
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