Vibes and Silent Tea
Soukaku stood on her tiptoes, peering over the partition that separated the break area from the rest of the office.
Harumasa, half-asleep with his face in a box of melon bread, didn’t look up. “If you’re trying to be subtle, you’re doing it wrong.”
“Shhh.” She waved a finger in front of her mouth, then ducked back behind the wall like it might explode.
A beat passed. Then she popped up again.
Harumasa sighed and took another bite. “You’ve been staring at them for ten minutes.”
“They’re weird today,” Soukaku whispered.
“They’re always weird.”
“No—extra weird. Like, weird squared.”
This earned her a glance. Tired, skeptical, but listening.
Soukaku crouched beside him, a marker still in her hand. “Nagi hasn’t lectured me once this morning. Not even when I opened that miso pack with scissors again.”
“She probably thinks you’re a lost cause.”
“And Boss refilled Nagi’s cup before making her own. Before, Masamasa.”
Harumasa blinked.
Soukaku continued, “Then they sat in the same room for twenty minutes. Said nothing. Just tea and... vibes.”
“They’re like that,” he mumbled.
“But it was a loaded silence. The kind that makes your spine itch. You didn’t feel that?”
“I thought that was just caffeine withdrawal.”
Soukaku ignored him. “Something happened.”
Harumasa slowly reached for his coffee, eyes finally drifting toward the desk where Miyabi now stood reviewing a file, and where Yanagi sat nearby, scribbling notes with calm precision. Their movements didn’t overlap—but they echoed.
“Mm,” Harumasa hummed, watching how Miyabi shifted slightly closer without seeming to, how Yanagi’s hand rested just near, never quite brushing.
Soukaku followed his gaze. “Do you think they—?”
“Nope.”
“What if they—?”
“Nope.”
“Even if it’s—”
“Soukaku.”
She pouted. “You’re no fun.”
Harumasa glanced at her. “I’m practical.”
“Practical’s boring. I bet they’ve already fallen in love and just haven’t realized it because Boss is emotionally stunted and Nagi’s allergic to compliments.”
“…Not the worst theory you’ve had.”
“I have good theories.”
“You also once said Bangboos could smell fear.”
“They can! You just have to believe.”
Harumasa leaned back and stared at the ceiling like it owed him a favor. “If you’re planning something, I’m not helping.”
“I wasn’t,” she lied instantly.
He gave her a long look.
Soukaku grinned.
Across the room, Miyabi glanced up just as Yanagi reached for the file she had set down—fingers brushing. They both paused.
Didn’t speak.
Didn’t move.
Then Miyabi nodded, faintly. Yanagi mirrored it.
Soukaku squinted. “Okay, now they’re just doing it on purpose.”
Harumasa muttered, “Five chips says it takes another month before either of them says something direct.”
Soukaku brightened. “Make it ten, and I’m in.”
They shook on it.
From her desk, Yanagi looked up—briefly—toward the sound of whispering and muffled laughter. Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Soukaku froze. Then offered her brightest, most innocent smile. “Good morning, Nagi~!”
Yanagi raised an eyebrow. “Don’t.”
“Wasn’t doing anything!” she chirped.
Harumasa sipped his coffee. “Technically true.”
Miyabi said nothing.
But she hadn’t moved the second cup on her desk.
Still there.
Still waiting.