Next day on the rooftop. The scent of food mixed with the crisp air as Ashi sat at their usual table, looking around.
"Huh? Kichiro-san's not here yet?" she muttered, tapping her chin. " That's weird—he's never been late before." Her brow creased, a flicker of unease tugging as she scanned the empty railing where Haari usually lounged.
Meanwhile, down in the cafeteria—
Haari hunched over a tray two tables from Oki and Rafta, his sandwich untouched, eyes flicking like a hawk on a case. Gotta figure this out, he thought, pulse still jumpy from last night's restroom shock. Oki crying, Rafta soft—none of it fit. He angled his head, pretending to chew, all focus on them.
Rafta sighed dramatically, flopping into the chair across from Oki. "So, any big plans for the weekend? I'm thinking of catching up on some well-deserved sleep and maybe a movie marathon."
Oki barely glanced up from her meal. "Actually, I plan to review the next phase of our project. There's still a lot to prepare."
Rafta blinked, chopsticks pausing mid-twirl. "Work? On a weekend? C'mon, you need a hobby—or a life."
She smirked, faint but sharp, popping a bite in her mouth. "Says the guy whose idea of productivity is 'surviving until Friday.'"
Haari's brow shot up, sandwich forgotten. Casual banter? When did that start happening? This wasn't their usual—Oki snapping, Rafta dodging. He leaned closer, elbow nudging his tray, ears straining.
"Hey, survival's a skill," Rafta fired back, jabbing his chopsticks at her like a fencer. "But seriously, you're going to burn yourself out one of these days."
"I'll be fine," Oki said, brushing it off, her tone cool as she speared another bite.
Haari's eyes narrowed. They're… chatting? Like normal people? His fingers tapped the table, mind racing—last night's tears, Rafta's hand on her chin, now this? Too weird.
Then it got weirder. Rafta propped his chin on his hand, studying her with a lazy tilt, voice dropping softer. "I'm just saying… if you ever want to do something other than work, I might be available."
Oki's chopsticks froze mid-lift, rice trembling on the tips. Haari's breath hitched, his grip tightening on the table edge—what?!—like he'd just seen Rafta toss a live grenade.
The cafeteria buzz faded, a pin-drop silence stretching between them. Oki's eyes flicked up, locking on Rafta's, her smirk gone, something unreadable flickering. Haari's heart thudded loud, palms sweaty. No way. He didn't just—did he?
Haari's knuckles whitened, gripping the table edge like it was his last tether to sanity, breath shallow. "Wha—what did he just say?" he whispered, voice quivering, eyes darting between Oki and Rafta. "No, no, no—this is it, right? She's gonna pound him into next week for that weird line. Any second now… right?"
But then—
Oki's head snapped up, her glare a monstrous blaze, eyes boring into Rafta like twin daggers. Haari's throat locked, a gasp choking off. He's good is dead now.
"Really?" Oki muttered, voice low and jagged, chopsticks stabbing her rice like they owed her money. "After all that, now you're pulling this out?"
Rafta leaned back, chair creaking, hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm sorry about it—honest! Just a one-time slip-up, swear." He flashed a sheepish grin, chopsticks twirling lazily.
Oki's stare went arctic, a soul-shredding chill that could freeze fire. "One time," she echoed, flat and lethal, her glare unyielding.
Rafta swallowed, grin twitching. "Okay, uh—two times. My bad."
No shift in her death-ray eyes.
"Three?" he ventured, voice pitching up. "Four? Five—look, whatever, I lost count!" He waved a hand, flustered now. "Point is, I won't do it again—scout's honor."
Haari's brain shorted. What are they even talking about? His fork hovered, forgotten, as his mind spun—pranks? Fights? That hug? Nothing clicked.
"You sure about that?" Oki asked, her tone a razor's edge, testing him.
Rafta paused, scratching his neck, then nodded slow. "Uhm, yeah—pretty sure."
Oki's glare softened, just a hair, her face sliding back to neutral. "Okay then," she said, popping a bite of rice. "I'll think about it."
Haari.exe has stopped working.
His brain crashed, a blank screen, pupils shrinking to pinpricks. His worldview splintered—shards of Oki's steel and Rafta's chaos scattering like a busted mirror. "Wha… the…" he rasped, voice a ghost, body locked in his chair. The cafeteria blurred—chatter, clinking trays, all static—as his thoughts plunged into a black hole. Oki considering Rafta's invite? Rafta apologizing? What is this timeline? Yesterday's tears, that near-kiss, now this—it was too much. He'd seen the impossible, and it broke him.
Rafta, oblivious, just grinned wider, chomping his rice like he'd won a prize. Oki ate on, cool as ever, while Haari sat there, a statue of shock, the day's madness etching permanent cracks in his reality.
After Break—Back at the Office
Haari trudged to his desk like a soldier limping off a battlefield, each step heavy, mechanical. His body was there, but his mind—his soul—lagged behind, snared in the cafeteria's impossible scene. His hair jutted wild, spiked at odd angles, static snapping faintly as if he'd brushed a live wire. Bloodshot eyes stared ahead, hollow and haunted, carrying the weight of a man who'd glimpsed the abyss. Steam might as well have curled from his ears, his brain frying under the strain.
Ashi breezed in, lunchbox swinging, her voice halfway to a chirpy "Kichiro-san!"—then she stopped dead, words choking off. Her eyes locked on him, widening. What the…?
"…Kichiro-san… what happened to you?" she asked, voice tentative, like she was approaching a spooked animal.
Haari swiveled his head, slow and stiff, eyes unblinking, pinning her with a vacant stare. "I'm… totally fine," he droned, monotone, a robot reciting lines.
Ashi recoiled a step, brows shooting up. Nope. That's not 'fine.' That's a horror movie face. "…You sure?" she pressed, edging closer. "You look like you jammed a fork in a socket and lived to regret it."
" I'm fine, really" he repeated, flat and lifeless, gaze drifting to his desk—staring through it, past it, into some void.
Ashi hesitated, then slid into the chair beside him, cautious as if he might shatter. "Well… if you say so. But you missed lunch up top. Where were you?"
"Oh… yeah," he mumbled, voice a ghost. "I was busy, so I forgot." His head dipped in a slow nod, hands limp on the desk, still lost in his existential spiral.
Ashi frowned, propping her chin on her hand, studying him like a puzzle with missing pieces. "Huh. That's not like you—skipping food's practically a felony in your book."
He nodded again, a jerky twitch, eyes fixed on nothing. The Oki-Rafta reel looped in his skull—tears, chin-tilt, "I might be free"—each frame a hammer to his reality.
Ashi watched, lips pursing, then sighed, soft and resigned. "Okay, fine—if you say you're good, I won't poke. But…" She leaned in a hair, voice dropping. "You're freaking me out a little, Kichiro-san. Blink twice if you're possessed."
Haari didn't blink—just sat there, a statue of static and shock, the office hum a dull roar around his silence.
However, Inside his mind—
He was still screaming. WWHHAAATT THEE HHEEEELLL
Morning sunlight spilled through the office windows, painting the room in a soft, warm glow. The steady hum of keyboards and printers buzzed, punctuated by low murmurs and the occasional chair creak—a typical day gearing up.
Then Haari stumbled in. No—dragged himself in, like a man hauling a invisible boulder. His shoulders slumped, steps sluggish, dark circles carved deep under his eyes, so stark he looked like he hadn't slept since the last decade. His hair, sprouted wild, a tangle of chaos spiking in all directions. He let out a long, bone-weary sigh—half groan, half surrender—and collapsed into his chair, the frame squeaking under his drop.
"I… couldn't sleep last night," he muttered, voice a hollow rasp, barely above a whisper. His hands moved on the keyboard, but there was no life in them. It was as if his soul had left his body.
His stare fixed on the screen, but his mind was elsewhere—trapped in yesterday's cafeteria, Oki's pause, Rafta's grin, that impossible "I'll think about it" looping like a glitch he couldn't unsee.
Ashi burst in, bag swinging, her usual bounce faltering as she scanned the room. Everyone was already at their desks—heads down, fingers clicking.
She froze, blinking fast. "Wait… am I late?" she murmured, patting her bag like it held the answer"No, no, no—no matter how late I am, I always arrive before Densi-san!" Her eyes darted, hunting for proof she wasn't losing it.
Then she saw Haari—slumped, lifeless, a ghost in his chair. "Kichiro-san?" she mouthed, brow creasing, but before she could zero in, her gaze snagged elsewhere.
Oki sat ramrod-straight at her desk, a fortress of focus. The screen's glow bathed her face, sharp eyes flicking across endless data—charts, numbers, trends—her fingers a blur as she crunched calculations at warp speed. No nonsense, no cracks—just pure, unyielding work mode, a machine in human skin.
Then there was Rafta. Sprawl-city. He lounged back, chair tipped, one arm slung over the armrest, feet kicked up on his desk like it was a hammock. His phone blared tinny meows, a kitten tumbling across the screen as he chuckled, a dumb, lopsided grin plastered on his face—utterly unbothered, king of his own slack kingdom.
Ashi opened her mouth to call out, a "Morning!" halfway up her throat—then Rafta's voice cut through, loud and lazy, derailing her step.
"Hey, Oki," Rafta drawled, stretching with a yawn that cracked the morning quiet, his chair groaning as he swung his feet off the desk with a lazy thud. "You ever take a break from being the most intense human on the planet?"
Oki didn't flinch, eyes glued to her screen, fingers flying over keys. "No time for distractions," she said, voice flat as a blade, cutting through his noise.
Rafta smirked, leaning forward, elbows on his desk, mischief glinting in his eyes. "Oh?" He stretched the word, slow and taunting, head tilting as his hand crept toward her desk. "Guess you won't mind if I snag your coffee then."
That did it.
Oki's head whipped up, a predator's snap, her gaze locking on him—sharp, icy, a glint flashing like a warning shot. "Don't. You. Dare," she hissed, each word a loaded bullet.
Rafta's fingers brushed the cup, lifting it an inch, his grin blooming wide—pure kid-caught-in-the-cookie-jar glee. "What, this? You mean our coffee, right?"
Ashi, mid-step toward her desk, froze—breath snagging. Oh, he's toast. Her eyes flicked to Haari, still slumped like a zombie, oblivious, then back to the showdown.
Oki didn't blink. Her hand shot out, snatching a stapler from her desk—metal gleaming, gripped like a weapon. She aimed it at Rafta's hand, steady and calm, but her eyes screamed: Test me, and you're done. The air thickened, a standoff teetering on chaos.
Rafta froze, cup hovering, his gaze darting—stapler, Oki's face, stapler again. A beat stretched long, then he cracked, setting the cup down slow, hands rising in surrender. "Alright, alright—no need to escalate, sheesh," he said, leaning back with a smirk, unbroken. "Didn't know coffee was your soulmate."
Oki scoffed, a short, sharp huff, sliding the cup back to her side with a possessive nudge before diving back into her screen, fingers resuming their dance. Silence settled—almost.
Ashi, still rooted, squinted. Wait… There—a flicker, the tiniest curl at Oki's lips, gone as fast as it came. A smile? No way.
Ashi's jaw plummeted, a silent crash to the floor. No. No way. Not in a million years. Her brain fritzed—wires sparking, circuits blown. Oki's flicker of a smile, Rafta's dodge—it didn't compute.
"Wha-the—?" she mumbled, voice a ghost, feet rooted as her mind blanked. Then, like a puppet on strings, she shuffled to her desk, face slack, eyes vacant. She dropped into her chair—thump—a mirror of Haari's lifeless flop from yesterday, steam practically rising from her skull.
Haari, slumped at his own desk, sensed the echo of his torment. His head swiveled, slow as rust, toward her. Ashi's head turned, mechanical, meeting his gaze. Their eyes—bloodshot, hollow, twin voids of despair—locked.
"…You saw it too?" Haari whispered, voice a cracked thread, barely cutting the office hum.
Ashi nodded, a stiff jerk, lips sealed tight.
Haari's stare lingered, then drifted back to his screen. "…I don't know what's happening anymore," he muttered, words dissolving into the air, heavy with defeat.