● March 28th (Monday) – Ayase Saki
The door bore a logo that read “Lucca Design. Studio,” rendered in a decorative font perfectly suited for a design company.
I found myself on the third floor of a five-story office building near Nakanosakaue Station, a place I’d never been before. The corporate atmosphere of the entrance was a far cry from the familiar comfort of a bookstore, and I had to take a deep breath to steady my nerves.
“Excuse me,” I murmured, tentatively pushing the door open.
The space inside was roughly the size of two eight-mat rooms combined, sectioned off by what looked like folding screens. The partitions didn’t reach the exposed ceiling, preventing the room from feeling cramped, but they still obstructed my view. From behind one of them, an elderly man appeared.
“Welcome,” he greeted me with a gentle smile.
“Ah, um… Aya—” I caught myself. “I’m Asamura Saki.”
Whoops. I almost used the wrong name. This is our first meeting, so I can’t just change it from what’s on my resume. I’m not a student at Suisei High anymore.
A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I recalled my graduation certificate, the last official document that bore the name “Ayase Saki.”
I still wish I could use my mother’s maiden name for work… I’m so attached to it. And besides, that’s what he still calls me.
Bringing my focus back to the man before me, I continued, “Um, I have an appointment with Akihiro-san.”
“Ah, yes, of course. I’ve been expecting you. Please, this way.”
He led me down a corridor formed by partitions slightly taller than myself. At the end was a small meeting space, furnished with a table and a pair of chairs.
“Please have a seat. I’ll go get Akihiro.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you.”
As the man disappeared behind a screen, I sat down, my heart pounding. This was it—“Lucca Design. Studio,” the office founded by Akihiro Ruka-san. A nervous shiver traced its way down my spine. It wasn’t from the cold; it was the thrill and fear of stepping into a new world. This must be how everyone feels when they start something new.
The sound of light, quick footsteps approached, followed by a cheerful voice.
“Hey, sorry, sorry! Have you been waiting for a while?”
It was Akihiro Ruka-san. Melissa’s old friend, the one who designed the posters and venue for her Japan concert. Her blue-streaked wolf cut swayed as she breezed into the room, just as she had when I first met her. She radiated a boyish coolness, a perfect blend of handsome and beautiful.
I shot to my feet and bowed deeply.
Ruka-san casually sank into the chair opposite me. Huh?
“You’re here for the interview, right? Let’s just jump right into it.”
“Ruka-sa—Akihiro-san, um, you’re the president, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, what about it? Oh, and just call me Ruka. Everyone else does. We’re a small company, you know.”
Easy for you to say… Calling the company president by her first name during an interview is a bit of a high bar for me…
“I’m the one who reads the resumes and makes the final call, so you can relax. Seriously though, I was surprised to see an application from a Tsukinomiya student. A place like this is pretty far out of your field. I’m sure bigger companies would’ve been lining up to take you on as an intern.”
And just like that, the interview began, feeling more like a casual chat than a formal screening.
I had a feeling Ruka-san was trying to put me at ease, but it was having the opposite effect. I was far more nervous now than I had been when I applied for the part-time job at the bookstore. As she pointed out, I was painfully aware of how mismatched my major was for a design office.
It felt strange to be rambling on about my personal anxieties in a job interview, but somehow, our conversation drifted into a full-blown career consultation. It almost felt like she was steering it that way. Is this really how interviews are supposed to go?
“I’m not in an arts program,” I confessed, “and to be honest, I’m not even sure if this is the path I really want to take… I know it’s a problem, being so wishy-washy without any real skills or a clear vision.”
“Nah, you don’t need to worry about that,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “Maybe ten years ago there was this idea that designers had to come from art universities, but that’s not really the case anymore.”
“It’s not?”
“Nope. These days, you can get high-quality equipment and software with cheap subscriptions, and there are tons of people teaching skills in easy-to-follow videos. As long as you’ve got the drive, the resources for self-study are all there. We’re seeing kids come in ready for professional work without ever stepping foot in a specialized school.”
“Wow…”
“Besides,” she continued, “the scope of what ‘design’ requires is expanding every year. It’s less about pure technical drawing ability and more about sensibility and knowledge, you know? The more cards you have up your sleeve, the stronger your own personal foundation is as a designer. In this era, people who are curious about all sorts of things and have a proactive attitude toward learning are the ones who succeed. That’s the kind of person I want to hire. Of course,” she added with a grin, “having the basic drawing skills and knowledge is a must.”
Ruka-san explained that she didn’t expect an intern to be ready to hit the ground running. For now, she just wanted me to work by her side, handling miscellaneous tasks, almost like a secretary. That, apparently, was why my non-arts background wasn’t an issue.
“So, if you’re motivated, the job’s yours. What do you say? I’ll need about a month to get everything ready for you, so you’d start in May.”
I gasped. I never imagined I’d be pressed for a decision right here, right now. For a moment, my mind went blank, a whirlwind of confusion and anxiety causing me to squeeze my eyes shut. Choices always seem to appear so suddenly. What do I do? But my hesitation was fleeting. I had already come this far.
I opened my eyes.
“Yes,” I said, my voice firm. “I’ll do it. Please.”
On the way home, I stopped by the bookstore and told them I would be quitting at the end of April.
