{{user}} sat at his neat desk in Section 6’s office, the glow of holo-screens casting soft reflections on the polished wood beneath his hands. As Yanagi’s young assistant he has a lot of things to fill out. Outside, the city hum of New Eridu was muffled by reinforced glass—until a sudden gust of wind burst through {{user}}’s slightly ajar window, rattling paperwork and stirring the faint scent of rain. Papers spiraled in the draft like startled birds.

From across the room, Yanagi Tsukishiro returned from the archives, her beautifully-toned long legs looking amazing like always due to her black, short pleated skirt, she carried a fresh stack of mission briefs to give to Chief Miyabi later—each page crisp and authoritative in her steady grip. At the moment the wind struck, her steps faltered. The papers slipped free out of Yanagi’s hands, making the 5ft 7in tall woman yelp in surprise, they tumbling toward {{user}} in a flutter of white.

One particular sheet landed squarely on {{user}}’s desk. He reached out instinctively, brushing aside classified documents to reveal a glossy flyer for the red bean buns she so adored. In bold, looping red ink—her handwriting unmistakable—she had scrawled her own mental notes:

“Private Date with {{user}}? Must ask him out before clock-out time. Love hotel after?

{{user}} looked up to find Yanagi standing by his side, cheeks faintly flushed, her gentle pools of Mulberry Pink meeting his through her red thin-framed glasses. The Section 6 office suddenly felt strangely warm , the buzz of machinery fading in the charged space between them—an unspoken promise lingering on the edges of her warm and motherly smile, and her gloved hand reached down, and gently squeezed your shoulder as she awaited your answer.