Chapter 1 : Rainy First Day
The rain hadn’t been in the forecast.
Hina Oribe stood under the narrow awning of Moonlit Pages bookstore, her dark shoulder-length hair already damp from the sudden downpour that had swept through Ikebukuro like an uninvited guest. She clutched her backpack straps—the weight of her tablet, laptop, and headphones a familiar comfort against her spine—and stared at the wooden door with its chipped blue paint and brass handle worn smooth by decades of hands.
First day. New life. Don’t screw this up.
She’d left Tokyo three days ago with two suitcases, a box of cosplay materials, and the kind of quiet desperation that came from needing a fresh start at twenty-nine. Ikebukuro wasn’t far—just a train ride away—but it felt like a different world. Bigger. Louder. Full of possibilities that Tokyo had stopped offering her after graduation had come and gone without any of the clarity she’d hoped for.
The bookstore looked exactly like the photos from the job listing: small, wedged between a ramen shop and a convenience store, with hand-painted window displays featuring stacked novels and faded posters of literary classics. The kind of place that smelled like old paper and coffee, where time moved slower and expectations were gentler.
Hina took a breath, tasting rain and urban ozone, and pushed open the door.
A bell chimed—actual brass, not electronic—and warmth enveloped her immediately. The scent hit next: aged paper, wood polish, and something faintly floral she couldn’t identify. The interior was a labyrinth of shelves, each one crammed with books in varying states of wear. Warm lighting from vintage fixtures cast everything in a honey-colored glow.
“Ah! You must be Oribe-san!”
An elderly man emerged from behind the counter, his face crinkling into a smile that reached his eyes. He wore a cardigan that had seen better decades and wire-rimmed glasses that magnified kind, observant eyes. Takeshi Yamamoto, the owner—she recognized him from their brief video interview.
“Yes, sir. Hina Oribe. Thank you again for hiring me.” She bowed, perhaps too deeply, her nervous energy manifesting in overly formal gestures.
“Please, please, none of that ‘sir’ business. Yamamoto-san is fine, or just Takeshi if you’re comfortable.” He waved a weathered hand dismissively. “Come, let me show you around before the afternoon rush. Though with this rain...” He glanced toward the windows where water streamed down in thick rivulets. “We might have a quiet day. Or a very busy one. People love to browse when they’re avoiding weather.”
Hina followed him through the narrow aisles, her boots squeaking slightly on the wooden floor. He pointed out sections with the pride of someone who’d arranged every shelf personally: literary fiction in the front, mysteries along the left wall, romance and fantasy toward the back, poetry in a cozy alcove with a reading chair, and—his particular pride—a manga and light novel section that took up the entire right side of the store.
“My granddaughter convinced me to expand that area five years ago,” Takeshi explained, adjusting his glasses. “Best decision I ever made. Brings in the younger crowd. Akari—your coworker—manages that section. She’s off today, but you’ll meet her tomorrow. Wonderful girl. Energetic. Knows everything about manga.”
They reached the counter, where an ancient register sat beside a more modern tablet setup. Behind it, a small workspace: a desk with a computer, a shelf for personal items, and a mini-fridge tucked underneath.
“This is where you’ll spend most of your time when you’re not helping customers,” Takeshi said. “You can set up your things here. We’re not fancy, but we’re comfortable.”
Hina slid her backpack off her shoulders, the weight leaving her with a strange lightness. She pulled out her tablet first, setting it carefully on the desk, then her laptop—a sleek, well-maintained machine that had been her companion through countless late nights. Her headphones came last, the expensive noise-canceling ones she’d saved up for, now slightly worn but still her most prized possession.
“You come prepared,” Takeshi observed with approval. “Good. We use the tablet for inventory and sales mostly, but feel free to use your own devices during slow periods. I don’t mind if you read or work on personal projects, as long as customers come first.”
“Thank you, Yamamoto-san.” Hina’s shoulders relaxed slightly. This was already better than her last job, where personal items at the workspace had been practically forbidden.
“Now, the register system is straightforward...” Takeshi began walking her through the basics: how to process sales, handle returns, check inventory, order new stock. Hina absorbed it all, taking mental notes, her fingers occasionally twitching with the urge to physically write things down.
Outside, the rain intensified. What had started as a drizzle was now a full storm, thunder rumbling in the distance. The bookstore’s warm lighting seemed even more inviting against the gray violence beyond the windows.
Takeshi glanced at his watch. “I need to make a phone call in the back office. Take your time getting familiar with the space. If any customers come in, just greet them and let them browse. No pressure on your first day.”
He disappeared through a door behind the counter, leaving Hina alone in the quiet sanctuary of Moonlit Pages.
She exhaled slowly, allowing herself a moment to actually feel it: she worked here now. This was her bookstore. Her new beginning.
Hina moved through the aisles, trailing her fingers along spines, reading titles, getting a sense of the inventory. Literary classics mixed with contemporary bestsellers. Niche poetry collections beside popular romance. Everything slightly disorganized in a way that suggested personality over system—the kind of place where regular customers probably had favorite corners and knew exactly where to find their preferred genres despite the apparent chaos.
She was in the manga section, admiring the carefully organized rows of series, when the bell chimed again.
Hina turned, customer-service smile already forming, and felt every coherent thought evaporate from her mind.
The woman who entered was a vision of elegant professionalism being assaulted by weather. She wore a tailored skirt suit—blazer and pencil skirt in charcoal gray, the skirt short enough to be stylish, long enough to be office-appropriate. Her white blouse was silk, slightly translucent where rain had soaked through the blazer’s shoulders. Dark hair was pulled into a neat bun, though a few strands had escaped to frame a face that belonged in a cosmetics advertisement: high cheekbones, perfectly shaped lips, and eyes that held both intelligence and exhaustion.
But what captured Hina’s attention—what made her pulse spike and her mouth go dry—were the stockings.
Sheer black, clinging to long legs that seemed to go on forever despite the woman being perhaps five-foot-six. The rain had soaked them from ankle to mid-thigh, the wet fabric gleaming under the bookstore’s lights, conforming to the elegant curves beneath. Her heels—black, professional, probably expensive—clicked against the wooden floor as she stepped further inside, leaving small wet prints.
The woman paused just inside the door, rainwater dripping from her blazer, and looked around with the careful assessment of someone used to evaluating spaces quickly.
Hina realized she was staring.
Move. Say something. Be a functional human being.
“W-welcome to Moonlit Pages!” Hina managed, her voice only slightly strangled. “Can I help you find anything?”
The woman’s gaze found her, and Hina felt pinned by dark eyes that seemed to see too much.
“I hope so.” Her voice was smooth, cultured, with the slightest hint of weariness. “I was passing by when the storm hit. I need to pick up a book anyway, so...” She gestured vaguely at the rain-lashed windows. “Two birds, one stone.”
“Of course! Please, take your time. Get warm.” Hina was acutely aware of how young she sounded compared to this woman’s sophisticated alto. “What kind of book are you looking for?”
“Business management. Specifically, anything recent on organizational restructuring during economic uncertainty.” The woman moved deeper into the store, scanning the shelves with practiced efficiency. “Do you have a business section?”
“Yes! This way.” Hina led her toward the back left corner where they kept the admittedly small business and economics collection. Her heart was hammering. The woman followed, her heels clicking a rhythm that Hina felt in her bones, and she was desperately trying not to look down, not to stare at those rain-soaked stockings, not to think about—
Focus. Professional. You literally just started this job.
They reached the business section, and Hina scanned the titles quickly. “We’re not huge on business books, but we have some recent releases...” Her eyes caught on a spine. “This one came out three months ago. ‘Adaptive Leadership in Crisis.’” She reached for it—
And that’s when her luck decided to manifest.
The ladder.
There was a rolling ladder attached to the shelves, the old-fashioned kind that slid along a brass rail. Hina hadn’t touched it. Hadn’t been near it. But as she reached for the book on the higher shelf, the ladder—which had been several feet away—rolled smoothly, silently, impossibly, until it was positioned perfectly beneath her hand.
She blinked. Had it always been there?
The woman noticed too, her eyebrows raising slightly. “Convenient.”
“Y-yeah. Lucky.” Hina climbed up two rungs, grateful for the excuse to turn away and hide her flushed face. She grabbed the business book and was about to climb down when another book, tucked between two larger volumes, suddenly slipped free.
It fell.
Not toward the floor—that would have been normal. Instead, it fell outward, performing a graceful arc through the air, and landed directly in the woman’s hands.
They both stared at it.
It was a romance novel. The cover featured a passionate embrace between two women in period costume, all flowing dresses and smoldering gazes. The title:“Her Lady’s Secret.”
A beat of silence.
“I... I’m so sorry,” Hina stammered, climbing down quickly. “That wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine.” The woman studied the cover with an expression Hina couldn’t quite read. “Actually... I’ll take this one too.”
“You... you will?”
“Why not?” A small smile played at the corners of the woman’s mouth. “I could use some fiction. Been too focused on work lately.” She looked up at Hina, and there was something almost playful in her gaze. “Unless you think it’s inappropriate for someone my age?”
“No! Not at all!” Hina clutched the business book to her chest like a shield. “Romance is... romance is timeless. Universal. Good for everyone.”
Oh my god, shut up.
The woman’s smile widened just slightly. “I’ll trust your professional recommendation then.”
They moved back toward the counter, and Hina was hyperaware of every step, every breath, every tiny detail. The woman’s perfume—something expensive and subtle, citrus with darker undertones. The way her damp blazer clung to her shoulders. The soft rustling of her wet stockings as she walked.
At the counter, Hina rang up both books with trembling fingers, desperately trying to maintain composure. The total came up on the screen.
“That’ll be three thousand eight hundred yen,” Hina said, her voice almost steady.
The woman pulled out a sleek black wallet and handed over the exact amount in crisp bills. Their fingers didn’t touch, but Hina felt the near-miss like electricity.
“Thank you for your help...” The woman glanced at Hina’s chest, clearly looking for a name tag that didn’t exist yet.
“Hina. Hina Oribe. It’s my first day, actually.”
“Ah. Well, congratulations on the new job, Hina.” The woman accepted the small bag with the books. “I’m sure I’ll see you again. I work nearby.”
She turned to leave, and Hina felt panic rise. She didn’t know this woman’s name. Didn’t know where she worked, or if she’d really come back, or—
“The rain’s still pretty bad!” Hina blurted out. “Do you have an umbrella?”
The woman paused at the door, glancing back with that same small smile. “No, but my office is only three blocks away. I’ll survive.”
And then she was gone, the bell chiming her exit, leaving Hina standing behind the counter with her heart racing and her thoughts in absolute chaos.
Takeshi emerged from the back office a moment later. “Ah, did someone come in? I thought I heard the bell.”
“Y-yes. A customer. She bought two books.” Hina gestured vaguely at the register, her brain still trying to process what had just happened.
“Wonderful! See? You’re a natural already.” Takeshi beamed at her. “What did she buy?”
“Business leadership and... a romance novel.”
“Eclectic taste. Those are often the best customers.” He moved to the window, watching the rain. “This storm came out of nowhere. The weather report said clear skies all day.”
Hina joined him at the window, her eyes scanning the street outside. Through the rain-blurred glass, she could just make out a figure in a gray suit walking purposefully down the sidewalk, heels splashing through puddles, completely unbothered by the downpour.
Who was she?
The woman disappeared around a corner, and Hina realized with a sinking feeling that she’d never gotten her name. This beautiful, sophisticated, impossibly attractive woman had bought books from her, smiled at her, said she worked nearby—and Hina didn’t even know what to call her.
“Are you alright, Oribe-san?” Takeshi asked, concern in his voice. “You look a bit flushed.”
“I’m fine!” Hina said too quickly. “Just... adjusting to the new environment. It’s a lot to take in.”
“Of course, of course. Take your time. Would you like some tea? I keep a kettle in the back.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
As Takeshi bustled away to make tea, Hina sank into the chair behind the counter and let her head fall into her hands.
First day. First customer. And I’m already a disaster.
But even as she mentally berated herself for acting like a flustered teenager instead of a twenty-nine-year-old professional, she couldn’t stop replaying every detail: the way the woman’s stockings had clung to her legs, the elegant arch of her feet in those heels, the sophisticated grace with which she’d moved through the store.
And that smile. That small, knowing smile.
Outside, the rain continued to fall, washing Ikebukuro clean, and Hina wondered if luck—whatever strange, unconscious luck had positioned that ladder and dropped that romance novel—had just introduced her to something wonderful.
Or something that would drive her completely insane.
Possibly both.
Copyright © 2025 Hirad Khademian. All rights reserved.
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