A Different Job [Newspaper Office] [Sakura]

The clatter of keyboards and people conversing made up the typical background music of the newspaper’s main office. Occasionally there would be an exclamation of shock or a profanity that usually signaled a mistake in the next day’s issue. The air conditioner was on at all times, keeping computer systems cool, workers cold and coffee stale. Papers and sketches lay strewn over some desks and the phones rang at generally even intervals with reports from all over England. The atmosphere was a tense dance of relief, worry and apprehension (the boss’ appearance especially highlights the last two).

Toris was infinitely glad that he didn’t have to stay for any extended period of time in the office, unlike his poor article-writer co-workers. Being a photographer enabled him to travel around town, and even sometimes to other cities. It also meant that he was his boss’s runner-boy, but he wouldn’t think about that right now. He had a thumb drive in one gloved hand and a rough preview of the next issue in another, and he made his winding way to a cubicle, avoiding speed-walking and/or coffee-carrying employees. Today was a slow day for him, so his boss had requested that he have a hand in designing the layout for the paper. Whee, lucky me. I could be doing so many other things not in my job description right now.

He reached the editor’s workspace and saw the petit Asian girl sitting in front of her computer. The social blush instantly crept onto his face. “Um, Miss Honda? The boss asked me to help with the layout…since I’m free today…and I was wondering whether you could help me with some of the picture placements?” Toris shifted nervously from foot to foot, always kind of unsure around the quiet lady.

Sakura looked through the article she'd been told to put in to the paper. She'd read it already five times, and she'd thought there were no more errors, but it happened that as soon as she put it in to the layout to send off to the chief, she'd noticed a whole four more errors. You would think that he couldn't speak English; she was better than him and she only spoke English as a second language. She sighed and returned to it; she'd learned long ago that journalists were usually near illiterate.

She read over it, for the sixth time, hoping that it was perfect now. She felt someone come up behind her, but she didn't pay attention at first, until the person spoke, when she looked up. It was Mr Laurinaitis, a photographer, if she remembered right and her neighbor. Photos... oh no. Ever since that weird storm, something weird had happened with photographs... they moved and spoke, it was so noisy.

But she gave a polite, small smile. "Certainly." She had a very small desk, but there was enough room for him to sit beside her without them having to touch, "I am happy to help..." she sent the article to the chief, since she was 90% certain that it was mistake free. "Come pull up a chair."

Toris smiled hesitantly at Miss Honda’s polite demeanor. She was always so quiet and withdrawn. It reminded him very much of, well, himself. He glanced at her screen casually. It seems that she had just finished a piece of work for the boss. He felt a glow of admiration at the fact that someone from a foreign country worked as an editor for an English newspaper, right in the heartland of the English language. He had taken quite some time to get a grasp of English, since it was so drastically different from Lithuanian, which was closer to Russian. With a start he realized that he knew next to nothing about Miss Honda, apart from the bare essentials.

He gave a small nod and sat down a respectable distance away from the Asian lady, and, after a slight look of confirmation, plugged in his USB into the computer. He laid the layout paper on the desk in front of him and awkwardly navigated to the pictures folder, stretching a bit across the keyboard (and subsequently Miss Honda) to reach the mouse, his grip slipping at first because of the gloves. His stomach started to flop a bit. It was indeed very uncomfortable, the uneasy silence and tension. Or maybe he was just imagining it. He told himself to relax.

“Here are the photos, Miss Honda. Um, should the one with the rare Oriental turtle dove be printed on page 2 or 3? And, the shot with the under-construction…manga…” Toris pronounced the foreign word cautiously as mang-jah, “store, where should that go?”

He was awfully close and she scooted back to allow him more room. She wasn't used to physical contact and she didn't much like it either, it made her nervous that he was even this close to her. She forced herself to look at the pictures and pretend they were completely still. Luckily for her, digital images were slightly weaker than printed images, she didn't know why. Perhaps it had something to do with the screen itself being animated in a sense.

She looked at the images thoughtfully, ignoring the fact that he mispronounced the Japanese word. Everybody mispronounced the Japanese words, so she'd learned not to worry as much. "I think the turtle dove is better for page 3, more people look at that page." She said. She didn't really know much though, she was better with composition than actually placing things on a page, but she'd try to be helpful in any way she could.

They played around with the pictures for a while, changing what picture went where or which picture to use. "I must say, your pictures are very good." She complimented politely, "I like the composition."

(( I can't help but laugh cause in their pictures they're both looking up in the same direction XD ))

Toris felt Miss Honda shift away and his innards coiled up in embarrassment. Now he knew that she didn’t like physical closeness. Just found out a little too late, there. He nodded at her suggestions, seeing the wisdom in them and wondering why he didn’t think of them himself. Perhaps he was just better at taking the pictures rather than knowing where they went. He sighed, disappointed at they way his mind worked to put him down. Toris tried to stop the habit, but it just wouldn’t go away. Besides, it’s all truth, right?

After awhile of quiet decision making, Miss Honda made a comment on his work. He blushed at this and started to deny it, as per usual, and instead throwing back at her: “You know, I read this newspaper every day, and I always see your articles. Now, I know that the journalists here have really, um,” He coughed. “interesting ways of dealing with their own language’s grammar and mechanics. I read the raw articles sometimes, and I see the difference.”

By now he was looking intently at the desk’s fake wood work and he wondered if Miss Honda knew he was complimenting her, since to him, it sounded like very roundabout praise. At the back of his mind he considered inviting her to luncheon somewhere, but then he quelled it, fretting that they might run out of things to talk about or he would slip up and make a terrible faux-pas. It was dangerous enough with these strange powers without the social challenges of life.

As he got to the last picture in the folder, he remembered that his boss had printed out a picture of his family for Toris to somehow fit into the paper. Toris deemed the ‘Health’ section appropriate, in the one about ‘a happy family is a healthy family’ or something like that, but he pulled it out and presented it to Miss Honda and explained the situation. “I’m pretty sure this is the last photo, Miss Honda. Dreadfully sorry for interrupting your usual work, and thank you so much.”

He'd noticed which articles she'd written? That was rather flattering, even though it was just a small local paper and she edited a lot of the articles. Still, it was nice that he'd noticed. "Sometimes people who speak the language as their first language become a little complacent." She said. This was that she had observed, that while she had to constantly remind herself of grammar, her English colleagues were a lot more lax in their use of the English language, especially written. "Thank you, Laurinatis-san, for your compliment." She inclined her head pleasantly. He seemed like a nice man.

"Oh no, it's fine." She assured him, "I am happy to help." She swallowed. The pictures on the computer were relatively still, but this one swam before her, slight shuffling, the woman massaged her mouth and asked 'how much longer will this be?'. 'Not much longer, we'll just try once more.'. She closed her eyes, trying to block it out. 'cheeeese' a flash. They began to move again.

"I-I don't really know." It distressed her a lot more than really it should have been. "Maybe... um...is there a family section?"

Hmm? Laurinaitis…sang? What did that mean? Was it a Japanese version of mister or something? Whatever the case, it certainly didn’t seem like she was making fun of him or anything, so it must be positive, or at the very least neutral, right? Toris flushed happily, the unease gone (and his stomach unwounded), when she thanked him for his compliment and seemed to become more relaxed, which meant he also became more relaxed. He could feel the metaphorical ice cracked, if not broken. Even if it wasn’t broken , he thought, I could probably break it with that weird ability…no, don’t think of that right now! Focus on normal life, where normal people don’t have powers.

He immediately became concerned, however, when Miss Honda started looking a bit stressed. Her next words felt strained and even Toris could tell that there was a big difference between a few minutes before and now. “ Ye-es, there is a family section…Miss Honda, you should know that though…a-are you alright? You seem somewhat nauseated.” Out of habit, he almost put his hand on her shoulder, but hesitated, remembering that she didn’t like contact. Toris settled for biting his lip worriedly and clenching his hands in his lap.

"Oh yes, there is." She laughed awkwardly. She was getting a headache from trying to fight against the noises the picture was making. Trying to be subtle, she brought her hand to her head, massaging her temple. "Nothing is wrong." She said quickly, "I've just been working for a long time. Perhaps I should take a break." She stood, more quickly than she'd have normally done. The blood was pumping loudly in her head, and the words and movements trickling through. The little boy in the picture stamped his foot. 'Are we done now?', he asked, picking up a gameboy. 'Yes, Michael, we are.' His mother sighed. Then, the scene flicked back to the beginning, repeating in the same words, the same tone, the same movements.

"I am going to make myself some tea, do you want any?" She asked, tugging on her shirt and then her skirt, rearranging it. She fidgited a little bit before stepping back. From this distance, the sounds and noises got a lot quieter and she was calmer because of it. She picked her cup off the table (she refused to use any of the mugs in the office, even if they had been washed. It was just too disgusting, to drink out the same cup as someone else). She started boiling the water. She couldn't hear the photographs from here, a relief.

As Miss Honda stood up, Toris pushed his chair back to allow her more room. Worry was sketched all over his face and he proceeded to stand up also, ready to catch her if she fainted. It looked like she had a very bad headache of some sort, not to mention she seemed much paler. He watched her jerky movements and felt queasy himself, unsure of what to do. As she offered to make tea, he snapped to attention and said, “Oh, let me help you with that, Miss Honda.” You don’t appear to be alright, yet.

Even though she looked better after they had brewed some of the hot drink, he still couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the usually composed woman. Looking back at the events before Miss Honda had started to show sick signs; Toris remembered that up until he had brought out the picture she had been perfectly fine. Or maybe she had been hiding it? Was it him? He sipped his tea thoughtfully and ventured, “Miss, what caused your headache back there? Was it perhaps…something to do with the picture? Or did my being there make you uncomfortable?”

He looked very concerned, it was embarassing. She didn't want to worry him or anyone, she just felt a bit sick. "You do not have to." She insisted, but she had a feeling it woud not matter if she told him he didn't have to - he would insist on it, people usually did. They made the tea and she was a little calmer afterwards, a little less dizzy and her head had stopped pounding.

She looked down at the floor. She did not want to answer this question, "You do not have to call me miss. I understand that it is English custom to call someone by their first names in even semi-formal conversation." She said, avoiding the question, "Or Honda, if you wish to be more polite." She knew it was very rude to avoid his question and she was guilty for doing so, but she did not want to talk about it, especially not here at work, where she would sound mad.

She glanced around, she knew she had to force herself to adress it. "Really, Laurinatis-san, it was not you." She made sure to assure, "But really, how could my illness have been brought on by a picture."

“Oh, um, alright, I suppose…Miss, no, Miss Sakura?” He couldn’t escape from the need to be polite. As he observed her reaction to his question, he felt bad that he seemed to be making her feel uncomfortable anyways, even though she denied it. However, there was something a bit off with her last statement about the picture.

Toris debated over what to do. He risked scaring her and very likely losing a developing acquaintance, yet with all the funny business that went around in this city, there was surely a chance of something strange occurring here too, was there not? At the very least, I have nothing to lose, right? If I’m wrong, and I probably am, all that will happen is that she’ll stay far away from me. I don’t think that Miss Honda is the type to spread rumors and stories around, either. Hmm…I guess I’ll try it.

Stiffly, he put down his cup, took a deep breath, and went over and closed the door of the small office kitchen. Gulping, he bit his lip and addressed the lady in front of him quietly, “Miss Sakura…if there’s anything strange going on, please don’t hesitate to tell me. I tell you, things have been happening to me as well.” He held out his hands palm-out by his head. “I promise I will not tell anything to anyone. Really, Miss Sakura, if it’s not me, and not the picture that caused your distress, what was it? Because the moment you saw it, that was when you started looking pale and all of this happened.”

She shook her head vehemently, “This is where we work, do you think it is pertinent to discuss it here?” She gave as her own admission. “What would you know in any case. You do not understand what has been happening,” She spat out defensively, stepping away from him. Usually, she remained mild mannered, but pushed in to a corner as she was now, she tended to lash out more fearfully. She would feel guilty and need to apologise later.

The noises, the movement, and the nightmares... She shuddered. What could he possibly know of this... hell, inside her mind. She sipped her tea, trying to calm herself and her nerves. She looked him over, briefly wondering if he had the same thing to him. “Not at work. I don’t want people to hear... I’m not insane, I swear it!”

Immediately he turned red and his intestines completely skipped the preliminaries and went into overdrive. Had he offended her that much? Well obviously, what with such a forward question/statement like that. You know that she’s pretty much as shy as you are and yet you still did that! What an idiot! chided a cynical voice inside his head. He had to hurry to correct the situation, otherwise things would get much worse.

“A-alright, alright, ok, Miss Sakura,” Toris fumbled. “Please, I didn’t mean to upset you so much. No, you’re right, this is not the time and place. However,” His voice became soft. “At least tell me if I’m right, I beg of you: It’s true that something’s up with you and pictures, right? I am not saying that you are insane, Miss Sakura. If you heard my story you would probably think that I was crazy as well.” He sighed wearily. “I want to help you. You are my colleague, I see you everyday, I cannot know that something is disturbing you and work in peace. Perhaps you would like to discuss it over lunch?”

There. He had made his point, and if she didn’t say anything else, he would turn tail and retreat out the door. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a little bottle of painkillers and popped one out, taking what was left of his lukewarm tea and downing it.

She tried to calm herself, realizing how worked up she was and how un-ladylike it was. She tried to calm herself, “It is something very strange but yes, I think it is about photographs.” She felt a lot better, probably just from admitting her… problem. He assured her that he didn’t think she was insane but she wasn’t completely sure that she thought the same about herself.

She thought about it for a little bit, unsure. She didn’t often take lunch with people, particularly not ones she knew well, but then she supposed Toris wasn’t exactly a stranger. Eventually, she nodded, “Very well, lunch sounds fine.” She said softly, “Where would you like to take it? Somewhere private would be best. My… my house?” She suggested nervously. Was she really inviting a colleague in to her house for lunch? But it was the best place to talk about it, she thought.