Chapter Text
The new email notification sound jolts him awake. He hadn't even realised he had fallen asleep whilst waiting. He swallows and enters the four digit code to unlock his phone, better get it over with quickly. His eyes skim through the text "Dear Sakurai-san, blah blah blah... we regret to inform you that you have been unsuccessful in your application this time. We thank you for blah blah blah..." He sighs and puts his phone down. This is the third time this month and he's alarmingly starting to get used to it.
Sho never imagined he'd be in this situation before. Maybe he's been too naive, a testament to his fairly uncomplicated life thus far. Something he had thought normal, but now knows to recognise as privilege.
Born to a reasonably affluent family, he was enrolled in the kindergarten affiliated to one of the leading universities in the country. Nurtured and protected by his parents, all he had to worry about during his childhood and youth was passing a seemingly endless succession of exams until he finally graduated with a degree in economics. He wasn't among the most brilliant in his year, nor among those at the bottom. If he had to describe himself, he'd probably say he was average in most aspects. After graduating he started working as an associate editor at a medium-sized newspaper where he dedicated himself with enthusiasm and put in more hours than anyone else. If there is something Sho can take pride in, it's his work ethic.
Everything had come crashing down five months ago when the news leaked that the publishing company that owned the newspaper was going under. The director called an urgent staff meeting that same afternoon where he confirmed their greatest fears. With immediate effect, they were all unemployed.
Sho will never forget the frustration and sadness he felt as he packed his belongings in a box at his desk. Still, he had been optimistic then, he has a good degree and years worth of experience along with a recommendation letter from his former boss, who had clasped his shoulder encouragingly when handing it to him, it shouldn't be too difficult to find a new job and start anew.
However, landing a traditional editorial job in the age of social media is proving to be a colossal task. He's lost count of how many CVs and applications he has sent, but all of the replies have so far fallen into two categories: either the newspaper or magazine is not hiring "due to the current climate" or they decided to hire someone else after undergoing several round of interviews. Sho knows he's good at his job and this is just a mix of bad timing and bad luck, but he can't deny that these three months of rejections are starting to take a toll on him.
He gets up from the sofa and walks over to the kitchen of this 1LDK that is too big for his needs but he stubbornly kept after his last relationship fell apart and the other party moved out. It's been almost a year and Sho is starting to regret not moving into a smaller apartment then, which would not be so harsh on his savings now. In his defence he couldn't have imagined back then that he'd be with no income for three months and counting. He shivers when his bare feet touch the cold tiles on the kitchen floor and opens the fridge. The desolate sight that greets him is not unexpected: half a cabbage, a tomato and a few half-eaten conbini side dishes. He is not much of a cook. Shingo was a professional cook and the one that chose this apartment and all the appliances in it, before he decided he'd rather cook for someone else, leaving Sho with an empty apartment and kitchen cabinets full of pasta makers, food processors and mandolin slicers. Debris from a failed relationship that he hasn't bothered to throw out. He grabs a beer and a pack with the remainders of a potato salad and walks back to the living room.
In between mouthfuls of his subpar dinner, he evaluates his options once more. He can keep sending applications to every publication in Japan but he still needs to pay rent, so he will have to either take a part-time job or move back in with his family. Or he can reinvent himself into a meme and clickbait headline expert suitable for the digital age, though he doubts he's young or funny enough for that. He sighs in defeat and knows what he has to do. The one thing that he's been trying to avoid for the past three months.
He picks up his phone. The call rings a few times until someone picks up at the other end. "Hello, Dad?" Sho says.
The Sakurai family home is in Asakusa. A traditional wooden house that is both Sho's mother's pride and lifelong endeavour. They moved here from Gunma when Sho was in kindergarten and he's never seen his mother satisfied with it, always finding a new corner to improve or an original feature to restore. His father, more practically inclined, has tried many times to convince her to move into a new build but she refuses to yield. Sho understands, partly because this house possesses an undeniable charm but mostly because he's inherited his mother's stubbornness and knows what it is to devote oneself to a foolish cause.
The wooden flooring creaks as his mother places a small tray with two cups of tea on the space between him and his father, sitting on the floor of the veranda facing the garden. It's March and the weather is mellowing out, the plum tree in the far corner is in full bloom and it will be followed by the cherry blossoms soon. Sho is certain his father knows why he's here, he has offered to help many times in the past months and Sho has refused just as many. He bows his head lightly.
"I know I said I didn't want you to get involved but it's not working out," he says.
His father merely nods as he holds the cup of tea between his hands.
"There's nothing shameful in asking your family for help when you need it."
"I know that. It's just... I want to do things through my own strength."
"You're just borrowing mine for a while," he reassures him.
He stays for lunch and sits at his former spot at the lively table to the left of his younger brother and sister, silently thanking whatever superior being made him to be born a Sakurai.
At precisely 10:45 on a Tuesday, Sho in his best suit walks through the doors of the headquarters of Kotobuki Publishing Group in Yurakucho. It's a tall and imposing glass building and the lobby is bustling with activity, as expected from one of the largest publishers in Japan. He walks over to the reception desk where a young woman with impeccable makeup and a pristine blue uniform asks him to write his name down on a register before handing him a visitor badge and giving him directions to reach the HR department on the 5th floor.
Sho takes the stairs in an attempt to release some of the nervous energy inside his body. He couldn't fall asleep thinking about the meeting ahead and is running purely on coffee. He can't imagine which strings his father had to pull to get him this appointment at such a major publisher but he's not about to screw it up.
On the 5th floor he is shown into a waiting room with luxurious-looking leather chairs. He opts to stand so as to not wrinkle his jacket and helps himself to a cup of water from the water fountain standing by a large window. It doesn't do much to revive his throat, which has been turned into a desert by his nerves. After a few excruciating minutes that have him running through his rehearsed script of possible answers, another uniformed woman finally escorts him down a corridor and stops by a door, knocking on it briefly before opening it. When Sho steps into the office, she closes the door noiselessly behind him with a small bow.
Sho's eyes scan the office quickly. A man in a navy suit and sleepy eyes sits behind a desk covered under piles of paper and several precariously balanced folders. He stands up and gestures Sho towards a chair across him.
"Sakurai-san. It's nice to meet you. I'm Ohno Satoshi."
Sho bows stiffly before sitting down. "Thank you for your time, Ohno-san."
Ohno doesn't look much older than him. He has brown hair to match his tanned skin and when he offers Sho what seems like a genuine smile, he looks somewhat out of place in this generic corporate office. After what happened at the newspaper, he has developed a sense of mistrust towards HR managers. So-called "people managers" that won't hesitate to lay off a whole department with meager compensation at the higher-ups' request. Even so, that doesn't mean they all have to look like cold evil corporate robots, he guesses they can also look warm and human like Ohno. Like the others he trusted at his previous job.
Ohno looks over at the chaos of papers on his desk, moving folders and piles of documents until he finds what he's looking for under a shiny silver paperweight in the shape of a tuna fish to his left. Even from where he is, Sho can tell it's his CV. He's written enough of them in the past months to see them even in his sleep.
Ohno clears his throat briefly as his eyes skim through the paper in his hands. "Ah yes, Sakurai-san," he looks at him with a kind expression "I have heard of your... circumstances. It's so unfortunate to see another publisher closing. These are difficult times for printed press." he says sympathetically.
Sho nods. He appreciates Ohno's tactful way of speaking. He can't be sure if he knows about his Dad's involvement in landing him this job interview but he's glad he isn't either disdainful or overly obsequious about it. His feelings of both guilt and embarrassment about having to use his family connections are bad enough as it is.
"Sakurai-san, as a Keio graduate with experience in... ah, yes economic and regional affairs junior editor. I'm afraid we don't currently have any positions that would suit you." Ohno says.
Sho's heart drops to his feet. He tries his best to not let it show. He keeps his back straight and opens his mouth, but before he can reply, Ohno raises his hand and carries on.
"We're not immune to the crisis in the publishing business, newspaper sales are suffering and we have had to restrict new hires as much as we can. However, we do have a position that's available. For a personal assistant to the editor in chief of Mode magazine." He pauses and offers Sho an apologetic look. "It's not an editorial job though, so we will understand if you refuse."
Ohno digs out another stray paper from under his computer keyboard and passes it over to Sho. "Please take some time to think about it," he tells him.
Sho looks at the job spec in his hand. He's heard of Mode magazine, Japan's most prestigious and longest running fashion magazine, rivaling even with global names like Vogue. But that's about as much knowledge he has about fashion or fashion press. He is one of the most decidedly unfashionable people in Tokyo. Even if, to his mother's relief, he's grown out of his teenage phase of camouflage print and piercings in favour of plain everyday items, the idea of him working in a fashion magazine is frankly laughable.
However looking over at the list of responsibilities and requirements in the job description, there's nothing there that seems unreasonable. Text editing skills, good organisation, excellent at multi-tasking... Sho is certain he ticks all of those boxes, some even with too much zeal, if he has to judge based on his family's complaints about his detailed holiday itineraries.
Being a personal assistant is not how he had predicted his next career move to go. No matter how he looks at it, it's a step back. But he's made up his mind.
"Thank you for your trust, Ohno-san. It'll be my pleasure to join Kotobuki Publishing." He bows.
Ohno nods and smiles at him again. "That's great news, Sakurai-san. I appreciate it's not an easy decision but I'm sure you'll be a huge help to Mode and Matsumoto-san. And in the future, there is always the option for an internal transfer, once a suitable position is available."
He seems genuinely pleased and against his better judgment, Sho finds himself warming up to him.
The commute between his new workplace and his apartment takes 40 minutes and a train transfer. By the time Sho gets home he's already received an email from the Kotobuki HR department requesting the necessary paperwork to finalise his contract. Sho is to report to Mode on the 13th floor of the Yurakucho offices on Monday and ask for someone called Aiba Masaki who will be in charge of onboarding him.
In the afternoon, Sho brings a cup of coffee and the sakura limited edition donuts he bought earlier over to the low table in front of the sofa in the living room. He sits on the floor with his laptop and takes a long sip of the hot coffee.
Ohno-san had referred to someone named Matsumoto. That must be the name of Mode's editor in chief, the person Sho is to work as personal assistant for. What does a personal assistant in fashion even do? He has no idea. It's not usual for press editors to have personal assistants unless they work for very large publications, so he's not familiar with the kind of work he is expected to be in charge of. He certainly hopes it will be more than running errands like fetching coffee and expensive handbags. The job description listed things like organising Matsumoto-san's schedule. That must mean they have meetings and appointments with clients often, maybe advertisers.
He notices his own concerned expression reflected on the laptop screen. He has never been comfortable when he doesn't have control of a situation. It's one of the Sakurai traits.
Not knowing what to expect from his new job and, by extension, not being prepared for it is making him anxious. He's a fast learner and he's confident in his capabilities but he knows nothing about the fashion world or where to start. Well, if he's going to be working closely with this Matsumoto-san he's better off finding out as much as possible about them beforehand at least.
A quick search on Google gives Sho his new boss's full name. The first shock comes with the realisation that Matsumoto Jun is a man. In his ignorance, he had wrongly assumed the editor in chief would be a woman. And what's more, judging from the amount of search results, both in Japanese and foreign languages, Matsumoto Jun must be a big deal. He even has his own Wikipedia page. He decides to start his research there.
The second shock has him almost sending the piece of donut in his mouth flying towards the screen. Matsumoto not only looks younger than he expected but he must be one of the most handsome men he's ever seen. Sho can't help but gape at the photo that accompanies the article, his eyes scan the perfectly combed black hair, the strong features and distinctive eyebrows as Matsumoto attractively smiles at the camera at some red carpet event. He doesn't even look Japanese. A quick check on the profile data tells him he is indeed a Tokyo native and to his dismay, his new boss is a year younger than him.
The rest of his biography is even more impressive than his looks. Born in Tokyo, graduated from Bunka Fashion College before completing a masters degree at the Institut Français de la Mode in Paris. He even was a lecturer at a university in Paris before returning to Japan and the string of famous names under his list of collaborations sound familiar even to a fashion illiterate person like Sho.
Several cups of coffee and a home delivery pizza later, Sho has been able to piece together what he thinks is a reasonably comprehensive picture of Matsumoto. He's read an endless list of articles that describe his new boss as a visionary, a creative force for fashion worldwide, an innovative art director. Being decidedly unartistic, Sho is incapable to judge for himself, no matter how much he looks at the different covers and photoshoots of the magazine that he's directed.
The business part, however, is a language that he can easily understand. Since Matsumoto took the reins of Mode magazine six years ago, sales shot through the roof, restoring the publication to its former glory and slowly but surely overtaking their foreign competitors' Japanese editions. Even in recent years with the ongoing print crisis, sales figures are stable. Not happy with his reign in womenswear, Matsumoto launched Men's Mode three years ago and recently led both publications' online presence launch with a social media rollout campaign.
It's almost midnight when he finally closes the laptop and makes his way to bed. Sho can't deny he's impressed - and a bit jealous - of his new boss's achievements. Even if a job as personal assistant is far from his dream job, he can make the most of this chance to work closely with someone as successful as Matsumoto and learn from his methods.
Next Monday has Sho arriving at the 13th floor of the Yurakucho HQ at 9 am. Once he walks through the glass doors to the Mode offices, the stuffy corporate building feel is left behind in the elevator landing. Inside, the minimalist style decoration gives the offices a light and airy mood. Everything from the art on the walls to the lighting and plush carpets seems handpicked to create an elegant yet effortless atmosphere. Sho recognises the light coloured wooden chairs lined up before the reception desk to be of Scandinavian design. Like most of his architecture and interior design knowledge, a fact he picked up accidentally by accompanying his mother to architecture and furniture shows over the years.
When he approaches the woman at the front desk, he notices how the stiff Kotobuki uniforms have also disappeared from this floor. The woman is dressed in a voluminous knitted jumper and wears a beret instead of the royal blue corporate blazer. She tells Sho to take a seat for a moment as she picks up the telephone on her desk. A few minutes later a tall man appears through the glass doors to the right and walks over to Sho.
"Sakurai-san? It's nice to meet you." He bows his head in Sho's direction. "My name is Aiba Masaki. Come on, I'll give you a tour of the office." He offers Sho a smile that lights up his face and makes him start to wonder if all the men working in this office are going to be as attractive as Matsumoto and Aiba.
As an extremely single man, the prospect is both enticing and daunting in equal measure.
The office is divided in two open floor spaces at each side of the entrance. He follows Aiba as he chatters animatedly and shows him the different departments, already bustling with activity early in the morning. Sho sees racks of colourful clothing being pulled in and out of meeting rooms, boards with photographs and bits of fabric pinned on them and a even a small photography studio set up in a corner. Aiba points out the art, mock-ups, styling, PR and editorial departments and introduces him to a few people in each of them that Sho promptly forgets the names of.
As he walks behind Aiba around the office, Sho doesn't miss the looks he is getting, too pointed to be merely curiosity about the new hire. He feels his face heat up. It's obvious he looks out of place in this office. The classic suit that he bought with his first bonus and got him compliments from his colleagues back at the newsroom is not going to have the same effect here.
To be honest, he's not even sure if he's overdressed or underdressed. He is wearing more formal clothes than the rest of the staff but at the same time, their carefully selected casual coordinates make them look more put together than Sho.
Aiba himself is wearing jeans and an oversized dark green knitted vest over a plain white t-shirt. Everything hangs off his slender frame perfectly and he looks more fashionable than the models in Men's Mode themselves. If he had any thoughts on Sho's choice of outfit upon meeting him, he was kind enough not to show any outward signs of it.
They finish the tour at the staff lounge, a quiet breakout area with a small kitchen area by the wall. There's a coffee machine and a basket with fruits and other snacks laid out for the staff. The rest of the space is occupied by a few wooden tables and sofas, and the far edge is a large glass wall overlooking Hibiya Park.
Aiba offers him a coffee and they sit down with their steaming cups at a table. Unsurprisingly, even the ceramic cups are of careful design here, none of those plastic cups that are common in other offices. From his seat, Sho can see a sea of pink cherry blossoms in the park far below.
"This is a great spot to take a break and unwind for a bit," he says as he looks outside, his hands curling around his cup.
"Matsujun laid out the floor plan for the office himself. The light at sunset is so good we've even had shoots for the magazine here."
Sho doesn't miss the casual way Aiba addressed the editor in chief. "Matsujun? Do you mean Matsumoto-san?" he asks.
Aiba nods "Most of the staff here call him Jun or Matsujun. We're a fairly casual office. That's something that Matsujun brought back from Europe, he says Japanese work hierarchy is a waste of time."
He offers Sho another one of those bright smiles that makes his stomach flutter briefly. He'd better get used to them if he wants to get work done around here.
"What is your role at Mode, Aiba-san?"
"I am the fashion director. It's like a head editor role in regular publishing, I'm in charge of overseeing all the editor's stories... and anything else Matsujun can think of," he adds with a wink that looks more like a grimace.
Sho hasn't missed the fact that his famous boss hasn't yet made an appearance. During the tour, Aiba pointed at a Matsumoto's empty office situated at the mezzanine level, above one of the meeting rooms. Even now, at past 10 in the morning, there seems to be no trace of the editor in chief.
He's about to ask Aiba about it when a woman walks into the lounge. She mutters a greeting as she heads for the coffee machine and starts preparing a cup.
"Ai-chan! I wasn't expecting you here this morning. Did you finish early yesterday?" Aiba asks her.
The woman turns her head towards Aiba briefly and rolls her eyes. "We wrapped up at 3 am. Jun wanted to get the Moon's reflection on the water just right."
Aiba lets out a laugh and as if suddenly remembering Sho's presence he says "Ah, by the way this is Sakurai Sho-san. He is Matsujun's new assistant." He turns to Sho. "Kameyama Ai-chan is one of our stylists."
Kameyama is already walking back to the office with her coffee, she bows in Sho's direction and tells him "good luck" without missing a beat.
Sho wonders briefly at her odd greeting, shouldn't it be "welcome" or "nice to meet you" instead? Aiba seems to realise his confusion.
"Ai-chan was assisting Matsujun on a photoshoot for the next issue last night." He pauses and his face turns serious. "Sakurai-san, as you can imagine, it takes a lot of creative effort to keep Mode at the top of the market issue after issue and, most of the magazine's success, we owe to Matsujun's direction. As you just heard, he is a very demanding person, who will not compromise his vision and will not stop working until he's satisfied."
Sho simply nods in acknowledgment and lets him carry on.
"That is not to say he's unreasonable, but he has high standards and expects every member of staff to meet them."
"I understand." Sho replies. It's not surprising. To be able to achieve successes like Matsumoto's requires both a lot of passion and a strong work ethic.
"Every member of the staff is here because they want to work with Matsujun." Aiba finishes the remains in his cup and grins. "Well... we complain about him a lot, but you'll have to trust me on this."
The rest of the morning goes by with Aiba showing him to his assigned desk, the one nearest the stairs leading to Matsumoto's office, and teaching him how documents, contact lists and calendars are organised.
He's also shown into the magazine famous "closet", a large storage room with row after row of clothes racks and endless shelves with clothes, bags and every accessory imaginable. The stylist in charge, a man called Ikuta, teaches Sho how to fill the digital forms for taking items out of storage for photoshoots or other events.
When it's finally lunch time, Sho heads to the company canteen on the floor above, following Aiba's directions. He chooses seafood curry from the available selection and finds an empty table to sit down. He would have preferred to have lunch with Aiba, but the other man had to excuse himself as he had a last minute meeting to attend. However, the curry is so delicious it almost makes up for the lack of company.
In this floor, shared with staff from other departments, Sho feels a lot more at ease in his suit. Here it's the casual outfits from the Mode staff that stand out among the suits of salarymen or the traditional office looks of their female counterparts. He enjoys the feeling of blending in for a while.
"So, you're the new victim of our Demon King?"
Sho looks up to see a short man with black and somewhat messy hair standing next to him, holding a lunch tray very much like the one Sho has in front of him. "Mind if I join you?" he asks.
Sho's mouth is full of curry and rice so he can only nod and signal to the chair in front of him with his hand.
"My name is Ninomiya. Call me Nino, everybody does," the man says as he sits down.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Sakurai. I am -"
"The Emperor's new assistant. I've heard," Nino cuts in, his eyes glinting with something like glee. "Have you met him yet?" he asks.
Sho can't stop his brow from furrowing slightly at the choices of nicknames for his new boss. "Not yet, Matsumoto-san hadn't arrived when I took my break."
Nino is positively grinning now and Sho gets a feeling of dread at whatever this man knows that he doesn't. Somehow, his instinct tells him that this Nino isn't likely to explain what he's so amused about even if he asks, so he opts to change the subject to something safer.
"What do you do at Mode, Nino?" he asks.
"I am the head of editorial design. I take the pretty-looking pictures and fit them together in the computer, like a nice jigsaw puzzle." He pauses for a moment as he bites into a piece of fried chicken.
"You should drop by the department sometime. I badgered J for months until he gave me an office. Well, he probably just wanted to keep me out of sight. He says it would damage the reputation of the magazine if guests saw me walking around the office," he says.
It's not like Sho thinks he's qualified to judge anyone's style, but the thought that Nino doesn't look like a fashion enthusiast did cross his mind. He's wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans and a suspiciously cheap-looking pair of sandals. He looks as out of place as he does himself, just in a different way.
Nino seems to guess what he's thinking. "What? You agree with him?" he asks.
With his mouth full, Sho shakes his head in response.
"You're right. I don't care about fashion at all. I don't even care much about magazines or press, I just enjoy building the layout with the software. It's as good a use for my skills as any, and if I get the work done quickly I get to play games in my office," he shrugs.
Having finished his food much quicker than Sho, Nino stands up and picks up his empty lunch tray. "I have to go back, but it was nice meeting you. If you need anything, make sure to drop by to see me... or if you ever need to get away from J, you can hide in my office."
Admittedly, Nino is a bit of a puzzling character. He is miles apart from Aiba's more traditional brand of kindness, but Sho appreciates his openness and his invitation all the same.
"Thank you, Nino. That's very kind of you."
Nino tilts his head to the side with a smirk "Yeah, well... there's a betting pool in the office on how long you're going to last. I'm currently the top contender so I really need you to stay for three months, Sho-chan."
Sho watches in disbelief as he laughs on his way out of the canteen, waving goodbye in his direction.
Sho's only been back at his desk for a few minutes when he notices an increase in the activity levels around him. There's a noticeable buzz of murmurs around the floor, stylists hurriedly arranging dresses on the racks and staff either hastily tidying their desks or reapplying makeup. The noise dies down as two people enter the office through the glass door. One of them is Aiba, now holding an open folder in his hand and pointing at something for the other man to look at. The other man is just about as tall as Aiba but of a stronger build, he's all dressed in black and appears to be fully focused in what Aiba is showing him as he crosses the office in confident strides.
There is an almost reverent silence on the floor that all but confirms to Sho that this is the editor in chief himself. The two men are approaching Sho's desk deep in conversation and just before reaching it, they turn to start climbing the stairs to Matsumoto's office. Only then, he allows himself to take a quick look.
Matsumoto Jun doesn't quite look like Sho was expecting. He's wearing glasses, an oversized black hoodie with what Sho could swear is Pikachu on the front, and his hair appears unstyled under a baseball cap. Of course he wouldn't show up in the office looking as he did the photos Sho has seen online from interviews and events. Especially not after having worked through the previous night.
That is not to say Sho is not impressed. He has witnessed the effect of his appearance on the staff. It is obvious he is respected (and, perhaps, somewhat feared). If his raw presence is this imposing, he wonders how striking his on mode will be.
Once the pair disappear into the office, Sho goes back to studying Matsumoto's shared calendar on his computer. He makes a note of the recurring meetings in the office and writes down questions to ask Aiba later. There's a lot of terms that are foreign to him: run-through, fitting, lookbook... he has a decent understanding of English but he can only guess what the words might mean in a fashion setting. Even so, he analyses the cadence of them to get a feel of the monthly editorial cycle.
When he moves on to look at the rest of appointments, those with clients and advertisers, he feels even more lost. There's a mix of Japanese last names, initials and brand names "YSL 4 p.m." "Tsukamoto-san 12 p.m. - Tokyo Grand Hyatt"...
He's so engrossed in his task that he jumps in surprise when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He hasn't noticed Aiba standing next to him.
"Come, I'll introduce you to Matsujun," he says.
Sho gets up and follows him up the stairs. The uneasiness about the inadequacy of his outfit that he had forgotten momentarily behind the relative privacy of his desk returns in full. His palms get sweaty as he dreads the moment Matsumoto - in a Pikachu hoodie - will be laying eyes on him in this three-piece suit. He makes a mental note to buy some more suitable clothes soon.
Instead of being at his desk, Matsumoto is sitting on a sofa by the corner, working on a laptop perched on the armrest. A few seconds go by before he takes away his eyes from the screen and looks in their direction. Sho feels the editor in chief's stare on him as if evaluating him and tries not to blush in embarrassment. His expression is unreadable, if he is judging him on his appearance, Sho can't tell.
"Sakurai Sho-san?" he asks.
"Yes, editor in chief. I'm Sakurai." He bows respectfully. "I'm looking forward to working with you."
Matsumoto nods in acknowledgement. "Likewise. Make sure to have Aiba show you how things work around here," he says before turning back to his laptop.
Aiba gestures Sho to follow him and he bows once more before exiting the room. As he descends, Sho is not sure if he's disappointed or relieved at how brief the first meeting with Matsumoto was. A small part of him resents the editor in chief's cold demeanor and how little interest he had showed in him, but at the same time he's glad it's over. He certainly doesn't look like the type to make small talk with the members of staff.
In any case, Sho hopes he'll soon get used to working with him.
Matsumoto leaves the office again shortly for what Sho's schedule tells him is a Kotobuki board of directors review meeting.
When he reappears a couple of hours later with a sour expression on his face and noticeably heavier steps, he briefly stops next to Sho's desk on his way to his office.
"Sakurai," he says plainly. "Pick up the new season preview samples for Friday's shoot."
Sho's survival instinct kicks in as he finds himself answering "Yes, Matsumoto-san" even if he has no idea what he's talking about. The editor in chief quirks an eyebrow at him before continuing towards his office.
Once the door closes behind him Sho springs up to his feet to look for Aiba for help.