Chapter Text
“Furihata-kun.”
“Yes, Akashi-san?”
Akashi was staring at the brunette in front of his desk, who, like always, was too nervous to make eye contact, “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I believe I had asked you to pick up my dry cleaning.”
“Um, yes, you did!” Furihata said with an anxious nod of his head, eager to please. He inched closer to Akashi and placed a shiny black item next to his laptop. It was Akashi’s credit card. “Here you go.”
Akashi looked down at Furihata’s empty hands and then back at his increasingly anxious face.
“Furihata-kun,” he said again.
“Yes?”
“Where is my dry cleaning?”
There was a pause before Furihata was spinning on his heel, a frenzied mess as he sprinted towards the door as fast as his legs could carry him, “I’m sorry, Akashi-san!”
Akashi could only blink at the spot where a befuddled Furihata had stood merely seconds ago, wondering, for the third time that week, what could have possibly possessed Momoi to make such a… selection.
“You need a personal assistant,” he recalled her disgruntled voice from a couple months ago, as she tossed a pile of neatly pressed shirts onto his large desk. She had just narrowly missed his coffee cup. “I’m not picking up your dry cleaning again.”
“Those are going to wrinkle,” he had pointed out, not as a scolding but an observation.
“Akashi-kun, I missed five calls while I was out! And no one was at my desk to sign for a delivery, so we didn’t get the Takigawa documents either,” she huffed. “I can’t juggle being both your receptionist and running errands for you! Get an assistant, Akashi-kun. I’m serious.”
She was right, Akashi couldn’t deny her that fact. So, he agreed, on the condition that she handled the hiring process herself. Akashi simply didn’t have the time to hold interviews for such a menial position, and most importantly, he trusted Momoi’s judgment.
Well, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Had he put a little too much faith in her?
It was becoming clear to Akashi that Momoi must’ve hired the bumbling brunette as some kind of practical joke. But that didn’t make sense either. Momoi Satsuki was, by all standards, a perfectly professional employee.
So then what could have led his trusted receptionist to go astray when she hired Furihata Kouki as his new personal assistant? A man who had just gone to pick up Akashi’s dry cleaning, paid for it, and then walked all the way back to the office without taking the clothes with him.
When he first met Furihata, he looked as if a bomb would go off at any second. And that Akashi was magically holding the detonator.
“M-Momoi-san said to come and introduce myself,” his wide, brown eyes darted to every corner of the room, determined not to meet Akashi’s. He bowed once more. That was probably the fifth time, “I’m Furihata Kouki. Pleased to be of, uh, service to you… Akashi-san.”
True to their first encounter, Akashi soon noticed that Furihata always seemed to be on edge. And maybe it was a direct result of that, but he was rather clumsy, too. Because of this, he was constantly apologizing for his errors, be it big or small.
“Sorry about that, Akashi-san,” Furihata mumbled when he reappeared in the red head’s office. His expression was sheepish as he hung each dress shirt on the coatrack, treating every garment with exceptional care. Akashi could see that his forehead was damp with a thin layer of sweat after he had gone and returned from the dry cleaners, in what he could only assume was a mad dash around the block.
“It’s no problem,” Akashi was reminding himself to be patient. He wasn’t trying to scare Furihata anymore than he already had by simply… existing. “Thank you, Furihata-kun.”
But as he watched the man leave his office in hurried steps, Akashi considered his options again.
He had already cycled through two assistants at this point and it had only been a month. The first one he had to let go of once it became unbearable for him to listen to another one of her funny college anecdotes (they were not, to Akashi’s criterion, the least bit humorous). The second girl had lasted a mere week before resigning in tears, explaining she just couldn’t keep up with Akashi’s schedule, not if she was going to have a “healthy work-life balance” (that one, Akashi thought, was actually funny).
Perhaps Momoi had missed the mark more than once now.
Consequently, rumors were beginning to spread in the company that Akashi Seijuurou was difficult to work with. That he was some sort of tyrannical boss who had the ability to send a personal assistant flying for the door. Or out the window.
He remembered one of many conversations he had with his father before his takeover of Akashi Enterprises. His deteriorating health and stern doctors’ orders had forced him into early retirement, prompting him to prematurely pass the leadership position to Akashi, who was still just under 30 years old. His father emphasized the importance of keeping a firm, but benevolent image with his employees; not to rule them like a dictator would. He said one could never produce the best results out of people if they worked in fear.
And so, Akashi knew he couldn’t fire the new assistant on his third day.
He had decided he would give Furihata Kouki no more than two weeks.
Two weeks, he told himself again. Akashi was more than capable of being a calm and tolerant person. He was no tyrant. Years of therapy had honed this in him, after all.
“Ehh, you’re not going to join us again, Furihata-kun?”
Akashi could hear Momoi’s disappointed voice just beyond his glass walls. He looked up from his laptop to see her leaning against Furihata’s desk with her coat on, her expression sulky.
“Sorry Momoi-san,” Akashi could just barely hear his assistant say. His voice was considerably softer than the pink haired receptionist’s. “I don’t think I should leave yet.”
“It’s not because of…” she tilted her head in Akashi’s direction. “Is it? Because you totally don’t have to stay for him.”
Furihata seemed to be chuckling, “I don’t mind, really.”
Akashi watched as Momoi said her goodbyes and hastily departed. Furihata hunched over in his seat and busied himself with something on his desk. From Akashi’s angle he could only see his back, but it looked like he was placing coloured post-it notes on a notebook of sorts.
Some time passed with them both working in silence.
Between nonsensical stories about a college he never attended, and the awkward silence that remained between him and Furihata, Akashi supposed the latter was significantly better. And although it had only been a week, he was surprised Furihata didn’t seem depleted in any way by his hectic schedule.
He was actually doing a decent job of staying on top of Akashi’s itinerary; Furihata was always on time and ready to accompany the president on his meetings, and he was determined to stay at the office as long as Akashi did. Which sometimes meant late nights, as Akashi wasn’t one to budge from his seat until his daily agenda saw completion. But sure enough, whenever Akashi glanced at the desk that was stationed just in front of his door – almost like a guard tower – Furihata was always there, alert and waiting for his call.
His first few days had been riddled with errors and apologies, but now Furihata was proving to be… well, not terrible.
(And, by process of elimination, this effectively meant Furihata Kouki was the best assistant Akashi ever had. The thought was absurd, really.)
It was nearing seven in the evening now and Akashi was still going over the Takigawa merger papers. Financial statements and legal documents were arranged in neat piles on his desk according to a system only he could make any sense of.
He had stopped to stretch his neck when a timid knock echoed through the room. Akashi’s eyes landed on the source; Furihata was half a step into his office, his apprehensive face paused at the door. He was holding what looked like a take-out bag.
“Sorry for bothering you, Akashi-san,” he spoke, finally entering the office. “I-I just noticed you haven’t eaten yet? And you skipped lunch, too.”
Akashi glanced at his watch. He hadn’t even noticed the time. Or his own hunger for that matter.
Furihata took small strides to his desk, “I hope you don’t mind but I ordered dinner for you.” He began to retrieve the contents of the take-out bag and place them on Akashi’s desk, a safe distance from his papers. His shaky hands nearly dropped one of the containers, but Akashi was quick to grab it before any damage could be done. He opened each of the boxes as he set them down.
It was your typical Japanese home-style dinner, of rice, katsu, miso soup, and various side dishes.
And in the midst of them, one particularly large container. It held what looked like at least four servings of hot tofu.
Furihata seemed to notice Akashi eyeing the dish.
“You like yudofu, right? I noticed you had it three times this week,” The brunette was quick to explain. “And I was looking at your schedule, you have a lot of meetings at that one really fancy yudofu place on the other side of town? I figured if you were willing to make the trek, it must be like a favourite for you, or something. Or that maybe you have some big sponsorship deal with them, and you’re forced to eat it all the time, and oh my god,” His rambling came to a sudden stop and he immediately raised his hands in distress, “If that’s the case I’m so sorry, I’ll take it back right away!”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Akashi assured him, reaching for the chopsticks Furihata had set on his desk. They were the wooden kind you had to snap apart. Akashi couldn’t remember the last time he had to use these. “You were right, I am quite partial to it. I guess you can say it’s my favourite food,” He scanned the bevy of take-out containers before him. “Thank you for this, Furihata-kun.”
Although he wasn’t looking straight at Akashi, Furihata was smiling. It was shy, but genuine, like he was pleased with himself. “Well, enjoy your meal,” he said as he scampered out of the office.
Akashi’s eyes followed his assistant until he planted himself back in his own desk. No one knew Akashi’s favourite food, except for the chefs he grew up with in his family home. It’s not like anyone ever asked – he wasn’t exactly known to overshare with his employees.
It was such a minute, inconspicuous detail, but Furihata had caught onto it so easily.
“I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!”
Akashi was confounded, unsure if he should help his frantic assistant, or if it would only serve to make matters worse.
Furihata was on all fours, scrambling to collect a flurry of papers off the floor of Akashi’s office. To his side stood a distressed older man, one of the investors Akashi had just finished negotiating a deal with – one that hopefully hadn’t gone up in smokes the moment Furihata blindly opened the door into the businessman’s face. How Furihata managed to do that was beyond Akashi, given the fact that his door (and all the walls of his office) were entirely transparent.
The man was rubbing his nose, which had turned rather red, as he recovered the papers from Furihata, “No, it’s fine… ow…”
“Please allow me to get you some ice, sir!” The assistant cried before darting out the door and around the corner.
“I hope you’re alright, Yamaoka-san,” Akashi offered to the older man. “I do apologize on behalf of my employee.”
The man simply waved it off with a dismissive hand and Akashi excused himself to help Furihata with the ice, because quite honestly, he had no idea what to do in such a situation. Accidents were not a common occurrence in matters where Akashi was involved.
He had just turned into the nearby hallway, when a fast-approaching bustle of brown hair immediately caught his eye, and Akashi took a step back to avoid a second collision. It was a good thing his reflexes were so sharp.
Furihata, on the other hand, had been so startled by the close encounter, he was beginning to lose his footing, hurling himself backwards as a result.
Those keen reflexes being ever so dependable, Akashi reached forward and grabbed Furihata’s arm, saving him from his fall. A bag of ice slipped out of Furihata’s hands and crashed onto the floor. Akashi had pulled the other man towards him in an attempt to help him gain composure, and he was now only inches away from his assistant’s bewildered face. Furihata was burning an impossibly deep shade of pink. It felt like the warmth was spreading down to his arm, where Akashi could feel it through the sleeve of his dress shirt.
He stared down into the large, brown eyes that glistened as they peered back into his.
Akashi realized it was the first time that Furihata was looking him in the eyes.
“Are you alright?” He finally asked as he let him go.
“Yes! I’m sorry Akashi-san!” Furihata straightened up and promptly retrieved the ice from the floor. He bowed to Akashi before dashing back to his office.
After Furihata had scurried away, Akashi stood in the hallway, uncertain for the second time that day, of what to think or do. And Akashi Seijuurou was a person who always knew the right words or course of action for any position he was put in.
The rest of Furihata’s imaginary probation went by without any other accidents. Though he was still rather jittery whenever he had to get close to Akashi, to deliver a coffee or a portfolio from Momoi. And Akashi had noticed that he wasn’t making eye contact with him again. But that was hardly a pressing matter compared to his performance, which, to Akashi’s astonishment, was surprisingly acceptable.
So, Furihata had survived the first two weeks, it seemed.
Well, that’s a relief, Akashi thought, because hiring a fourth assistant and having Momoi train them from scratch would’ve been time consuming, and counterproductive. And if there was one thing Akashi couldn’t allow, it was inefficiency.
Akashi was mulling all this over as he watched Furihata lean over his desk and type something in the search bar of an internet browser. He instantly noted how tense the other man was, and how constricted his movements were. It also looked like he was making sure not to get too close to Akashi.
“Okay, here it is, the Oha Asa website,” Furihata angled the laptop so Akashi could get a better view. “All the daily horoscopes are listed here, you just have to scroll down to find yours,” His fingers paused on the mousepad, “Um…”
“Sagittarius,” Akashi said, dryly. He never imagined such a topic would be of relevance to him, let alone a business meeting.
But Akashi had certain preparations to make before his lunch with the CFO of one of their subsidiary companies. Those preparations happened to entail reviewing his daily horoscope and trying to make sense of the questionable drivel. Because for some reason this particular green-haired individual he was meeting had a rapport for discussing such oddities at length.
“Oh, hey, your rank is first place today! I guess that’s a good thing?” Furihata mused and Akashi caught the shy smile that tugged at his lips. His eyes continued scanning the screen.
“What about yours?” Akashi ventured to ask, not entirely sure why.
“Me? Oh, I’m a Scorpio. Let’s see…” He chuckled quietly, “I’m second. Just one rank lower than you.”
Akashi smirked. The whole thing was rather ridiculous to him, “I suppose the two of us might be in for some good luck then.”
“Heh. Yeah, maybe.”
Furihata was still hovering over Akashi’s desk, trying to discern what a “lucky item” was and if Akashi would need to bring one to his meeting with Midorima. As it turned out, Akashi’s lucky item that day was a shamisen. When he leaned forward to get a better look at the gibberish on the screen, his shoulder brushed against Furihata’s elbow, causing a mild jolt in is arm. Akashi pretended not to notice.
Just like how he pretended not to notice how Furihata smelt like citrus shampoo and fabric softener, and how the scents blended together in a way that Akashi didn’t mind at all.
“Great, so we’ll see you there around eight!” Yamaoka shook Akashi’s hand with great enthusiasm before he left his office, careful to dodge Furihata on his way out. They had just finished fine tuning the investment contract between their companies that had been on the table for months. As was the custom with many old-fashioned Japanese businessmen, the only remaining hurdle was an outing with his associates, over dinner and drinks.
Although Akashi normally preferred to sit out these events and send a proxy in his stead, this was a particularly hefty deal that he knew he had to see through (it also hadn’t helped that Akashi’s assistant had almost knocked out Yamaoka’s front teeth at one point). He sighed and called Furihata into his office, instructing him to make a reservation for a party of five. Something upscale, but not with too many courses. He wanted to get the night over with quickly.
“Um, I think you might want to prepare for a long night, Akashi-san,” Furihata said, fidgeting with his tie as he spoke.
Akashi blinked, “What do you mean?”
“Well… I just noticed that the last time I saw Yamaoka-san he was wearing a wedding ring. But when he dropped by just now, he wasn’t wearing it anymore,” The brunette clarified, his gaze shifting to his feet. “Also, he picked a district that I know a lot of university students, and, well… a lot of young girls go to. I think he’s trying to go all out tonight, if you know what I mean.”
Akashi gaped at his assistant. The wedding ring was such a tiny but significant detail, and he was surprised he hadn’t noticed it himself. Yamaoka did seem a little too excited about what should’ve been a simple business dinner. And if memory served him right, there was once a time when the older man's scandalous behaviour had stirred up some rumours in the past...
Perhaps Furihata had a talent for picking up on details. He had done the same with the yudofu, too.
“I see. That was an impressive observation, Furihata-kun,” Akashi remarked, and he could do nothing to stop the smile spreading on his face. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
When Akashi got into his car that evening, he instructed his driver to take him to his usual sushi spot. A Michelin star restaurant that had been around for almost a century. He pulled out his phone and selected Yamaoka from his contacts.
“Hello, Yamaoka-san, I hope you don’t mind but I was thinking of inviting your wife to our dinner tonight… Yes, well, I know that before her retirement she was a very close friend and confidant to my father… Oh, is that so? Well, in that case I know a wonderful establishment that we can go to instead… Yes, I’ll send you the directions now… See you soon.”
Akashi hung up, sent a text with the restaurant location pinned to it, and pocketed his phone. As he looked out the window of the car, he spotted a familiar figure leaving the Akashi Enterprises building at the same time.
Furihata had walked over to the bus stop across the street and plopped down on one of the metal benches. He was bundled in a fall coat, with a hoodie peeking out from underneath. His canvas backpack sat neatly on his lap. From where he sat in his car, Akashi could see the brunette’s cheeks turning rosy against the chilly Autumn air.
Whether he knew it or not, Furihata Kouki had just saved Akashi from a night he did not have any desire to partake in.
Akashi turned away from the window and smiled to himself.
Maybe he ought to trust Momoi’s judgment a little more.