Matchmaker’s Blueprint

Takao’s office was nestled at the heart of the Heart Harmony building, where the business of activity never truly settled. He had been with the company for nearly a decade, working tirelessly as a Matchmaker for Familiars—a role that balanced scientific analysis with the subtle art of understanding the human soul. At 31 years old, Takao was a quiet, methodical man, known for his precision and dedication to the complexities of human-familiar relationships. Today, like most days, he was absorbed in his work, but his thoughts often wandered to the strange duality of his life.

While his job required the utmost professionalism, a secret part of him reveled in his hidden passion: anime. Takao’s desk was a carefully curated space of neat stacks of papers, a few family photos, and a small action figure of his favorite character from “I Was Summoned as the Demon Lord’s Therapist”, all of which remained hidden beneath a pile of client reports and data. He loved stories that explored the depths of human emotion—complex characters, intricate relationships, and, above all, the idea of personal growth. His favorite shows often focused on protagonists who struggled with their inner selves, much like the humans he worked with. It was not just the battles in the series that captivated him, but the deep philosophical themes of purpose and connection.

He hadn’t shared his interest with many people, finding it difficult to explain to others that, at his core, anime helped him understand people better. The battles on screen reflected real-life struggles, where individuals searched for meaning and faced challenges to their identity, much like the humans he helped match with their familiars.

Today was no different. Takao had a stack of new client data to sift through, a set of personality profiles to assess, and the difficult task of translating that information into an emotional blueprint that would guide the scientists at Heart Harmony in their genetic engineering of the perfect familiar. The process was more than technical; it was about understanding the intricate connections between human personalities and the animal companions that could complement and support them. It wasn’t just about matching someone with a familiar—they had to connect in a way that filled an emotional gap.

Takao’s mind danced between different personality types as he reviewed his notes. A familiar’s role was more than just a companion; they had to embody certain traits that balanced out the client’s characteristics. For example, a client who was introverted and deeply empathetic might require a familiar that was soft-spoken and intuitive, perhaps a cat or a fox, creatures known for their quiet wisdom. On the other hand, someone with a highly analytical personality might need a familiar with a sharp mind and active temperament—perhaps an owl or a raven.

The emotional needs were just as varied as the personalities he assessed. For a client suffering from anxiety, a familiar with a soothing presence was essential—something like a gentle deer or a small, tranquil rabbit. Takao scribbled down notes, trying to match the right animal with each person’s need. He studied them carefully, aware of how their personalities shaped their relationships with their familiars. He’d often feel a deep empathy for these clients, imagining how their lives might improve with the right animal companion.

But as he reviewed the data for a particular client, a familiar’s design stood out in his mind. He closed his eyes and envisioned it: A large, imposing, yet protective bear for a stoic client with a hidden warmth. The client might be tough on the outside but needed something that understood their vulnerability, something capable of offering support without demanding attention. He jotted down the animal and accompanying design features: dark fur with streaks of silver, reflecting the client’s inner conflict between strength and sensitivity.

He paused and smiled, recalling his first meeting with Mayu, five years ago. She had been a new hire then, and Takao had been skeptical. She was young, eager, and a bit too optimistic for his taste. Her enthusiasm clashed with his cautious nature, and he had quietly doubted whether she would last in such a demanding field. But over the years, Mayu had proven him wrong. She’d developed into one of the best Harmony Technicians, and their work together had been a success. They respected each other now—he admired her passion for familiars, and she appreciated his careful, analytical approach. They had come to balance each other out, offering insights the other might have missed.

As Takao worked, he reflected on the growing mutual respect they’d built. He had always kept to himself, never going out with friends, preferring the company of his family. His relationship with his mother, father, and younger sister was close, and their bond was one of the few things that anchored him in the world. But outside of his family, he preferred the solitude of his own thoughts.

By the time the day was drawing to a close, Takao had finished his analysis for the day. He’d crafted new emotional blueprints for the familiars, which he would send to the genetic engineers tomorrow. But before he left the office, there was one more thing to do. He reached for the small device in his pocket and opened his visual novel.

The world of the game was dark and filled with moral ambiguity. It was the kind of game where choices mattered deeply, where characters were not just good or bad but complex, deeply flawed beings struggling with their own identities. It mirrored the themes Takao loved in his favorite anime—questions of purpose, self-worth, and the search for truth. He settled into his chair, carefully selecting his choices, pondering the philosophical implications of each one. The game was his escape, a world where he could explore darker themes and existential questions that resonated with him on a personal level.

His familiar, a round and black speckled pig named Poggu, floated into the room. The pig waddled beside him. Takao smiled faintly, grateful for the familiar’s quiet presence. Poggu was the only one who truly understood his need for solitude and introspection.

Poggu’s soft snorts broke the silence, reminding him to head home.

Takao looked up from the screen, nodding. “I know you’re hungry, Poggu. Just let me save…”

But Poggu remained silent, watching him with his emerald beady eyes. Takao sighed and closed the game, turning off the screen. He stood up, stretched, and walked to the bedroom, Poggu following closely behind.

As he lay down in bed, Takao allowed himself a moment of reflection. Despite the demanding nature of his work, despite the constant pressure of his responsibilities, he felt a deep sense of fulfillment. His work with familiars, his bond with his family, and even his secret love for anime—all of it made him who he was. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for tonight, he allowed himself the peace of knowing he was doing meaningful work.

With a final glance at Poggu, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, ready for whatever the next day would bring.