Knight in Shining Business Casual

Akio’s Tuesday started like any other, with the ritualistic suffering of the 8 a.m. team stand-up. By mid-morning, he was buried in someone else’s spaghetti-code function, eyebrows furrowed in second-hand frustration, when an unexpected commotion at the office entrance pulled him from his focus.

Through the glass walls of their workspace, he saw a flash of neon-blue hair and a leather jacket covered in cartoon shark patches, Naomi had arrived. Akio’s eyebrows shot up. She looked utterly out of place among the ergonomic chairs and potted ferns of their office, like a vibrant tropical bird that had mistakenly flown into a bank.

Trailing behind her was a bemused-looking security guard (who clearly had failed to deter her at the lobby) and, Shinji himself, looking positively delighted. He led Naomi right into the IT Hub, one hand casually resting on her shoulder as though escorting royalty. The entire team’s attention slowly gathered on this odd pair.

Akio sighed, “Here we go.”

“Good morning, my loyal subjects!” Shinji called, far too cheerily. “I’d like to introduce our newest team member: Naomi from Accounting.”

A junior dev nearly spat out his coffee. Akio just smirked and shook his head. Naomi played along, giving a mock formal wave. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said in a posh accent that was wholly at odds with her ripped fishnets and combat boots.

Chuckles went around. Shinji then relented, “Just kidding. Naomi here is a… friend of mine.”

At that, Naomi shot Shinji a sideways look of amusement. “Friend, eh? That what we’re calling it?” she teased, nudging him with her elbow. Shinji coughed diplomatically, though his ears went a tad pink.

Naomi held up a white takeout tray triumphantly. “I come bearing tribute! One large triple-shot caramel latte with extra foam for the self-declared hero of last week’s server meltdown.” She plucked a cup from the tray and handed it to Shinji with a wink. KUBO was scrawled on the side in black marker.

The team applauded. Someone yelled, “Long live our hero, Kubo-sama!” and another added, “May your servers stay patched forever!” Shinji bowed, accepting the coffee.

Naomi rolled her eyes affectionately and continued, “And one for each of the four, brave little devs in his IT kingdom.” She sat the tray down.

Akio accepted his espresso with a small nod of thanks and took a sip. Hot, bitter, and life-saving. It was exactly what he needed.

Akio resumed refactoring a function that had haunted him all morning, sipping between keystrokes.

After a while, Naomi sauntered over to Akio’s desk, hands tucked in her jacket pockets.

“Hey, Aki.” Naomi greeted him with a shortened nickname he never authorized but tolerated from her. She leaned on the edge of his cubicle wall. “How’s code monkey life?”

Akio swivelled his chair to face her, arms crossed. “Less eventful than whatever you’re up to. Nice stunt, bribing your way past reception with coffee.”

She grinned, unrepentant. “Works every time. Suit guys will do anything for a good latte.” Her expression softened a touch as she peered at him. “Just wanted to check on you. And, you know, on our favourite acrobat via you.”

Akio’s chest tightened. “Why ‘via me’? Is something wrong with Amaya?” He kept his voice low.

Naomi sighed. “Depends on your definition of wrong. I tried to get her to eat lunch with me, but she didn’t want to stop training. Didn’t even want a granola bar.” Naomi’s pierced eyebrow arched meaningfully. “Said she had to squeeze in extra practice. She’s been... well, you know.”

Akio did know. “She was still anxious when you saw her?”

“Anxious, stubborn, laser-focused. All of the above.” Naomi pursed her lips. “She laughed off my concern, said something about ‘not wanting to die midair in front of a bunch of guys in neckties,’ but I can tell she’s pushing herself way too hard. Girl’s running on caffeine and nerves.”

Akio felt a spike of worry. Amaya had seemed okay when he left this morning. She’d given him a lazy “Go get ’em, code warrior” as he headed out. She trained until late last night so he assumed she’d maybe sleep in a bit more or take it easy. Apparently not.

“Thanks for telling me,” he said earnestly. “I had a feeling she wouldn’t sit still. She’s determined to conquer that trapeze fear in one day, it seems.”

Naomi nodded, showing genuine concern. “Exactly. And when Amaya gets like this… she forgets to take care of herself. Physically, mentally, the whole shebang.” She crossed her arms, a glint in her eye. “Now, normally I’d drag her stubborn butt home myself, but I’ve got dress rehearsal at noon for a gig. I was gonna swing back to school after delivering coffee, but I’m cut short on time. Kinda hoping you could check on her?”

Akio was already standing up before she finished the sentence. “Of course. I’ll go right now.” He grabbed his phone and wallet from the desk.

Naomi’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk. “Knew I could count on you, hero.” She raised a hand as if to give him a high-five. Akio awkwardly obliged, and she slapped his hand with a loud smack. “Go get our girl. Knight in shining business casual.”

Akio’s ears warmed at the implication of “our girl,” but he didn’t dispute it. “Keep an eye on Shinji,” he quipped to cover his rush, “I think you crashed his system with that smile of yours.”

Naomi chuckled, glancing over at where Shinji was showing something on his computer to a crowd. “Oh, he’s fine. Big softie. I’ll see myself out. And Akio?” She met his gaze with a rare seriousness, “Thank you. Really.”

He nodded, already moving toward Shinji. “I’ll report back.”

Shinji spotted him approaching and immediately shooed the others. “Alright, show’s over, back to work, minions.” As the team dispersed, Shinji turned to Akio with a sly grin. “Fancy seeing Miss Naomi here, huh?”

Akio didn’t have time for Shinji’s ribbing. “Kubo-san,” he said quietly, “I need to head out for a bit. Possibly for the rest of the day.”

Shinji raised an eyebrow, though not in shock, more like he was unsurprised. “Amaya?” he guessed shrewdly, sipping his latte.

Akio sighed. “Yeah. She’s… being ridiculous, and I’m worried about her.”

Shinji studied him for a moment, then clapped a hand on Akio’s shoulder. “Go,” he said simply. “I can cover your absence. I’ll tell Sakai-san you’ve been dispatched to collect… uh… crucial performance metrics in the field.”

Akio couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “That’s a terrible excuse.”

Shinji winked. “Maybe. But Sakai-san’s too busy with gala prep to question it. Besides, I’m the boss and you’ve got plenty of leave saved up, don’t you? Consider today a half-day off.”

He then leaned in and added under his breath, “Give Amaya my best, okay? She’s got fire. She’ll pull through this, especially with you at her side.”

Sometimes Shinji’s perceptiveness startled Akio. He dipped into a quick bow of gratitude. “Thank you, Kubo-san. I owe you.”

“Nonsense. Just bring me back some popcorn from the circus school or something,” Shinji joked, and then with a little nudge, “Go on.”

Akio turned to go, but Shinji called after him one last time. “Oh—and Akio?”

Akio paused. “Yes?”

Shinji grinned. “Good luck. Bring back good data… and maybe a girlfriend.”

Akio groaned audibly but didn’t bother responding. He was already out the door, not sparing a second to worry about work or appearances.

The Tokyo streets blurred as Akio half-ran, half-speed-walked to Tsukiji Circus School.

Akio tried to quell the anxiety twisting in his gut. He recalled Amaya’s haunted expression as she cried into their peanut butter jar, the way her hands trembled in fear. If she was pushing herself too hard to compensate… Please, please let her be okay.

He imagined arriving to find her just tired, maybe frustrated but safe. Worst-case scenarios, like her lying injured, nudged into his mind, but he shoved them away.

The building soon came into view: a large, refurbished warehouse painted in vibrant murals of performers and fantastical creatures. Even from outside, he could hear muffled music and the occasional burst of laughter or shouted instruction.

Outside the double doors, a sun-faded banner flapped, “Tsukiji School of Circus Arts – Dare to Fly!” He swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious in his button-down shirt and slacks. He felt like a drab sparrow stepping into a flock of vivacious parrots.

He pushed through the double doors and was immediately assaulted with sensory overload from the kaleidoscope of sights and sounds.

The lobby of the circus school was alive with colour: posters of past shows plastered the walls, racks of sequined costumes and props were pushed to one side. A troupe of what looked like clowns-in-training clattered by, all oversized shoes and rainbow suspenders, practicing a slapstick routine even as they moved between rooms. 

At the end of the hall stood who Akio assumed was their instructor: the gothic clown in black lipstick, corset suspenders, and striped trousers. He held a clipboard and regarded his students like a disappointed vampire dad.

Two young women in glittering leotards stretched near the reception desk, casually folding into splits as they chatted about lunch.

Akio took a cautious step forward, only to immediately step back again to avoid a unicyclist who suddenly zipped past, juggling three beanbags while wobbling on one wheel. The man gave Akio a polite nod as he passed.

“Watch out overhead!” a voice rang out.

Akio instinctively ducked just in time as a trio of multi-coloured hula hoops flew in a neat arc above him, caught expertly by a tall performer on the other side. He straightened, heart pounding from the near hit-and-run-by-hula-hoop experience.

So this is a normal Tuesday here. It was chaotic and overwhelming, yet there was a whimsical magic to it that even Akio could appreciate for a second, until he remembered what (or who) he was here for.

He scanned around for a familiar face. Thankfully, near the reception desk, barking into a phone, was Juliya. The short, but fearsome woman had her back to him. Her raven hair was pulled into a severe bun, and she wore a fitted tracksuit jacket emblazoned with the school’s logo. Though he couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, Juliya’s exasperated tone carried across the lobby.

“For the last time, sir, we do not offer animal acts, no,” she said. “Yes, I’m sure. Because this is a contemporary circus school, not a traveling zoo… No, I definitely cannot convince an elephant to ride a tricycle for your son’s birthday… Because I don’t have an elephant, sir, that’s how!” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

Akio approached and cleared his throat softly, not wanting to startle her while she was mid-rant. Juliya turned, saw him, and her stern face shifted to a look of recognition.

She held up a finger indicating “one moment,” and resumed addressing the hapless caller. “I have to go. Yes. Perhaps try the zoo for your request. Good day.” She hung up with a sigh.

“Akio,” Juliya greeted, not missing a beat as she pocketed her phone. Her accent gave his name a slight lilt: Ah-kee-oh. “I figured I’d be seeing you.” She crossed her arms. “Let me guess, here to collect one wayward acrobat?”

He nodded, a bit sheepish, feeling like a parent called in to pick up their troublemaker kid from school.. “Is she…?”

Juliya’s expression softened just a tad. She jerked her head toward a set of double doors down the hall. “In practice hall 3. She’s been at it for hours. Stubborn as a mule, that one. I told her to take a break and eat something, but she insisted ‘just one more run-through’ each time. That was, oh, four run-throughs ago. Good grief.”

Akio’s stomach tightened. “Has she made any progress?”

Juliya gave a wry smile. “She’s as talented as they come. Physically, she can do the routine, no doubt. But I see it in her face, she’s overthinking every move. That fear, it’s like a little demon sitting on her shoulder, whispering in her ear as she swings.” She sighed. “She nearly had a nasty fall about thirty minutes ago. Landed on the net, thank goodness. That rattled her more. I was just about to drag her down myself and confiscate the trapeze for the day.”

“I’ll take it from here,” he said, more sharply than he intended. The image of Amaya falling, even onto a net, made his blood run cold.

Juliya eyed him shrewdly. “Good. Perhaps you’ll have better luck. She might actually listen to you.” As Akio moved toward the hall, Juliya touched his arm lightly. “Akio, dear.” He paused. It was the first time she’d addressed him so gently. “I hope you know, I wouldn’t push her to do this if I didn’t believe in her. She’s special, and nd not just for the circus.”

There was genuine care in the older woman’s eyes. Akio felt a surge of gratitude. “I’ll take care of it.”

Juliya simply nodded, then barked at a couple of loafing mimes to get to class, back to her more typical demeanour. “You! Yes, you! No miming in the lobby, get to class before I make you invisible!”