*Three weeks into the research assistant position*
Haruki had always been a morning person, but working for Professor Akizuki had given his early hours new purpose. He'd started arriving at her office at seven-thirty, before his first class, when the humanities building was quiet and the morning light streamed through the tall windows in a way that made even data entry feel significant.
This particular Thursday morning, he was transcribing interviews from Professor Akizuki's relationship study—the same research that had provided such uncomfortable mirrors for his own attachment patterns. Three weeks in, he'd developed a system: headphones to block out distractions, coffee from the machine down the hall, and a notepad where he jotted down observations that struck him as particularly relevant.
*Interview Subject #47: Female, 19, describing the end of her first relationship.*
*"I think I loved the idea of him more than I loved him, you know? Like, I loved how I felt about myself when I was with him, how being chosen by someone I admired made me feel special. But I didn't actually know him very well as a person."*
*Researcher note: Classic example of projection vs. genuine connection. Subject was using relationship to validate self-worth rather than building intimacy based on mutual understanding.*
Haruki paused the recording, thinking about Mirei. About how much of what he'd felt for her had been genuine love versus the simple comfort of being cared for by someone familiar. The distinction felt important now in a way it hadn't when he was in the middle of it.
His phone buzzed with a text from Noa: *Good luck with your meeting today. You're going to do great.*
He smiled, typing back: *Thanks. Coffee after class?*
*Always. I'll be in the usual spot.*
The meeting Noa was referring to was with Professor Akizuki and Dr. Martinez from the psychology department—they'd asked him to present some preliminary findings from the data he'd been analyzing, his first real contribution to the research rather than just administrative support.
*Interview Subject #52: Male, 20, describing his current relationship.*
*"The difference is that I'm not constantly trying to figure out what she wants from me. I can just... be myself, and she seems to like that person. It sounds simple when I say it, but it's revolutionary for me. I spent so long trying to be what I thought people wanted that I forgot who I actually was."*
Haruki felt a familiar recognition. That was exactly how things felt with Noa—the relief of being seen and accepted for who he actually was, rather than having to perform some version of himself that seemed more worthy of love.
The office door opened, and Professor Akizuki arrived with her usual cup of tea and unhurried presence.
"Good morning, Haruki. You're here early again."
"I like the quiet in the morning. Easier to focus on the interviews."
"How are you finding the work? Still interesting after three weeks?"
"More interesting, actually. The patterns are starting to emerge from the data, and they're fascinating." He gestured toward his notepad of observations. "I've been keeping track of common themes, and there are some really clear distinctions between people who develop secure versus anxious attachment patterns in college relationships."
"Such as?"
"Secure attachment seems to correlate with people who had practice being honest about their needs and boundaries before college. They're more likely to communicate directly instead of hoping their partner will guess what they want." Haruki flipped through his notes. "Anxious attachment correlates with people who learned to equate conflict with abandonment—they're so afraid of disagreements that they avoid necessary conversations."
Professor Akizuki settled into her chair, looking pleased. "You've been doing more than just transcribing, haven't you?"
"I hope that's okay. The data is just so rich, and the patterns are so clear once you start looking for them."
"It's more than okay. It's exactly the kind of analytical thinking we need for this project." She pulled out a folder from her desk. "Which brings me to something I wanted to discuss with you. Dr. Martinez and I have been reviewing your preliminary analysis, and we're impressed with your insights."
"Thank you."
"We'd like to offer you the opportunity to co-author a paper with us. A smaller study focusing specifically on attachment pattern development in college students." Professor Akizuki's voice was matter-of-fact, but Haruki could sense the significance of what she was offering. "It would mean more hours, more responsibility, and the chance to present at a conference next spring."
Haruki felt his pulse quicken. "Are you serious?"
"Completely. Your background in literature gives you a unique perspective on narrative patterns in the interview data. You're seeing things that pure psychology majors might miss."
"What would this involve, exactly?"
"Co-designing a focused study, recruiting participants, conducting some interviews yourself, co-writing the paper." She paused. "And Haruki, I should mention—this kind of undergraduate research experience would be excellent for graduate school applications, if that's something you're considering."
Graduate school. Haruki hadn't seriously considered it before, but the idea suddenly felt compelling. The chance to continue this kind of work, to contribute to understanding about relationships and human connection in ways that might actually help people.
"Can I think about it?"
"Of course. But don't think too long—we'd want to start designing the study over winter break."
---
Haruki left Professor Akizuki's office feeling energized and slightly overwhelmed. The research position had started as a way to earn extra money for Christmas gifts, but it was becoming something much more significant—a potential direction for his academic future, a way to combine his love of narrative with practical application.
He made it through his morning classes on autopilot, too excited and nervous about the research opportunity to focus properly on discussions of modern Japanese poetry. By the time he reached the library for his usual coffee date with Noa, he was practically vibrating with the need to share the news.
He found her at their table, grading undergraduate papers with the particular expression of someone trying to find diplomatic ways to explain basic concept failures.
"How did the meeting go?" she asked, looking up with the kind of attention that made him remember why he'd fallen in love with her.
"Professor Akizuki wants me to co-author a research paper with her and Dr. Martinez."
Noa's pen stopped moving across the paper she was grading. "Haruki, that's incredible. As an undergraduate, that's... that's a huge opportunity."
"I know. And she mentioned it would be good for graduate school applications, which I hadn't really considered before but now I can't stop thinking about."
"Graduate school in what?"
"I don't know yet. Maybe psychology, maybe something interdisciplinary that combines literature and social science. The point is, I'd get to keep doing this kind of work—understanding how people connect, how stories shape relationships, how we can help people build healthier patterns."
Noa abandoned her grading entirely, turning to face him fully. "You're excited about this."
"I'm terrified and excited and completely out of my depth, but yes. Very excited."
"Good. You should be. Haruki, this is exactly the kind of work you're meant to do—analytical but humanistic, research-based but focused on real people's experiences." She reached for his hand across the table. "I can see how much this matters to you."
"Is it weird that a job I took to earn money for Christmas presents is turning into a potential career direction?"
"It's perfect. It's what happens when you're open to possibilities you didn't know existed."
They talked for another hour about the research, about graduate school possibilities, about the strange way life could surprise you with opportunities that felt both unexpected and exactly right. Noa shared insights from her own thesis research, and they compared notes about attachment theory and relationship patterns with the easy collaboration that had become natural between them.
"Can I tell you something?" Haruki said as they packed up their things to head to Professor Akizuki's class.
"Always."
"Six months ago, I thought transferring schools was about running away from a mistake I'd made. But sitting here now, talking about research opportunities and graduate school and work that actually matters to me..." He paused, trying to find the right words. "I think maybe it was about running toward something I didn't know I needed."
"Like what?"
"Like you. Like this relationship that teaches me new things about myself every day. Like work that combines everything I care about in ways I didn't know were possible."
Noa's smile was soft and proud. "You know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think you're exactly where you're supposed to be. Doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing, with exactly the person you're supposed to be doing it with."
"That sounds very sure for someone who studies the random nature of human attachment patterns."
"Maybe attachment isn't as random as we think. Maybe when you're ready for growth, you find situations and people that make growth possible."
They walked toward Professor Akizuki's class hand in hand, both thinking about the strange convergences that had brought them to this point. A philosophy class chosen almost randomly, a dorm room assignment that made them neighbors, a research position that started as a practical necessity and became a passion.
*Timing,* Haruki thought, remembering one of their early class discussions. *Maybe good timing isn't about perfect circumstances. Maybe it's about being ready to recognize opportunities when they appear.*
As they climbed the stairs to the classroom, he felt the particular satisfaction that came from days when everything seemed to align—work that mattered, love that supported growth, and the sense that whatever came next, he was building something worth building.
It wasn't the life he'd planned six months ago. It was better.
---
*End of Chapter 16*