The next morning, Makoto woke up to the smell of herbal tea. It was a sharp and earthy scent, very different from the rich coffee aroma that usually filled the apartment.
He shuffled into the living room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The room was unusually tidy. The scattered fabric scraps were gone, the gaming consoles were stacked neatly by the TV, and the curtains were thrown wide open to let in the harsh, unforgiving light of a Tuesday morning.
Mika sat at the dining table. She set a mug down in front of him. Makoto sniffed it, expecting the bitter punch of black coffee, but the scent of chamomile and ginger wafted up instead.
"Decaf tea?" Makoto asked, looking up at the label. "Since when do we have decaf in the house, Mika? I thought you preferred coffee?"
Mika took another slow sip from her own mug, her eyes closing for a moment as she savored the warmth. "Coffee is for people who need to outrun their problems. Tea is for people who need to solve them."
She looked at Makoto, her pink eyes softening. "I've been finding coffee a bit harsh lately, darling. This is better for the nerves."
Mika wasn't wearing her usual loungewear. She was dressed in a sharp black blazer over a white camisole. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and she wore her reading glasses.
But below the table, Makoto noticed she was barefoot, her legs crossed with the hem of a short black skirt riding high on her thighs.
A laptop displaying a complex flowchart sat on the table next to her pot of chamomile tea.
"You look better this morning, darling," she said, looking down at a paper that was vigorously marked with a red pen. Her voice was calm but carried an edge like a blade hidden in silk. "Sit."
"Where is everyone?" Makoto sat and asked, looking around the quiet apartment.
"Yuna is sleeping because she was up until 4 AM farming materials. Ayane went for a run. Mafuyu is resting because her migraine persists." Mika finally looked up, her brown-pink eyes locking onto his. "So, it is just us and your career, darling."
She picked up the paper in her hand and held it up. It was Makoto's CV covered in bleeding red ink. Circles, slashes, and comments filled the margins. It looked less like a CV and more like a crime scene.
"This is a terrible CV. You really need a thorough review from Mi-sensei, Intern Makoto." Mika said, her voice sounds a bit lower and more mature than usual as she fixed her glasses.
"Oh? Since when did you become a sensei, Mika? And I'm not an intern yet." Makoto chuckled, unable to remove his eyes from her.
"Ahem, I must be too into character lately, sorry, darling". She paused, blinking as if realizing she'd slipped up.
"But your CV is still a disaster," she said, shaking the paper slightly, "Listing Proficient in Java is the bare minimum. Calling yourself Detail-oriented is a cliché. And this summary..."
She read aloud, her voice flat. "Passionate coder looking for opportunities to grow. It sounds like a puppy begging for a treat."
Mika dropped the paper, and it fluttered to the table like a dying bird. "You are not a puppy, Makoto. You are a product with terrible marketing right now."
Makoto winced. "It got me interviews before."
"At black companies and software sweatshops," Mika countered smoothly. "If you want a job that respects you, you need to project your value and competence."
She stood up and walked around the table, her bare feet silent on the floor. She stopped behind his chair and rested her hands on his shoulders with a firm grip. "We are going to rebuild you," she whispered, her breath tickling his ear. "From the ground up."
Mika spun Makoto's chair around so he faced away from the table toward the open space of the living room. She grabbed a whiteboard he hadn't noticed before and dragged it in front of him.
On it was written: OPERATION GETTING MAKOTO HIRED.
Underneath were three columns: PRESENTATION, HARD SKILLS, SOFT SKILLS.
"First, your CV needs a serious overhaul," Mika said, her fingers flying across the keys. "We rebrand. You are a CS graduate, yes, but there are tons of graduates out there looking for jobs. Instead, call yourself a Junior Full-Stack Engineer. We're going to highlight your work on the site you built for the last con."
They worked for hours. Mika talked like a mentor, pushed him to describe his technical hurdles, then translated his weeb-speak into corporate language.
When he talked about optimizing the image-hosting for their photobook site so it wouldn't crash under the weight of one thousand fans from the viral tweet, she typed: Optimized high-traffic server architecture to handle 500% surges in concurrent user requests.
"Is that even legal?" Makoto asked, reading the screen.
"It's the truth, darling," Mika said, a small, proud smile curving her lips. "It's just the truth wearing a suit."
As the clock ticked toward noon, Mika suddenly winced. She put a hand to her stomach, her face paling slightly.
"Mika? Are you okay?" Makoto stood up and reached for her.
"I'm fine," she said, her voice a bit breathy. She took a slow, deep breath and waited for the dizziness to pass. "Just a cramp. I think I stood up too fast."
She checked the clock and then looked back at him, her eyes regaining their sharp focus. "We're done with the CV. It's acceptable now. But a paper won't get you hired."
She stood up with a grin on her face. "We will start with a technical mock interview. Since you seem to have a problem focusing under pressure, I've decided to provide some training."
She wrote ALGORITHMS on the board.
"First is your hard skills," she said, uncapping a marker. "You know the programming languages. But can you solve problems under pressure? Can you explain your code to a human instead of a computer?"
"I've compiled a list of the top fifty Java interview questions from major tech firms in Tokyo. We are going to go through all of them." Mika said, her voice soft but certain.
"All of them?" Makoto groaned. "Mika, my brain is still asleep."
"Then wake it up, darling," she said, and turned to him while leaning against the whiteboard. Her blazer fell open slightly. "I'm investing my time and my future in you, Makoto. I expect a return on that investment."
She picked up a tablet. "Question one. Explain the difference between a process and a thread. Go."
It was grueling. Mika didn't accept "um" or "uh." She cut him off when he rambled and made him start over when he wasn't clear. "Too technical," she snapped after he explained database normalization.
"Pretend I'm a project manager. Tell me why I should care about 3rd Normal Form. What does it save me? Money? Time? Storage?"
"It reduces redundancy," Makoto stammered.
"Which means less storage cost and fewer errors," Mika corrected. "Focus on the benefit and cut out the jargon."
By noon, Makoto's head was spinning. But he also felt sharper. Mika stripped away his insecurity and replaced it with preparation.
"Time for a break," Mika announced after checking her watch. She walked to the kitchen and brought back a plate of sliced apples and cheese. "Eat and recover, darling."
Then she sat on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs, making her skirt ride up further. Her slender legs were encased in sheer, black thigh-high stockings, the lace tops biting into the soft, pale skin of her upper thighs.
Makoto tried not to look, but it was impossible.
"You're doing better, darling," Mika said, her voice softer now. She picked up a slice of apple and crunched it softly. "But your body language is still defensive. You slouch when you're unsure and touch your neck."
She hopped off the desk and stood in front of him. "Stand up. Shoulders back," she commanded, poking him in the chest. "Chin up. Look me in the eye."
He stood straightened up and met her gaze.
"Good," she murmured. She stepped closer, invading his personal space. "Now, tell me about a time you failed and how you handled it."
"I... uh..." Makoto faltered, his eyes drifting down to her lips.
"Eyes up," Mika said sharply. She reached out and grabbed his shirt and yanked him down so their faces were inches apart. "Don't look away. Don't apologize for existing. Own your failure."
Mika was so close he could smell her shampoo and the herbal tea, and beneath that, the faint, sweet scent of her skin. It was distracting.
"I failed to get the job yesterday, Mika," he said, his voice dropping. "Because I walked out."
"Why?" she whispered.
"Because he insulted my family." He confessed.
Mika's eyes widened slightly. A flicker of emotion crossed her face, maybe pride or affection, but it was gone in a second. "Good answer. That shows integrity and values. But in an interview, you say, I realized the company culture wasn't a good fit for my long-term goals."
She didn't let go of his tie. Instead, she pulled him closer until their bodies were touching. He could feel the warmth of her chest against his shirt.
"You have value, Makoto," Mika said, her voice low and intense. "You are smart, dedicated. And you are kind. Companies need that. We need that too."
She ran her hands down his chest, smoothing his shirt. "You just need to believe in yourself."