March 28 (Monday) Ayase Saki

● March

28

Monday

Aya

Ase

Saki

‘Lucca Design. Studio’

The logo, rendered in a decorative font typical of design offices, was affixed prominently.

I had just stepped off at Nakano-sakaue Station for the first time, on the third floor of a five-story office building. Unlike a bookstore, the entrance exuded a distinctly corporate, office-like atmosphere that made me feel uneasy.

“Excuse me,” I said, my voice trembling slightly as I cautiously opened the door.

The room was about the size of two eight-tatami mat rooms connected together, divided by a partition that resembled a folding screen (I didn’t know its official name). The ceiling was open, so it wasn’t stifling, but my line of sight was blocked. An elderly man suddenly appeared from behind the screen and greeted me with a warm welcome.

“Ah, um. I’m Aya—Asamura Saki.”

Oh no. I couldn’t change my name from what was written on my resume just because it was our first meeting. I was no longer at Suisei High School. I nostalgically recalled the name “Ayase Saki” written on my diploma. That was probably the last time I would officially be called ‘Ayase.’ I still had the desire to use my mother’s maiden name as my working name. I had an attachment to it, especially since he still called me that.

I refocused my attention on the man in front of me.

“Well, I have an appointment to meet with Akihiro-san,” I said.

“Oh, yes, yes. I’m aware. This way, please.”

He led the way, guiding me down a corridor separated by a partition that was just taller than his height. We soon arrived at a meeting space with chairs facing each other and a table in between.

“Please wait here. I’ll call Akihiro now.”

“Ah, okay.”

The man disappeared beyond the partition, and I settled into the chair that had been offered to me.

This—‘Lucca Design. Studio’—was the design office run by Akihiro Ruka.

I shivered slightly. It wasn’t cold; I was just nervous.

Everyone gets a bit like this when they’re about to take on something new, right?

I heard footsteps approaching, and a lively voice accompanied by a young woman appeared from the other side of the partition.

“Hey, sorry, sorry! Did you wait long?”

It was Akihiro Ruka. A friend of Melissa, I was told. She had designed the venue and posters when Melissa performed live in Japan. She rushed in, her wolf cut with blue highlights swaying as she moved, just as it had when I first met her. She was a cool beauty, yet also had a boyish charm—a really stylish woman.

I hurriedly stood up and bowed my head.

Ruka-san sat down in the chair right in front of me. Huh?

“You came for the interview, right? Let’s get started.”

“Ruka-san—Akihiro-san, um, you’re the president, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. But it’s fine to call me Ruka. It’s a small company, and everyone calls me that.”

Even so, calling the president of the company by their first name feels like a high hurdle for me…

“I look at the resume, and after that, I make the judgment. So, just relax. By the way, it’s surprising you came to a place like ours, which is so different from your field. You could have interned at a bigger company.”

The interview started as if it were a continuation of small talk.

I thought Ruka-san was trying to put me at ease, but in reality, I was even more nervous than when I applied for the bookstore job. As Ruka-san pointed out, I recognized that my major in university was quite different from the work environment of a design office.

I thought it was strange to ramble on about such things during an interview, but somehow, my conversation with Ruka-san turned into a consultation about my career worries. I felt like I was being guided in that direction, but is this how interviews usually go?

“I’m not attending an art university, and honestly, I’m not even sure if this is the path I truly want to take… It’s a bit ambiguous, isn’t it? I have neither the skills nor the vision, yet I’m in this aimless state.”

“Don’t worry about that. Ten years ago, it seems like they preferred designers to come from art universities, but that’s not necessarily the case anymore.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Unlike before, equipment and software are now available cheaply through subscriptions, and there are people who teach in videos in a very understandable way. As long as someone has the motivation, the environment is well set up for self-study, so there are even those who can be immediate assets without going to school.”

“Wow…”

“Also, the range of design required is expanding year by year. It’s less about artistic techniques and more about sensibility and knowledge. The breadth of one’s experiences and how well-rounded a designer’s background is also quite important. We’re in an era where people who are curious about various things and have a proactive learning attitude are strong. That’s the kind of person I want to hire. Of course, I do want a minimum level of artistic knowledge and skills.”

Ruka-san mentioned that she didn’t expect immediate results from interns and wanted me to help with miscellaneous tasks by her side. It sounded like a secretary role. So, it seemed that not having a degree from an art university was not a problem.

“If you’re motivated, I can give you the green light here, but what do you think? I’ll need a month to prepare for your acceptance, so it would start in May.”

I involuntarily gasped. I hadn’t expected to be pressed for a decision right here and now, and for a moment, I closed my eyes in confusion and anxiety. Choices always come so abruptly like this. What should I do? My hesitation lasted only a moment as I remembered that I had already come this far. I opened my eyes.

“Please, I accept.”

On my way home, I informed the bookstore where I worked that I would be quitting at the end of April.