the next day's joint meeting between the Marketing and Writing Departments at Fujiwara Multimedia — the first time Ren (as Fushiguro) and Yume officially work together
[Next Day – Fujiwara Multimedia | Creative Strategy Room]
[Scene: Conference Room – Fujiwara Multimedia, 10:03 a.m.]
The long conference table was dotted with highlighters, scribbled drafts, and half-sipped coffees. Morning light filtered through the blinds, casting diagonal lines across the table—much like the tension that hovered quietly in the air.
Chika (Senior Writer):
leaning back in her chair "They're late. Again."
Aika (Copy Editor):
typing softly on her laptop "Third time in two weeks. Is it that hard to read a calendar?"
Kano (Junior Writer):
with a smirk "Maybe they're too busy trying to turn our book into a product slogan. Something like: 'Love, but make it viral.'"
Chika:
"Or: 'Buy this book before fate forgets you.'"
Laughter bubbles for a moment. Then, Aika glances sideways at the quiet figure near the corner of the table—Yume, pen in hand, skimming the margin notes of her manuscript.
Aika:
"Yume. How are you feeling about the draft? It's your first lead project."
Yume (softly):
"I'm… still fine-tuning the transitions between the past and present timelines. I want the shifts to feel natural—like fate looping, not just switching scenes."
Kano:
"You sound like someone who's been writing here for three years, not three months."
Chika (nodding):
"Seriously. You've grown fast. Mr. Jin wasn't exaggerating when he said you were sharp."
Yume:
"I've just been... lucky. And reading everyone's work closely."
Aika (warmly):
"It's not luck. You've got voice. Especially in Fated Invisible Thread. It's subtle but deep. It lingers."
Chika (gently):
"Still, don't let Marketing strong-arm you. This story has heart. And you're the heartbeat behind it. Protect it."
Yume (nodding):
"I will. I know I'm still learning, but... this story matters to me."
Kano (half-joking):
"Just brace yourself. Marketing's got pitch decks, slogans, and the occasional ego storm."
Aika (looking at the door):
"They should've been here by now. What are they doing, crafting ad copy with a crystal ball?"
Chika (dryly):
"Or choosing which buzzword to replace 'destiny' with. Probably 'algorithmic attraction.'"
Another round of chuckles, but then a knock interrupts. The door creaks open slightly. Footsteps. The sound of perfume, polished shoes, and well-rehearsed confidence approaching.
Kano (muttering under his breath):
"Here comes the parade."
Aika (sighs):
"Showtime."
Yume quietly straightens her notes, stealing one last glance at a faded line in her manuscript: "Some threads can't be seen—only felt." She doesn't say anything, but something in her posture says she's ready.
[Scene Continues – Conference Room, 10:15 a.m.]
The glass door swings open with practiced ease. The Marketing Team strides in, led by Kaito, tall and effortlessly charismatic. Ayaka, tablet in hand, follows close behind, her heels clicking sharply. At the back of the group is Ren Fushiguro, composed and silent, taking in the room with cool eyes.
Kai (grinning):
"Writers! Thanks for your patience. The coffee machine betrayed us. We come bearing energy—and strategy."
Chika (flatly):
"Hope your energy can read drafts."
Ayaka (smirking):
"We can read sales projections, which is close enough."
Kano (pretending to whisper):
"Here we go…"
Kai (sliding into a seat):
"So. Fated Invisible Thread. We've read it. Twice. And the feedback's clear—it's emotionally dense, romantic, nostalgic, and mysterious. In short… tricky."
Aika:
"Tricky?"
Ayaka:
"The dual timelines are elegant, but we need to help readers latch onto a hook. Something immediate. The 'thread of fate' metaphor is strong, but it's also abstract."
Ren (finally speaking, calm and low):
"That's its strength. It invites reflection. It lingers. Most books don't."
The writers glance at him—surprised.
Yume lifts her gaze, briefly meeting Ren's eyes before returning to her notes.
Kai:
"Sure. We're not changing the story. We respect the text. But our job is to translate that emotional pull into a campaign that speaks in five words or less."
Ayaka (looking at Yume):
"You're the lead on this, right?"
Yume (nodding):
"Yes."
Ayaka:
"You've only been here three months?"
Yume (quietly but clearly):
"Yes."
Kai (raising an eyebrow):
"Impressive. Mr. Jin doesn't hand out projects like this lightly."
Yume:
"I didn't expect to be lead. But I connected with the theme. The idea that invisible things—feelings, memories, people—can still shape us… even if we can't always name them."
Ren (softly, to himself):
"…That's why it reads the way it does."
Ayaka (eyeing Ren, then Yume):
"You know, this might be one of those books that markets itself... if we don't ruin it."
Kai:
"Relax. We're not here to ruin anything. We're here to make sure this beautiful thread doesn't disappear in a sea of noise."
Aika:
"Then we're on the same page."
Chika (nods):
"We just want the voice preserved. The nuance."
Kai (smiling):
"We can do nuance. Our tagline idea: 'Not all threads can be seen.' We're playing with visuals—light, string, silhouettes."
Ayaka:
"Minimalist but emotionally rich. Focus on quiet intimacy, not flash."
Yume (considering it):
"…That could work."
Kai (to Ren):
"Fushiguru, you had something, too?"
Ren (after a pause):
"A campaign that starts with questions. Not answers. Lines like:
'Have you ever missed someone you never met?'
Or: 'Can you feel someone before they appear?'
We let readers lean in, not back away."
The writers glance at each other—this one caught them off guard.
Chika (to Yume, quietly):
"Interns these days."
Yume (barely smiling):
"…He gets it."
—
Suddenly, the door opens again. Mr. Jin enters, expression unreadable but presence commanding.
Mr. Jin:
"Good. You've started."
Kaito:
"Midway through, sir. There's synergy."
Mr. Jin:
"I expect nothing less. Yume, I reviewed your latest revisions. Strong instinct. Stay close to that."
Yume (bowing slightly):
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Jin (to the room):
"This project carries emotional weight. It's not just another title—it's a statement piece. Writing will lead, Marketing will elevate. We'll make it resonate."
He places a folder at the center of the table.
Mr. Jin:
"Let's proceed."
Mr. Jin:
"I see we've already opened the floor. That's good. I want both teams aligned on Fated Invisible Thread—from story to strategy."
Chika (straightening slightly):
"We've walked through the emotional tone and structure, sir. It's unconventional but deliberate. We'd like it to remain intact."
Mr. Jin (nodding slowly):
"Chika, I trust your eye. This story isn't meant to follow the market—it's meant to stir it. It's a literary slow-burn, and those don't happen often."
Kai (smiling lightly):
"That's why we're building a campaign that pulls readers in through emotional hooks, not shock value."
Ayaka (gesturing to her tablet):
"We're also working on interactive visuals. Thread motifs, dual timelines, and maybe even a minimalist trailer featuring overlapping voiceovers."
Mr. Jin:
"Good. But the visuals must reflect the narrative's pace. Nothing overly modern or frantic. This story breathes through pauses. Silence matters."
Ren (quietly):
"White space is part of the emotion."
Mr. Jin (glancing at Ren):
"You understand that well. Not many do."
There's a subtle beat of recognition between them. Yume notices.
Mr. Jin (turning to Yume):
"Now. Yume."
Yume (sits straighter):
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Jin:
"You've been here three months. And yet, you're the one carrying this manuscript's soul. That's not something that can be taught."
Yume (softly):
"I've just been following the story… and listening closely to the team."
Mr. Jin (smiles faintly):
"And you've led with humility. That's rare."
Kano (teasing lightly):
"She also rewrites faster than our printer."
Chika:
"And with more emotion."
Kai (to Yume, genuinely impressed):
"I'll admit it—you've got something. The thread metaphor is poetic, but you've given it blood. It hurts in the best way."
Ayaka:
"Which makes our job easier. If the story sells itself emotionally, all we need to do is stay out of its way."
Mr. Jin (calmly):
"Not quite. You need to build a bridge. One that leads into the story, not over it. Can your team do that?"
Kai (seriously now):
"Yes, sir. We'll refine our approach. We want this to linger, not just trend."
Mr. Jin (to the group):
"Remember: this book isn't about instant gratification. It's about connections that form over time. Invisible. Subtle. I want our release strategy to mirror that."
Aika (softly):
"Like fate. Quiet, but always present."
Mr. Jin (nodding slowly):
"Exactly."
He pauses, then surveys the room.
Mr. Jin:
"This is not just another quarterly title. This is a statement. A promise of what Fujiwara Multimedia can deliver when we trust art more than algorithms."
Everyone grows still for a moment.
Mr. Jin (standing slowly):
"I expect collaborative updates by Friday. Writers, keep the soul sharp. Marketers, don't dull the edge."
Yume (murmurs):
"…Understood."
Ren (to Mr. Jin):
"I'll follow up with Yume and Ayaka on visual direction."
Mr. Jin (brief glance at Ren):
"Good. You'll learn a lot working with her."
He exits as silently as he entered, but the air remains charged.
Kaito (after a pause):
"Well. That was… inspiring."
Chika:
"Or terrifying. I can never tell with Mr. Jin."
Kano (laughs):
"He inspires us to be terrified. That's leadership."
Everyone chuckles, even Yume—who, despite her quiet nature, feels something settling inside her. A sense of place. Of being seen. Not just as an intern.
But as a writer.
After end of the meeting, they both go back to their work.
[Scene: Late afternoon, Office Balcony – Fujiwara Multimedia]
The sky is a quiet blue. The city hums far below, muffled behind glass and wind. Yume stands near the railing, a folder of notes tucked to her chest. Footsteps approach behind her—measured, familiar.
Ren Fushiguro steps beside her, holding two paper cups of tea.
Ren (offering one):
"Chamomile. You look like someone who needs grounding."
Yume (accepting it, gently):
"Thank you. You always seem to notice the quiet things."
Ren:
"Maybe because I live in them."
They sip in silence. Below them, cars move like quiet strings crossing paths.
Yume (after a pause):
"You said something in the meeting… about reflection. About stories lingering. That's exactly what Fated Invisible Thread is to me."
Ren (turning slightly):
"You wrote it like someone who's lived through that kind of silence. The ache that doesn't scream. Just… stays."
Yume (softly):
"I did."
She doesn't elaborate immediately, as if finding the words inside hurts a little.
Yume (quiet):
"When I was a child, I lost someone. Not to death, but... to time. Memory. Maybe fate. I still don't know. All I remember is this warmth—this feeling of being held, understood. And then… nothing."
Ren (watching her):
"Like a thread that snapped before it was finished weaving."
Yume nods, her eyes glazed with emotion she rarely shows.
Yume:
"I wrote the book hoping… maybe someone else felt that too. That strange kind of emptiness. Like you're haunted by something beautiful you can't prove ever existed."
Ren (his voice lowers):
"…I know what that feels like."
Yume turns to him, surprised. He's staring ahead, eyes far away.
Ren (quietly):
"When you lose someone you loved… not to death or betrayal, but to something you can't name… and you try to reach for them, but the air is empty. And the worst part isn't that you can't find them—"
He pauses.
Ren:
"It's that… you can't even remember their face. Just this weight in your chest. Like something's gone, but you can't grieve it because you don't know what it was."
Yume (softly):
"…Did you lose someone like that?"
There's a stillness. Wind brushes past.
Ren (after a long silence):
"No. I don't have a lover. Never did."
He looks down at his cup.
Ren (carefully):
"But sometimes, I wake up… feeling like I lost something. Or someone. Like there's a part of me that's always searching—but I don't know what for."
Yume:
"…That sounds like a thread too."
Ren (smiling faintly):
"Maybe. Or a knot."
There's a beat. Then—
Ren (lightly):
"Anyway, your book's good. Haunting. But not hopeless."
Yume (gently smiling):
"That's important to me. I didn't want to write a story about loss. I wanted to write about… remembrance. Even if it's blurry."
Ren (nodding):
"You did. It lingers. Like something you almost remember."
A quiet pause. Then:
Ren (changing the subject):
"You have a strong sense of emotion. Makes sense Mr. Jin chose you."
Yume (softly):
"I didn't think anyone would read this story and understand it that way. You did."
Ren (inwardly):
Why does it feel like I've known that voice forever?
Yume (inwardly):
Why do his words sound like they come from my own memories?
They stand quietly side by side. Nothing more is said—but the silence stretches warmly between them, like an invisible thread neither can name… yet both can feel.