Everyone has bad days, but for Louise, having one has become so common ever since she worked for Fantasy Motion Pictures; an animation studio based in Tokyo.

She's a kohai to a team of animators, and simply put, they treat her like trash.

In the first few weeks, she thought that it was just normal, that maybe she was just adjusting to her new environment, where everyone should be polite and follow the rules. She worked so hard in her university days for this job, and she arrived in Japan full of dreams.

But of course, life will always find its way to ruin everything.

It's been four freaking, excruciating months of hell for her, and her seniors' treatment of her isn't improving at all. Assigning her the extra frames to draw they are supposed to be working on, forcing her to work overtime during the weekdays and even on weekends. Making her go to do errands like buying them lunch, coffee, or even toiletry essentials, not to mention she also has her own set of deadlines to meet.

Their studio is currently working on the pre-production of their team's new project: an anime inspired by a real person, an athlete who seems to be famous but whom Louise has never heard of.

And now, just like usual, they gave her one of the odd assignments again: An interview with the said athlete that she assumed the other senior team would use for some future promotions and teasers, which is definitely not her line of work to do.

She walks quickly in her heels, muttering and constantly whining to herself as she goes over the interview details.

Louise doesn't even know what the person she'll meet looks like. They just plopped the papers down on her desk and sent her in to the ice rink center where the meeting will take place; it was all rushed and impromptu.

To make her situation worse, it was too late when she realized she forgot to bring her jacket with her. It's springtime in Japan, and the weather in Tokyo is still cold, at least for Louise.

Only God knows how much she hates the cold. It makes her want to just ditch her job, go home to her apartment, and wrap herself in her futon while sipping hot chocolate.

Arriving thirty minutes earlier at the rink, she falls in love with the rows of blooming cherry blossoms around the area, but her pollen allergy won't allow her to watch the view in peace. She let out an earth shaking sneeze that made her eyes water. Louise considers it a miracle to find a vending machine in a far corner. The cold and her bad mood just made her thirsty for alcohol.

This is one of her favorite things about Japan: there are alcoholic beverages everywhere.

People might think, "Who in their right mind would go out drinking to start the day at their job?" but of course, Louise won't care about that now that she feels like if she doesn't consume a single drop of alcohol at the moment, she's going to lose her mind.

But the beer won't fall in the box on her third try smacking the machine, and that's it; she snaps.

This morning, she burned her tortilla in her stove, her landlady screamed at her and smacked her head with her fan for paying rent past the due date.

Her senior gave her another extra job, and now this.

Not a single thing was in favor of her in the country, not even a crappy vending machine.

"Oh, forgive me, Lord," she muttered. "La Muerte!(Death!)" she yells in her thick accented mother tongue, kicking the vending machine. Losing all her composure that she had learned from her job training, which expected her to act like a true Japanese. Polite, patient, and a role model for everyone.

"Fucking useless, piece of trash—" she heard a crack, and it was her cheap office pumps, starting to peel off from their soles.

She screams in frustration as she slumps in defeat on the plastic bench beside the machine. She notices a tall guy around her age approaching so she sits straight in her seat and switches to her professional mode really quick like she didn't almost had a breakdown a moment ago.

Meeting strangers was the last thing she wanted in Tokyo. She must act like Japanese, especially since she's a gaikokujin(foreigner), or else they'd label her as a weird creep, which she already is.

But no one would know that Louise is a fake unless she sat with poise, minding her own business.

She felt like she almost had a heart attack in her surprise when the guy gave the machine a single, strong kick and the can fell into the order box.

"That's a nice kick you got there!" She's impressed, even though she felt like he gave her a stroke from the loud metal noise.

Too late; sometimes she just can't really hold back her mouth. And now she needs to carry on a conversation with a stranger—the worst nightmare of her introverted ass.

She doesn't even know if it was introversion or she finally got at the point in her adult life where she hates being around people.

"I kind of figured out the trick for a long time now. They might have no plans of changing it to a new one," he casually said, and then paused for a moment when he saw what he was holding and said "This is alcohol," like he just realized that he had picked up evidence from a crime scene.

"Yeah, it is," she agrees in her fake friendly tone as she studies him from head to toe. It depends on whether she'll choose to flee or just get along.

He's wearing a jersey jacket and sweat pants, like most of the ordinary people she saw walking around the rink.

"You must be a regular here," she puts on her best smile and most angelic, saintly tone of voice.

She saw him giving her a strange look for a second, like a pair of horns had grown into her head, but quickly changed into a polite expression, just like everyone does in the country when someone does something weird and pretends they didn't see that.

"Yeah, I..." he paused for a moment to think and then goesn on. "I skate here."

"Oh..." she nods, pretending like she understands that. "Well, that's good. It's not like I'm going to meet you again anyway. Give me that," her once angelic voice changes drastically into the sound of a dude, throwing away all the fake delicateness.

She grabbed the can of beer from him, opened it, and took a swig."Ugh, this kind of legal drug never fails to give me free therapy," she crosses her leg, exposing her black tights, making the stranger's eye bulge in shock.

Louise lets out another sneeze that makes him flinch in surprise, adding to his trauma over her.

"For the love of God, this country is making me sick!" she growls. Its a sound she normaly makes at their home in Mexico, uncovering what she really is.

"Well anyways, you said that you're a skater, right? So you must have heard about this..." she flips through the papers she's holding.

"...Ojiro Korishima guy, do you know him? I'm from Fantasy Motion Pictures, by the way, and they sent me to interview him."

"Oh...that guy," the stranger wonders.

"Yeah, that guy. Whoever he is, I really don't care." she answered with a sound of growl again making his shoulders shake in surprise.

"I just want some brief information. You know what I mean? Just something that will make me look like I did my research because this...ugh, I really don't know how to put this," she rolls her eyes, sighing in defeat. "Those useless pieces of trash seniors of mine gave me this job at the last minute, which is not my line of work to do. Can you believe that?"

He looks at her like she's someone who has gone completely crazy, but she doesn't care. Louise continued muttering, letting her frustrations out. The stranger looks like he doesn't know why he's there, but he keeps listening.

"So, you're one of those guys? The one who draws the frames and makes the characters move? Sugoi(that's great)." he responded.

"Sugoi, right?" she proudly agreed.

"Yeah, I'm one of those sleep-deprived humans that draws every goddamn frame."

The amazement in his face vanishes.

"You know what? Forget it. Weather I'll get through this interview or not, I don't care anymore. I'm really done. My team leader likes my male character drawings, so he gave me those parts of that Korishima guy, like those skaters do on the ice where they lift a foot into their heads, whatever they call that—"

"You mean, the other variation of a pancake spin?"

She put her hands on her hips.

How dare he cut me off in the middle of my sentence?

"Yeah, that one. Whatever that means. Anyways, they gave me that part, and I am supposed to be working on it today, but the works of evil never leave me alone!" she suddenly stands up aggressively, which made him step back into the vending machine in his reflexes.

"Damn, I just miss doing my job." She sighs, slumping again on the chair.

"L-looks like a bad day at work, huh?" he looks like he doesn't know if he's going to sympathize or run for his life instead. She turns her head toward him.

"How about you? A bad day at work too?"

"Just a normal day," he chortles, shaking his head. His smile vanishes as he punches some buttons on the vending machine.

For a second, Louise felt bad for blabbering too much to the stranger. Looking at him, she thinks that he's a little down, that maybe he's overworked too, just like her, or maybe someone yelled at him for bringing the wrong drink.

She doesn't know how exactly it works for him, but maybe he's also going through something just like her. A childhood trauma like hers, perhaps? or he just got traumatized by her now; she doesn't know. She stands from her seat and shoves him away from the button.

"Come on, lemme buy you a drink," she dials the screen and clicks enter. The drink got stuck again, of course, but copying his kick with her Mexican power made it fall easily into the order box. "Here you go," she hands him the drink.

"This is alcohol," he points out again, with a disapproving look. She rolls her eyes at him.

"Oh, come on, just drink it. Look, no one's around; it was just the two of us. There is no rule in this godforsaken part of the place. Just drink it. We're all going to die anyway,"

He has a battle of thoughts for a moment, then he suddenly makes a bitter laugh and pulls open the can's tab.

"Fine."

"Good mijo, now let's raise our fine liquors to the sky and repeat after me."

He looks at her, not trusting her at all.

"Just do it," she commands. He does what she says, not sure what he's getting into.

"I pray to God and to the Dark Lords!" she exclaims, making him almost jump where he stands. "We need to pray to both sides; we need stronger forces to keep us sane in this world," she explains to him.

She continues rumbling what she called a prayer with her dark, exaggerated words that made him burst out laughing in the middle of her sentence.

"How dare you..." she muttered flatly, sounding like a madam, pissed at her employee.

"Y-you're making it difficult to concentrate!"

"Ay! No excuses! From the start!" she repeats the prayer again, but this time, he just can't help but laugh even louder.

"There's no helping it. You're incurable. Well, anyway, don't worry, I'm still worse than you, so that's fine.

"They both drink their beers. He drinks it aggressively, which surprises Louise a little.

He must really have it tough, huh? Poor guy.

"Kuso!(fuck/shit!)" he curses, throwing the empty can of beer into the trash bin. Louise imitates him, cursing in Spanish as she also throws her empty can angrily.

And then they are screaming at the top of their lungs in their own languages, cursing whoever or whatever made their life a living hell.

"Whoa..." he sighs, calmer now. "That was better."

"I'm glad you let it out. Good Lord, don't be a ticking bomb. There's a lot of ways to unwind; have a cerveza(beer) or two.

"He nods, probably not agreeing about the alcohol.

"Thank you." He mumbled.

He's smiling now, a real, genuine smile. Now that Louise has looked closely, she realizes he has those beautiful Japanese features. Her standard Shoujo manga protagonist. Raven-black, shiny hair, a pale complexion, striking, sharp eyes, and a slim body.

She gasped in Spanish, realizing something.

MY GOD HE'S HOT!

"What's your name?" he asked.

"L-Louisia...Maria...Loui...Just call me Louise. "She curses herself for stuttering and mentioning her ugly first name, which everyone in Mexico uses to call her.

"Thank you, Louise." They bow and bid each other goodbye before they part ways in the hallway. For a moment, she thinks that maybe this is not really a bad day after all.

"Jackson!" Louise shrieks in Spanish as soon as she sees her only friend at work.

She struts into the cemented pathways of the rink in her wobbly office pumps that can come off any second. She pleaded with him to accompany her into the interview, but he still has some work left to do on his computer this morning, and she's glad he made it on time. He's standing in front of the rink's entrance, checking his watch.

"Where have you been? The interview's going to start."

"You won't believe what I just saw today."

He gave her a weird look upon seeing her flushed face and messy hair, giving him a hint that something must have happened. This friend of his could be the patron saint of misfortune, so someone has to look out for her.

"Listen carefully...I saw...the HOTTEST guy in Tokyo!" She exclaims, like she can't highlight the word enough.

He rolls his eyes at her, sighing. "That's what you told me when you saw Levi Ackerman's life-size cutout in Don Quijote. Now come on, let's go inside. We've got some work to do."

"No, you don't understand Jackson. He's not a 2D. He's an effin 3D!"

He made a face. "Is that even possible?" he asks, not believing her.

It just happened that for them, Otakus, finding an attractive real person (3D) is almost impossible because of their anime characters (2D) standards.

"I saw him with my own eyes. A tall, sleek black-haired, gorgeous..." She pauses, recognizing a poster behind him. She steps in for a closer look. It was a promotional poster of an upcoming skating competition with a male figure skater posing on it, and his name was written beside the picture in huge font. OJIRO KORISHIMA.

She felt her mouth suddenly go dry.

"That is Ojiro Korishima?"

"Yeah, the guy's pretty famous. His face is everywhere."

It was like the world suddenly unraveled in front of her eyes. Her jaw drops looking at her surroundings; in every entrance, on lamp posts, and even on the arena's LED screen outside, Ojiro Korishima's face is there. And it was the same face as that hot guy she met at the vending machine.

A group of people utters some excuse in Japanese behind her, so she steps aside automatically. They are carrying a huge poster of Ojiro, his eyes looking straight through her soul.

"I'm fucked." she muttered under her breath.

When they arrived at the rink's staff room, Ojiro's team was already there. They introduce themselves to them, and Jackson helps to set up the video camera for the interview as per the promotion team's instructions.

Louise pretends to flip through the papers she was holding, her hands trembling.

She's a nervous wreck. The Spanish voice in her head is praying to all dead souls and freaking out.

Portodos los Dioses los Santos Y Las Virgenese...

Ojiro Korishima finally arrives, and everyone in the room stops what they are doing to greet and bow to him. Louise is the only one left standing, so Jackson elbows her out of her trance, startling her. She bowed immediately and said the wrong greeting in Japanese. She felt the burning look from everyone in the room.

"Okay, let's start," she stands with a red-hot face and a forced smile, accepting her fate.

They set up two chairs in front of a white wall, where Louise and Ojiro sat for the interview. Before the camera rolls, Louise hands him the interview questions. He thanks her casually and reviews it while a team of stylists tends to his hair. He changed from jersey clothes to a formal one now. She peeks at him behind her interview script and shoots him a death glare.

            Te maldigo! I sympathized with you

        treated you to a five-dollar beer

    prayed to God for your eternal guidance,

    and this is what you'll give to me in return?

You should have at least made the effort of introducing yourself right so I avoided this kind of embarrassment.

How dare you! How dare—

He looks up from reading the script, so she quickly changes her expression from intense glaring to her sweetest smile. Pure talent, she thought.

She learned that just by living and working in Tokyo.

"Hi, Korishima-san! How are you doing these days? You look so good in that suit, like a producer of a movie!" She said, in her fake ecstatic tone.

Hmmm, how's that? You really think you can make me look like a stupid fool again?

Then someone whispers to her that Ojiro is in fact one of the major producers of the studio project they are currently working on.

"Oh, yeah! I already know that. They mentioned it in our meeting. Silly." She laughs.

Of course, my seniors never told me that. They are just a bunch of useless pricks.